facts

I write on my arms because I like to feel the words sink into my skin

I chew on the inside of my cheeks in an attempt to taste the pain of words misspoken

I too often catch my reflection and fall apart at the sight of my imperfection

I grow cacti to prove to myself that not everything I touch dies, just the fragile ones

I have a tendency to push people away because I'm terrified that they will discover me and I won't be able to hide from myself anymore

I like to pretend my words were not written by me because I like to pretend I'm not nearly as broken as all this