Suicidal - Tumblr Posts
I don't want to deal with the next 60 years of my life.
I was tired of being in the shadow of another.
Tired of paying for the crimes of another
Accused.
Tired of him berating every single thing that made me happy. That made me feel something.
Something other than feeling panic or numb
A laugh escaped my lips as I scrolled. He scoffed, “ that’s so fucking stupid. I can’t believe people do that shit. What the hell.”
Instant shut down. The smile was gone. That little spark blown away. So I scrolled away, turned off the phone and stayed silent.
Numb.
Countless times something or someone made me happy. Only for him to come knocking it down like a Jenga tower.
Now I’m left to rebuild the pieces, only for him to come another day.
I hardly feel anything.
I am just so fucking empty.
Countless,” Let me see your phone.”
“Why are you texting them?”
“ Show me.”
“If you have nothing to hide then you should just let me see your phone.”
“ Why are you making this such a big deal?”
“ You’re just like the rest of them.”
“ You’re all the same.”
I was sick of being accused of the crimes of another. I was tired of you berating what makes me happy. I was sick of living in another’s shadow.
I am allowed some privacy.
“Did you sext them?” Are you serious? I have done nothing but drop friend after friend for you. I turned down people who made me happy. Opportunities to have unforgettable memories. Just so I could feel like this.
When I was alone, and you weren’t there, I was able to ask him for advice. Because he went through something similar. Not because I wanted to fuck or date him.
I needed advice. Or homework help.
I just want my privacy. I just want some time to myself.
I’m tired of feeling that way.
I want to rest.
I really need rest.
Does anyone else out there have their calendars marked, a goal to find happiness before your depression consumes you?
I will seek my "great perhaps", I will keep on fighting.
I seek for a "great perhaps"; it isn't easy to keep on living while the living tries to end me with their smothering accusations. Maybe life has to be lived that way to understand how it works. I'm not a child, or a hormonal teenager yelling the "LIFE SUCKS!" every minute, I do that mentally.
I've loved too much to suffer like this, people keep on targeting me like I'm some kind of a toy that they have snatched from a classmate they like to bully. It's scarring, these memories and the inferno I am living in right now.
I wish the world had let me keep my childish innocence, but I was forced to grow up, mentally it has been exhausting. Exalting feelings? They lost their way; they never reached me; I'm still waiting.
The mind is funny. It keeps on shouting me; it's deafening. I'd like to end my journey here, but I keep on going. I keep on living even though the world around me tells me not to.
I will keep on fighting; I need to survive. It's a hungry world that keeps feeding on fragile souls. Oh, darling. How I wish I could have kept you safe but I, too, want to be saved.
I know I'll never be good enough. The only real use I have is to be a fake ass to make others feel better about themselves. When I'm being myself, no one can stand it. If you don't like me, then tell me. Don't just fucking string me along, yell at me, and spread lies. At least when I die, I can say I was honest.
Und schon wieder starrst du nur in‘s leere nur um nicht zu weinen.
Du willst Tabletten nehmen, dich betäuben, alles vergessen und einfach nur verschwinden.
Du willst dieses Leben nicht mehr...
THIS!
Also a good majority of the fuckwads who even say that shit aren't even mentally ill so why the fuck do they care???? They can't even handle someone who has just has suicidal ideation one or two times in their life, let alone someone who's only thoughts are literally suicide and a LONG history of attempts. (Exaggerated that a bit btw, but you get my point)
If I hear that shit come out of someone's mouth again I am actually going to fucking explode /neg
The whole, "K*lling urself is a permanent solution to a temporary problem" bullshit is spouted by the ignorant lucky ones who have only had temporary problems. Some people's problems are permanent so maybe try offering actual help and support to them rather than regurgitating an overused phrase that means nothing to people with real struggles.
Harry Styles: Stoic - Foreword (on Wattpad) http://my.w.tt/UiNb/zcCrBuLaFG People fear death even more than pain. It's strange that they fear death. Life hurts a lot more than death. At the point of death, the pain is over. Yeah, I guess it is a friend... -Jim Morrison "WHY WON'T YOU LET ME LOVE YOU?!" Harry screams, tears profusely running down his slightly indented cheeks, falling and gathering into small pools in the small indents of his clavicles and moistening the ends of his long brown hair. "Why won't you let me touch you.... caress you? Why?" he says his husky voice now barely audible and cracking from crying. I remain silent and stoic which by the way I've gotten pretty good at over the years. I never, I mean never ever express emotion because it shows weakness and vulnerability and only the strong survives in this cruel, corrupt, condemned, and so-called world I live in. My facade was particularly built on that." Ebony please.. Talk to me... say something...PLEASE!" Harry cries and pleads desperately. I continue to stare impassively at the door behind him not daring to make eye contact. Right now the idea of making a run for it all the way home and then locking myself in a room from feeling the guilt that I deserved, with just me and my very much appreciated friend, my blade, seems very appeasing to me. Subconsciously, I slip both hands in my pockets just to make sure it was still safely stored in my hoodie's pocket. Running the rough pad of my index fingertip along the edge of the blade, I release a soft and inaudible sigh of content as I feel it slightly slice through the calloused layer of skin. The pain feels so good. Pain is what has kept me alive all of these years. Pain makes me feel... real....