.

A little flower just trying to weed out the bullshit. 

[helpingg]

““Why should I be sad? I have lost someone who didn’t love me. But they lost someone who loved them.””

— Unknown

[jongyyy]

[lordgroose]

[s0macoma-blog]

you spoke a language I’d never head

and moved in ways foreign to me in place I knew so well

I used to wonder how you could be real

until I realized that you weren’t

you were running from something

and while you gave off the great impression of being my hero

you needed me to save you

but the road to salvation lies within

if only you would walk it

I held the map out to you

and promised to nurse your wounds along the way

but I could not defeat the beast for both of us

and for that you resented me

for that you left me on the path alone

now I battle my own beast

as you retreat to your cave

[profeminist]

Source

[s0macoma-blog]

i actually hate myself. I’ve thought about ending my life lately more than ever. I’m a terrible friend, and i’m depressed, and I don’t know how to exist without fighting my brain or hurting others. Tonight I thought about stealing my mothers lorazepam while she was at the bar and downing the entire bottle with a handle of liquor. I thought about drifting off to sleep and never waking up. Then I visited the suicide hotline website and there were 12 people waiting in front of me who wanted kills themselves. Then I looked up new apartments so that I could move away from my current two roommates and stop ruining their lives with my sarcasm that I acquired from all of the fucked up things I’ve seen in the last five years. Also, no one will notice i’m gone, or that I don’t leave my room if I live on my own. I won’t traumatize anyone when they find me in a permanent sleep.

Then I feel guilty because I was born in a first world country and there are people without Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, and I’m laying in a bed with my dog thinking about the gun in my roommates night stand.

“There’s no safety, you just have to pull the slide back.”

She told me this in case someone breaks in. So I could protect myself, but I can’t protect myself from myself. The only thing protecting me is my guilt. I don’t want to break my moms heart, and I don’t want to die for nothing. 

[brownsunbisexual-permarchive-de]

people who do not belong at pride:

cops

soldiers

corporations 

homophobes & transphobes 

racists

assholes who fetishize lgbt people and think we’re all weird party animals and treat pride as if it’s a zoo 

performative “allies” who treat this as their token “good deed of the day” they can write about later 

[shelikesittoxic]

[u-s-a]

[donut-doll-deactivated20131224]

[s0macoma-blog]

My depression and social anxiety are suffocating. I feel as though I’m trapped inside of one of those sand timers, each granule is passing time, and I’m just waiting to drown. 

The air was thinner when you came into my life, but I liked it. A sense of euphoria, what I imagine it must feel like right before you faint. Now the air is thin, but it scares me. I have to constantly reach for my throat and remind myself that there is nothing that should keep me from breathing. The only thing I have to choke down is my tears. 

I want to be strong, like I felt when you lifted me up and reminded me how beautiful I was. Now I have to do it for myself. I have to find the right thoughts, and they’re in me, but I have to push through the smog of self-doubt and the hurt. It’s so noxious, it clouds my thoughts and holds me down. I could fall asleep here and never leave but for food and labour. 

Do you hurt like I hurt? Do you lay awake at night? Do you miss my touch? Do you long for the future we created in our minds? Do you feel displaced? I do. 

I do.

[s0macoma-blog]

You’re an itch I can’t scratch.

You’re the breath I can’t catch.

If I put out a hand to touch you, I’d feel the roughness of your skin against mine and I’d still be feeling nothing.

You’re not him.

He’s not real.

He’s a dream within the dream I’d trapped myself in for months.

7 years. Will I go on another 7 year stretch of being in love with a man who never existed?

I give my heart and soul, and mostly it’s Russian Roulette.

I hold the barrel to the left side of my chest and blink with each click of the chamber.

I tap the microphone with my middle and pointer finger. 

I this thing on? Who’s next? Who wants to break this heart. Who wants to project their hopes and dream onto me until they realize I can’t be the person they want me to be and then resent me for it? 

[thelovejournals]

I can only connect deeply or not at all.

Anaïs Nin (via wordsnquotes)

[s0macoma-blog]

Fuck being cryptic and poetic. I just don’t have it in me. Everything hurts. I can feel the ache in every bone, in every breath. Why did you not surprise me? why does every man want to control me. Why am I crutch for your pain? Why do you refuse to heal. Why did you drag me down with you? You’ve broken my heart. 

[thesadghostclub]

[s0macoma-blog]

I’ve got blisters on my ankle from wearing shoes without socks all day. They burn and itch, and they distract me for just a few seconds until I remember the tightness in my chest. I have to catch my breath, and remember to breath all together. You’ve really done it. You’ve broken my heart. 

[s0macoma-blog]

Is life a dream? I can’t tell anymore. I kiss your lips, and touch your skin in-between dreams and daydreams, and I’m starting to wonder if they’re all just blending together. You entered my life stage-right, like you walked in through a sitcom door, and I can quit smiling. I can’t quit laughing. Our teeth *clink* in harmony, our noses graze each other like rebellious parallel lines, and your blue eyes meet my brown eyes, like water crashing against land. The air is thinner when you’re around, when I think about you--my heart misses a step. Our eyes close, our lips meet, and I have to remember to breathe, so that we don’t have to stop. I like to look at your face, when its pressed so close to mine that I feel the warm air from your lungs dance across my skin. I like to see the equilibrium of peace and passion on your face as your eyelashes bow to your cheeks, and the lines of your face contort themselves as we struggle to get closer than we are now. How are you real? I have to wonder. You pinched yourself, but I did not pinch myself and now I’ll have to wonder if I’m sleeping time away until I see you next.