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Fun. // The Gambler

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Lets talk about how hard it is to open up to someone about being sad for no reason. Lets talk about how hard it is to explain to your friends and family that you have this heavy feeling in your chest for no reason. Lets talk about how hard it is to understand why you’re having a panic attack while just taking a walk back home. Lets talk about how hard it is to understand your own self and how scary it is to feel like the whole world is falling on your shoulders and you have no idea why .

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random headers, *:･ﾟ✧* like or reblog if you save *:･ﾟ✧* 

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Listen. All you have to do is fake another smile. Just fake it, like you always do. Force that laughter from your throat. Feign your own goddamn happiness. Show them how happy you are. You hate being called a killjoy, and nobody wants seeing other people be miserable. Don’t worry. It will be very easy for you to pretend, since you have already mastered yourself on how to carry on with these things. You even surprise yourself sometimes with what you can do. Being happy and all that. Drinking all the liquor you want, singing and dancing the night away, and just having a really good time, even with all that weight in your chest and that burden on your back. You’ll get away with it. Just tell them lies. Tell them that you are happy with your life, even if you’re obviously not. Tell them about work and how you got your dream job and how successful you are, even if you’re really a failure. Tell them money was never a problem for you, even if you’re constantly worrying about tomorrow because you have nothing left in your pockets. Tell them you’re at your healthiest, even if the pain you feel in your body right now is unbearable. Don’t forget to thank goodness for making pain invisible. Tell them about your relationships, and how perfectly aligned everything is in your life right now. Even if you know that people are walking in and out of your life just to fuck with you and nothing more, because love died a long time ago and the joke is on you. Even if you know you’re quickly losing your faith and your religion and everything you believe in because nothing seems to be working at all, and how every prayer you utter resembles nothing but a waste of breath and time. Even if you know your family hates you for being the root of all this damnation in your household. You’re the black sheep, remember? You’re the bad egg in the nest. But don’t tell them that. Tell them lies. Tell them how happy you are. No, you are not struggling. Don’t tell them the truth now. You could do it again, one more time. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. You’re always doing it anyway, lying. Pretending. Hiding. Nothing new there.

(via samesounds)

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Just found all of my old suicide notes. The most recent being from August 31st. Wow. It’s kinda funny because my friend explained suicide notes to me one day.

“People who write suicide notes don’t want to die.”

“What makes you say that?”

“That means you have someone or something to live for. And that’s a good enough reason to be alive. Every person you’re apologizing to in that note was worthy of appearing on it, so they should be worthy for you to live for them too.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to die…”

“So why are you alive?”

“-silence-”

“I’ve made my point. When you have no one to apologize to,…or any last regards to anyone or anything,..then you are ready to die. But if the slightest flash of someone’s persona is in your head before you do it. Don’t do it. You’re robbing yourself of that person…and that, love, isn’t fair to you or them in the slightest.”

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Some excerpts from the suicide notes found after 1974 Olean high school shooter Anthony Barbaro hanged himself in jail. He had wanted a shootout with the police but instead they rendered him unconscious with tear gas.

I guess I just wanted to kill the person I hate most – myself, I just didn’t have the courage. I wanted to die, but I couldn’t do it, so I had to get someone to do it for me. It didn’t work out.

People are not afraid to die; it’s just how they die. I don’t fear death, but rather the pain. But no more. I regret the foods I’ll never taste, the music I’ll never hear, the sites I’ll never see, the accomplishments I’ll never accomplish, in other words, I regret my life. Some will always ask, ‘Why?’ I don’t know — no one will. What has been, can’t be changed. I’m sorry. It ends like it began; in the middle of the night, someone might think it selfish or cowardly to take one’s own life. Maybe so, but it’s the only free choice I have. The way I figure, I lose either way. If I’m found not guilty, I won’t survive the pain I’ve caused — my guilt. If I’m convicted, I won’t survive the mental and physical punishment of my life in prison.

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I wish I didn’t have all the anxiety when someone says “Can I ask a question?” or if they look at me with sad eyes. I immediately think of the scars on my wrists, the suicide notes I have wrote and hidden, and the fact I cry at any little thing.

Night Thoughts (via spiritless-teenanger)

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“Seven little crazy kids chopping up sticks; One burnt her daddy up and then there were six. Six little crazy kids playing with a hive; One tattooed himself to death and then there were five. Five little crazy kids on a cellar door; One went all schizo and then there were four. Four little crazy kids going out to sea; One wouldn’t say a word and then there were three. Three little crazy kids walking to the zoo; One jerked himself too much and then there were two. Two little crazy kids sitting in the sun; One a took a bunch of pills and then there was one. One little crazy kid left all alone; He went and slit his wrists, and then there were none.”

Suicide Notes by Michael Thomas Ford (via ima-nobody)

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1. It’s time to be honest with myself. 2. Remember that time we were at the park eating cherries and I laughed so hard I almost choked on a pit? Well when I felt so calm as I was choking…that’s when I knew. 3. I bet it all makes sense now. 4. You were the first one to convince me I look good in a dress. It’s too small now, but I guess I could wear it one last time. 5. So much shit has happened to me, I thought I was numb. But this emotion is overwhelming. 6. I never knew how to tell you. 7. Here are concert tickets to your favorite band. I was going to save them for your birthday, but I feel like now is a better time. 8. Let me just get to the point. 9. You probably had no clue…but if you did, I really hoped you would have said something.

9 Things Written in Love Letters or Suicide Notes, e.m (via b0thers)

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12:26am

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Rihanna - Needed Me

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—so don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Just a reminder guys. :^)

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植物 | plants 🌿

• like/reblog if using or saving • don’t steal please • don’t need to credit me

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(ू◠ᴗ◠✻ू)  credit @L4RRYPRIDE (auto tweet)

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I was raped and I can’t stand being touched. I tell my family and friends I’m just not a very touchy person, but they ignore me and will hug or grab me. They don’t know what happened, and I know they don’t mean any harm by it, but I’ve asked them to stop so many times..

Posted by Anonymous. (via survivorssharingsecrets)