Put on eye liner. for myself.
Put on my favorite red lipstick. for myself.
Showed a bit of skin. for myself
I wanted to be beautiful. For myself. - (via bl-ossomed)
"Continue to create," they say. But they’re not aware they’re actually telling me to continue to be unhappy.
They want me to be an artist, but I’m not. I am a meteoric mess composed of self-doubt, of lack and excess. A fucked up fallout.
I don’t have the heart to tell…