#unlovable
Sometimes I wonder if you still care…
Love getting attached to my middle aged therapist who reminds me of a mom…love that for me lol.
What if there is nothing on the other side. Is it our salvation or our non existing in an endless universe of nothingness.
Holding on to my thoughts like there is no way I can change them.
But even the prettiest look isn’t able to cover up a bad character.
The future is unknown. It is not worth knowing, because if the future is known then the future is established and therefore, not ours to create.
What doesn’t kill you makes you wish you were dead.
Not all scars show, not all wounds heal. Sometimes you can’t always see the pain someone feels.
Some do drugs, others go out for a run, but at the end we’re all just searching for that tiny space, perhaps a hole, that gives us shelter from the terrible reality of the world.
yes my overthinking killed my happiness but I was always right.
I’m trying so fucking hard and no one sees that. I’m trying so fucking hard to stay alive but my breathing is getting shallow and my heart is beating slower and if I don’t wake up tomorrow just fucking forget about me.
How can I not even have the decency or energy to at least write a proper, timely response to a compassionate note of moral support from a friend? And when did these insipid, literally-every-damn-day thoughts like “I’m cold/lonely” and “I need a hug” gain the power to alter my physiological ability to function??
Mi ricorda tanto il padre di Chester in “Due fantagenitori” che indossava sempre quel sacchetto sulla testa.
