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

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..

Kik? Wastedcarbon



Would be cool, hit me up at wastedcarbon


Would be cool, hit me up at wastedcarbon


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,

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)