Simone de Beauvoir, from a letter to Jean-Paul Sartre (Paris, 21 February 1941)
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Simone de Beauvoir, from a letter to Jean-Paul Sartre (Paris, 21 February 1941)
i find that recovery is only the unearthing of new aches.
Fucking drowning in grief. It doesn't get easier with time.
Ugh still ended up here again, would've thought I've forgotten and be happy and careless by now. 12 years and still not "fine".
logically I know nothing matters and everything is temporary but emotionally I am crushed by the weight of everything that has ever happened to me and ever will happen
Having Depression for years is so wild because you just kinda become?? Desensitized to your own suffering?? Like yeah I want to kill myself every day. Oh, oh yeah normal people don’t have that????? Oh shit I forgot
Fariha Róisín, How to Cure a Ghost
I want to destroy everything. I want to ruin my life, smash glass bottles agaisnt walls, run away into the night and get in trouble, scream and yell at the top of my lungs, get into fist fights, and stand up for myself. I want to be so so angry and loud about how awful I feel that everyone realizes that I was never okay, and I was never going to be okay, and that they left me behind to suffer. But I'm too tired. I'm too tired to move, to think. I just want to lay in bed all day and ignore the world. I just slap on a neutral face and do as I'm told. I wish I could be so angry about how sick I've become, but instead I keep quietly to myself, and live another miserable tired day.
its hard to be anywhere these days
when all i want is you