#BROKEN

[support]

Everything okay?

If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone. There are many support services that are here to help. For 24/7 peer support and other resources, message KokoBot on Tumblr.

If you are in the United States, please try:

National Suicide and Crisis Lifeline or dial 988 or (en Español)

The Trevor Project (LGBT crisis intervention) or dial 1-866-488-7386

Trans Lifeline or dial 1-877-565-8860 (en Español)

The National Domestic Violence Hotline or 1-800-799-SAFE (7233)

Rape Abuse & Incest National Network or 1-800-656-HOPE (4673)

S.A.F.E. Alternatives for Stopping Self Abuse or 1–800-DONT-CUT (366–8288)

National Eating Disorders Association

If you are outside the United States, visit IASP to find resources for your country.

For more resources, please visit our Counseling & Prevention Resources page for a list of services that may be able to help.

[whump-galaxy]

“You lost yourself. Why do you put up this silly facade? You’re nothing like what you used to be.”

[yousaveeveryonebutwhosavesyou]

I'm proud of you for making it this far.

[worthless-misery]

I hate myself.

I hate my face.

I hate my eyes.

I hate my ears.

I hate my nose.

I hate my mouth.

I hate my lips.

I hate my hair.

I hate my neck.

I hate my shoulders.

I hate my chest.

I hate my back.

I hate my belly.

I hate my hips.

I hate my arms.

I hate my hands.

I hate my fingers.

I hate my skin.

I hate my crotch.

I hate my thighs.

I hate my knees.

I hate my legs.

I hate my feet.

I hate my ankles.

I hate my toes.

I hate my smile.

I hate my laugh.

I hate my scars.

I hate my stretch marks.

I hate my bones.

I hate my body hair.

I hate my voice.

I hate my mind.

I hate my thoughts.

I hate my dysphoria.

I hate my depression.

I hate my anxiety.

I hate my eating disorders.

I hate my trauma.

I hate my nightmares.

I hate my past.

I hate my memories.

I hate my childhood.

I hate my adolescence.

I hate my adulthood.

I hate my existence.

I hate my life.

I just hate every single thing about myself so fucking much...

[late-for-the-sky]

I hope my absence brings you the peace that my love couldn’t

[st-a-y]

Feeling like you're too much is honestly one of the worst feelings to possibly exist. It just feels like you need to stop being yourself and existing all together. It's like you crawl out of your own skin and laugh in disgust at what remains, it's pathetic. And so saddening.

[piesafterdark]

When I’m 90 and have dementia, put on arcane and let me watch it for the first time one final time.

[somos-deseos]

Everything is fine.

Song : Let Down by SKARS

[shiftythrifting]

Jesus stealing a soccer ball from a kid and breaking his ankle in the process

[viny-kun]

KINTSUGI

[whump-galaxy]

The smartest of the team is captured before the rest. They’re mercilessly brutalized for information they refuse to give up. When the team is captured, the smartest is only a shell of their former self. Any time spent conscious isn’t coherent.

The team is dragged out in front of their captors, berated and taunted for being unable to save their teammate. The smartest’s head is lifted, eyes glazed over and blood trickling from cracked lips. They seem broken beyond repair.

But as the team is separated and dragged away, the smartest looks up with a glint in their eyes and a smile on their face.

[yousaveeveryonebutwhosavesyou]

Do people understand that when you say “I’m tired” it doesn’t mean “I didn’t get enough sleep last night” or “I need more physical energy”?

It means I am drained. I have been fighting through each day just to wake up and do it again. I am tired of existing in a world where everything feels like a struggle and nothing feels right. I am tired of fighting negative thoughts. I am tired of waking up.

[worthless-misery]

I would say today has been a bad day.

But that's been every day for quite a while now.

[late-for-the-sky]

Holding on gets harder and harder everyday and I don’t really see myself having a future.

[neuroconflictos]

Entendí que había un abismo entre nosotros y que ninguno de los dos sabía hacer puentes. Ya no había cura para tantas heridas y no había palabras que disculparan las lágrimas.

Así se terminó...

—Melancaotica.