pains on my tongue

on the way to school i was cautiously slurping the mocha and hot chocolate concoction my mum made, in small increments because it was too hot to cool down quickly enough with my saliva. each time i sipped the warmth would turn into burning on my lips. the velocity of the car over a speed bump chucked my cupped hands back, and forth went a huge dollop of lava onto my tongue. it hurt, and i'm fine now as i write this at the blade of the sun bleeding through the car's windows. what i'm more worried about is how much i liked the burn. so now this fool is much too scared to try it again in fear of discovering the art of masochism.

my angel ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

 ' she brushes my hair with a physical hand,

lowers my body down to the land. ' 

 

 

good morning and goodnight and whatever's in between to you :)

it's the middle of maths, and i have a strong urge to kill myself. even though i'm catholic, it's been difficult to start not questioning the foundation of the religion. do we really need balance? if our Father truly loved us, why did he create the ability to sin? you could say 'for the sake of our free will', but, wouldn't he surefire have the ability to bestow ability of free will without the possibility of sin? to rid myself of this guilt, i usually empty my mind, and that comes in the form of an activity. whether it be typing this blog post, or crocheting. i'd love to be doing the latter, but it's not possible, so i choose the former. crocheting and typing brings my skin away from the focus of everything. the desk is too cold, and my nose is now starting to run, the drawstring of my waistband is too tight and pressing on my belly, and my right shoe is too loose. wasn't like this at all from what i recall.

i don't know what happened in the months of the summer 2 years ago, during which i was very melancholic (just lonely). i never did meet my friends outside of school, so even if they were in front of me it felt like trying to talk to a stranger when they mentioned playdates and birthday parties. i never went to a sleepover, or things like that. once, my friends told me to play with somebody else. i think they should've known i had no one else. it's not their fault for wanting me away honestly. hey, i just unlocked a memory reminiscing about that! i started crocheting with toilet paper in the stall i cried in. always the stall closest to the wall so i could lean on it. gross. however, before that, i could only stare at the fat blotches of tears on the grey floor and recently painted grey walls that made the room feel small and the dust compiled under the sanitary bin. it smelled like piss and period blood.

anyway, my point is crocheting and writing grounds me, and for a second your father did not call you a useless, stupid female, and there is not an exam you need to study for. i am able to ignore it all when centering on one singular thing. so reflection makes me realise that people holding me helps, greatly. ok enough of the formal language and punctuation WHY do i keep connecting every entry to him.UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WHY WHY WHYHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHAHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHH!!! BRO

alright, 3 minutes before snack. i'll wrap up now.