Do You Read Y/n Fanfic Based Around Someone Finding About Your Illness/selfharm/disorder Just So You

i’m actively suicidal and i really can’t see why that’s a bad thing

Can my body just stop functioning so I can die?

Tw// scars, self harm

Have you ever wanted to just roll you sleeves up???? Wear those short shorts???? And have no one bat an eye??? Like yes the scars are super apparent but no one mentions it, just a nonverbal air of understanding and moving on from it

tell me you still love me

I love my scars, they are part of me and my story, they are proof that I survived although it was not easy. I still have demons within me, but I hope there will come a time when I will be happy and free from it all. I'm not ashamed of my scars, I don't hide them, neither should you all either because everyone has a story they've struggled with, but it's proof that we're still here after that all. It is not others business and fuck their looks or comments.

I hit an artery and that shit was apparently crazy I just woke up, but I can't move my left hand or fingers and need surgery I guess that's what I get.

Last night was one of the worst. I just couldn’t stop crying cuz somebody close to me almost died. Thankfully everything turned out fine in the end but it really took a toll on me. I couldn’t sleep so I tried reading a book but that just made me cry more. Life is hard innit </3

Same.

I keep finding myself missing those fresh streaks of scarlet lining my arms, feeling the warmth as I watch my blood ooze from my skin. I miss the healing cuts that turn different shades of red, brown, and purple. I miss the roughness of the scabs catching the fabric of my shirts, the twinge of pain that accompanied it. The soreness the day after a relapse, the sting when I wash them in the shower. The itch when the scabs start falling off showing the fresh new scars underneath.

I miss it, and yet I hate it. I hate it so much. I’m disgusting.

I can’t let a boy have so much control over my emotions and mood

Fuck, i’m so pathetic

You obliterated me. You damn well messed me up. There were paragraphs and pages where I had to stop because I was struggling to release the pressure that was crushing my chest. I had to reel myself and emerge from the story's depths so that I could breathe; to remind myself that my lungs are deflated and that they need to function properly and that I must stand up and shake off droplets of grief. To recover from the flurry of punches to the gut, to suck back the air that was knocked out of me. To stop the world from spinning as my eyes sped through thousands of words. To remind myself that I am still lucky, to remind myself that I am still safe, before I plunge into the novel's depths once again.

Then, to brace my body for the impact of shifting narratives (especially the few final ones), the remaining words that I knew would deliver the hardest blow.

Ang hirap mong basahin. Ilang beses ko kinailangan munang pakalmahin puso ko. I knew there was a right time to finally fish you out of my TBR pile. I knew that it must be when I am emotionally prepared and ready.

For those who haven't yet read "A Little Life" and are planning to, please know that it is a heavy book loaded with heavy issues that may trigger your mind to spiral. To call this novel dark and gloomy is an understatement. Prepare for the pain.

Yet, even after all that, I highly appreciated this reading experience. First time diving into prose that juggles themes of horrendous traumas and bright, complex friendships, of how they blend and clash and affect the fragile, broken self living in an often cruel age of anxiety.