Something I Realized Over The Years Is That Despite Wanting To Kill Myself, I Don't Actually Wanna Die.

a little comic about missing major milestones, feelings of inadequacy, fear of failure, and the brain worms of it all

I hate getting close to people.

The more attached I am, the more unstable I become.

But... I can't handle being alone either.

It's agony no matter what I do.

I'm literally in an abusive relationship with myself, I constantly belittle myself, and put myself in situations intentionally to be harmed.

I just want to be important, too.

the tragedy of tumblr is you will inevitably meet people who you should be having a sleepover with. you should be rolling around on their floor and rummaging through their fridge and watching shitty movies with. you should be shopping with should be going out to a cafe with should be wandering through the aquarium with. people who you should be experiencing quotidian joys with... and you cannot! because they live one million miles away

life with bpd is always trying to fill a huge hole in your chest. you spend your life looking for a cure that doesn't really exist

When you reach the point where your planning your suicide but still no one even noticed you were struggling in the first place <<

i was so small and new when i was ruined, i never stood a chance