Sans titre

In the end i couldn’t save anyone not even myself not even the things that i fought so hard for

imagine your card gets declined at therapy and instead of bringing out a person they bring out a needle and stick it through the vein that runs through your arm and make you examine the blood that runs through the tube just to remind you that you are the product of your mother and father and as the blood runs through the tube you are reminded that your uncontrollable rage and your ability to feel everything so deeply is infiltrated through your blood - save me an orange book -

im suffering i’m always suffering even when the love is there i’m still suffering. Tell me, what’s wrong with me ?

Mothers are humans who sometimes give birth to their pain instead of children.

"Some days I don't exist. My bed becomes a casket."

if the only way for us to meet is through me having bpd i would choose to have it in every universe

all my grief says the same thing: this isn't how it's supposed to be. this isn't how it's supposed to be.

could you ever love me back?

in another universe i see you across the room in a bar, in the crowd at a concert, we bump into each other at the grocery store, we grew up together. anywhere in any universe we always find each other.

At the end of the chapter, you are ragged and wrecked. You feel ashamed, and that makes you angry.You feel like everyone misunderstands you and blames you for things that aren't your fault. You feel lonely.You're tired of having to figure this stuff out all by yourself. You just want a little help, for once, instead of always having to go it alone.

i thought maybe just maybe if i let you go you would somehow find your way back to me but you never did i’m still waiting