that weird trauma dichotomy where you’ve always been considered more grown up and mature than your peers but now that you’re an adult you feel like you’re still a child emotionally
I want you to understand how chaotic, loud and inhuman my brain is,
But my darling, I wouldn't want to make you feel so insane.
STOP! TELLING! PEOPLE! THAT! NO! ONE! WILL! LOVE! THEM! UNTIL! THEY! LOVE! THEMSELVES! STOP! PLANTING! THE! IDEA! IN! PEOPLES! BRAINS! THAT! THEY! ARE! UNWORTHY! OF! LOVE! BECAUSE! OF! THEIR! OWN! STRUGGLE!
“You guys are dating right?” he asks. I shake my head in confusion. “No,” I answer. The answer hurts; physically and emotionally. He frowns. “But the way you guys look at each other…” I shake my head, smiling sadly.”
— excerpt from a story i’ll never write #7 // thewriterain
“Laying in bed
with the ghost of you,
and missing you
more than I am supposed to.”
— a.a.
“Fuck, I really thought you wanted me like I wanted you”
— do you even think about me
Sometimes self sabotage and suicidal tendencies are loud, cutting and burning and swallowing pills. But sometimes they’re quiet. Not buckling your seat belt and driving a little too fast. Drinking caffeine and alcohol knowing it’ll hurt in the long run. Not putting on sunscreen hoping for burns and skin cancer. Sleeping with people you don’t love or staying with someone you hate. Not wearing a coat to make sure you’re cold, scalding water in the shower. Putting yourself in situations that make you anxious and uncomfortable. Starting fights and pushing people away.
So don’t just worry about the loud signs. Notice the quiet ones too. Because they’re just as deadly
““I love you, but you just make me so sad.” She whispered quietly enough to not wake him. “And I so badly want to go back to the way things were, but every time I look at you now I feel little edges of my heart cracking apart.” She kisses his chest with the next words, “I love you, but I have to love myself now.””
—
“you fall in love too quickly and with the wrong people”
—
and they’ll ask me, “after all this time?” and I’ll nod, and say yes, because it’s still you, it’s always been you.
(via buhbulgum)
Everything seems to be so hard. A blog about feelings, poetry, mental health and past trauma experiences and about living with it.
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