I miss this so much I used to look so bloody bad ass!

my name is luna and I’m a poet and a writer and a painter and an artist with borderline personality disorder who dresses like a fuckin freak 1980s post punk goth kid 90s grunge girl early 2000s loser pale lace dresses. collects vintage lingerie, sex fiend, drug addict, bleach blonde little girl with a daddy fetish. 19 years old with a daddy over a decade older. just another New York nobody. love me, hate me… I hate me! an ENFP Aries, if you’re into that shit. black ink traditional tattoos are beginning to devour my body. 90s alt is my fav and alice in chains is my favorite band. sometimes I pretend to like people but over time I’ve realized I enjoy being alone (aka just with my daddy). I like pastel pink and lavender and stuffed animals and lace and ruffles. romance to me is sleeping in a park during the summer and we don’t have sex but we lay naked and listen to nirvana unplugged and fall asleep and wake up in the rain. I was conceived on the stairs of a rehab. my biological dad hates me and my real dad was a homeless alcoholic and he died and they never found his body. I bite my nails very short and I don’t like to talk on the phone. I’m an awful test taker. I dropped out of college in less than one month of attending it. I got into Pratt’s extremely pretentious and elite creative writing program but couldn’t afford to go so I went to Brooklyn College in Flatbush in Brooklyn (aka hell) and then came home and went to a mental hospital because I became extremely suicidal. I like cute things and dirty things. I like blood and cum. I like lace and stripes. my drug of choice are opiates but benzos are ok too. I’m not a very nice girl but I try to be. I don’t like to eat much I’m obsessed with losing weight I think I’m very ugly even though I’m told I’m very beautiful. I got called fat a lot in middle school. once a boy told me my thighs were so fat that they caused the earthquake in Haiti. I’m mature but I’m a cry baby and I suck my thumb. I was told I would go far by every teacher I ever had but I haven’t left my bed in a few months. love is real.

Move on, leave, run away, escape this place… but don’t forget about me, about us, about this town. Always remember where you come from so you can appreciate how far you’ve come.
—  c.j.n.
You claim to love her, inside and out, but the only time you call her beautiful is when it’s 3 in the morning and I’ve already turned you down.
—  girls tell each other everything, c.j.n.