I’m Madison Montgomery. I make seven million dollars a picture. I have two Teen Choice Awards. My mother put me to work ever since I could talk. I hated it. The last time I saw her, she snorted half my coke and then let the cops bust me for it. I am a millennial. Generation Y; born between the birth of AIDS and 9/11, give or take. They call us the global generation. We are known for our entitlement and narcissism. But it seems our one defining trait is a numbness to the world. An indifference to suffering. And that’s the rub of all this, isn’t it? I can’t feel shit. I can’t feel anything. We think that pain is the worst feeling. It isn’t. How could anything be worse than this eternal silence inside of me. I used to not eat for days, or eat like crazy then stick my fingers down my throat. Now no matter how much I binge I can’t fill this hole inside me. I can’t take it anymore. I think I’m going batshit.
I fell in love while drinking the stars.
He is heaven.
Too fast to live, too young to die.
Everything you need to cover up you have been crying.
Dit lui que je ne l’aime plus. Dit lui que je ne veux plus le voir. Mais ne lui dit pas que je te l’ai dit en pleurant.
You don’t wanna turn around, you don’t wanna make me cry.
Is this happiness? I’ve been working hard and I am reaching my goals, one after another. But I’m still in love with my sadness. I’ve grown but I am still hurt and alone.
The power of youth is on my mind - sunsets, small town, I’m out of time.
Will you still love me when I shine from words but not from beauty?