Feel free to guess and write me what you think is the lie. It's an interesting conversation starter. Might share some of the amazing pancakes I can create if you are right. - I can sing better than I can play the instruments. - I've gotten my first tattoo with only fourteen since I was quite rebellious as a child. - I was homeless for nearly two years.
I usually can't control my anger and let it out on people. I have a bad temper. If I really have to control it, the solution is drugs. It's the only thing that is able to calm me down in a rage. No person could possibly do that.
that moment when the lyrics couldn't describe it any better:i wake up every morning with my head up in a daze i'm not sure if i should say this, fuck, i'll say it anyway everybody tries to tell me that i'm going through a phase i don't know if it's a phase, i just wanna feel okay, yeah i battle with depression, but the question still remains is this post-traumatic stressin' or am i suppressing rage? and my doctor tries to tell me that i'm going through a phase yeah, it's not a fucking phase, i just wanna feel okay, okay yeah, i struggle with this bullshit everyday and it's probably 'cause my demons simultaneously rage it obliterates me, disintegrates me, annihilates me — popular monster, falling in reverse
That I'm trying. I'm really fuckin' trying to get rid of my worst habit. I really don't want to die because of some stupid drugs, even though it may seem like it.
While she didn’t hear a single word that left her step-mother’s lips, the then sixteen-year-old still knew exactly what horrible words the person, who was supposed to guide and comfort her, was throwing at her. But Nico couldn’t care less. Under long hair, black like the darkest night, she was hiding a pair of earphones, listening to metalcore, volume as high as possible, lyrics screaming at her, making her feel alive, cigarette hanging limply from her lips, not even trying to hide the tattoo sleeve that was the cause of the heated argument from her mother’s side. She could see the usual words “Disappointment” and “You’re not my daughter” constantly rolling over the other woman’s lips, but all the girl could do was stare blankly at nothing.
Theoretically I'd say my half-sister, but I don't see her a lot. She doesn't know everything, unfortunately. So, I'll go with the person I love to pieces. My best friend, Jamie. He certainly doesn't know everything either. No one really does because I'm such a closed off person. But he is certainly the person I'd tell everything in a heartbeat if needed.
I have this strong pleasurable urge to destroy myself, to stay awake for days, to be numb because reality is more acceptable like this. But then I’ll be sober again, and there’s no escape.
born under pressure forged in the flames i fought through hell every single day rebound with purpose rebound in faith i know my place no, i'm not afraid — fit for a king
When I'm on tour, I constantly watch Friends. I seriously lost count of how often I've watched this show. My band mates probably even already hate me for the fact that I always put it on... and they can't watch football. And my dog and my cat really like the show, too. It's just something that always puts a smile on my face.