I hate that when I feel like this: tears don't come, instead the burning arises from the flame in my chest, engulfing my iris; sorrow & sadness, expressed as ritualistic sacrifice under all.

I wish I could look at myself in the mirror without being disgusted at what I see. I can tell my friends to be strong and to love themselves but I can't do it myself. I feel worthless. Like I don't deserve to be loved.

Some do drugs, others go out for a run, but at the end we’re all just searching for that tiny space, perhaps a hole, that gives us shelter from the terrible reality of the world.

i have a problem holding onto things. even when i know disappointment is coming, even if there is let down after let down, i still open the book and read in hopes that it’ll never come to an end. that it will get better in time. i can’t let go. hoarding hopeful thoughts will always be my downfall.