Lydia Rose 's Dear Diary

Man I hate it here. Every day I learn something new and fucked up about the world or about myself, it's like opening presents and every single one is a pair of shitty socks.

J'suis une comète j'peux pas crever 🎶

I used to think I was kind, generous, obliging, flexible. And I am all those things. But over time, kindness has turned to compliance, flexibility has turned to folding myself in ten to make sure I don't upset anyone, and in the end, passivity. Passi

Head empty, heart fucking exploding.

Seriously, why the FUCK do I keep dreaming of a bus?

And the spiral continues. Down and down we go, me myself and I, in a dizzying waltz. Hand in hand, a dance of war and contradiction. One step forward, two steps back, and we spin and spin and spin and spin and spin. Cold wind passes through us, dark

Dear Diary, It's getting bad again. Well, worse I mean. I haven't slept in... 27 hours? My brain is mush. Every time a wave of fatigue comes over me I distract myself, let it pass, keep being awake. It's stupid. I don't want to go to sleep becau

Pour toi j'irais tout défoncé, les mecs relous les députés 🎶

Hozier was right, innocence did die screaming.

What's wrong with me? I mean ACTUALLY what is wrong with me? Who the fuck messed up when they made me? Is it because of my anxiety riddled mother who, like her mother before her, never even realized there was potentially something wrong with her beca

Zelda day! Zelda day! Nothing else matters, I'm gonna wipe this game clean boi

Dear Diary, Me and all my friends, we burned through Paris, holding hands on the rooftops, anger in our hearts, love on our faces. We discovered through secret passages and strobing lights, that we could be unstoppable. Sneaking into the old aba

He smelled like lemongrass the first I met him, out by the abandoned gas station we drove to in my red Citroen when I got my license. I expected him to be rough, he certainly looked it, unkempt black hair, the peek of a tattoo beneath his sleeve. But

Dear Diary, My rage has grown inside me like a flower since I was a teen, I've clung onto it like I would a dear friend, held it and fed it on the glumest nights. I can see the reflection of it in every other woman I meet. It waits for a phrase,

I don't think I like the taste of life very much.