but you’re not allowed to do it.
You’re allowed to fight with your mother,
but you’re not allowed to leave her crying on your bedroom floor.
You’re allowed to miss your ex boyfriend,
but you’re not allowed to say the scars all over your arms are his fault.
You’re allowed hate the girl who almost got you suspended,
but you’re not allowed to tell her that the world would be better off without her.
You’re allowed to stand on the edge of that bridge,
but you’re not allowed to jump.
You’re allowed to be mad at the world,
but you’re not allowed to blame it for the state you’ve put yourself in.
You’re allowed to be sad,
but you’re not allowed to give up.
all my friends are v cute. if ur my friend youre automatically cute sorry i dont make the rules
I wonder how many stranger’s stories we make it into? You know, maybe someone saw you in passing and told their friends about how pretty the girl in the lavender sweater was. Or maybe they overheard you say a joke and repeated it to their friend, confessing that they heard it from some guy at the store.
I think about this all the time