i found a notebook from the summer when i was 16. the summer when you wanted to die. from the night that you almost did. or maybe you didn't. i don't know anymore. i don't want to look at it anymore but it's all i have left and it belonged somewhere. i put it here.

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i am nothing but the skin on my bones and the bones in my lungs my heart lives in a cage and i crush it with every breath i take and

sometimes i don't like to breathe.

i am a flightless bird i am the cracks in my bones where i pecked at them i scratched myself with my own bird claws which are really quite soft and they hold sweet hands which honestly leads me to wonder why such nice bird claws would do such a thing but the answer never comesplease don't go please don't go please don't go please don't go you said that you can't do this and i don't know what that means my bones are wrapped around my heart get crushed crushed crushed please. i don't want you to leave.

i am just the skin on my bones. i am the curve the scrapes the soft. you say i am made of stardust but i think i am made of one pill two pill three pill fifteen pill and a shot of vodka or five because that's what makes me forget. when sometimes the sweet bird in your cage gets angry and scratches me too. one line on my arm from my claw, and then two from yours. keep scratching me and maybe i will spill out into a puddle inside my bone cage and when i walk around you will hear the sound of my broken fucking bones