ARTEMIS @binibiningdoktor - Tumblr Blog

i hate myself a little extra when i open up to someone.

Self harm doesn’t always happen when a blade touches skin.

It’s skipping meals because you don’t feel like you deserve to eat today. It’s drinking recklessly because you might have the ‘courage’ do something stupid. It’s smoking - not because you need the nicotine - because you know it’s bad for you. It’s banging your head against a wall when you’re angry. It’s crossing the road without looking because you lowkey hope a car might hit you. It’s thinking about all the ways you could break a bone and make it look like an accident. It’s not taking painkillers because you want to suffer. It’s taking painkillers in excess because you know it’s dangerous. It’s walking home the more dangerous way because you’re kind of half hoping you’ll get attacked or raped or stabbed. It’s going for long walks at night and getting chilled to the bone and hoping that you get lost so that you can’t find your way back. It’s seeking out triggering material. It’s all the stupid little ways you punish yourself for existing.

Sometimes self harm happens when you put effort into depriving yourself of things you like or need, and sometimes it happens when you don’t put any effort into doing the things you like or need.

It’s a pattern of self-destructive behaviour, and it doesn’t only happen in one way.

This sort of behavior is classified as “para-suicidal” It’s putting yourself in a situation of danger or destruction with the intention of risking your safety rather than a direct attempt on your life. Kind of, leaving it all to chance? Also doing things to harm yourself or your self worth because you feel you deserve to feel the outcome of those actions.

4am-reflections

you have given me the love i have spent my entire life dreaming of. one filled with laughter, peace, truth. it’s coming home to you and you knowing exactly what i need without me having to say a word. it’s teaching me that you never have to be yelled at; that i am enough without having to dim myself down. it’s the quiet moments that bring me calm instead of the anxiety stillness has always instilled in me. you are the answer to my hearts every question. my truest love.

dumblr

I don't need magic, I need your arms around me at 3:29 a.m. when the dark is too much, I need you to be real when nothing else is.

kley-deactivated20250126

living just in case things get better~

lovelettersweforget

this year i want to not talk about those who may have secret animosity against me currently or in the past. sa therapist ko na lang ikekwento o sa journal ko. i want to transmute the feelings i get from it. instead i want to talk more about those who root and cheer for me. silently man o loudly. 💕

identitty-dickruption

hey. person who is recovering from childhood trauma. when you talk about things that have happened to you, you do not need to add a million caveats about how "my parents tried their best" or "it wasn't that bad" or "I had plenty of good times along with the bad". you do not have to make yourself feel guilty for just saying "yeah that sucks". I believe you. it did suck. it should never have happened. and you do not need to mentally apologise to your parents for saying so

schuylerpeck

not to sound traumatized, but it feels unreal that someone can just miss you and want you around so often. I feel like every worry within me keeps repeating, “until when? until when?” and the people I love and that love me confirm, “as long as you’d like.”

davecortel

—there’s a kind of love that doesn’t know how to end.

i care for you in ways i can’t undo, like rain caring for the earth even when the flood comes. i want to say i forgive you, and maybe i already have, because forgiveness feels lighter than the burden of holding onto what hurt me. but forgiveness doesn’t mend the place where trust once lived. that part of me feels hollow now, like a house stripped of its windows.

you see, trust isn’t a thing you rebuild—it’s a thing you grow. and the soil between us, once rich and fertile, has turned to salt. not because i wanted it to, but because some wounds never stop whispering their truths.

i wish it could be different. i wish i didn’t flinch at the memory of your voice, at the way promises sounded so certain before they shattered. but wishing doesn’t change the shape of what’s already broken.

letting go isn’t an act of cruelty. it’s an act of survival. it’s me loving you from a distance, the way the moon loves the tide—pulling and retreating, pulling and retreating, until we’re nothing more than the echoes of what we once were.