because I recognize this behavior but still don’t understand how to prevent it from getting worse.
because I don’t talk about things like I used to.
because there are moments where I am really really happy, but there is always a cold shadow that falls afterwards.
because I don’t understand for six months I was isolated and unaffected, and immediately upon entering this atmosphere my make up changes.
because I don’t understand how to keep going when every morning I want to give up and run away again.
because I don’t understand how to tread this water without losing my soul.
because I don’t understand this obsession we have with causing this pain, with cutting those healed wounds open and pouring kerosene into their veins, just to watch them go up in flames.
because I don’t understand why I am growing colder.
because I don’t understand how to love someone without destroying everything good around me.
because I was never taught how to have healthy relationships or friendships or normal conversations.
because I can hardly look at myself in the mirror.
you lose everything eventually.
not everyone is going to like you. and sometimes things in your life will be harder than you want and sometimes you will stub your toe or cuss at work and sometimes you will cry over nothing and sometimes you won’t get out of bed and sometimes you will make mistakes, not sometimes, always. always…
Reblogged from apomegranategirl with 8 notes
what a cool life I have as I sit here in my bed and sob absolute buckets. what a weak, senseless stupid person. over nothing. over absolutely nothing.
I feel sad, for no reason as I usually do,
so I just fixate upon this stupid reason for me to feel sad. which isn’t even really a reason for me to feel sad at all because I didn’t feel like this for a long time and then what out of nowhere its different?
nah. unacceptable.
Reblogged from apomegranategirl with 2 notes
I can feel the sourness rushing through my bones, turning everything it passes into decaying matter, my marrow turning stale and hollow, drying out and shriveling inside of me. My hair falls out of my ponytail and down onto my shoulders, as my small finger nails sink into my scalp and scratch and tear at my skin, but no flesh comes away under my nails. Soft tears roll down my nose and trickle down onto my lip. I can almost taste the salt. I let my body slump over, allowing my head to meet the woodgrain floor with a small crack. If it hurt, I didn’t notice. My lips were dry and cracked, to the point where blood squeezed out between the lines stretched over the soft red skin. My fingers traced the patterns in the wood, letting them snake up and down with the curves. Eventually, I stare at the floor long enough to see words in the grain
there was alot of anger building up. alot. and while it was okay for some time for it to be hiding away in a dark place inside of my ever frenzied being, it was, in fact, the most unhealthy thing for us. I bit my lips, my nails, my skin. my lack of patience wearing away on my body. anyone could see it.
