First Class Rebel

Belgium| 18 |damaged soul|

[lohver]

sometimes people don’t come back.

and sometimes that’s okay.

[remanence-of-love]

[peachpitgirl]

[meanwhilepoetry]

Have you ever felt like you are the quiet ghost everyone can see but chooses to look through. Like your body is there, just transparent, you speak but no one hears you, not really. The act of disappearing is not so hard truly. You can do it even in a room surrounded by people who claim they love you. Just pretend you aren’t there, and everyone around you will pretend you have vanished too.

- Nikita Gill

[dikotur]

[brok3np4radise-deactivated20250]

You cannot make everyone think and feel as deeply as you do. This is your tragedy … because you understand them, and they do not understand you.

Daniel Saint

[dizzociating]

my trauma didn’t make me stronger it made me addicted to escapism and terrified of facing reality

[feral-ballad]

Jane Kenyon, from From Room to Room; “Cages”

[Text ID: “And sometimes my body disgusts / me. / Filling and emptying it disgusts me.

This long struggle to be at home / in the body, this difficult friendship.”]

[altruisticwriter]

-William Wordsworth

[wordscanbeenough]

“And I saw it didn’t matter / who had loved me or who I loved. I was alone.”

— Dorianne Laux, from “After Twelve Days of Rain”, What We Carry

[wine-stained-dawn]

them: how close are you to a mental breakdown?

me: yes

[honigimohr]

i didn’t realize growing up meant dying inside but hey it’s whatever

[with-practice]

i hope i make it. im rooting for myself.

[bnmxfld]

“I’m not used to being loved. I wouldn’t know what to do.”

— F. Scott Fitzgerald

[imsoofuckingsad-deactivated2018]

memories are trying to kill me

[seaymph]

“…all she knew of tenderness was how much she wanted it.”

— Stephen Dunn, from Tenderness (via loveage-moondream)

[lenskij]

i woke up like this (anxious)