So you want to tell me about sacrifice and that I don't know desperation. I am just a girl, that knows nothing of your hardships and pain. Well, screw you, my tattoos have stories, just as yours do, my life has left me twice now and it is not a badge of honor that I carry in my pocket. On the outside I look like you, like everyone. But my blue eyes have been empty, and my waist length hair has stayed in a messy knot for over a week, unkept and dirty. I have scars that I can not hide. I am your archieve of loss. I have lain next to the man of my dreams, woken the next morning only to find his space empty, never to be filled again. So, ask me again why I don't want anyone to touch me, or why my dimples are seldom summoned, or why the black lines around my eyes never go away. Its because am human. I am not alone in my solitute. But happiness finds a home in none. I pray that I will remember that when happiness visits me again.
Reason for writing:
Someone asked me what "my story" was.
Birth sign: Libra
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