298794998

I'm Ruth. I'm vegetarian, have an awful immune system, act about 2 years older than I am + I've always been attracted to ginger boys. I keep secrets + I rant alot, mostly about 'God', 'Love', life + Vegetarianism. I listen to post hardcore, + grindcore music. I recite the lyrics. I swear too much.
I can't stand on my own two feet without someone there holding me up.
I want to be just like Christopher Drew Ingle; but obviously as a girl.
I want people to listen to my music and smile, I want to be an internet sensation, but get somewhere in acoustic guitar, and piano. I want a life of writing beautiful music - let's just hope I have the confidence to do it.
The smoke clears.
And in whispering waves of self-mutilation,
I see the dark sky fall to pieces.
The world is sometimes too heavy to breath, and the dead surround me like an ocean.
I can't recognize the reflection looking back through the mirror.
As if some sort of silent stranger,
with mean eyes and deadly stare.
He sees everything.
And why?
Then with one last glimmer, defiant I'm transformed, into a monster.
a giant.
with no heart, no limbs, no desire.
This is not a suicide letter.
I just want to get a real close look at death,
touch his matted hair as I pass him by.