I Was Just A Corpse You Saw Fit To Drag Around.

Perhaps the fact that I chased a boy who ripped me to shreds says a lot more about me than it did about him.

Michelle K. — Lessons Learned

I begged him to stay. Lost all my dignity in the process. And it still wasn’t enough.

A part of suicidal ideation or self harm no one talks about is the numbness to the subject that comes with it. I sit and scroll through pages and pages of cries for help, suicide notes and plans and feel nothing. No worry, no concern, no crushing feeling in my chest. Nothing. Those familiar feelings are now replaced with a strange familiarity, a kind of comfort that it’s not just me.

Fuck. When did it get to this

me: *exists* me: this is too much

“I wanted to.. I wanted to tell you how much I’m hurting, how badly I just want it all to stop.. but all I could get out was “I’m fine” and force a smile. But I wanted you to see that I’m not really fine, I wanted you to take me into your arms and tell me it’ll all be okay while you rub my back, even if I don’t believe it.. I just want you to notice..”

— (J.A.L 5/5/17 10:45 pm)

I can’t do this anymore. I hate myself so much, it’s suffocating me. It’s getting closer and closer to swallowing me and I just let it come.

thank u dad for the irreparable psychological suffering 💓