thankgod

[thankgod]

@murderan-blog @663227701 @lillotnie-blog @darththresh-blog @lufaro 

Ray-Ban Sunglasses

[thankgod]

@murderan-blog @663227701 @lillotnie-blog @darththresh-blog @lufaro 

Ray-Ban Sunglasses

[thankgod]

@murderan-blog @663227701 @lillotnie-blog @darththresh-blog @lufaro 

Ray-Ban Sunglasses

[thankgod]

@murderan-blog @663227701 @lillotnie-blog @darththresh-blog @lufaro 

Ray-Ban Sunglasses

[thankgod]

I'm sorry that I constantly ask you if you love me to make sure that you really feel for me. I'm just so insecure and so scared that if I loosen my grip on you in the slightest, that you'll slip right from my hands into someone else's. I'm sorry that every time you tell me that you love me that I flinch or question it in the slightest, I've just experienced so much heartbreak in the past that "I love you" isn't just a few words that I throw around so loosely. Im sorry that every time you call me beautiful that I'm half tempted to scream at you and yell at you that you're so wrong because you don't know what goes through my head. Maybe I don't believe I'm beautiful because of whats on the inside. Because of how I think and feel about certain things. I'm sorry that I show you all of this love and affection, I just try to make it certain that you aren't going anywhere when it probably just pushes you away more and more. I'm sorry that I'm so insecure and it's not because of you, I've just been taught not to trust too easily and it's all just a learning experience, and I will get better at it. I'll get better at trusting you, because you haven't broken my trust yet, but until then the turbulence on my end will be pretty major.  I'm sorry.

h.ea

[thankgod]

I don’t want to be looked at like another bill to pay, I want to be your child. I don’t want to be a space taken in your home, I want to be your child. I don’t want to be an excuse for your food stamps, I want to be your child. I don’t want to be another useless argument, I want to be your child. I don’t want to be something you regret, I want to be your child. I want to be an accomplishment, a bucket list wish. I want to be worthy. I want to be your daughter.

h.ea

[thankgod]

This isn’t home. This is a place where I keep my shirts and pants until I get my high school diploma. This is a place where I constrict myself or deprive myself of being happy. Where I keep my emotions out of the mix. Where I completely stay locked up in a bottle at the bottom of the ocean. This isn’t home. This is a place where the four corners of my room are dreaded until my eyes are tugged and pulled to meet the bottom of themselves. Drifting, drifting, and drifting until all my weight is sunken into the springs of my twin size mattress. This isn’t home. This is a place i feel paralyzed, unable to use my body to the best of its ability. Unable to use my brain to the best of its ability. Im restricted. Im held down- pushed down. Drowned by my own lonesome self. This isn’t home. This is where the yells and screams of threats and mistakes are echoed through the empty, dusty walls. This is where the cries and the laughters are lost within the creaking of your footsteps down the hall. This is where thoughts cannot be shared, where happiness cannot be shown. This isn’t home. This is just my body, until the day I shed my skin into everlasting death. No, this isn’t home.

h.ea

[thankgod]

I wish I could have a strong relationship with my mom but I can’t. She’s the wall keeping me from doing anything, restricting me from continuing down my wilted beaten path and maybe it is because i should die and maybe it is because I’m so unhappy all the time. I want to run away, because any place is better than here. Any place is better than this beaten up, creaking, moldy, used and washed out home, and I’m not just talking about the foundation. My life has been built up by sad emotions, almost as if they were building blocks or baby steps to immediate failure. Like a new born bird with its wings cut off. More like a new born bird with holes in its wings because they are there, just not salvageable. Maybe one day I’ll glide in the air, but for now I’m falling, and I think I’m close to crashing.

h.ea

[thankgod]

I hope a song comes on the radio and you can’t help but think of me. I hope it disturbs you so fucking much that you have to pull over in order to avoid an accident. I hope that a song comes on the radio that describes everything you did wrong, and you have to pull over to text me and tell me that you can’t live without me. I hope that a fucking song comes on the radio and the first thing you think about is us. I hope that you get overly attached to the song, stick it on replay for hours. Then I hope that it gets banned. Taken down off the Internet- almost a day after it had been released. And you’ll miss the song so much, the cute little tune playing in your head. The notes and the guitar solo- stuck in your head for weeks. Sometimes in class, you’ll hear someone hum that little song. Or even talk about it like they know it. But you know that they don’t feel the connection that you felt with it. They don’t feel as strongly for it as you had. I hope this infuriates you. And you search for the passion this song held- in every other song you hear afterwards. I hope you try to recreate such a strong soulful moment, yet fail so miserably. I hope this song burns a hole in your heart. Maybe then you’ll understand how I felt for you. Such a terrible comparison but the only way I could make it clear to others. This is what you’ve done to me.

h.ea

[thankgod]

Maybe you treat me like shit because you know that what you have been through makes you stronger. Maybe you yell at me for the most ridiculous reasons to show me how disappointing the materialistic world is. Make me stronger, open me up to the sadness that the world contains. The draining toxicity that people bear with them every where they drag their shoes. It’s kind of ridiculous how strong my mother is. How she carried the world on her shoulders at such a young age. Bringing children into this world at such a restraining point in time. Where you’re still trying to figure out yourself and who you want to be. Is this why she treats me like she does? Because I need to understand that learning who I am is most important ? Is this her way of teaching? Her way of getting me to live? Because its only make me deteriorate, and I only have so long until I’m too rusty to move my aching bones. I only have so long until it’s too hard for me to wake up in the morning. I’m struggling. Im struggling because you treat me like shit.

h.ea

[thankgod]

The more I grow into tomorrow, the more I realize that the saying "the heart wants what it can't have", is very true. So true to the point that I'm uncomfortable. I'm physically uncomfortable from the ridiculous phrase. It leaves chills on my skin, and it pulls the words from my lips as if I were an infant learning how to speak. How many people actually get it? True love? How many people actually fake it? How many people actually live happily-ever-after with the person they love. The person they didn't just settle for. How rare is this actually. How many people actually get to live on with the one they love. The one they cherish. It seems that every single person that I've fallen for, every single human I've been with- I've wanted so deeply. Of course they didn't want me. At least not as badly as I wanted them. At least not as deeply as I wanted, craved, longed for them. But how rare true love is. How rare it will always be. Because the heart wants what it can't have.

-h.ea

[thankgod]

old habits die hard, could be destroying my lungs with cigarettes but instead i’m destructing my body.

[thankgod]

I can’t hug her, I can’t hug her because I don’t want to hurt her. I can’t tell her how living makes me sick and I wish I was dead. I can’t tell her that when I self harmed I only cut my wrists. She knows I have depression, but she doesn’t believe I am sick. I don’t want to be here. How do I explain to someone I love that I wake up everyday wanting to die and I fall asleep wanting to die. I hug everyone else, but her, I avoid her, because she’s my mum, and I never want her to feel the loss of a child. But I want to be dead. I love her, but she loves me more.

Mother’s day.  (via xatious)

[thankgod]

i constantly take Tylenol and Advil wishing it was something else.

03/24/17 (via xatious)

[thankgod]

People don't party after dark because that's just the expression. You are trapped all day long but the booze help you let loose. People think you're an alcoholic but you just want to find a reason to live and that's just how you do it. People think you aren't stable but that's why you have your best friends- jack daniels and Samuel Adams. People won't ever understand your sad soul and heavy heart, in fact a heavy heart that's ready to implode into substantial little pieces and shards of nothing- because as heavy as your heart may be it is also filled with nothing but air. But please don't drop it- as heavy as it is as heavy as it may continue to be, just keep it up with the drugs because they will take your heart father- higher and higher so high you'll never come down. And that's because your heavy little heart and soul won't exist anymore. Your sad little soul will be set off to the brightness- so bright that it's almost as bright as your eyes when you were four and told that you have deeper meaning. You're no longer empty because now you don't even exist.

- h.ea

[thankgod]

I never realized how good it was and easy it was for me to just tell people exactly what they wanna hear when they wanna hear it. I do not wanna be with you, i just want the feeling of being with someone because I cannot be with the person I desire. you are nothing to me, never have been. you can make my heart do all kinds of acrobatics but that does not mean anything because at the end of the day I am falling asleep to someone else’s face and waking up to their face. if only I knew who’s face it was.

liar liar //B.L.M (via xatious)

[thankgod]

Drowning Together; Drowning Alone There’s a difference between someone drowning and you jumping in with a life jacket to save them. You & i were both drowning; drowning in a pool that was two feet deep. Maybe my intention was to drown, after i was shoved i thought i might as well put on ankle weights. You didn’t jump in after me. You jumped in for your own demise – not even worrying about saving me. We had met, talked, fell in love, yet every time i would try to tell you that i loved you, my lungs would fill with water and i would choke. i had given up, i stopped trying because every time i had tried to tell you the three words you were dying to hear, i would die a little too. Not too long after you learned how to swim again. You made it out of the water, i was forgotten, left behind. As soon as you left, i could say “I love you” under the water, and i no longer had to cough up water for you.

h.ea