scratched cds

episode who the fuck cares of me trying to be like pete wentz’s livejournal posts circa 2005

i am not falling apart. 

or at least that’s what i tell myself. and i know it’s a lie because people who aren’t falling apart aren’t screaming at the top of their fucking lungs inside their conscience 24/7.

it’s endless, really.

the days repeating like a scratched cd, falling into routine, yet too terrified to break it.

it gets worse every day.

but at least there’s you.

i really do think you’d like me, you know. i’m like you. if you were a bisexual teenage girl* with trust issues who’s scared of the unknown, loud noises and change.

i’d tear myself apart if it meant finding the pretty parts of me. something about me that you’d want.

but whatever. who cares. i do, you don’t.

-c