7:40 pm

I feel crazy. I feel like I wanna scream but at the same time I wanna cry. I feel like I wanna be held but also like I’d stab someone if they tried to. I feel like I want to be somewhere else but at the same time, I just wanna be in bed. I want to be high but at the same time, I want to sleep. I want my friends and yet I wanna be alone. I want to run but I don’t want to move. I want to cry but I also want to cut. I want ketamine and liquor and weed and I want to step off the edge of a building.

Suicidal people don’t tell people their plans for killing themselves. I’m still just writing about it.

EVERY. Time.

EVERY. Time.

I’m tired.

Of talking.
Of breathing.
Of existing.

If I could exist in a world where no words were needed, maybe breathing wouldn’t hurt so much. But I’m over it, you know? I’m over people and their expectations and their emotions. I’m tired of worrying about everyone else.


And even still.

That’s why I can’t kill myself.

I’m still worrying about everyone else.

Being sick blows major dick 😷

Being sick blows major dick 😷

Is it weird?

That I’m thinking about you? Not sexually. Not romantically. I just miss my friend. Remember when we were friends and I liked girls and you liked girls and nothing was complicated? THAT. That’s what I miss. I miss the ease with we spoke and joked. We played video games and you always made me french toast. The ceilings were low but everything about us took me higher than that, there were no boundaries.

I’m sick right now and all I can think about is how lovingly you would take care of me when I was sick with you. You’d put me in sweats and one of your hooded sweatshirts and you’d dress the same, just to support me. You’d feed me then hold me under blankets, adding extra heat with your body temperature.

I don’t care, can’t care, about what anyone reading this might think. That’s the thing about me, the one thing you liked, no? Being unapologetically me? I still am and would always be. I hope you’re well.

Real Reason I’m Single Pt. 8 #ILikeSharpObjects #LiesIActuallyLoveEm #EspeciallyWhenTheyMakePeopleBleed

No one likes the smell of blood in the sun.

trapezoidmouth:

luxurianced:

☁️

Need these shoes

I need the whole outfit.

trapezoidmouth:

luxurianced:

☁️

Need these shoes

I need the whole outfit.

(Source: teenv.ge)

"Men need to realize that a woman can be spread-eagle on the 6 train…she could have her whole entire vagina to the sunlight, right in front of your face, and if she has not invited you in, bitch, deal with it. Gahtdamn the fucking end."

- Kid Fury

image

(via ishipwhateverthefuckiwantto)

This.

(via askdaddywho)

"Always"

Everyone uses that term so fucking FREELY.


“I’ll always be here for you”.

"I’ll always love you."

"I’ll always hold you down if you need it."

That’s all bullshit and biscuits. ‘Always’ is way too definitive and it’s always contingent upon something else. I’m tired of conditions. I’m tired of men putting themselves in situations with me where they hear me tell them I aint shit but don’t LISTEN. There’s more to these words, boo. There’s more to me than sex and drugs and suicidal thoughts. I will probably never be able to love someone in the way all women dream of loving someone and you have to accept that with me. If you CANNOT, for any reason, please don’t engage me. Because I may not fall in love with you, but I will give you my time, my space, my body, my mind, my thoughts, my silliness. I will make you fall in love with me and you’ll want every inch of the unattainable but you KNEW that already. So don’t come into my life and hold me down and spoil me and care for me and then snatch it all away after YOU start acting crazy. Please don’t do THAT.

And keep your promises of “always”.

It’s crazy, being high. It becomes so very easy to topple over one side or the other of the fine line I walk these days. Constantly torn between living and learning and tearing myself apart and dying in a lonely heap of bones and disappointment. One minute I’m dancing, singing at the top of my lungs and the next moment, those same lungs fill with unwanted tears. I’m drowning in myself, out of view but in the sights of those who love me. I’m grinding myself down to the very same stuff I snort, so take me when I’m gone. Get high on my slight regrets, my wonderful learning experiences. Float on my arrogance, my sense of adventure. Soak in the feeling over overwhelming sadness, the dread of the inevitable madness. Listen to the Weeknd and imagine what I feel in these moments. Bowl or blunt physically, blade mentally, back to back, don’t stop until I can’t recognize what I’ve done. Sit inside my skin, fathom the urge to push fingers into and under the skin on my ribcage, pull it back, free myself. What is freedom? How can I attain it if I’m not taking it myself?

And I ain’t been this gone since Thursday
I never said that I’d be sober in the first place

Cocaína 👑

Cocaína 👑

ourloveissemperfii:

"One day in the subway, James saw a red cat with a wound to the leg that likely resulted from a fight with another cat. It was obvious that the cat needed help. James could not pass and took the cat to the vet. With a little medical treatment and prescription drugs, the cat quickly recovered. At that point, James found it impossible to say goodbye to Street Cat Bob. Bob followed James everywhere he went. As James played the guitar on the street and Bob sat nearby, revenues increased dramatically. People found it difficult to pass when they looked at the cute kitty. James went on to write a book describing their adventures in the street which was full of life – both dramatic and comedic. In the book, James says that he could not have imagined how meeting Bob would change his life. His friendship with the cat healed him from a life that had been very hard. Most likely, if Bob could speak, he would say the same thing.”

farcries

(via nakedustbunnies)