I don’t want to crave love like I do.
But I guess that’s the trouble with being borderline.
I’m always going to.
And when I find it, I’ll fuck it up.
I am too fat.
My mother will tell me this, in the most endearing way she can
For twenty one years.
you should wear something more slimming;
You’ve always looked better in skirts;
You don’t want to eat that, do you?
It has taken years
to try and find myself between the rolls and stretch marks,
And it still feels
like no one can see what’s underneath my skin.
I have never seen a reason you’d stay
And I most certainly know all
I am too moody.
Yesterday I hid in my room for two hours,
Cursing the motorcyclist that cut me off.
Swearing the world has always been out to get me,
And this time I’ll never feel better—
I know it.
But tomorrow always shows itself, and soon
The taste of laughter lingers in the back of my throat
As sweet as a lover’s kiss
after I’d forgotten the shape of their mouth.
There is just as much good in me
As the bad.
I have no “real” goals
Wanting to brush my teeth
For the first time in two weeks does not count.
Taking a shower is not an acceptable mile marker.
Depression is not a goal,
And, aren’t I getting too old for that now, anyway?
I just haven’t found my calling, right?
Other then the call to lay in bed for three days now
As I wait for the fog to roll past
As I accomplish my goal of surviving another day.
I am not a treadmill,
I do not roll over and continue while being stepped on
Simply because the right button was pushed.
I am a liar.
I do not always feel fine
But I guess if you are willing to believe that
The answer wasn’t really what you were looking for.
I lie because it’s easier then leaving you as hopeless
And broken as I find myself
The words find their way into the air,
before I have a chance to choke them down—
yes, I want to have sex with you;
No, you didn’t hurt me
Like unburying myself with a spoon, in sinking sand—
It looks like it’s already too late
I am too attached.
I will ask you how your day was
And buy you presents every time I’m at the store.
My expectations will always be higher
Because I know you can never beat me.
You will eventually forget what’s it’s like to want for anything
And I will eventually forget what it’s like to be myself
But that is not why you will leave
You will leave because too much of myself will be lost
In looking for you everywhere
And I will be an empty container
While you find a brand new box.
Here is my final warning to you,
My final mistake:
I can love myself.
You will find my rough edges,
You will wonder what you ever saw in me,
You will run when there is no more reason to stay in the trenches.
And I will say goodbye—
With a strength you’ve never seen before,
I will stay.
I will stay and one day, I will thrive.
Because I love that I have flaws to overcome
And I love the depth of my entirety.
Can you say the same?"Why You Will Leave Me (via anunwrittenlifexx)
crying after this . ❤️❤️❤️❤️
This is something that i feel is important for people, especially friends, to know & try to understand. The fears that people secretly, truly hate you isn’t something that you come up with on your own to test people, it is a real part of the illness. The scary thing is that it can & does wear people down, so you have to try & find ways to remind yourself that the illness is telling you that you are hated, & try to remember the times your friends & others have showed you that they don’t hate you.
It’s easier said than done.
When asked by Dr. Frederick Fosdal if he believed he would have enjoyed a close relationship with another man, Jeffrey Dahmer replied, “That would have been nice.”
Fosdal further asked what, if anything, might have prevented him from killing. “A permanent relationship,” Jeff responded.
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