photos are a forgotten memory

first entry. maybe when i die this will be my legacy. sometimes i think my destiny is to be forever a teenager, forever hungry for the thrill of danger. i hate danger. i love danger. danger is my life explained in one word. a shattered, fucked up word that radiates negative energy. but maybe danger is another word for freedom. maybe i’m just out of it.

cause i’m mr. bright side! 

im funny. i think. im listening to mr. bright side currently. if that wasn’t abundantly obvious by the horrible lyrical joke. anyways.

photos, to me, are a forgotten memory. stashed away only to be found when you are looking for it. im getting a camera soon. maybe then i’ll figure out what i’m meant to be.

there’s something surreal about drinking warm mcdonald’s sprite, eating a strawberry jell-o cup and reading something you predicted you would finish a month ago.

i have these episodes. episodes where i don’t feel anything at all. like right now. but with him, my best friend, not my boyfriend —  i’m lesbian — i feel like i can be myself and truly myself. not judged. safe. not worrying about my weight.

i miss childhood. i miss not having to worry whether or not my bra is too visible or if my skirt is too short.

thats all from me for tonight.

—  12:21 AM , december 6.

yours sincerely, frankie