I’m really dreading the day I turn 18 cause I will no longer be the dancing queen, young and sweet only seventeen
I’m a nerd, but not in the useful “you’ll all be working for me one day when I invent jet packs” way. I’m a nerd in the “I have very strong opinions about history and literature and will yell them at you if you give me even the slightest opportunity” way. And that one does not pay well.
There’s nothing more intimate in life than simply being understood. And understanding someone else.
He looked at me like I was crazy. Most of my lovers do, and that’s partly why they love me, and partly why they leave.
Anonymously tell me your feelings for me.
It doesn’t have to be romantic (though if you did feel that way, it’d be perfectly fine). Just how you feel in general. I get curious of people’s impressions of me.
And if I were to pursue every white girls dream of becoming Taylor Swift you wouldn’t be happy. Because the first song would be about you and about how much I tried to feel something but I never could. About how out of friendship I decided to stick around to see if anything would grow. But it was never special. It never hurt. You just became lousy. A nuisance. A disgusting chest of past gilded wrongs. Nothing about you is great, and I tried to pretend it was.