No Nevermind I Love Her She Took Off My Glasses When I Fell Asleep On The Couch And Put Another Blanket

uneasy

I'm afraid that I will never commit suicide and will suffer for the rest of my days.

having bpd and constantly hurting people around you with your anger issues is so painful and the guilt is worse i hate myself

can someone hire me as a lighthouse keeper. my grip on reality is soooo stable and i will behave so normally under conditions of extreme isolation. and i promise i wont try to fuck the light

it bothers me that you often don't really hear about people having a "favorite album" the way they might have a favorite movie or favorite video game

i think about my mother and what she had to let go to take care of me. i think about the photo of her when she was young, her eyes bright and golden, maybe she passed them to another child in another world. i think about how she didn't grow up, i think about the pain she was inflicted with to prove herself of her womanhood, of the burden she earned when she had children. i think about being in her womb, warm and parasitic, sucking the life force out of her, making her losing all locks of her dark, long hair. i think about her drastic weight loss, i think about her face holes, i think about her sudden shift in mood and satisfaction. i think about how i was the end to my mother, how i brought death to her the moment i was born and months i laid in her womb. i think about her mother calling her every other day, wishing she could see her and embrace her. i think about the nights my mother misses my grandmother, and how i wish she didn't have to be with me instead. i think about my mother and it aches because no matter how hard i try, i can never be gentle with her. i think about how i hate her with so much fury, but never wipe her watering eyes when she wanders. i think about how i love her to the point a part of me breaks and shakes and dies, but i can't show it without shouting and screaming and yelling. i think about how my mother yearns to be hugged and embraced by her own mother, how i wish i could be that for her, how i want to coddle her and kiss her forehead and tell her everything will be alright. i think about how my mother has crossed oceans for me to sleep beside me on lonely nights, how her mother would cross the same oceans to wash her hair, how i can't even seem to reach out to her and hold her close. i think about my mother shampooing my hair, and how warm her hands are, how safe i feel so bare infront of another human being, how the love from the womb comes back.

im not smart enough to consume all the knowledge in this world but god knows ill try my hardest to even if i end up as the dumbest in the room

reading sex is sooo much more fun than watching sex

some nights i feel so alone that a bubble balloons up in my stomach and dares to pop and im terrified that my mood will explode with it and ill have no emotions left and i will just be left empty with scattered organs and mindless memories of a simpler time when i felt the warmth of another body and could connect but the present is so cold