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❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
we're not kids anymore.

Janaina Medeiros
Keni
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AnasAbdin
d e v o n
will byers stan first human second
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

shark vs the universe
art blog(derogatory)

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JVL

titsay
wallacepolsom
styofa doing anything

Love Begins
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@estlincummings
fuck the cult of suffering and fuck the idea that im attached to it maybe i'm just not getting better maybe getting better is harder than i thought it would be maybe they were right when they said it takes an average of ten years to learn how to cope with borderline personality disorder maybe i can't even tell what the cult of suffering looks like anymore i feel pretty good most of the time but sometimes i still just want to fucking die i've learned my skills and done my time but the SI still creeps up on me like a hurricane out of nowhere and i know i'm not supposed to feed into it because there are rules and scientific data but fuck it i'd rather take out my aggressions on paper or canvas than on myself which is a big deal for me; so let me make it clear this isn't about making shit look pretty this is about vomiting up my ugly symptoms the way you vomit up rancid food so it can't hurt you anymore. (k.a.)
let it be known that we did not "grow apart" you pushed me away every time i tried to get close you did not change you refused to change i did not give up on you i would have cut my skin open for you (in fact, i did) i was the rock and you walked away
i didn't learn how to be myself until you left (k.a.)
it’s twelve degrees out and i’m sitting on a fire escape in five-inch heels
i don’t want to go back.
(k.a.)
there’s a difference between romanticizing demons that aren’t your own and romanticizing your demons just to stay alive.
(k.a.)
losing someone you love shouldn’t feel like Atlas losing the weight of the world. but then it does and you realize you loved them for all the wrong reasons.
(k.a.)
i spend all my time thinking of ways to end my life with what's around me no matter where i am what i'm doing i know of at least one way to kill myself
(k.a.)
You want me to open up.
I want to, too, but I can’t. I’ve spent three years slicing into my own skin to feel, a year and a half trying to kill myself, and a year in therapy and the hospital trying to change it all.
I haven’t changed myself, and I can’t possibly hope to change you.
I know you need me, but I need you too, and sometimes you just don’t listen. You don’t try to ignore me, I know. You have your own problems, I know.
But it scares me to think that you love me, that you want to spend your life with me when you don’t even know how much I’m suffering.
I want to tell you, and you want to know, but I can’t make you understand. You can’t even understand what’s going on with you? How are you supposed to understand what’s going on with me?
And it terrifies me, it does, when I know that you have so much meddling with your mind. How do I tell you that sometimes I still think about killing myself when you text me nightly that you’re tired of living?
I can’t.
And I don’t even know what it is that I can’t do.
Sleep? Talk? Live?
Maybe it’s just everything.
I'm scared I won't ever be good enough for -
Scratch that.
I know I'll never be good enough for you.
You want someone who isn't terrified by grand gestures, someone who will paint cities at your feet and have the population adore you, someone who will tear down the walls and build a new world around you, someone who will know exactly how to whisper "I love you" at the right times, someone who will caress your soul in a way that will make you feel eternally warm and safe.
But I'm here and I can barely take care of myself. I sleep until the sun is too exhausted to shine, and I forget to take the Prozac haphazardly stored in three different bottles, and I try to hold you up so much that I let myself get buried. I can't overcome all of my own fears, and I don't know how to comfort you when you face yours. I'm so tired of myself I don't have the energy to give you the fantasies you so desperately crave.
You want someone who can give you the world, and I can barely give you myself. I'm just a shell, a shadow, broken remains of a person I once hoped to be, and I'm sorry.
I wish you could forgive me.
You tell me that I'm the best thing that's happened to you, but that can't be true because I know you're so unhappy.
Maybe I'm the worst thing that's happened to you.
Maybe you shouldn't forgive me.
Maybe you should forget me.
I’m terrified, riddled to the bone with fear. I’m terrified when I wake up in the middle of the night to low voices, telling myself it’s only a television turned up too loud. But I know it’s a lie, and I’m afraid my family is falling apart because you started drinking again and she says things that make me think the last thing I’ll ever have of her is a note. I’m terrified of the things you say, of the futures we plan out and all you can say is “if” because you’ve got it set in your head that you’re going to kill yourself before you’re twenty. Every inch of me will want to follow, and maybe I will, or maybe someone will stupidly save me, but I promise I’ll lose my fucking mind because I’m still young but you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like I can be loved. I’m terrified because I think you have expectations of me even though you don’t. You’re supposed to help, and I’m supposed to ask for it, but it hurts me more to tell you what I’ve done than it does to admit it to myself or to whatever long-forgotten God that has already given up on me. I’m terrified because I made promises, promises I’m afraid I can’t keep because I’m trying so hard to be there and give support that I forget I’m supposed to be taking care of myself. I’ve still got scars and zipped lips, but I’m supposed to be working on that. I just don’t think I can when I’ve got the world on my shoulders. I want to do so much, but how am I supposed to keep a ship afloat when I can barely keep my head above water?
The universe went through a series of explosions and implosions just to make
you.
There are stars constantly twinkling in your eyes, and you breathe stardust from your lungs. An impossible systems of cells that make tissue and tissue that makes organs and organs that work to make a living, breathing organism. You are here. You are alive.
One little mishap doesn’t mean you’re a failure. It means that out of all the possibilities of mistakes, your body only fell for one. There are trillions and trillions it could have let slip by, but it didn’t. You are still here. You are still alive. Don’t let the chemicals get to you. A pill a day is annoying as hell, but it works miracles.
You are worth it. Remember it, repeat it, say it, mean it.
You are here, and you are alive, and the universe didn’t destroy itself to have you give up. It destroyed itself so it could make something as beautiful as you. And maybe some patterns in your brain got worn down, and maybe you’re worn down, too, but that doesn’t mean you get to give up.
You are here, and you are alive, and you are worth it.
Remember it, repeat it, say it, mean it, keep it
true.
Sometimes, when I’m sad my heart beats fiercely, harder than it ever has, because it knows every fiber of my being, with every heartbeat wants it to
stop.
In group, we talked about being happy. And someone said something that's stuck in my brain, because I feel it too.
I'm scared of happiness. I'm afraid of contentment, because all I know is the sadness. The sorrow has been wrapped around me for so long, like a security blanket.
Who am I without it?
I don't know if I'll be the same person. I don't know if I'll remember how to live, without clawing my way through every day, drowning each second but desperate to stay above the water.