sweet tides

i hate this. i hate bpd. i hate that progress is never fucking linear. i hope i dont feel like this in the morning.

nobody does

i guess when my depression took over a few days ago i thought about what I did as a teenager when I didn’t have the courage to slit my wrists. Oh yeah tumblr- a blog where I can write about my teenage hood troubles while simultaneously getting triggered by the glorification of the same struggles. i’m in my bath tub listening to the same songs I used to blast in my childhood bath room with a razor blade in my hand. I had my eyes closed and imagined my bloody bath water pouring into the hallway as you clean the house. I can’t feel anything at all anymore. I tried my best to tell someone how i’m feeling, it seemed forgotten about as days passed us by. I became angry. Angry at everything everyone and yet about nothing in particular because I just needed to feel something to fill this black mass that’s consuming me. i understand what people say when ‘we didnt see it coming’ because nobody truly listens until the blood is seeping into your hallways.