I hate remembering the bad parts of you that hurt me. How could you have hurt me. You have hurt me the worst and it's so hard to believe so I try to forget

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@thisisloveokay
I hate remembering the bad parts of you that hurt me. How could you have hurt me. You have hurt me the worst and it's so hard to believe so I try to forget
“It’s mortifying to be the one who remembers.”
— Ryan O’Connell
“It’s just easier to smile because explaining could take a while.”
—
friendly reminder
having a pretty face is nothing compared to having a pretty heart
Do you ever just realize all your friends don’t honestly care about you and all of a sudden you feel like an idiot for believing they did and you regret every personal thing you’ve ever shared with them and all you wanna do is build your wall up even higher so this won’t happen again cuz it really sucks
Heavy
It sits on my shoulders
It digs into my skin
I long for relief
For a solid breath
But, heavy
Heavy feels under my skin now
Heavy is in my heart now
I long to feel lite
But, heavy
Heavy
It sits on my shoulders
It digs into my skin
I long for relief
For a solid breath
But, heavy
Heavy feels under my skin now
Heavy is in my heart now
I long to feel lite
But, heavy
“You have a place in my heart no one else ever could have.”
— F. Scott Fitzgerald
“Danger. Everything about her spelled the kind of danger that could make order crumble.”
— Nikita Gill, from “Great Goddesses: Life Lessons from Myths & Monsters,”
Permanent demons
There are days, where your happiness tastes stale. There are days, when the safe feelings have sunk back into the deepness of yourself. Where the demons were contained. Where you couldn't see them, very often at the least. But there are days, where those demons return. Efortlessly, quietly and suddenly. And the sweet, awful feeling of how their darkness once existed is all you can feel again. You're reminded of their consuming, sickening, weakening existence that almost swallowed you whole not that long ago. There are so many days, where you don't feel their weight. But the days where they remind you, that they will always be there, that their permanent, that they hide when the suns out, but are just as real and ever existing as when it's not. Those are the days, when they feel the heaviest.
why is this happening to me?
what is this teaching me?
“Anxiety is always feeling like something is out of place and when you can’t find what it is…you start to think it’s you”
-the suicide effect
I’m forever questioning someone’s intentions.