I tell people I don’t care about them, and that they do not mean anything to me. I tell them if they leave I would still be the same because their existence is a speck of dust to me. I tell people I do not believe in best friends and I am my own best friend. But the truth is I choke on everything I say when my soul is the only one in between four walls. The thing is, I’ve learned to keep my feelings strapped tightly onto my ribcage. Maybe this is why I feel my bones breaking. I’ve learned to wrap memoirs of a million sorrows onto my lungs. Maybe this is why I feel like my lungs are at the verge of breaking, and I cannot talk. I’ve learned to tell people the opposite of all my feelings. Maybe this is why people think I am contaminated and they run miles away from me. The worst thing is I am the creator of a tragedy I am starting to believe, and I feel my soul biting off my skin.
—Alexa Evangelista (via vodkakilledtheteens)
Untitled on We Heart It
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