my fav. 
  • I'm still falling down deeper. My memories are getting fuzzier. I can't think about anything else but wanting my life to just end and save me the torture. I feel useless. I've never felt so alone. There's no one in my life who loves me. They all eventually saw me for who I really am - a deadbeat coward. Now it's years later. I talk to myself. I write all day. I destroy myself. I will do anything and everything fucked up and love doing it until I deal with the consequences. But it's never a choice. It's even more than a compulsion. I'm fucked up because I need to be. It's a cruel trick nature plays on some of us.
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Do you know that feeling?
When you’re just waiting.
Waiting to get home, into your room,
close the door, fall into bed,
and just let everything out that you kept in all day.
That feeling of both relief and desperation.
Nothing is wrong.
But nothing is right either.
And you’re tired.
Tired of everything, tired of nothing.
And you just want someone to
be there and tell you it’s okay.
But no one’s going to be there.
And you know you have to be strong
for yourself, because no one can fix you.
But you’re tired of waiting.
Tired of having to be that one to fix yourself and everyone else.
Tired of being strong.
And just for once, you just want it to be easy.
To be simple. To be helped. To be saved.
But you know you won’t be.
But you’re still hoping.
And you’re still wishing.
And you’re still staying strong and fighting,
with tears in your eyes.
You’re fighting. insecurity—kills—people (via insecurity—kills—people)
280 notes