24. NY.
What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.


Anonymous said:

why did you put in the "loving a skinny boy" poem the bit with her daydreaming about fucking her boyfriend on his lawn? that's not in the poem at all..

Yea, it definitely is. Watch the video.

"When she is happy, she can’t stop talking, when she is sad she doesn’t say a word."
Ann Brashares (via psych2go)

(Source: psych-facts, via mindlesspuppet)

"IF YOU ARE NOT PREPARED TO RAISE A DISABLED CHILD, OR A TRANS CHILD, OR A GAY OR BI OR PAN CHILD, IF YOU ARE NOT PREPARED TO LOVE AND SUPPORT YOUR CHILD UNCONDITIONALLY, DO NOT HAVE A CHILD."
it is 2014. there are no excuses left. (via callmeoutis)

(via mindlesspuppet)

I am having such an existential crisis. I’m 24 and I don’t know what the fuck I want to do with my life and I don’t know who the fuck I am… and I don’t see the point in living if I’m just going to fucking die anyways so why the fuck don’t I just end it now?!

Jesus god damn christ.

And these intrusive thoughts of “God” and “KILL EVERYONE” and FUCK

go away, let me live in peace…. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.

I just want to fucking cry. I am so stressed the fuck out, but I can’t cry because it’s just buried and I’m feeling so much, I’m numb at the same time.

Where’s my sanity..

beatdepression-positivequotes:

Why wouldn’t you reblog this?

these intrusive thoughts make me feel crazed

"

this body is at war with itself,
a cave that houses an angry beast.
it roars, requires repentance and sorrow.

this body turns its head, dizzy,
full of too many people,
crowded with ghosts,
remembrances.

I curl up somewhere inside, lost.
pretend I’m better,
pretend I’m happy,
pretend I’m not afraid.

but this body is not me.
I cannot recognize this person;
I am not myself.
I don’t know where I went.
I don’t know where to find me.

"
Rachel Thompson, dissocation (via poemsbyrachel)
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