Weil Es Mich Fühlen Lässt

Same.

I keep finding myself missing those fresh streaks of scarlet lining my arms, feeling the warmth as I watch my blood ooze from my skin. I miss the healing cuts that turn different shades of red, brown, and purple. I miss the roughness of the scabs catching the fabric of my shirts, the twinge of pain that accompanied it. The soreness the day after a relapse, the sting when I wash them in the shower. The itch when the scabs start falling off showing the fresh new scars underneath.

I miss it, and yet I hate it. I hate it so much. I’m disgusting.

#selfh4rm #cvts #s3lfh@rm #styrotwt #styrocvts #bl@des looking 4 mutuals:)

Because I could tell you a million reasons of why I want to kill myself before I could tell one of why I don’t

I literally crave intimacy. Just physical contact my guy. One good honest hug. A kiss perhaps. To hold a fucking hand

sorry for seeing the divine in the monstrous. not my fault.

“Teach me how to feel this skin without wanting to tear it from my bones.”

- Skin and Bones

TW s3lf harm

One month clean... I have first therapy today and i'm stressed out

This is my hand after relapse for everyone wondering.

Ok but same.

sometimes i wish my scars on my left arm where much “worse”. Cause now my mom knows i sh and she would notice new scars. sh on other places never gives me the same release as on my left arm and I hate it.