My name is Helen Marie.
I wish someone could tell me how to handle myself in at 4am in the morning.
Even before I had ever smoked, I needed a cigarette.
i’d like to think that i’ve come to terms with not seeing him again, but in reality i’m so confused and stressed that i’ve made myself physically sick. i can’t eat and i can’t drink and i worry for my health. if i am so weak that someone i hardly know can make me want to never move again i fear for my sanity and my strength.
i spend hours concocting elaborate
scenarios of human interaction inside
my head but i’ve always had a hard time
putting it down on
paper. i am unintentionally serious sometimes - i
find myself tripping down into a pit of
self-doubt and perverse wordplay.
i want to start a website called mylifeismumblecore. wristcutters a love story = wonderful.
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