and so watch, as my lips shatter into the golden sunset. as my thoughts break, glass falling to the ground, and it’s all fucking over now. so here i am, staring up at the ceiling, just waiting for my mind to shut down.
and so listen, as blood dribbles off my fingers, and my hope melts like a candle in the freezing. cold. winter.
because this. this is the apocalypse; the one we’ve all been waiting for. so take a seat. grab some fucking popcorn. and turn off your heart. and brush away every part of yourself that ever dared to think that things were gonna get better, because they aren’t.
because life is not a disney movie.
and you can’t spend all day in bed, hiding away from the reality.
trigger warning: implied self-harm
i don’t know. maybe it’s my meds. maybe i’m spinning spinning spinning, and we all know she’s gonna hit the edge. gonna go plummeting over, right into the abyss. going to scream at the darkness swallows her, because she’s never felt anything like this.
and she’s weak, and coddled, and stupid. and i can’t believe she thinks this is suffering, because this? this is barely the start of it.
trying to get better, and always failing at it. burning yourself out to nothing, and working until 1a.m., and crying in the school bathroom just trying to live with the marks on your wrists. and life isn’t fair, you idiot. stop asking what you did to deserve this.
it just… happened. because your dna sucks, or because trauma is a bitch, and maybe it’s just my meds. or maybe it’s depression. because i know there are people who get better, i know there are people who learn how to live like this but right now… it’s pretty hard to believe it.
soft pastel clouds, lonely whispers between lovers, and the sound of endless rainfall.
snow seeping through my coat until i’m freezing cold. and every day is just the fucking same, you know?
phone on silent. vibrating in my pocket. and whatever you’re asking, the answer will always be no.
breath against the car window. foggy finger-drawings of places we’ll never go.
wind on my cheeks. and the nightmares call. and i let my eyes. slip. closed.
Wrote this a while ago, on a really lonely night.
breathe / just breathe / it’s nothing / i’m sure it’s nothing / breathe / just breathe / in the thin air around you like you’re dying / like you’re at the top of the tallest mountain / and i think this is it / but breathe / just breathe / in the toxins / keep your mouth shut / and swallow down the words / like a good little girl / because don’t you want to be a good / little / girl? / don’t you want to be loved? / don’t you want to be known? breathe / just breathe / in the smoke / and gas / and poison / despite your pounding heart / despite your shaking hands / despite the way everything seems louder / and the world spins in and out of focus / and know / in your last moment / that no matter what you did, you fucking deserved it.
and you know that moment, in a movie? when the answer to the problem rolls right across the screen, only it’s at that moment when our darling protagonist decides to be on the phone. or doing homework. or sleeping? and a little pit opens up in your stomach, and it takes all the self-control you have not to scream?
you know that moment, after a therapy session, or right before a huge presentation. when you really think you can do it. when you colour coordinate your outfits, and curl your naturally curly hair, just because you like it. and in that moment, you really think–you really think you can do it?
you know tearing yourself apart because it’s what other people are doing, and if it’s what other people are doing, maybe it’ll make you soft. and sweet. pancakes and maple syrup and whipped cream.
you know zoning out for a second, because you’re anxious as fuck, and because the memories won’t stop flashing through your head, and… you just can’t. not at the moment.