this coffee tastes like i can still have a beautiful life

My home will be a home with no loud anger, no explosive rage, no slamming doors or breaking glass, no holes punched into the walls, no name calling, shaming or blackmail. My home will be gentle, it will be warm. No fear, no hurt and no worries. I may come from a broken and twisted place but I will build something whole and safe.

Can’t sleep. Can’t wake up. Can’t remember the last time I felt like myself. My thoughts are loud but my mind is empty. Food doesn’t taste the same anymore. Conversations feel far away, like I’m watching my own life happen without me. I’m tired in a way sleep doesn’t fix. Days blur together until weeks disappear. It’s Monday, then somehow it’s Sunday again. Everyone else keeps moving forward, and I’m standing still, pretending I’m okay while quietly losing pieces of myself I don’t know how to get back.

I’m that one who waits for you to tie your shoe while the others keep going

hopefully i'll get to do something other than endure soon. that would be really nice

i love opening tumblr. hello mentally ill people