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in the mood to be called honey.. sweetie.. my angel.. my love
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what I say: “it is what it is”
what I mean: “I have cried about this for hours and have probably self harmed and contemplated suicide over this.
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the overwhelming urge to push people away and act like you don’t give a fuck ab nothing is taking hold.
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I don’t think suicidal thoughts actually ever go away.
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Diese ganzen Versagensängste verfolgen mich Tag und Nacht.
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"Manchmal weint alles in dir außer deine Augen."
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time and time again you learn to not trust anybody except yourself.
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i want someone to hold me so tight the broken pieces stick back together
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the urge to do something creative is there but it's squashed by me having all the energy of a wet paperbag
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