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I feel like living your teenage years or early 20’s with mental illness/trauma can deeply affect your perception of your friends. It’s so easy to build resentment towards them for not having the same mindset or being more privileged with their lives. I was at a party a few months after my Gran died and that had obviously fucked me up quite a bit. For a lot of the party, I just kept looking at my friends laughing and joking and thought they were the most obnoxious people on earth. Didn’t they realise the world was a horrible place?

But that’s not true. It was hard but I know my friends love me. I know they always ask if I want them to come with me to important doctor’s appointments. I know they always push to celebrate my birthday in some way even if I don’t want a party. I know they left flowers at my door when my gran died with the note ‘We know you don’t want to talk but we’re here when you’re ready to face the world again. We love you. Until then, enjoy the flowers.’

So yeah. Remember the world isn’t all terrible and your friends aren’t terrible people. They do love you. I promise.

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isn’t that what human life is all about?

living and dying blissfully, but undeniably confused.

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you weave and you craft

with your hands you create

and with your hands you become a creator

a god is often depicted as an all powerful being

with glowing eyes and a body infused with divinity

yet as i move and make

i feel every bit as powerful as a god

sitting here on my bed

and watching things come into existence

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trace these words, & please tell me, how do you fight the flesh?

masquerade as light & be taken in, for the grand house of god:

doors which shall never close, & therefore, demons run within;

hallways of jewelled statues & marble carvings, for we are evil.

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but then i realized

if you had stayed in my life a little longer

i would’ve fallen in love with you

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every day is like. i wake up and i die and then i get resurrected and then i go through the horrors and i die again and i get resurrected again and i think to myself what was that all about. oh well it wasnt so bad. and then i feel normal and then i die again

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The tragedy of girls and their best friends from childhood.

It's never throwing away that bracelet she gave you. It's much too small for you now but to bin it would be a betrayal to what it meant.

It's remembering how time felt like it wouldn't move in childhood. It's remembering how you and her felt like forever. The bounce of the trampoline, the pleats in the hair, the wind in your face while you played. You could swear you were still with her.

It's the sleepovers, the long nights making dances, staying up late for the first time. It's holding in your laughter, so her parents don't hear. It's the 'she told me not to tell anyone but, of course, l'm going to tell you'.

It's knowing her better than you know yourself. It's wanting to see each other as much as you can. It's the melding together, the struggle to tell where you begin, and she ends.

It's the first type of love you know.

It's aging and moving away. It's going to the same school but drifting away. It's trying to stay in contact, but no one has the time now. It's realising she's went out with friends without asking if you wanted to go.

It's the ache you feel whenever her photo appears on Instagram. It's the brief conversations you have with her on the streets, with the promises of catching up one day. It's watching time move more rapid and realising you haven't spoke to each other in five years.

It’s knowing she knew you in a way no one ever could. Mourning for the loss of what it meant to be known briefly.

It's the first type of heartbreak you know.

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mom, am i allowed to feel the things that i do?

everything always feels so wrong

maybe i was born wrong

it feels like my heart is beating out of my chest and i can’t make it stop

i wish i didn’t look the way i do

but i wish i would never change

mom, am i allowed to feel this way?

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i hope that one day

she will hold my hand

in a way that means something