“I think hell is something you carry around with you. Not somewhere you go.”
— Neil Gaiman, The Sandman
My younger self would be so disappointed that we’re still here
overestimating how much you mean to someone really fucks you in the head
i’m not getting better anyways so why not get worse
Why do I feel this bad
My parents are okay people
I have money
Education
Everything everyone wants
So why do I still feel this shitty
In oceans deep, where the darkness grows
I’ve built a wall, a heart of stone
No whispering winds, no embers glow
I choose the dark, I walk alone
No visitors allowed
No exit to leave
What’s done is done
In solitude, I choose me
Tw sh talk
I need to slit my wrists
I need to watch the blood run down my arm
I need to watch my skin forced apart
I need to feel the stinging as I slice my flesh open
The release as pain is the only thing I feel
I need to watch the scars form
I need to feel the sting when I shower
The pain as it rubbs against my clothes
For this is my punishment isn't it
When did showers become a space to cry
And not a space where we sung
When did our bed become a refuge and tomb
And not the place where we slept
When did school become a thing of dread and misery
And not a space of joy
When did our parents become our enemy
And not the people we looked up to the most
When did pencil sharpeners become refuge
And not a simple tool
When did it all start to hurt
When did I stop loving you
I'm sorry if I'm difficult to deal with. I don't know how to deal with myself either.
life fuxking sucks man he him/ I post shit about my horrid mental health. and write potery. general tw of my blog
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