The last of my pineapple punch has faded, I'm back to being jaded, 19 degrees outside but its life I'm hating, I keep waiting, for, better days to come, should I go for a run or keep on sipping this rum, cause nothing kills the pain anymore, my mind is sore, heart is tore, cant even tell you what happy was before, cause its foreign, tried to travel the world with different guys, just a void to fill, its trill, my psychiatrist say I need therapy but I'm an actress my life is a stage you see. And it never ends well, I got the scars to tell, coins filling up the wishing well, hell, maybe I'm better off forgot, the way I feel tonight my soul is truly bound to rot, that wasnt a trade I was taught.

My heart is in pieces. I really do need a therapist. Just this morning I was thinking of asking my mom to help me

Let's just pretend my childhood bestfriend didnt just overdose and die two doors down from me.

I'm scared I'm going to lose all my hard work having a mental breakdown again. I need a therapist just medicine wont cut it anymore

Mugs available here and here.

Rain drops on roses, and girls in white dresses, and sleeping with roaches

Oh isnt this exactly where you like me I'm exactly where you know, praying for love in a lap dance, and paying in naivety.

When someone calls panic! At the disco “pop”

Person: I love this band called Panic! At The Disco

Me:

My dear we're slow dancing in a burning room.

via @extramadness

“Camisado” by Panic! at the Disco

submission from charming-farouche

“So many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if only you were interested in them.”

— Sylvia Plath (via quotemadness)

Why do I always hook up with my ex than when I'm drunk