i know i’m too much like i want them all for myself like for them not to talk to ANYONE i feel so fucked up. but if what i’m saying is weird im just hoping they are forward with me cause i keep on telling them how i feel weird that im jealous and they’re ok with it???
thinking about how last year when i was genuinely going through it because of a situationship and how in the midst of it all i was having so much fun and how this year im going THROUGH it and i can’t even blame her.
i think about how it was the first time i really liked someone and that i could see it evolving from simple messages and how i was so forthcoming with what i liked and how much they meant to me. and told them how id appreciate it back but never got that. im so glad its over and i don’t harp on it anymore but its like will someone communicate like how i do.
i want someone to tell me they hate me or that they need me or that they don’t want me. i genuinely don’t care if it’s a negative thing i just would rather it be communicated.
Normal Girl - SZA (2017)
uni has been such a weird and alienating experience, granted i’m in my first year and it’s a huge place but it seems like everyone knows eachother and that everything is going smoothly.i went in thinking id make so many friends and feel content with my choices but my mental health has been deteriorating and my doctors (who are male and i swear that has an impact) don’t understand what im trying to say.
sometimes i feel so detached from the femme identity just because of like certain elements of who i am.. like im really tall and i’m fat and like they’re not necessarily things i gaf about but it’s clear that it’s not the ideal type. like im fully ok with itv but idk something to ponder about
tw: sh
everytime i’ve talked to someone and the doctors about my mental health they’ve just assumed im a teenage girl who’s going through it and like that it’s regular degular shit and there’s this underlying comment that ‘at least you’re not harming yourself’ WHEN I AM! like yes i am and the marks are visible and my mom literally mentioned how the scars couldn’t be scratches.. like i don’t know how them knowing would help but maybe acknowledging that im not lying when i say i dont want to live would be a start.
ramblings of an 18 year old lesbian.she/they femme
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