"You aren’t the type of person who dies alone." She told me.
And I think I believe her.
I’m not the type of person who dies alone. I am
a fucking force of nature and I won’t cry for you anymore.
I am sick of the raw patches under my eyes and my nose.
I used to be the prey, but now,
now I am the predator.
I am the hawk and you are the rabbit.
I’m the lion and
you are the antelope.
A natural born predator does not start out strong.
It starts out as prey.
It’s later on that they become the top of the food chain.
I am a 5’6, soft skinned, blue eyed ticking time bomb.
If you get in my way I will chew you up, spit you out,
and wash the taste of you out of my mouth with a glass of moscato.
I am not the girl who dies alone.
That is not how my story goes.
This Isn’t About You Anymore (via dykegirlfriend)