I’m On Probation But Too Mentally Fukt To Even Consider Staying Completely Sober So I Think I Might’ve

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* reblog or like if you ever felt like this*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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I’ve not been officially diagnosed and im so scared that it’s all just my imagination

“The moment love rejected me and I decided to reject it too. I had to plead guilty of my own murder”

— Rose O.

I️ Keep Sleeping

what do u mean it isnt normal to keep razors & bottles of pills around just in case things get too hard again

“for muslim girls who have considered suicide when iman is not enough. to the sisters who can’t bring themselves to face a city they have never set foot in. whose knees haven’t felt the redemption of grandma’s sijada for the third week in a row. in your dreams, you bloody your knees in prostration hoping that if you busy your tongue with prayer you can plea purpose into your life. in your nightmares you do not believe in God. for muslim girls who are told depression is just a side effect of doubt. the girls who swear they have heard the sound of spine cracking under the weight of family honor. of endless expectations. of becoming more symbol than human. the ones who found religion in the beating hearts of dim basements and soft hands. the girls who desperately want to believe and the ones who do but are told not enough. for the muslim girl whose body has not left her bed’s embrace in too many days. sinking is supposed sin, soaking in self-loathing. for turning the shape of his mouth into a house of worship, his skin into scripture. for managing to be too much and not nearly enough in the same supplication. ‘questioning is for the cowardly. the shameful. the undeserving of breath.’ since when did living require permission and whose are you looking for? for muslim girls who would rather hurt themselves than cause harm to anyone else. you are afraid that you will slice yourself open and won’t stop pouring. spilling your insides inside out. you do not want to leave an ugly stain behind. you would rather go quietly. clean. all hushed whispers and round edges. you would rather tiptoe around the part where your eyes close and the door shuts gently behind you. maybe even, you would rather remain. for muslim girls who have considered suicide when the world was not enough. have you ever wondered what God was thinking when he molded you into being? when he breathed life into you, did his breath smell like dark roast coffee? or something sweeter? there is a universe inside you growing each day you decide to love too hard or brave the world with your softness. they say you are impossible: faith does not go well with the fear of living. but I bet. I bet if you were stuck in a room with God and walked a step towards him, He will run to you. and if the ocean becomes ink for love letters from your Lord, surely the ocean would be drained before His words ever come to an end.”

— D.S. , for muslim girls who have considered suicide / after Ntozake Shange’s For Colored Girls

“I am unable to describe exactly what is the matter with me, now and then there are horrible fits of anxiety, apparently without cause, or otherwise a feeling of emptiness and fatigue in the head.”

— Vincent van Gogh, in a letter to his sister, Wil. (via apocryphalstories)

“I woke up in the morning and I didn’t want anything, didn’t do anything, couldn’t do it anyway, just lay there listening to the blood rush through me and it never made any sense, anything.”

— Richard Siken (via velvetnyc)