Traumacore
The Girl Who Made Her Pain Pink
I wear my scars like glitter.
You'll find me wrapped in a hoodie too big and a silence too loud. My world is soft edges and broken things, fairy lights that flicker like bad memories. I don't romanticize the pain—I frame it.
What I'm Into: half-finished poems, the hum of old laptops, crying in daylight, scraped knees, rooms that feel like holding your breath
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