I) Never say “I love you” if you really mean it. Words are an outdated currency.
II) Hurt yourself, not others. Take their twisted words and trace pretty little patterns along your veins. Hide them from the world, hoard them for yourself — they are yours to keep.
III) Break things. Break hearts, break promises, break bones, break glass, break every goddamn thing and keep it that way.
IV) Never say sorry. Don’t apologize for the noose around your neck, let them apologize for making you go out and buy the rope.
V) Fall to the ground. Stay there for a while. It can be just as pretty as the sky if you look long enough.
VI) Avoid cliched compliments. Your eyes don’t shine like the stars. They shine like a freshly polished bullet, like my mother’s eyes when she watched the twin towers fall.
VII) Let it go.
VIII) Take it back.
IX) Be reckless but not in the cute way. Stand in the middle of a train track with your eyes closed. Only open them when you can taste the metal of the train on your tongue. Laugh at the way your bones shake. Take a bottle of whiskey and drive until the yellow lines start mocking you, listen to them closely, drown out the warning beeps of passing cars.
X) Hold onto the stars like a life-line. Take in every one. Memorize the way they shine, pretend they’re shining just for you. Pick one, name it after yourself. Then remember that all stars are dead. They’ve been that way for ages.
By Sabrina Dorronsoro