perfectly inadequate.

Dear Blank,

I’m so tired of hearing your voice, or even the sheer mention of your name - the very sight of you disgusts me. You’re no mother, hell, you don’t even deserve to be associated with the title, all you do is sit around on your ass all day - you’re a damned slave driver, is what you are. Instead of doing something that’s right in front of you, you’ll call in your son do to it for you because you’re far too “busy” to do it yourself. Pfft, it’s a total load of bullshit. What kind of “mother” constantly calls her son a fuck up? No mother, which is what you are. You’re nowhere near, so stop acting like it.

And honestly, you wonder why you’re alone? Please, any onlooker can see why even your own son hates you. I can see it, and I’ve only be a “part” of the “family” for a year and some odd months.

Weren’t you supposed to be on a diet too? Load of help that did for your image; don’t you know that eating healthy and exercising are the key elements to a “diet?” Probably not, considering the fact that you still look like a fat cow.  

You’re the most uneducated, ill-mannered, and unattractive woman I’ve had the misfortune to meet, and I would sooner hang myself then live with you. Not only am I embarrassed to be seen with you, but I’m embarrassed to even know you.

I mean, I’m so sick and tired of going over to your house only to here you bitch. Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch - it’s like the only language you know how to speak. It’s so unrefined and ugly. “Fuck this, Fuck that.” Please, just stop, the very sound of your voice makes me want to cut myself.

And you wonder why I haven’t been around lately? It’s because I know that eventually, I’m just going to snap, and let me tell you, I’m so very close. You want to know why I ignore you on my way home? It’s because I don’t feel like I need to waste my breath on idiotic conversations with the likes of you. I hate you. I hate you with every fiber of my being, and please know that I’m only around that god-forsaken house for your son.

End.

I love it when I don’t have work to do, but then I always end up hating myself for procrastinating later.

My Addiction

Hearts are beating
fast, and visions are blurred
away - something’s against my
lips - something’s holding my
face, all I know is
adrenaline’s rushing through my
veins.

I love this feeling.

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Atleast get your act together for me; I couldn’t handle you being gone for a year.

There are these freak moments when I’m with you that I just feel like opening up my chest and showing you just how much love I have for you.

Once more, you have distracted me from the tasks at hand, tumblr.

I’m 100% fuck up.

All-natural. All the time.

You bring things upon yourself; do us a favor and stop blaming everyone else.

Walking.

The sound of leaves crunching beneath my feet is soothing;it makes me feel less lonely.

Hook, Line, and Sinker

You bait me with one-
worded conversations, landing
more than you can handle. Hook,
line, and sinker—you’ve caught
me in your net, and now I’m
yours for the keeping; how
lucky of me. I’ll leave my
gutting to you since words
already rip through me. But
you know what they say: there’s
other fish in the sea. And I
can already feel you drifting
away. You speak less and less;
youre bait doesn’t taste as
sweet. Maybe you were in too
far over you’re head when you
caught me? Because keeping me
swimming is no longer one of
your priorities.

You’ve slackened your
line; there’s not a tight
hold—you’re just fine without
me.

Now I swim alone.
Now I am nothing.

I’m an emotional wreck.