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“I think deep insideeveryone hears a voice, some of us hear many… whether they admit it or not.” I’ll be your constant reminder, I’m stuck to you like glue, And I’ll always be the broken child
This one is for the girl with the semicolon tattoo.This one is for the boy who keeps his head down in the hall.This one is for the twins who everyone loved and then--Wait, what happened again?
I'm saddened my phone doesn’t ring I'm saddened the mailbox is empty I'm saddened we’re not together I'm saddened you threw out my things
Broken Lost Unsure where to go So lay right here And let the darkness come back in I’m tired of trying Of giving my all
One day you're at in high school living at home all with a huge smile The next day you're out in the world thinking the cluelessness will only last a while You have no idea what it is you'd like to do or who you want to be
Anxiety is wanting your life to be over but at the same time being scared to die It's like I'm trapped on this bad h ride which is my life And I feel like I'm bout to fall out but I'm caught by a thread
Recently, I have come across the incredible works of Yayoi Kusama, a Japanese contemporary artist, touched by mental illness originating from troubling childhood experiences.
Wanting to turn your life around, yet wanting to die. Wanting people to think you're strong, but constantly wanting to cry. Wanting to succeed, but not having the ability to try.
She still visits me sometimes... In the night, she clambers into my bed and causes a ruckus of negativity in my head. She plays the strings of my heart like the most beautiful harp,
Dear School, I apologize for my absence today. I would never miss on purpose. But just last night, I felt I had A case of yersinia pestis.
When I'm having my episodes, I don't project it I just tell you when it's happening but I don't understand it.
you sit in darkness, alone, scared, and one day a single light nothing too bright but ever so big. it starts out as one,
Stop using your words as weaponsEvery blow leaves me bruisedUntil I am so broken, there is nothing left of meYeah, sticks and stones may break your bonesBut words, words poison you from the inside out
I'm not sick Mommy. Perhaps all the vomiting is my mind's plea, To escape this broken shell, body. The harder I heave, the greater chance of my mind's liberty. My mind is too strong to be contained by a human,