Messing around

We started drinking.
Smoking.
Taking drugs.

We started fucking around
and stopped looking for love,
because we tried so hard to forget what love was.

We stopped eating for days
until we nearly fainted in class.

We started staying up late,
and dragging ourselves through the next day.

We stopped hoping for things to get better,
we started romanticizing about everything bad.
Until it got worse and worse and worse
until there was no way out anymore.

We stopped talking about what was up,
we started to take a sip from the bottle of vodka
that was passed around when our little squad sat together.

Our selfhatred became chic.
And we were always in style.

And noone cared,
because that was what teenagers do, right,
messing around.

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