And maybe I should love you more, because you're just as sad as I am but you don't go around crying and cutting yourself in the bathtub. Maybe I should love you more, because you never cry in front of me even when your eyes are so f.ucking sad I want to pull mine out. Maybe I should love you more, because I'm horrible and nasty and the things I say to you would make me want to die but still you're here caring for something as awful as I am. Maybe I should love you more.















IM NO LONGER IN CONTROL OF THE THINGS THAT WRECK ME, WANT ME RUINED AND IM SCARED OF WHATS GOING TO HAPPEN
 



I
 


TELL ME THAT IT'S NOT DIFFICULT TO THINK OF DEATH SOMETIMES
 














 




 


Yosathiis suicide,
I say, this is a war
~~~~~~~~~
And I'm losing the battle!

 
 


Oceans

I feel when it begins
as the tide yanks me around,
tugging me,
and the water churns,
dark and stormy,
ready to take its chance

My chest tightens
as my lungs fill with sea foam
with brilliant shades of white and pale green,
their hues choking me s l o w l y

My legs are weights
and I'm wearing cement,
and I begin sinking to the bottom of the sea,
coughing and sputtering and gasping for air

I struggle to hold onto the world
or what’s left of it –
the small sliver of light I can see,
shimmering above me

There’s nothing to grasp onto,
nothing to anchor me.
Funny,
How that only makes me sink

The waves c r a s h
and so do I,
I keep drowning like there is no bottom,
simply unexplored ocean,
taking me to depths even shipwrecks have never been

maybe,
that's all i'll be,
a shipwreck
torn into pieces at the bottom of the world,
right from whence i came

and If I survive
I know I’ll have to face these waters again;
I always do
it's as sure as the high and low tides,
as sure as my own
 highs and lows,

And I know the oceans will be waiting.


format credit = destabilise



    "that's the thing though, i'm pretty lonely most of the time so i stay at home and cry in bed, and i don't even do anything anymore, so it's like i'm pretty much dead."

    "but really, you're not. you're still performing vital life processes, right? and you're still converting air into carbon dioxide. so scientifically, you're not dead, and when all else fails to please or comfort you, i think that should, a little." 
Do you know how long it took for me to gain happeiness and climb out of my hole?
Just to be shoved back in...

When I was in the hospital
I was roomed with a schizophrenic
And she was the most gentle person I have ever met
There was a boy with a long deep slit across his neck
Who told very funny jokes
A girl who never spoke a word
Would draw the most beautiful pictures
The boy who shook with anxiety
Could hold the most intelligent conversations
Even the girl who screamed in her sleep and picked at her skin
Had a heart the size of the ocean
We are not who you think we are


nothing about me is poetic.
nothing about how I think is beautiful;
the fact that I hate myself,
and want to tear open my veins,
and think of twenty-two ways (and reasons)
to kill myself before noon,
isn’t tragically beautiful
(it’s just tragic,
and really fücking sad).

don’t turn me into a misunderstood
piece of art, and do not belittle
my sorrows so your antagonist
can have someone to save.

nothing about me is poetic;
nothing about me is beautiful.
                                                                (DS)




 

My friend grabbed my wrist today
he didn't know that depsite my smiles, I was not okay
 

{ar}
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