i don’t know how living in constant hell be better than suicide. there are nights where you want to end it all. nights when you want everything to stop. however. you try not to. because you want to become something of yourself. but even that is severely affected because of the feeling of choking inside. barely making it through the day just to suffer the same the following day. this unfathomable drain of energy no amount of sleep, alcohol and cigarettes can make it seem to go away. having been raised in a God-fearing family, you think you can get through this, but your mind is too messed up to even think help can come. which is sad. because although you know help is out there, the fear of it coming back, as it usually does when you begin to be happy, is bigger and you know you’ll sink even deeper. and so youre stuck in between. and youre sinking
and you don’t even care anymore
that you become something else
not knowing if you are still yourself
or some monster youve kept inside for too long
took over and becomes you.
There’s two types of anger one is dry and the other wet and basically wet anger is when your eyes water and your voice shakes and I hate that cause I feel weak when I’m crying while angry I like dry anger when your face is like stone and your voice is sharp I guess wet anger shows that you care too much and dry anger means you’re done.
This is the best description ever
it hurt when I stumbled across her.
she was like broken glass all along the floor.
but it was beautiful and my curiosity got the best of me.
I remember looking at her and all I could see was pain.
she had this insane look of desperation; you could almost feel it.
and yet her eyes were still hollow; like the life had been sucked out of her.
I wanted to pick up her pieces.
I wanted to put her back together.
and so I tried. I really did.
I got a little cut along the way.
the more I tried to fix her the more fragile I became myself but I didn’t care.
I wanted to see her happy.
every time I made her laugh I thought about how I wanted to make her laugh forever.
she was getting better.
eventually she was put together enough to get up and walk away.
but she didn’t take me with her.
and I’ve been stuck sitting here where I first found her.
wondering if the pieces left on the floor are hers or mine.
I should probably get the fuck up.
this fucked me.