my most depraved fantasy is to be saved from myself
it is getting really bad. i find myself missing april, this time i find the sting in my throat instead of my thighs. i feel as if theres a blade itching under my skin when food sits heavy in my stomach and im both fourteen and seventeen at once, loving you and cursing you at once
i'm realizing depression doesn't go away it just gets better for a little bit and then evolves into something else

















