I Cannot Hide What's On My MindI Cannot Hide What's On My Mind by cameronisadisaster
Five easy steps to fucking everything up forever
I swear I could write the book on fucking up
On being hated
On being problematic and bitter
Jaded and tired
Just fucking sick of being a fuckup
Step one is to forget who you are
That's a big one
If you stray from yourself you lose your roots
You need to touch base every now and again
Step two is reject opportunity
Goes without saying really
Reject opportunity and you reject happiness
Step three? Accept everything as gospel.
Especially the negative
Confusion is the key
Contradiction is the lock
You need to be vigilant
Step four: destroy yourself.
Binge, purge, starve, cut, burn, and change yourself beyond recognition.
You've got to go all the way
Step five: Pretend not to care, when in reality you care far too much.
Congratulations, now you're bitter, suicidal, and miserable
This is what you wanted, right?
This is what I wanted, right?
I don't know anymore.
I just don't k
Get Me the Fuck Right Out of Here!Get Me the Fuck Right Out of Here! by cameronisadisaster
How was your day?
Did you do anything different?
See any friends...?
it's a trap
He knows I told
I needed someone to know
About the bruises
And the cuts
I needed a friend
But he found out
There will be more than bruises tonight
I've got to get out of here.
Please help me
Get me out of here
I don't want to be scared anymore...
Persephone - Prologue Over the sound of twelve babies crying, Professor Drake could hear his colleague murmuring, What the ?Persephone - Prologue by CursedArchangels
What is it? Drake asked.
His colleague turned to him, confusion in his eyes, holding something, a bundle, in his arms. Take a look. He said distantly.
Drake walked over and pulled at a flap of cloth in the bundle. He gasped and swore involuntarily. Shit. This wasnt supposed to happen. There should only be twelve!
A thirteenth! This is inconceivable! And look! the colleague took the infant out of its wrappings and held it up for Drake to see.
He saw a tuft of white-blonde hair, pale skin, grey eyes that would turn brown as the child matured, and a tattoo-like birthmark on her ankle which would stretch and grow with her, just like the others. What am I looking at? Shes just like the others. Drake said testily.
His colleague shook his head. Look again, Professor.
I'm a nightmare, a disaster, that's what they always said. I'm a lost cause, not a hero, but I'll make it on my own.
Hi. I'm Cameron, Cam for short. I'm 20 and I like metal music, the Goth subculture, and cats. I have a weird guilty pleasure for My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, and I fucking hate these things. Email me on email@example.com if you want to actually know anything. Otherwise you'll work it out when you see my shit.
I'm a recovering bulimic, and am currently three years purge-free. Four years ago, I decided to give up fighting and being myself (again) and I relapsed into bulimia and self harm, took out some of my piercings, covered up my tattoos, burned all my poetry and put on my happy girl mask. Started wearing trendy clothes rather than my usual hoodie and jeans, adopting current slang, all of that, and I stayed that way for about a year, until I couldn't take it anymore and attempted suicide. My "friends" ditched me and I found myself alone again...and liking it. I went back to my real self and have been a lot less depressed since (antidepressants help some). I started writing poetry again recently, hence this account.
Warning: I can be abrasive, and my default is snarky and sarcastic. Don't expect me to be nice, but I won't be outright mean.
Picture courtesy of