Ong

Is there really any meaning

to this thing we call living?

(':

God, i feel like such a fucking burden. Why can’t i just shut up and deal with it myself.  i’m sure that no one wants to hear me whine about how fucking repulsive i am… i wish i could just stop being so fucking annoying.  i always do the same fucking shit of getting bad again every few months like an absolute fucking idiot and slitting myself all over and just. being so fucking disgusting. i’m sure that at this point everyone’s so fucking done of me complaining about it. i don’t even know why i bring it up… they’re clearly so fucking tired of me.

why wouldn’t they be?

tw sh

It's still self harm.

Made a promise i wouldn’t cut again to two different people… Does it count if I got really angry at myself and scratched too hard…more than once…

There’s no blood…the skin is just a little broke… Y'know

tell me you still love me

“Put a gun to my head and paint the walls with my brain”

BMTH // Aligator Blood

i’m actively suicidal and i really can’t see why that’s a bad thing

*nothing happens*

me: this is too much

The Man

The man you called ‘dad’,

The man who turned his back 

The man who left you alone to grow by yourself.

The man you no longer call dad,

The man who turned back,

Like years hadn’t pass.

Now the man that never calls back,

Asks why you never call back.

Makes you laugh,like he isn’t the man who left you alone to grow by yourself…