July 18th, 2011 (age 13)
Dear diary,
The house is so empty.
The panties on the floor remind me of Father; black and lacy.
How can I live in a house full of memories?
Father told me that I shouldn't think high of myself.
Maybe I deserve to be alone.
Either way, it hurts.
I can feel an empty void in my chest where love never existed.
What is love?
Father told me it was sex.
Doesn't everyone want love?
Can I have love, too?
Forever alone, Elle.
YOU ARE READING
the diary of a teenage whore
Poetrya girl who told them all it was okay to leave, but cried when they left. ☆ amazing cover by @amethystnebula ☆
