when you’re down, it’s a comfort to know that things will get better, but when things are good, it’s nerve-wracking to wonder where and when all will go wrong.
Now you can’t even be safe in a godammned library? Fuck you, attacker. Fuck you, world.
to someone how my nose bleeds if I get too upset, and how the night Russell died, as I stood by my car absorbing the news, blood dripped into the snow as I raged and sobbed.
Now, like everybody else, I’ve had a lot of shitty nights (including this one —thanks), but there’s something unique about a night when your town explodes with murder, and someone you love goes down, down, down: shot in the head. At seventeen.
rid you from my bones.