[homoidiotic]

u know what’s rough? missing things that are bad for you

[homoidiotic]

truly one of the hardest things about struggling with self destructive behaviour or addiction is how ur brain is sick, and it starts to try and trick you into being sicker. ur brain telling you that its missing pain is not a sign that u should go back into those behaviours. old harmful behaviours won’t bring a brighter future. identify them as disordered thoughts and go against what they are telling you

[blossomfully]

“I wanted to ask him: Did he think about me? Ever? Often? At all? And if he did, what did he think about? Was it my laugh? Or how I fidgeted when I was nervous? Was it my voice? Or my mouth, or my favourite song? Did he think about the way that I argued? The way that I closed up? And how, after it all, I always opened myself to him again? Did he think about the ways that I annoyed him? Like when I was proud and stubborn and cold? Did he wish that I would be different? Or did he shake his head and let it rest? I wanted to ask did he think about me? Because I thought about him. Frequently. Constantly. Because I thought about him more than he’d ever know.”

— Sue Zhao (via blossomfully)

[toasthag]

me after a breakdown: damn bitch, you cope like this?

[softwinegf]

Reflection series (pt.1/?)

[diamondssssss]

[aseaofquotes]

J.A. Redmerski, The Edge of Never

[quotemadness]

“You’ll understand why storms are named after people.”

— F. Scott Fitzgerald

[aestheticalspace]

[amargedom]

“Remember: the time you feel lonely is the time you most need to be by yourself. Life’s cruelest irony.”

— Douglas Coupland, Shampoo Planet (via amargedom)

[inkskinned]

a secret code between women: are you safe? in a contact of eyes. i’m here if you need me, the littlest shift of a skirt, of an inclined head, of watching the man who is asking you to smile, bitch. you aren’t alone on the walls of restrooms, i was where you are too. the quiet doling of emergency numbers, the shelters. the space between two women in a largely empty train station. the waiting game of two women strangers who walk, quietly and quickly, to their cars in abandoned parking lots, who watch to be sure the other leaves safely. text me you get home safe. the tally marks of drinks on hidden wrists, carefully disguised as other things ever since men picked up on what it meant and used it to target the “weakest link.” 

my father tells me we have nothing to worry about. last night he sent me one of those email chains that say at the top “Safety Tips For The Women In Your Life!!!! Don’t Let Her Die!!” 

me, and the stranger on the train. she is asleep and the man is asking me who i am going home to. i feel tears pricking the sides of my eyes. i am 13 while he towers over me. he reaches out one hand, and while i don’t know how she knows, she speaks up without opening her eyes: “If you touch my daughter, sir, I will murder you.” Whatever he grumbles is lost in history, because this moment I am so grateful for the existence of other people that I cannot breathe.

I am 19 and on my phone when i become aware of a 13 year old girl is smiling nervously at a man who’s saying disgusting things. I grab her arm. “There you are, cindy,” I say, and then look at the man like he is bile. “Do you need something from my sister?” i ask, and i walk away with her. she cries later.

this is the way of things: a silent, secret web. our promise to each other that despite our differences, when it comes to the wire, we become family, instantly. the unspoken promise. i’m here. i’m watching. i’ll witness.

[yourbigsisnissi]

Eventually you hit that point where you’re no longer interested in convincing people that how you feel and who you are is valid and decide that as long as you know your truth and what works for you, that’s what matters.

[soundsnaked]

[heracre]

[ijbkdgsdjkgnsdgsl-deactivated20]

[winterfellis]

[helloiamdepressed]

why haven’t i killed myself yet lol, i keep holding out thinking things will get better but they never do

[inkskinned]

this year “i lived bitch” has been ringing in my ears. i’ve gone from scrambling and saying “how can i survive this” into “i survived worse.” this body is more than growing. bitch, i define “flourish”.