♡

Dear every person who says that a mental illness is not a valid reason for not being able to attend school normally, Say that to the counselor, the school nurse, the paramedics, and the friend who walked me to the office on the day of my overdose. Say that to the kids who saw me sleep through first and second period. Say that to the boy who sleeps in every class. Tell that to my teacher who had to talk me out of suicide on a school night. Tell that to my bio teacher who saw me break down during a suicide prevention assembly. Tell that to the housemates who have heard me call the suicide hotlines. Tell that to my freshman English teacher who tells me I look so alive now in comparison to how dead I looked freshman year. Say that to any friend who has had to talk me out of suicide. Say that to any friend who has had to calm me down after an anxiety attack. Say that to every friend and follower that has come to me with thoughts of suicide. Tell that to the kids who have failing grades because they can’t focus, the ones who can’t make it through a school night without having an anxiety attack, the kids who sleep right when they get home and straight on until morning, the ones who have more breakdowns a day than meals a day, the ones who have spent more time staring at hospital walls than school hallways. Tell that to the kids who cry every night. Tell that to the teenagers in psychiatric wards and treatment centers. Tell that to the family of someone who has just committed suicide. Tell them that school is more important than their sanity.

I wanted to kill myself and you were yelling about dirty dishes

My heart didn’t break into a thousand pieces after he left. Instead, I realized all the things he didn’t do. He didn’t want to hear my stories. He didn’t ask me questions. He didn’t smile when I was talking to him. He didn’t hug me out of the blue to make me feel good. His hugs were always a preamble to something else, and after he was gone, I wondered if he ever knew me at all.

I forgive people but that doesn’t mean I accept their behavior or trust them. I forgive them for me, so I can let go and move on with my life.

I already said too much. I already shared too much, and I want all my secrets back. I hate getting close to people these days, I always regret sharing too much, caring too much, doing too much, feeling too much.

Sometimes you tell someone to never call you again and then the phone rings and you hope it’s them - - it’s the most twisted logic of all time.

It’s a disorder not a decision.

I hate this feeling of not knowing what to do in life.