My wrist hurts. So does my finger

How could something so beautiful come out of something so evil?

No point in caring so much. I’m nothing

Keep settling for things I don’t want. Wonder how much more I can take

I hate this feeling. Like I’m here, but I’m not. Like someone cares. But they don’t. Like I belong somewhere else, anywhere but here, and escape lies just past that snowy window, cool and crisp as the February air.
Ellen Hopkins, Crank (via exoticwild)

(Source: larmoyante)

A tired that sleep won’t fix.
Six word story  (via wreckers)