September Third - bxb

TW
September third.
Its full of rich boys rotten to the core, stone cold and forced into my inevitable death. You hate me and I love that, I crave the warmth of you're hate. The warmth of ten people in our dorm, but they stare. They are all looking at me, judging,yelling,drinking drunk. They will see me tomorrow and the next day, but i plan to be dead by three. I have bags under my eyes, I havn't slept in four. I'm going crazy. Eyes as clear as water, skin as red as blood, blood as black as ink. I'm an addict, addicted to my head, to these words, to you're skin. I love you, can't you see? I miss you, look at me! I want you, please me.
I need you, even when you call me fag, I love you. It's unhealthy I know, but iv never been healthy, i'm a headcase loosing all the grip of my reality. I love you. I love you. I love you. But this isn't a love story. It doesn't have a happy ending. It doesn't end in you saying you love me back. It ends in death.