#he smokes in bed
73 messages · Page 1 of 1 (latest)
i know its not her fault
i just want to be loved
it hurts
i feel so disposable
i was having a good day
i fucking hate myself
here... the right person will love you full heartedly okay?, you are not disposable, you are enough and you are loved, we care about you okay?, i understand how you feel and it is completely valid
your emotions are okay to show, and it is okay to be sensitive, i'm sensitive too and it hurts sometimes, ❤️🩹 it is going to get better from now on, you're gonna be okay 🥹
its cool
i hate how dysfunctional my family is
i hate how no one is sexually attracted to me
i cant help but wonder if its my fault
im trans
they obviously wont like this
something to get me out of my head
i feel so useless
just a tool
a tool for my parents
a tool for my friends
i cant explore my identity without fearing
i realize that i rarely want to communicate anymore
when im asked whats wrong
i just want to say nothing
just rub it off
yea im credited for being smart
that im gonna exceed in my fields
they lie to my face
i wish i had no expectations
"are you sure?"
cause even if i did
it wouldnt matter
is that all you care about?
just leave him to deal with it on his own
shame him when he speaks
tell him how he burnt the house down
tell him how he ruined your life
tell me how my emotions arent worthy
tell me that my needs arent important
forget about anything i ask for
forget about my emotions
forget about me
back here i guess
i feel like an extension of your ego
a tool for you to look and feel good
you dont fear what didnt happen
you fear what already happened
i fear repetition
the repetitive cycle of abandonment
of using me
the repetitive cycle of hatred
theres no real way out of it
i remember why i dislike doing things for others now
i stopped buying and hand making things
now ill stop music
a lesson to be learnt that no matter what i do value wont exist within me
when i stop being new
when i stop being what you thought i was
a tool that provides without requiring maintenance
forget it
the thought of death used to be so frightening
so unbearable that i sob
you get used to it
the thought of death is what comforts me at night
that ill die and i wont wake up to see what happens
that helps me sleep at night
sometimes
other times i lose control of my mind and body
i beg to find a way to stop the physical pain
i end up punching my chest until it stops hurting
or suffocating myself until i pass out
with one thought