crying on ur birthday wearing a pretty pink sparkling tiara, cutting urself open and tasting the buttercream spilling out of ur veins, blood running down ur chin bc u tried to climb to the top of the social ladder and plummeted to ur death
(social suicide, suicide by overconsumption of sickeningly sweet dreams that were never made to become a reality)
/
i can hear their laughter, out with the people that love them, i want people that love me and love me enough to admire my smile in the sunlight and wipe my mascara as i dance my fears and tears away and hold my hand while i tattoo a mistake onto my hip and hug me to make me feel like they're never going away
i want to hold a glistening bouquet in my hand with that pink sash around my voluptuous chest and the cameras flashing to immortalize me in the 2020 yearbook, ballgown trampled on by sweaty teenagers and my feet aching in my 5 inch heels from dancing to overplayed party music and my lipgloss smeared from kissing the love of my life (until i move away in the fall)
i want to be in a stranger's house surrounded by 100 other teenagers who couldn't care less about anyone around them, sweating beer bottles in their hands and crops tops and fake gold chains galore, trap music keeping my chest pumping and inexperienced hips on top of hips, some guy's (whose name i'll never know) lips on my neck, hoops swinging as we see who can sing the loudest in the only non-occupied bathroom in the house
i want to have fun and fun and fun and fun, , i want to have loved and lost and died and loved again, i want blood and guts and strawberry cake, i want to feel and feel and feel,
i want to be alive, a 17 year old girl alive, alive, alive, alive, again, forevermore
// teen idle by marina. yeah
