hyperactivatedx

bit my heart-shaped snack into six pieces, swallowed, and was satisfied.

Why is it that you contaminate my feeds and favourites?  Why is your website my homepage? Why are there playlists with songs that remind me of you or files dedicated to you?  Tell me why the first thing I do when I get home is go on the Internet, and Google your name.  Slap myself. Google both our names together. Did you mean Never in a Million Years?  Actually, I meant billion. Fuck you, Google. Drag mouse.  Point-click the top bar. Erase web address.  Enter new URL: www.fakewhoresandwebsites.com- promise me three things: to never reveal my password. to never read my messages. to never send me Spyware. (go figure; that'

you deserve all the cobweb dreams, fairytale hopes, and explosive love in the world, but i know that i will never be the one to give them to you. you need notes that end with 'ps - you're brighter than twenty-seven silver stars'. i can't bring myself to write them, though. it's not like you'd read them, anyway. i cut out paper hearts and dreams and gave them to you, but you only ripped them up and said 'these aren't good enough.' when i painted you a picture of golden skies and sunshine smiles, you handed it back and told me 'next time, paint realistically.' so i wrote you a story filled of starless nights and hopeless d

ana says her lover drowned in the ocean last year and that she can only sleep during the day. she says he was so beautiful that it broke her heart; he was so beautiful that it made her sob. she says the first time she saw him, he was working at the fair. ana kept walking past him because she wanted him to notice. after a while she walked away only to hear footsteps and heavy breathing behind her. he had a little bit of sweat on his face, but he handed her a post-it note and on it was his email address and a smiley face. ana says his hair was as long as the summer she spent without him. ana says she found herself in the ocean last night, mean

i want a boy that makes me weak in the elbows. i want him to drive a red camaro and put pens behind his ear because he’s scared he’ll think of something he needs to say when there’s no one around. i want him to never hesitate to hug me from behind or throw me over his shoulder and spin me until i swallow my spine. i want him to mess up my hair and pinch my cheek and then kiss me until my teeth are shaking and my nerves are smoking. i don’t know where he is yet, but i know i’ll find him. -- well, i won't make you weak in the elbows, but i can make you weak in your ribcage; i can tame the struggling butterflies and t

we could sing soft lullabies under the stars, songs about happiness and dreams and a perfection that's flawed, a perfection that's reachable. a perfection that's you. . we'd go to the park, maybe, just to watch the wind kiss the flowers, and you'd name all of them. 'just because they're lonely', you'd say. 'just because they need love too.' you need love, too. . if your heart was a color, it'd be bright, beautiful, and crayola would be jealous. . you deserve dreams and hope, a happy ending and a fairytale worth believing in. you deserve happy days, smiles. you deserve a penguin named stuart and chocolate, a comet and an