Before, I didn’t want to go. Now, I’m afraid not to.
xbloody-thighs-hollow-eyesx
Mood: it’s a nice day to commit suicide
anaismyaesthetic
you want slip dresses, skimpy bikinis, crop tops, bralettes, oversized denim jackets, booty shorts and hot pants, Brandy Melville, tiny skirts, thigh tattoos, chokers that fall off your neck, asking for the smallest size in the store,
but you still eat. that plate of food. that chocolate. that bread. you still do, and YOU KNOW that it only makes you fatter. fatter, and fatter, and fatter until you’re no longer a pretty girl, just a fucking piece of meat.
no wonder people take advantage of you. it’s easy to be mean to a pig.
You ever get that feeling that you really just wanna die but at the same time you are just too curious where life would take you? Or you know if you killed yourself that it could possibly end in a chain reaction? But then you would miss those happy moments that are worth a life time. But at the same time you think being completely gone would be the best. But then you’d miss that person that was always there for you through it all. But you think they’d move on and continue with life but are scared they might actually do the same thing you did and you know life will take them so far. And that’ll just be more blame on your name. Even though it wouldn’t matter because you’re dead but to you it’ll be like you never left because all you did was cause damage and kill the most beautiful things slowly. Do you ever feel that way? Or how about when you are gone people will remember you for the good you caused but you know all the good wasn’t enough to cover that sea of pain, damage and hurt you rain over people almost every single day? Or that feeling if you are gone you would save people from them having to fake being happy for you and fake that they care, that’ll you’ll just be a burden lifted off their shoulders? Or how about the feeling that people would actually truly miss you but not like they say they will? You’ll just be a small memory. Maybe even less because maybe they do wanna forget about you. I mean no one will ever truly know what would happen if we killed ourselves. But all we know is either people will truly sorrow or they’ll be fake. Are we really wanting to continue to hurt people? Or are we wanting to continue with life? It’s a constant battle in my mind. It would be nice to die but then again life could possibly get better. What if all this is just bullshit and it’s just a sick game to see who truly believes in this make up shit? But i don’t know maybe this is just me. Maybe I’m the only one that feels this way.
Unk0wn-mistress (via stillawfullydepressed)
all-smiles-me-blog
Things I'm Saying Goodbye to in 2017:
• My thick thighs • My fat waist • My flabby arms • My round face • My boneless ankles and wrists
friendlycuteghosts-deactivated2
me in 2012: I’m like 75% straight and 25% gay
me now: I’m 99% gay and 1% gay
laragazzacherespiraarte-deactiv
Dearest,
I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don’t think two people could have been happier ‘til this terrible disease came. I can’t fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can’t even write this properly. I can’t read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that — everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer.
I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been.
Virginia Woolf’s suicide note. (via laragazzacherespiraarte)
