Only Bad Girls Get Good Grades

Its all Relative, even when we dont understand

When we finally reach the airport, it's about an hour and a half until the flight we're taking. Johnny's had his hand on my arm as if it's a gentle persuasion to where ever he needs me to go. I probably needed it. I wanted nothing more than to turn around and run back to my calm place.

But I knew it would never be the same.

No, I had taken a calm piece of the ocean and turned it into a rough, deep abyss of salt water than would never be able to return to the calmness it once was. I am calamity. This word that brings false hope, as it sounds so close to calm, yet the true essence of it is destruction.

I had destroyed all of my ties to everything I loved and I hated myself for it. My phone had gone off so many times. So many times. I felt a need to destroy it, but then how would I get my reminder of my hatred for myself. I needed to feel it vibrate every so often. I need to know that someone was repeatedly trying to call me over and over and over and over. I needed to know how much of a god damn bitch I am. I needed that extra push to the fucking baggage check.

And I let it. I let it push me all the way to seat 3C on a southwest flight to California.

I let it push me into a fucking Modeling job, stopping down to the bare minimum as I pose for brands I don't even fucking like.

I let it push me all the way into the fucking shit I'm snorting up my nose.

Because that's how much of a god damn bitch I am. I let myself be pushed into a life I never wanted to lead, because I'm a stubborn little shit who got torn to pieces, so I let myself tear everyone down with me.