norah's useless rant book

its my angsty hours

today has not been it so time to do what i do worst, write about it.

fuck you.  you and your milky white skin, precious like porcelain and inviting like a warm blanket in winter, a blank canvas filled to the brim with a constellation of beautiful freckles.  you and your mesmerizing blue eyes, like a calm ocean yet they somehow manage to make me feel sick, lovesick to be exact.  you and your nose that shyly sticks away from your face, scared to reveal itself to the world, ill never understand why it cant be bold, the world deserves to see it in all it's beauty.  you and your plump lips, tinged pink like a raspberry, plush like velvet, slightly chapped which only highlight it's perfections even more, always leaving me wondering what would it feel like to kiss those lips.  fuck you.  you finally made me feel something only for you to ghost me like a side character in an anime.  did those "i love you"s mean anything or were they pretty littles lies all along?  did our hours of conversation, laughing and crying together, fighting and making up together, our promise of being together in any and every sense mean anything?  did i mean anything?  please come back i need you more than you could ever know. i need you to wipe my tears and tell me it will be okay, why can't it be okay?  but instead i'm stuck reminiscing in my pitch black room, cold as ice, listening to the same sad songs while letting the tears free fall down my face.  it's funny how i never seem to run out, the mere thought of you is enough to replenish the tears for days, yet for some reason i can't be mad.  i want you back.  please, come back.  fuck you.