Sometimes, I just want to be a woman. Nothing more, nothing less.

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@chaoticmindd
Sometimes, I just want to be a woman. Nothing more, nothing less.
she was sunlight with a crooked smile
sitting on the edge of the
shallow, pitiful grave
that i had been digging for myself,
swinging her feet and waiting patiently
for my rage to dull enough so that
she could kiss the blisters on my palms.
i was trying to bury myself alive
and she sat waiting with flowers
and open arms and a tenderness
that i had never felt before in my life;
a tenderness that i had
entirely stopped believing existed.
how could i not crawl out?
how could i not wipe the dirt off my knees
and come repenting to her palms up?
how could i not smile back at her
and thank her for the flowers
and say, "let's take a break.
let's finish this another time.
there's always tomorrow.
there's always tomorrow."
-mars
It’s sad to think about how the day someone finally sees me as their “world” I won’t see them as mine. Because that’s just the way it goes, you love what doesn’t love you & what does, you don’t love.
Not every story is about seeing yourself in it. Sometimes it’s about learning to see other people too.
“ur so quiet”
bro i lost all my communication skills
Fever Dream // Movements
what I want: money what I got: a personality disorder
2008: wow I was so stupid last year
2009: wow I was so stupid last year
2010: wow I was so stupid last year
2011: wow I was so stupid last year
2012: wow I was so stupid last year
2013: wow I was so stupid last year
2014: wow I was so stupid last year
2015: wow I was so stupid last year
2016: wow I was so stupid last year
2017: wow I was so stupid last year
2018: wow I was so stupid last year
to be continued
this is a mood if i’ve ever seen one
“I’ve never been a good person, but I used to try as hard as I could to become one. Now… I’ve just stopped.”
— me
And I use drugs to make me feel anything else but emptiness, but when the drugs stopped taking my pain away - I knew I was fucked.
A. Lemmer
Here’s the thing
I don’t want to be sad. I don’t want to hurt. I don’t want attention. I don’t want pity.
I want to feel loved and needed and valued and I want to be respected. For some people, whether it’s because of their upbringing or mental health, that’s extremely difficult.
My mind is in a very dark place. I don’t want to romanticize depression. It’s a terrifying monster that consumes me. Most people in my life don’t see it. And they will never know.
Because the monster in my mind won’t let me scream for help.
I wonder who would miss me, if one of my attempts were successful?