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we had been silent. we were fourteen, and these things were too hard for us. now that we are twenty—seven, they still feel too hard.
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you may not be the only killer here, but one of us is innocent, and it's not you.
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i have this dream that i am hitting my dad with a baseball bat and he is screaming and crying for help. and maybe halfway through, it has more to do with killing him than it ever did protecting myself.
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the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.
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i can't even guess myself what it must be to live the life of a human being.
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all my grief says the same thing: this isn't how it's supposed to be. this isn't how it's supposed to be. and the world laughs, holds my hope by the throat and says 'but this is how it is.'
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your worst sin is that you have destroyed ﹠ betrayed yourself for nothing.
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i've never been free my whole life. inside, i've always chased myself. i've become intolerable to myself. i live in a lacerating duality. i'm seemingly free, but i'm a prisoner inside of me.
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whenever i look at you, i'm reminded of everything i hate about myself. it hurts.
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let my life go to hang, we all say, just as long as those dear, beloved creatures of mine are happy.
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Replying to @delinqucnt
xitter.gq/megah8rbtch/status/174… they remind me of them sm//
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/more mentally stable art from me!!! false remorse+does not fucking care bro 😭
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inside every person's mind is a child. it's you. sobbing in the darkness, a younger version of yourself whom nobody can never understand, whom nobody will extend a helping hand to.















