i feel like an old rag doll. floppy. all over the place. held together at the seams by just a few threads that seem like they will snap at any second.
what i want in a boy
sense of humor
love of the macabre
understanding
fashion sense
much taller than me
skinny
love of good music
one with a cute ghetto booty
eyes that i can get lost in
and most importantly- one that has a way with words
i'm sure there is more, i'm just too dead to think of the rest.
i want to go for a walk outside in the rain. just around my block, maybe the neighborhood. maybe i'll dance in the middle of one of the busiest streets on si because its dead this time of night. however, i can't because my dogs would bark when i leave and come back and i can't risk my father knowing that i snuck out.
admist all of the gloomy weather, there is still a perfect pink rose on one of my grandmother's rosebushes. it seemed to be like a fighter, blooming now when the rest of them are dying. it looked so perfect, with raindrops perfectly placed on its petals, against the grey backdrop that is the sky. its like no matter how dark and gloomy everything may seem, there will always be something beautiful and perfect waiting.
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