I swear to whatever god there is that I’m in love with you. I’m so incredibly in love with you. I can feel it running through my body. I can feel it in the deepest corners of my mind. You’re the only thing that makes me happy anymore. I just want you in whatever form you are that day. I want to know your 3 am thoughts and keep you from jumping off the ledge when all you want to do is escape. All that matters is making you happy because you’re simple existence is a reason to praise a god and smile in my sleep.
I just need a friend that will hold me while we cry together. We can find reassurance that someone else feels the same way. Even though the future is mystery for a few moments we’ll know everything is safe and okay.
It’s not fair that people can go through their lives without depression or anxiety and I drown it daily. It’s not fucking fair. Maybe I sound like a child complaining but it’s just really frustrating.
I think there is a piece of me that is completely yours and yours alone. I think no matter what happens I’ll always love you. Even if you decide to leave and I don’t completely give up on life and we move on, I truly believe when someone says the word love my mind will think of you and only you.
I think the scariest part of depression isn’t thinking about being happy but realizing that you’re comfortable being sad. It’s so familiar and safe. Depression is an attentive lover. It’s not like you’re giving up anything, you’re simply settling for feeling like shit everyday.
I’m really tired of seeing every picture of eating disorders or shitty body image that only show extremely thin girls. Heavy girls have it too. It’s as though the Internet is trying to tell us that heavy girls with eating disorders aren’t doing it right or they are less important or some bullshit like that. It’d be really nice to see a Ed awareness video showing a heavy girl looking in the mirror at herself not just some extremely skinny girl looking at a heavy girl in the mirror. If you’re not eating or throwing up everyday doesn’t matter what your size is. You’re still destroying your body. It is a large group of the people fighting this and they deserve to know that people are concerned for them too. I don’t know why but it really fucking bugs me.
I’m a girl just not the kind anyone wants. I’m not the pretty girl who has her life together. I’m not the mysterious girl who the movies make look ugly but is secretly pretty. I’m not the modest girl, I really do hate myself. I’m not sad because of teen angst. I’m depressed and most days I really want to kill myself. I’m not mature in the sense that I don’t fight with people. It’s as though my soundbox is shut off. I’m too scared for words. I’m not crazy in a tragically beautiful way. I’m crazy in the sense that I’m destroying myself. I don’t wear baggy clothes because they’re cozy or my boyfriend’s. I wear them because I’m ashamed of my body, throwing up daily. I’m not catastrophic in a beautiful way. I’ll be a bitch and not think twice about it because I’m scared and I’m lonely. I’m a mess but not in a romantic or poetic sense. I’m the girl who everyone hears about her death and goes oh yeah I heard of her, well I guess her life was just too hard.
I don’t get why social anxiety is cute. There is nothing cute about not being able to do things because you’re so scared of the outcome. There is nothing cute about pulling out your hair, shaking, and crying because you are terrified of things that most people find completely normal. Social anxiety is hiding from people, not being able to talk on the phone, not being able to order food, being too frightened to go to someone else’s house, and being too terrified to leave my house. There is nothing cute about that. It’s fucking crippling.
After many years of having an android I have finally saved enough money to buy myself a Iphone tomorrow. Woohoo
It’s frustrating when people get mad about self harming and causing myself pain. The pain from cutting will never come close to the mental and emontial pain that I feel constantly. I understand that it’s bad but it feels like it’s either that or go insane. I’m just looking for a little clarity.
I think I’m going to wear short sleeves for the first time tomorrow. It’s been such a long time. I’m tired of being judged for my scars. I want to wear short sleeves so fuck it I will.
I honestly just want to cry and scream until I can’t breathe. I think that would make me feel okay for a while.
I just need to find someone to every night drink camomile tea with, read to me, and then fall asleep to the smiths.
That awkward moment when someone you went to elementary school with is on the voice. WHAA GUys I know Christian Porter