*sitting alone on my bed* *thinks “hm. i can’t keep living like this.”* *keeps living like this*

the constant thought that something is wrong with me will never be something that will change, I'm fucked up in so many ways

I miss the hands that no longer want to hold me.

can’t stop thinking about him can’t stop thinking about him can’t stop thinking about him can’t stop thinking about him can’t stop thinking about him can’t stop thinking about him can’t stop thinking about him can’t stop thinking about him can’t stop thinking about him can’t stop thinking about him can’t stop thinking about him can’t stop thinking about him can’t stop thinking about him can’t stop thinking about him can’t stop thinking about him can’t stop thinking about him can’t stop thinking about him can’t stop thinking about him c̷̮̗̖̗͎̗̓ă̷̜̂͝͠ṋ̶̙̘̂̏̔́̀̎͘’̶̧̭̻͋̉͝t̷̢̢̩̩̮͎͇̟͛̉͂͌ ̴̡̝̜͕͊̅̓̉̓s̴̤̳̙̭̪͆̂̿̿̈́̃͛͒ẗ̸̥̼̙͉̗́̍̐̇̕̚o̷̡͙̳̅͂̒̍͜p̷͎̠̙̙̼̲̐̑͆ ̶̡̡͕̱̩͙̀̇͒̏̑͗̈́͝t̶̡̲͒h̵̨͑̾̚i̸͉̞̲̦͇̿͛n̷͕͈̞͛ḵ̵̠̟̖̋͆ḭ̶̧̡̝̯̉̽̾͒̽͛n̵̡͈̘̝̪̺̟̉̏̆͜g̷̟̪̙̪͗͘ͅ ̶̫̠͗̓ȃ̶͔͓̽̃͋̅̉͜͝b̵̡̘͗̍͐̂͘ͅö̴͕̱̥̟́̑̉̀͘ų̶̘̘̝̘̦̀̋̆̄̕͝͠t̸̨̛̜̠̳̞̖͖̮́̾̈́̎ ̸̛̪̹̅̑͋̉͘h̵͕̦͒̈̃̏͗͝ĩ̷̳̫͇̩m̴̢̧͎̦̬̩͆̂́̾̚͝ c̷̮̗̖̗͎̗̓ă̷̜̂͝͠ṋ̶̙̘̂̏̔́̀̎͘’̶̧̭̻͋̉͝t̷̢̢̩̩̮͎͇̟͛̉͂͌ ̴̡̝̜͕͊̅̓̉̓s̴̤̳̙̭̪͆̂̿̿̈́̃͛͒ẗ̸̥̼̙͉̗́̍̐̇̕̚o̷̡͙̳̅͂̒̍͜p̷͎̠̙̙̼̲̐̑͆ ̶̡̡͕̱̩͙̀̇͒̏̑͗̈́͝t̶̡̲͒h̵̨͑̾̚i̸͉̞̲̦͇̿͛n̷͕͈̞͛ḵ̵̠̟̖̋͆ḭ̶̧̡̝̯̉̽̾͒̽͛n̵̡͈̘̝̪̺̟̉̏̆͜g̷̟̪̙̪͗͘ͅ ̶̫̠͗̓ȃ̶͔͓̽̃͋̅̉͜͝b̵̡̘͗̍͐̂͘ͅö̴͕̱̥̟́̑̉̀͘ų̶̘̘̝̘̦̀̋̆̄̕͝͠t̸̨̛̜̠̳̞̖͖̮́̾̈́̎ ̸̛̪̹̅̑͋̉͘h̵͕̦͒̈̃̏͗͝ĩ̷̳̫͇̩m̴̢̧͎̦̬̩͆̂́̾̚͝ c̷̮̗̖̗͎̗̓ă̷̜̂͝͠ṋ̶̙̘̂̏̔́̀̎͘’̶̧̭̻͋̉͝t̷̢̢̩̩̮͎͇̟͛̉͂͌ ̴̡̝̜͕͊̅̓̉̓s̴̤̳̙̭̪͆̂̿̿̈́̃͛͒ẗ̸̥̼̙͉̗́̍̐̇̕̚o̷̡͙̳̅͂̒̍͜p̷͎̠̙̙̼̲̐̑͆ ̶̡̡͕̱̩͙̀̇͒̏̑͗̈́͝t̶̡̲͒h̵̨͑̾̚i̸͉̞̲̦͇̿͛n̷͕͈̞͛ḵ̵̠̟̖̋͆ḭ̶̧̡̝̯̉̽̾͒̽͛n̵̡͈̘̝̪̺̟̉̏̆͜g̷̟̪̙̪͗͘ͅ ̶̫̠͗̓ȃ̶͔͓̽̃͋̅̉͜͝b̵̡̘͗̍͐̂͘ͅö̴͕̱̥̟́̑̉̀͘ų̶̘̘̝̘̦̀̋̆̄̕͝͠t̸̨̛̜̠̳̞̖͖̮́̾̈́̎ ̸̛̪̹̅̑͋̉͘h̵͕̦͒̈̃̏͗͝ĩ̷̳̫͇̩m̴̢̧͎̦̬̩͆̂́̾̚͝ c̷̮̗̖̗͎̗̓ă̷̜̂͝͠ṋ̶̙̘̂̏̔́̀̎͘’̶̧̭̻͋̉͝t̷̢̢̩̩̮͎͇̟͛̉͂͌ ̴̡̝̜͕͊̅̓̉̓s̴̤̳̙̭̪͆̂̿̿̈́̃͛͒ẗ̸̥̼̙͉̗́̍̐̇̕̚o̷̡͙̳̅͂̒̍͜p̷͎̠̙̙̼̲̐̑͆ ̶̡̡͕̱̩͙̀̇͒̏̑͗̈́͝t̶̡̲͒h̵̨͑̾̚i̸͉̞̲̦͇̿͛n̷͕͈̞͛ḵ̵̠̟̖̋͆ḭ̶̧̡̝̯̉̽̾͒̽͛n̵̡͈̘̝̪̺̟̉̏̆͜g̷̟̪̙̪͗͘ͅ ̶̫̠͗̓ȃ̶͔͓̽̃͋̅̉͜͝b̵̡̘͗̍͐̂͘ͅö̴͕̱̥̟́̑̉̀͘ų̶̘̘̝̘̦̀̋̆̄̕͝͠t̸̨̛̜̠̳̞̖͖̮́̾̈́̎ ̸̛̪̹̅̑͋̉͘h̵͕̦͒̈̃̏͗͝ĩ̷̳̫͇̩m̴̢̧͎̦̬̩͆̂́̾̚͝ c̷̮̗̖̗͎̗̓ă̷̜̂͝͠ṋ̶̙̘̂̏̔́̀̎͘’̶̧̭̻͋̉͝t̷̢̢̩̩̮͎͇̟͛̉͂͌ ̴̡̝̜͕͊̅̓̉̓s̴̤̳̙̭̪͆̂̿̿̈́̃͛͒ẗ̸̥̼̙͉̗́̍̐̇̕̚o̷̡͙̳̅͂̒̍͜p̷͎̠̙̙̼̲̐̑͆ ̶̡̡͕̱̩͙̀̇͒̏̑͗̈́͝t̶̡̲͒h̵̨͑̾̚i̸͉̞̲̦͇̿͛n̷͕͈̞͛ḵ̵̠̟̖̋͆ḭ̶̧̡̝̯̉̽̾͒̽͛n̵̡͈̘̝̪̺̟̉̏̆͜g̷̟̪̙̪͗͘ͅ ̶̫̠͗̓ȃ̶͔͓̽̃͋̅̉͜͝b̵̡̘͗̍͐̂͘ͅö̴͕̱̥̟́̑̉̀͘ų̶̘̘̝̘̦̀̋̆̄̕͝͠t̸̨̛̜̠̳̞̖͖̮́̾̈́̎ ̸̛̪̹̅̑͋̉͘h̵͕̦͒̈̃̏͗͝ĩ̷̳̫͇̩m̴̢̧͎̦̬̩͆̂́̾̚͝ c̷̮̗̖̗͎̗̓ă̷̜̂͝͠ṋ̶̙̘̂̏̔́̀̎͘’̶̧̭̻͋̉͝t̷̢̢̩̩̮͎͇̟͛̉͂͌ ̴̡̝̜͕͊̅̓̉̓s̴̤̳̙̭̪͆̂̿̿̈́̃͛͒ẗ̸̥̼̙͉̗́̍̐̇̕̚o̷̡͙̳̅͂̒̍͜p̷͎̠̙̙̼̲̐̑͆ ̶̡̡͕̱̩͙̀̇͒̏̑͗̈́͝t̶̡̲͒h̵̨͑̾̚i̸͉̞̲̦͇̿͛n̷͕͈̞͛ḵ̵̠̟̖̋͆ḭ̶̧̡̝̯̉̽̾͒̽͛n̵̡͈̘̝̪̺̟̉̏̆͜g̷̟̪̙̪͗͘ͅ ̶̫̠͗̓ȃ̶͔͓̽̃͋̅̉͜͝b̵̡̘͗̍͐̂͘ͅö̴͕̱̥̟́̑̉̀͘ų̶̘̘̝̘̦̀̋̆̄̕͝͠t̸̨̛̜̠̳̞̖͖̮́̾̈́̎ ̸̛̪̹̅̑͋̉͘h̵͕̦͒̈̃̏͗͝ĩ̷̳̫͇̩m̴̢̧͎̦̬̩͆̂́̾̚͝ c̷̮̗̖̗͎̗̓ă̷̜̂͝͠ṋ̶̙̘̂̏̔́̀̎͘’̶̧̭̻͋̉͝t̷̢̢̩̩̮͎͇̟͛̉͂͌ ̴̡̝̜͕͊̅̓̉̓s̴̤̳̙̭̪͆̂̿̿̈́̃͛͒ẗ̸̥̼̙͉̗́̍̐̇̕̚o̷̡͙̳̅͂̒̍͜p̷͎̠̙̙̼̲̐̑͆ ̶̡̡͕̱̩͙̀̇͒̏̑͗̈́͝t̶̡̲͒h̵̨͑̾̚i̸͉̞̲̦͇̿͛n̷͕͈̞͛ḵ̵̠̟̖̋͆ḭ̶̧̡̝̯̉̽̾͒̽͛n̵̡͈̘̝̪̺̟̉̏̆͜g̷̟̪̙̪͗͘ͅ ̶̫̠͗̓ȃ̶͔͓̽̃͋̅̉͜͝b̵̡̘͗̍͐̂͘ͅö̴͕̱̥̟́̑̉̀͘ų̶̘̘̝̘̦̀̋̆̄̕͝͠t̸̨̛̜̠̳̞̖͖̮́̾̈́̎ ̸̛̪̹̅̑͋̉͘h̵͕̦͒̈̃̏͗͝ĩ̷̳̫͇̩m̴̢̧͎̦̬̩͆̂́̾̚͝ c̷̮̗̖̗͎̗̓ă̷̜̂͝͠ṋ̶̙̘̂̏̔́̀̎͘’̶̧̭̻͋̉͝t̷̢̢̩̩̮͎͇̟͛̉͂͌ ̴̡̝̜͕͊̅̓̉̓s̴̤̳̙̭̪͆̂̿̿̈́̃͛͒ẗ̸̥̼̙͉̗́̍̐̇̕̚o̷̡͙̳̅͂̒̍͜p̷͎̠̙̙̼̲̐̑͆ ̶̡̡͕̱̩͙̀̇͒̏̑͗̈́͝t̶̡̲͒h̵̨͑̾̚i̸͉̞̲̦͇̿͛n̷͕͈̞͛ḵ̵̠̟̖̋͆ḭ̶̧̡̝̯̉̽̾͒̽͛n̵̡͈̘̝̪̺̟̉̏̆͜g̷̟̪̙̪͗͘ͅ ̶̫̠͗̓ȃ̶͔͓̽̃͋̅̉͜͝b̵̡̘͗̍͐̂͘ͅö̴͕̱̥̟́̑̉̀͘ų̶̘̘̝̘̦̀̋̆̄̕͝͠t̸̨̛̜̠̳̞̖͖̮́̾̈́̎ ̸̛̪̹̅̑͋̉͘h̵͕̦͒̈̃̏͗͝ĩ̷̳̫͇̩m̴̢̧͎̦̬̩͆̂́̾̚͝ c̷̮̗̖̗͎̗̓ă̷̜̂͝͠ṋ̶̙̘̂̏̔́̀̎͘’̶̧̭̻͋̉͝t̷̢̢̩̩̮͎͇̟͛̉͂͌ ̴̡̝̜͕͊̅̓̉̓s̴̤̳̙̭̪͆̂̿̿̈́̃͛͒ẗ̸̥̼̙͉̗́̍̐̇̕̚o̷̡͙̳̅͂̒̍͜p̷͎̠̙̙̼̲̐̑͆ ̶̡̡͕̱̩͙̀̇͒̏̑͗̈́͝t̶̡̲͒h̵̨͑̾̚i̸͉̞̲̦͇̿͛n̷͕͈̞͛ḵ̵̠̟̖̋͆ḭ̶̧̡̝̯̉̽̾͒̽͛n̵̡͈̘̝̪̺̟̉̏̆͜g̷̟̪̙̪͗͘ͅ ̶̫̠͗̓ȃ̶͔͓̽̃͋̅̉͜͝b̵̡̘͗̍͐̂͘ͅö̴͕̱̥̟́̑̉̀͘ų̶̘̘̝̘̦̀̋̆̄̕͝͠t̸̨̛̜̠̳̞̖͖̮́̾̈́̎ ̸̛̪̹̅̑͋̉͘h̵͕̦͒̈̃̏͗͝ĩ̷̳̫͇̩m̴̢̧͎̦̬̩͆̂́̾̚͝ c̷̮̗̖̗͎̗̓ă̷̜̂͝͠ṋ̶̙̘̂̏̔́̀̎͘’̶̧̭̻͋̉͝t̷̢̢̩̩̮͎͇̟͛̉͂͌ ̴̡̝̜͕͊̅̓̉̓s̴̤̳̙̭̪͆̂̿̿̈́̃͛͒ẗ̸̥̼̙͉̗́̍̐̇̕̚o̷̡͙̳̅͂̒̍͜p̷͎̠̙̙̼̲̐̑͆ ̶̡̡͕̱̩͙̀̇͒̏̑͗̈́͝t̶̡̲͒h̵̨͑̾̚i̸͉̞̲̦͇̿͛n̷͕͈̞͛ḵ̵̠̟̖̋͆ḭ̶̧̡̝̯̉̽̾͒̽͛n̵̡͈̘̝̪̺̟̉̏̆͜g̷̟̪̙̪͗͘ͅ ̶̫̠͗̓ȃ̶͔͓̽̃͋̅̉͜͝b̵̡̘͗̍͐̂͘ͅö̴͕̱̥̟́̑̉̀͘ų̶̘̘̝̘̦̀̋̆̄̕͝͠t̸̨̛̜̠̳̞̖͖̮́̾̈́̎ ̸̛̪̹̅̑͋̉͘h̵͕̦͒̈̃̏͗͝ĩ̷̳̫͇̩m̴̢̧͎̦̬̩͆̂́̾̚͝ c̷̮̗̖̗͎̗̓ă̷̜̂͝͠ṋ̶̙̘̂̏̔́̀̎͘’̶̧̭̻͋̉͝t̷̢̢̩̩̮͎͇̟͛̉͂͌ ̴̡̝̜͕͊̅̓̉̓s̴̤̳̙̭̪͆̂̿̿̈́̃͛͒ẗ̸̥̼̙͉̗́̍̐̇̕̚o̷̡͙̳̅͂̒̍͜p̷͎̠̙̙̼̲̐̑͆ ̶̡̡͕̱̩͙̀̇͒̏̑͗̈́͝t̶̡̲͒h̵̨͑̾̚i̸͉̞̲̦͇̿͛n̷͕͈̞͛ḵ̵̠̟̖̋͆ḭ̶̧̡̝̯̉̽̾͒̽͛n̵̡͈̘̝̪̺̟̉̏̆͜g̷̟̪̙̪͗͘ͅ ̶̫̠͗̓ȃ̶͔͓̽̃͋̅̉͜͝b̵̡̘͗̍͐̂͘ͅö̴͕̱̥̟́̑̉̀͘ų̶̘̘̝̘̦̀̋̆̄̕͝͠t̸̨̛̜̠̳̞̖͖̮́̾̈́̎ ̸̛̪̹̅̑͋̉͘h̵͕̦͒̈̃̏͗͝ĩ̷̳̫͇̩m̴̢̧͎̦̬̩͆̂́̾̚͝ c̷̮̗̖̗͎̗̓a

Something that will always linger.

How i wish to not have a body anymore...

But it’s too late. :/

Me when life happens

Why are we supposed to live when there is no sign for hope?

If I'm going to feel this way for the rest of my live I'd rather not live at all.

Does anybody else have a fantasy that if they die, they’ll come back as everything they wish they could be?

Does anyone else with they could tear off there skin and be someone new

Someone that everybody likes?<3

The way I loved you wasn’t normal and the way you broke me wasn’t either.