💗💗💗🫂

*having sex* w-wait... *opens closet, pulls out rope* I was going to use this to kms but like hey *ties u up*

computer show me men with wet spots in their underwear. men making a mess in their boxers. men gasping and panting. men pressing their thighs together. men with trembling hands and sweat beading on their neck. men with warm, sweet skin between their thighs. men twitching. computer. computer can you hear me.

Idk if thats a bpd or a me thing

some days i think i’m okay and some days i wish i was six feet in the ground

i wish i had a dadddddddddddddddddddddddddddddsaddddddd

(hes alive, just shitty)

I fake being well.

And in the end I seriously don't think I could actually kill myself. When it all boils down, I truly don't think I'd be able to. But thinking of it and obsessing over and all the what ifs and possibilities somehow makes me feel a little better. It's terrifying yet soothing. And I know that doesn't make sense. I can't make sense of it.

feeling a little insane, might kiII myself later!