Everything inside is dying. I’m a fucking waterfall with no control. Tight and breathless, can’t even feel the smoke anymore. The point? Fuck. Eurgh. I hate I hate I hate it. Why me I’m so fucking pissed off,the world is full of cunts,there are no words strong enough to describe how I feel. It is hard to be.
It is fucking disgusting that a post about suicide prevention and mental illness awareness has barely gained any recognition while if I posted a vapid filtered selfie,I would have likes and comments galore. Get your priorities straight. Angry and disappointed and way to many emotions.
“What horrifies me most is the idea of being useless: well-educated, brilliantly promising, and fading out into an indifferent middle-age.”—Sylvia Plath, 7 November 1959, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (via lifeinpoetry)
“Of course, you never really forget anyone, but you certainly release them. You stop allowing their history to have any meaning for you today. You let them change their haircut, let them move, let them fall in love again. And when you see this person you have let go, you realize that there is no reason to be sad. The person you knew exists somewhere, but you are separated by too much time to reach them again.”—Chelsea Fagan, How We Let People Go (via teenager90s)
“I stay up just late enough until I am just exhausted enough that I can fall into my bed and sink into immediate slumber. Because I can’t stand lying in a bed in a dark room alone with just my thoughts for so many hours and hours.”—(via psych-facts)
“We have limited time in our life, therefore we should try to teach ourselves, not to teach others. We should conquer ourselves, rather than conquer others. Whether coming or going, standing, sitting or lying down, our mind should be focused in this way. If we practise like this and develop mindfulness continuously, wisdom arises quickly and this is a fast way of practice. _Ajahn Chah”—(via thetaooflife)
So so lucky,but the thunder is never far.
I have no idea how I am here,I am a lie and a miracle at the same time,guilt and luck and a whole load of fuckery.
Worn like 80 year old socks and I have no time,no time was there when I could have saved a life instead of talking shit. I give up on advice,professional bullshitter.
I am so lucky, and there are smiles and warmth and breaths to take but on waking and sleeping goats cling and scream to cliffs and wind is a bitch crashing them against rocks up and down and we must all keep working. Feeding obese fuckers who disgust and shove mouthfuls down all our throats,your sandwiches are salty and soaked and I don’t give a fuck. Guilty as I’m so lucky,when did goats deserve as many chances as this,gods and crap and divine intervention,’I am always ok,bullshit bullshit,save mine and take yours,I live with this Crap’. Lifelong condition and I refuse to be your zombie you blatant greedy power hungry cantankerous cunts. Shove your prescriptions up your arse and burn on your bikes. Years and years still not recovered,my body is fucked. I want to bring life,but god…fuck. Utter trash mouth and cut and quartered,so so stable from the windowsill, come lay in my heart and choke in the constant crushing. I am so,so lucky.
“Before you know it it’s 3 am and you’re 80 years old and you can’t remember what it was like to have 20 year old thoughts or a 10 year old heart.”—This is the scariest fucking text post I’ve ever read (via fuckinq)