dami

every social interaction feels like im a pirate being made to walk the plank for some moral failure. every time i have to express myself, its a humiliation ritual. every fibre in my body yearns for secrecy

when the smut is written as ‘this character cant acknowledge tenderness and domesticity to be what they need, their only concept of love is sex’ and not just intercourse for the sake of intercourse — i cry

how raw do i have to scrub my skin with soap until the grossness that drenches my soul is cleansed

if you romanticise chronic conditions i want you to burn because i will never be able to live again

wait i didnt read the rest of that really good kim/harry fanfic. time to be happy

i can’t live with myself im going to deep clean my room and scrub at my skin in the shower until all the filth is gone

i cry when people buy me things not necessarily because pf the money even but my friend said to me to not worry because ‘they bought it to make me happy’ but rhe fact that anyone thinks im deserving of happiness just makes me feel like ive decieved them. uou dont know how disgusting i am. if you did, you wouldnt ever speak to me again, let alone buy me perfume

who up rn burden-ing they loved ones? oooh im a burden. oooh i’m burden-ing SO HARD rn

ive accepted ill never get my life back

I’M ALIVE

Have to go interact with a stranger today. I’m going to Die from the Anxious