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I used to be that girl that always had a smile on her face. I was friends with everyone. I fit in with the inner circles as well as the outsiders. I found it easy to make people laugh. I think that helped make me likable. I was voted "best personality" by my senior class. The teachers loved me, and I got away with skipping class whenever I wanted. I was charming. I paged at the Capital and was District 4 Vice President for FCCLA. I made it look like I had it all.
But I didn't. I was adopted into a family that ended up with parents divorcing, and a dad who took up drugs and beat the hell out of me whenever he wanted. I was raped by a foster kid my grandparents had, and my step brother did everything but rape me. I lied to everyone outside my family, pretending to have a perfect life. Partly so people wouldn't feel sorry for me, and partly because when everyone thinks your life is good for awhile you can pretend for awhile too. That is until you get off the bus, and have to face reality. But here, on tumblr, I don't have to pretend. Because pretending to be perfect all the time is exhausting. So on here I keep it real to my followers. I struggle daily with depression. I am a girl that can't eat one meal without feeling bad about it. Everyday is a struggle.

“The sadness in your eyes scares me, specially when there’s a smile on your lips. That’s kinda dangerous. Makes you a survivor. A winner.”

Little motivation (via lost-moonlight)

(via fearlessworld)

“You’ve become so damaged that when someone tries to give you what you deserve, you have no fucking idea how to respond.”

Me. (via c-oquetry)

(via harmfulthinking)

(Source: sp0by, via harmfulthinking)

(Source: honeyiro, via aprosexiacs)

(via fearlessworld)

The second time I overdosed,
my body couldn’t handle it,
and I threw it all up.
I texted my dad saying,
“I think I took a little too many pills”.

And every time I’ve overdosed,
I always downplay it.
I’ve always tried to act
like it wasn’t a big deal.

That having the urge to swallow a whole bottle of pills
was something daily that normal people do.
My dad hurried home and saw the empty bottle
and he shook me to make sure I was awake.
I kept mumbling “I threw it up.. I threw it up..”
while I was drifting off to sleep.
He had to wake me up every 15 minutes
to make sure I was okay.

Let me tell you now,
it is a big deal.

The third time I overdosed,
I slept through first and second period
and passed out in the counselor’s office.
I didn’t want to go to the ER.
I just wanted to go home.
All I wanted to do was sleep.
Again, I just said,
“I think I took too many pills this morning.”

The fifth time I overdosed,
my dad found the empty pill box.
I hallucinated, I had a fever.
I couldn’t move my legs.
All I could do was scream,
“Don’t take me to the hospital this time.
I don’t want to go!”

I became friends with a girl who had overdosed
she’s one of my best friends now
and when I heard she was hospitalized as well,
it just makes me realize how real this problem is.

A couple months ago, another friend of mine overdosed.
Do you realize how fucked up it is,
that I’ve done it so many times
that I know the exact procedure that she’s going to go through?
She messaged me saying,
“I took a bunch of pills,
but I just realized I didn’t want to die.
I don’t know what to do.

And I’m screaming at her over the screen
that she should throw it up and call 911
because sometimes when someone you love
decides that they hate the world,
that’s all you can do.
You can’t teleport through the phone.
You can’t travel through the internet.
You can’t be there to hold them
and take them to the hospital.

Your love is not charcoal that can
absorb all their poison in their life.
I know, love that you would have done all you could.
Sometimes words aren’t enough.
Sometimes love isn’t enough.
Sometimes a person needs to try dying
to know that that’s not really what they want.
There’s nothing you could have done.
You’ve done all you could.
Just keep loving them.

But you see the thing is,
I got lucky.
I’ve made it back from 5 overdoses
without a scratch on me.
But that’s not always the case.
My favorite teacher’s stepdaughter
locked herself in her room and overdosed.

To this day,
her stepmother still has a scar on her heart.
To this day,
on the anniversary of her death,
her stepmother still stays home from school
on the anniversary of her death.
Her sister is in a bad mental state,
and so is her biological mother.
Her family has fallen apart.

You overdose because you think
you will get a peaceful release from death.
It’s not peaceful.
It is not like falling asleep.
It is convulsions, vomiting,
muscle spasms, fevers,
and sharp stomach pains.

An overdose is not instant.

Hollywood has you believing,
that an overdose
is how a lady should exit the world.
As quiet as she came in,
Peaceful and unnoticed.

You will go out kicking and screaming
and wishing you hadn’t taken them.

6:03 p.m. (I think I’m done overdosing)

Dedicated to Rae

- via expresswithsilence

(via perfect)

(Source: angryasianfeminist, via perfection-comes-in-bones)

(via ambiguousresonance)





“They wanna see you do good, but never better than them. Remember that.”

(via f-i-g-o)

(Source: a-licya, via perfection-comes-in-bones)

“You broke me to fix yourself.”

six word story (via expiry)

(Source: slutfairy, via perfection-comes-in-bones)

Sometimes we get sad about things and we don’t like to tell other people that we are sad about them. We like to keep it a secret. Or sometimes, we are sad but we really don’t know why we are sad, so we say we aren’t sad but we really are.

Mark Haddon, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time (via priorisincantatem)

(Source: anamorphosis-and-isolate, via passionfordelena)

“And I felt like my heart had been so thoroughly and irreparably broken that there could be no real joy again, that at best there might eventually be a little contentment. Everyone wanted me to get help and rejoin life, pick up the pieces and move on, and I tried to, I wanted to, but I just had to lie in the mud with my arms wrapped around myself, eyes closed, grieving, until I didn’t have to anymore.”

Anne Lamott (via onlinecounsellingcollege)

(via aprosexiacs)


The Book Thief [2013]


The Book Thief [2013]

(Source: kane52630, via leftoverfood)

(via de4tth)