Into your veins

My dreams.

She dreams of butterflies and flowers and sweet smelling gardens.
And cute boys and cute dates.
And suicide and self harm.
And blood and guts and death.
And turtles and guitars and band merch.
She dreams of life goals and the future. Contemplating whether or not to have a future.
She dreams of beautiful butterflies landing on her sketch pad as she draws roses in a garden.

She dreams of cutting herself and painting "suicide" across the shower tiles.

She dreams of tying rocks to her ankles and jumping into a bottomless lake.

She dreams of overdosing.

She dreams of cutting ever inch of her body and hanging herself in the shower.

She dreams of slitting the vein in her arm and for the last few seconds of her life she's dancing in rain. The blood launches from the slit vein and she dances in its beauty with a smile on her face. Blood everywhere. She is finally happy.

She dreams of stabbing herself in the gut and although her last 10 minutes of pain would be self inflicted, she felt as though their words hurt and killed her more.

She dreams of dark alley ways where the innocent are robbed, murdered and raped.

She dreams of gardens. Flowers bloom and butterflies fly. Oh, what it would be like to be a butterfly. To fly freely and have whatever flower you please. Oh what it would be like to be a butterfly. But the cherry on top is the storm clouds rolling in. She dreams of dancing in the rain till her Prince Charming kisses her in the rain and they both mutter 'god damn cliches'. She dreams of smiles and rain dances and laughing when she fines her drenched and ruined sketch pad on the bench next to the gorgeous roses.

She dreams of suicide and flowery butterfly infested gardens.
God, this girl is confusing.
Gorgeous.
Confused.
And.
God.
Damn.
Out.
Right.
Dangerous.