Nothing lasts forever so, live it up, drink it down, laugh it off, avoid the bullshit, take chances and never have regrets, because at one point everything you did is exactly what you wanted.

How much is she?

It's hard to imagine what it would be like to look in the mirror and hate what you saw, To never be satisfied with who was looking back at you mimicking your every move. And aren't you glad that imagining it would be as close as you would actually get to living it? What if you hated who you saw. What if you weren't happy with the way you looked. What if you loved your outside and hated your inside. What if its a bunch of shit. It's an excuse to worry.
She's beautiful. She's athletic, funny, amazingly smart and talented. She's everything she could ever wish for. But, nothing she could ever have. She's too much of herself. She is who she is. But I can't tell her. Neither can you. Her mom can't, her teachers can't, no one can tell her. She's not okay. She's in danger. She worries, we all worry. But most people walk around with their eyes closed. Most people walk around with their snotty noses either in everyone else's business or so far up in the air they'd drown if it rained. Those people, make her who she is. Make her hate how much she is. She's nothing, yet something more of substance then ever described. She's so fantastic, but can't be. Because of the nose people. Because of the people who hurt and get hurt just to feel something. Issues keeping your nose where it belongs, or at least above sea-level? Fuck you. Fuck you and your own stupid insecurities that made her who she is. How much she is. It's your fault you sick fuck.