“I’m empty. I don’t feel like talking to anyone. everyone is just annoying and I just want to stay alone.. I feel like I’m wasting my life doing nothing. I want to live but im so fucking empty”
Do not ground your child because you caught them putting a cigarette flame to their wrist.
Do not discipline your child because they have cuts on their thighs.
Do not threaten to put your child in a mental institution because their only escape is self-harm.
Do not teach your children that if they open up to you about the scars on their bodies, the only thing they will get in return is punishment.
"No one seems to notice just how hard it is for me to breathe."
I remember when you told me I was innocent.
You see to you there was a difference of definition:
Innocence was whether or not you had smoked a joint or had your first beer or bloodied your knuckles on a brick wall.
But for me innocence was when I still loved myself. It was being able to look in the mirror and not hate your reflection. It was being able to go through a day without thoughts of wanting to die. It was days without depression or anxiety attacks.
For you innocence was physical but for me it was mental.
Because all I know is at 11 I was already making meals out of pain killers and diet coke.
By 12 I had become a statistic. I was that 1 in 50 you hear about in pamphlets and health classes. That’s a lonely number.
At 13 little lines started showing up. I don’t know why I started don’t ask me. I didn’t think they were beautiful. I never will. I don’t know why they had to yell at me about it. I didn’t make a mess. At least I wasn’t throwing up my food while my family was there for Thanksgiving. Now I’m 1 in 5.
They were just a little red.
I hate the color red now.
By 14 I met someone who was worse then me. She had lost down to 80 in a month and a half. And while I should have been thanking God I didn’t go that far, I was thinking to my self why I wasn’t good enough to have a BMI lower than 16.5.
15. Who is God and why don’t I hear from him anymore? I think he’s given up on me. He’s let everyone else leave. It would only make since if he did too. Maybe it’s because I have too many demons to fight. If that’s the case then I’m sorry. I love you but…
Maybe it’s for the best.
"I always come back to you. You know what? I don’t fuckin care if they think I am mad. I have so many reasons to be crazy. These reasons are valid. See? This is why I don’t drink with ‘friends’ anymore. I know at the end of the night, I’ll see my body fold itself into nothingness like a clam that’s too afraid of the waves. I’ll break down. Then I’ll hear them say, “here we go again.” I pretend I don’t hear them say that. My hands are light and shaking. My mouth is dry and spicy. In my head, I say fuck this people. Fuck this drink. Fuck this night. Yes here we go again because this insane longing is crawling in my veins like razorblades. I can’t deny the presence of this familiar sadness that demands to be felt every now and then. I drink to be brave. So I could say your name and pretend I didn’t. To make them believe they are the one hallucinating, to make them believe they are hearing things they are not supposed to hear. They are crazy and me? I’m just sad. But I’m the most normal person you could bump into in this little space of awkwardness they call ‘bar’. If I’m being honest, this is the most sober I could be. This is the time when my head is the clearest and the wildest. I love my thoughts. They don’t require burning. My hands are trembling but so does this earth yet nobody notices. My eyes are overspilling with water and water is good. I am not happy but does it mean I won’t be? I may be lonely now but aren’t we all? You’re just good at hiding it. So I’d rather be in this fuckin floor right now with my messy hair and sentiments. I’d rather wake up tomorrow in another friend’s house and think of ways to apologize without sounding desperate and pitiful. I’ll go home and I swear to god, I wish you’re there holding my back while I throw up. There’s always honey water. There’s always my feet. There’s forgetting. I always come back to you. But I’m almost there."
oh dear jesus
"I’m nothing but a dull puppet who tries not to have an anxiety attack every time she has to wake up and face the day." /// r.i.d