in another universe, my window is open and im laying on my floor. i am 12 years old. nothing bad has happened to me.

life goes on and slowly i’m finding my way back to myself

i’ve died alone in my room 3000 times nothing you can say can hurt me.

there is nothing lemon squeezy about any of this

accidentally said "invasive thoughts" instead of "intrusive thoughts" today and actually I think I'm onto something. this thought does not belong here and it is harming the local ecosystem

Girl who latches on to everything so hard it leaves claw marks: I’m finally just letting go of everything you know

my wound salt that I keep beside my bed

what they don’t tell you is that sometimes you’ll want to leave, until you actually do. then all you’ll want is to go back

maybe this time picking at Textures on my skin will lead to being silky smooth

bleeding