#dontworryaboutme

Don’t tell my mom

That I’m crying on the floor

Staring at pills

That don’t work anymore

Because if she knows

She’ll be hurt too

Worrying about me

Instead of her own issues

Muốn cuộn tròn chui vào một góc nào đó....

Biến mất đi vài hôm

Sẽ lại ổn thôy

Không sao

. . .

Night before the wedding

The vial that Friar Lawrence gave could be completely poisonous for all I know. Yet he wouldn’t give me a poisonous vial because he’s a holy man and wouldn’t mean any harm, right? But what if the vial doesn’t work whatsoever? Then I’ll have to wake up and marry Paris against my wishes. If it does, I have a knife to use. Oh but what if I wake up too early? Before Romeo even comes to help me... oh no no no... I would have to lie there in the same place many of my deceased family members have lied. 

I must do it. I’m going to go insane if I keep thinking of the what ifs .. 

I’ll be back soon.

Why do I deserve this pain, people say it will make you stronger, when exactly when will that happen, I’m breathing but no airs coming out .....

Will things ever get easier, or will we just get so used to being in pain that it just becomes normal, that being mentally unstable will be the new “cool”

I always try to figure out what am I doing so wrong to be so broken, to want to scream out in pain every single day of my life