I hope you had the most wonderful birthday, beautiful boy.
I'm sorry things are so messed up and I couldn't come and see you today, but always know that Aunty Marie loves you with all her heart, and will forever.
Now I'll play your ghost as my ace, whenever I'm led astray.
But I am actually good, can't help it if we're tilted.
I'm in my right place, don't be a downer.
Why do I have to be responsible?
Why do I have to stand up and be counted?
Why do I care about other peoples' feelings?
I just want to fuck myself up so bad I'm oblivous
I've just fucking had it
We are male and female. We are artists, athletes, and students. We have depression, PTSD, eating disorders, bipolar disorder, or maybe no diagnosis at all. Some of us were abused, some not. We come from all walks of life and can be any age. We are every race or religion that you can think of. Our common link is this: We are in pain. We self-injure. And we are not freaks.
No one ever tells me I look amazing or they like what I do. I feel like I could walk through walls and other people and no one would bat an eyelid.
Yet all the phonies who are screwing everyone over, everyone loves them but they are being the bastards. But I'm the one that feels like a bastard - is it so wrong to want to do the right thing?
Location: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
I am currently:
WHY? WHY WOULD YOU TELL HIM? WHY DID YOU TELL ANYONE? HOW COULD YOU? YOU DICK! I hate you. I am now torn between killing myself, or killing everyone else. Thanks a lot. I'm glad you're out of my life now.
As for you, just give it up, stop with these mind games, I don't even know what you think of me anymore.
it's not that i'm scared, i'm just...really, really scared.
I'm not going because I'd be the horrificly scarred, bandaged freak in the corner with nasty hair who would look fat and ugly in whatever dress I wore and I would not eat the food. Money has nothing to do with it.
.
