18 years young.
i like weird shit, chill people, and gorestep.
ain't kill myself yet, and i already want my life back.
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
(Source: coffeechaosandbaddecisions, via breakfastwithsataan)
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