it was too much work to have emotions. the only problem was i forgot where i buried them.

oh i’m alive but please don’t ask me if it feels good

This made my stomach drop

you mean more to me than i mean to you and that’s part of the problem. i feel like i unravel around you. like i forget to keep all the bad stuff inside where it won’t hurt anybody but myself. the problem is that it always finds a way. stuff like that has to. i feel like i poison you. i try not to. it just leaks out. spills out of me.

@therelatabletexts (via therelatabletexts)

unfinished poem iii // r.i.d (via inkskinned)

it’s stale weather and my breath is caught in my throat. i want out of here but i’m backsliding again. who cares about grades. nothing matters in a permanent way to me. i feel like i could evaporate. i’m awake with panic or i sleep through the day. want to hear a joke? for a second there i almost felt okay.

i’m proud of you for staying alive. and i’m grateful. i don’t think that gets said enough, but thank you for taking care of yourself. thank you for doing the hard stuff. thank you for making yourself live even when it felt like living was the worse of the options. thank you for fighting. and thank you even if it’s ugly and doesn’t feel good and barely even looks like recovery. relapse happens. i’ve been where you are. people like you pulled me out. thank you for pulling me out. and know that if you need a hand i’m here and so are so many other people who have seen into the night and know what it feels like when it bites. so just. thank you for being alive.

it’s not like i’m on fire. i sort of miss being on fire. when i was on fire at least i knew it wasn’t just me, that my illness was alive, scorching. there were claw marks in everything. it was so bad it was a brand. everyone could see, you know? but now i am just lazy. now there’s nothing but empty. now i’m an adult and i’m handling thing. the fire is still burning, it’s just that most people die from the smoke inhalation, you know? like i look fine. but my lungs don’t work. i’m saying i fucked up and my future is dying. my dreams are curled up somewhere, smothered. i’m handling it really well. everything looks good. i think. it’s just i can’t even feel what’s been happening. it’s just i think i should feel what’s been happening, and i would be scared about what this means, but i can’t be. did you know you can be in the burning house and also outside of it at the same time. my therapist says this is disassociation. i tell her. if some part of me is in and some part is out, we both win. it’s just it got too heavy to carry so i left my heart in there. it might actually even be a good thing. i don’t know. i can’t tell. i can’t feel anything.

Maybe other people dont know that the difference between being tired and depression is that being tired is something you feel like you can fix. You can nap away tired, drink enough water and your sleepiness evaporates, exercise enough and your energy comes back. You wake up on sunny days and feel rested.

But depression feels endless. A tired that only gets worse, not better. You can sleep in or sleep forever, it wouldn’t matter. You sip coffee and do yoga and turn in homework and none of it matters. You’re tired while doing everything, even the things you want to be awake for. It drags on you. Like cinder blocks through the floor.

Can we just fast forward 10 years

you’re not selfish for wanting to be treated well