#not even like bad or abusive just. really dumb and thoughtless and clueless

[hackoftheyear]

There are many women who have no idea how much strangers on Reddit have saved their relationship by stopping their boyfriend from doing the stupidest shit imaginable

[hollow-human]

What a mess.

Born and raised in hate, anger and resentment. Grew up bottling my feelings 'cause no one was there to listen. My mind was a battlefield for a little, lost kid and yet the perfect playground for the demons in my head. Grew up pushing away all that made me "weak". Grew up standing tall and having no mercy. Grew up without learning how to forgive and let go.

'Cause who the fuck taught me shit? The absent dad or the work-driven mother? It's hard to learn empathy and forgiveness in a world so cold. When all you see at home is two parents that hate eachother and fight daily. When you go to sleep praying that he doesn't come home drunk again and beats your mom. But he does though. And you go to sleep afraid of what could happen. And then you move 5 fucking times 'round the fucking country, unsure of what your roots even are anymore. With a broken mother who's now trying to make it alright.. yet she doesn't know how to, nor will she ever find out how to do it right.

And then you meet a boy and make friends, thinking you'll find love somewhere else, outside of what you call "home" or "family". But you get stabbed in the back countless times. You get used and abused. Cheated, thrown away, rejected and left alone.

No one taught me how to be kind. No one taught me how to forgive. No one taught me how to let go. No one taught me how to love, change, accept other points of view.

I taught myself how to survive in a viciously cold world. By being strong. Or pretending to. By wanting and having things MY way. By forcefully doing what I thought was right. And if you think I was wrong, well you're fucking right. But all I ever wanted was to love and be loved.

I wish I could take it all back. Every mean word I said. Every petty shit I did. Every slap I've given. Every little violent, heartless and thoughtless thing I've done. But I can't.

I'm still the same broken kid I was when I found out that I'm depressed. The same broken, scarred kid. Still searching for a fairytale-like love story, but not even believing in love anymore. Still the same shy, lonely kid, wanting someone to protect me. Wanting a home where I'm safe, accepted and loved for EVERYTHING that I am, good and bad. Where what I stand for and believe in isn't ridiculed or forbidden. Where I can say what I think out loud and be accepted and taken into account.

I'm still the same dumb, clueless, broken kid who's living in a constant warzone inside her head. Not killing myself is a challenge every day of my life. It does not go away. It's always there. And I'm self-destructive as fuck. I destroy my own happiness. I burn the bridges myself, before they even reach the land. The worst "demon" I fight with is myself. The worst person I hate is myself. I am my own worst enemy.

What I need is kindness. Patience. Understanding that I am not what I've been through. I am not the mistakes I made. I am not the hurtful things I do or say. I am the kid who's trying to be better. I am the kid who's trying to survive and change. I am the kid who's fucking up most of the times. But I need my progress to be acknowledged in order to become better.

I am flawed beyond words. Broken and fucked up. And I need help. I'm not afraid to say that. I know I need help. I know I'm really messed up. I'm as messed up in the head as these thoughts. They barely make any sense and they're all over the place. And that's okay to me. I'm not afraid to ask for help or to accept it.

It's hard for me to change and be more than the ball of anger and hate that I am. It's hard for me to talk myself out of an angry mood or a depressive state. And all I need is a hand to hold. An impulse to keep me going. A person who tries to understand and sees how hard I really do try.

I know sometimes I relapse. We all do. Progress isn't constant nor is it a straight line. Progress takes time. Progress includes fucking up, failing, breaking down. As long as I still breathe, I'm going to try again and again and again. And I'm going to break down, cry, be desperate. Hopeless. I'm going to lose people I love, always will. And it's not easy. But whatever I'm made of, I know it's tough material. I did not end my life. I did not relapse too bad, to a point of no return. I did not give up for good. I'm still here. Still trying.

And I have to thank you for being by my side through all this fucking shit. You're more than I could've asked for or even wished for. You're unbelievably kind to me. You try just as much as I do (or maybe more than I do) to keep me okay. I know I fuck up and I know I have bad times.

But I love you a lot. Thank you for seeing the good parts in me. Thank you for making me better and helping me change. Thank you for allowing me to grow with and because of you.

The safest place in the world is next to you. My "treehouse". Where my dreams are supported, my progress is seen, my fears are addressed and resolved, my trust is not taken for granted and my love is not one-sided.

I think our car breaking down was like, the smallest problem we actually had in our relationship - compared to the shit we have to go through because of our past or my fucked up brain.

I hope we're gonna get a house with a fireplace, many dogs - starting with Luna and lil' Shadow tho. I hope I'll wake up one super cold winter morning to the smell of coffee and pancakes. I'll be all wrapped up in like three blankets 'cause you "thought I was cold". And we'll have a late breakfast... lunch... oh whatever, I woke up at 4 PM, give me a break. And I'll snuggle into your arms, give you some soft kisses and we'll watch cartoons, murder investigations and History shows aaaaaaall damn day.

I hope you never leave, I hope I never leave.