Lollipops turn into cigarettes. The innocent ones turn into sluts. Homework goes in the trash. Mobile phones are being used in class. Detention becomes suspension. Soda becomes vodka. Bikes become cars. Kisses turn into sex. Remember when getting high meant swinging on the playground? When protection meant wearing a helmet? When the worst things you could get from boys were cooties? Dad’s shoulders were the highest place on earth and Mom was your hero? Your worst enemies were your siblings. Race issues were about who ran the fastest. War was only a card game. And the only drug you knew was cough medicine. When wearing a skirt didn’t make you a slut. The most pain you felt was when you skinned your knees, and goodbyes only meant until tomorrow? And we couldn’t wait to grow up?
“One day you fall for this boy. And he touches you with his fingers. And he burns holes in your skin with his mouth. And it hurts when you look at him. And it hurts when you don’t. And it feels like someone’s cut you open with a jagged piece of glass.” —The Fragments Of Tracy (via likeneelyohara)