1. I miss you so much my chest aches and I’m scared that one day I’ll explode & during the autopsy the doctors will find pieces of you tucked inside of my heart and they’ll have to tell my family that I died from a disease that has no cure.
2. I’m sorry for calling right now because I’m a little drunk and a lot sad and I’m sitting in the bathtub trying to scrub the spots where you kissed me clean and I don’t think it’s working so maybe you should come and help.
3. You left your blue sweater under the bed here a couple months ago and I fell asleep wearing it last night but I swear to god I’ll wash it and you can come pick it up whenever you’re not busy. Seeing your face would be nice. Call me back soon.
4. I sent you a photo of a new flavour of oreo at the grocery store because I thought that you would laugh at how stupid a watermelon cookie sounds but it didn’t go through & apparently your account isn’t in use anymore. I guess I’ll resend it in the morning.
5. Your mom came up to me yesterday with cloudy eyes and shaking hands and talked about how nice the weathers been lately. Have you spoken to her recently? I think that she misses you. I sure as hell do.
6. You were in my dream last night and I swear to god I could feel you holding my hand and when I woke up crying I realized how much you mean to me. I might start seeing my counsellor again. You were the only medication I ever needed but now that you’re gone pills don’t sound half that bad.
7. I know that your voicemail is almost full by now but I keep calling and holding my breath as it rings praying that maybe you’ll pick up. I’m not even sure what I would do if you did. Please come back.
8. Your dad called me to tell me that they’re disconnecting your phone because they can’t afford the bill anymore and when your name came up on caller ID I almost puked. I guess this is the last message I’ll leave on here. I hope you get these all eventually. I really do love you.
9. I take back the previous recording, I had to hear your voice one last time.
10. Goodbye, baby. Maybe once your phone stops ringing you’ll be able to rest in peace.
10 voicemails to a dead boy that I loved with all my heart (via u-u-tf)
From a young age, I was taught that sexy is skinny, and vice versa.
I was told that having sharp edges and angles and bones that boys could cut their fingertips on was something to desire, something to strive for, and I believed that for a very long time.
Now that I am older, with curves that overlap each other and skin that spills out between my hands, I know that all I was forced to believe as a child is a lie-
Sexy can be in pixies or in goddesses. It can be found between ribs or under the folds of skin that you’ve been ashamed of for years. “Sexy” has no rule book, and I am just as sexy when I climb on top of my lover as a girl thirty pounds lighter than me is, as long as I believe it.
Sexy isn’t a term that can be defined in words. Instead, the definition of it lays under crumpled sheets and in messy hair and between swollen lips. I am sexy. You are sexy. Your bones or rolls or whatever the fuck you have, those are all sexy too, and I realize that now.
Still, whenever someone says “she’s sexy”, I still assume I’m about to lay eyes on a runway model with cheekbones like the Grand Canyon and hips like high islands lost in a very shallow sea.
Why is that?
You told me you loved me while we were counting shooting stars, and I wanted to say it back with all of my heart but I choked on the words and now here I am throwing them up three years too late. I loved you, too, but putting two broken bones together doesn’t make them heal right, and putting two broken people together won’t add up to someone whole.
You told me you loved me while scars crawled up my arms and a cigarette hung inside the canyon that your two lips formed, and my mouth tasted like blood and yours tasted like smoke and even though you looked sweet enough to give me cavities, when we kissed it was just bitter, bitter, bitter. I could never figure out why that was.
You told me you loved me while I had pills in my stomach and you had a gun in your nightstand “just in case you ever got too sad to bear,” and I wanted to say it back, but love was a foreign concept to me and in those days, I could hardly even get out of bed.
You told me you loved me and I was silent and I’m sorry, but I would’ve downed you like vodka and been sick for months.
A. I wrote about you in creative writing and the teacher made me pull up my sleeves and show her my wrists.
B. On our first date you bought me a coffee and I burnt my tongue on the very first sip. That should’ve told me something about our relationship.
C. I didn’t go to school last Friday because the hallways echo with your name and whenever I hear a locker door bang shut it’s like my whole head is splitting in half. I hope to fuck this week goes better.
D. I can’t sip lemonade without my throat lighting up on fire. Your favourite drink tastes like acid. Your lips tasted like acid. You ate me up like acid.
E. I’m not sleeping because maybe I’ll start to hallucinate your face. I started seeing a therapist and they told me to get rid of all my photos of you. It seemed like a good idea at the time.