Well I think I’ve reached the point where it’s time to retire this blog. Thank you for being such avid followers and supporters of my angsty writing. If you’d like my email, to stay in contact, just hit up my ask box.

I hate to admit that I actually like when you kiss down my spine. Sometimes I even feel myself melt, so maybe I’m not such an ice princess after all.

I just want someone to write me letters, but mostly I want them to mean the words they scrawl.

I keep hearing that vulnerability is an asset, but man, it feels like bullshit.

When we were sixteen, you told me that your religion was loving me, and you would pay homage to my eyes. You worshipped my body in such sinful ways, and I reveled in the prayer. As I grew older, I traded you in for a crucifix and a seat near the tabernacle. I repented all my sins; I repented you.

Stay strong. You’re beautiful. I know that probably doesn’t mean much. I know because it never helped when people would tell me such things, but you’re not alone in these sort of struggles. I hope that helps, even just a little bit.