I am not the heroine of this story.And I'm not trying to be cute. It's the truth. I'm diagnosed borderline and seriously fucked-up. I hold grudges. I bottle my hate until it ferments into poison, and...
But he just stared at my eyes, as if searching for a stray eyelash. A free wish.
Suicide isn't really about death, though. It's about change. Release.
Then I put the hot barrel beneath my chin.No. Zoeller lurched toward me, eyes wide. No, Laney.I curled my finger around the trigger and he froze. I could see his white sclera. I’d never seen him frigh...
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed and sung me moonstruck, kissed me quite insane. And before you think that's cheesy,that's Sylvia Plath. Google her, young Padawan.