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tophj86-blog · 7 years
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I find this very creepy
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❈ Grim Aesthetics ❈
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tophj86-blog · 7 years
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tophj86-blog · 7 years
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tophj86-blog · 7 years
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Love that fucking arch!
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tophj86-blog · 7 years
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tophj86-blog · 7 years
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tophj86-blog · 7 years
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the thing you are most afraid to write. write that.
Nayyirah Waheed (via wordsnquotes)
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tophj86-blog · 7 years
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tophj86-blog · 7 years
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tophj86-blog · 7 years
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Memoirs Of An Addict By Christopher Jacobson ive always feared suicide. Death in general frightens me, but to physically take your own life is something that I have trouble imagining. Alone in that dark of a place in your mind where suicide seems to be the only escape. Do the drugs not work anymore? Or are the drugs the reason you've come to this? Either way, you've come to this deep of a level and you're convinced that this one selfish, violent act is the only way to prove your point. Whatever the reason may be, you're determined to put an end to this miserable existence. What is the last thought passing through one's mind just before the bullet adds the punctuation to it? Or deeper yet, and what has always intruiged me about this subject. What next? What happens after your statement is made and the shell of your past life falls to its final, lifeless position? Are you forever trapped like a lost soul, invisible to the world? Watching as your loved ones storm in to the room with that horrifying look upon their faces, because deep down they know what lies on the other side of that locked door since that God awful, loud bang couldn't possibly be anything other than a fatal shot. Praying that when they open the door, it was only an accidental discharch. Perhaps you were cleaning a gun and it fired. Where did you get a gun? And when? And from who? Better yet, why? Your ghostly form only watches as they open the door leading to the most horrific experience one could ever imagine. They die inside and fall to the floor at the first sight of this violent display of horror. What now? Surely, you didn't just hurt yourself. Your family has to live with this sight for the rest of their lives. The endless thoughts of, why? How could you? Or, if i would have only been there? If I had dinner ready 2 minutes faster, I could have stopped this... Because lucky for you, you escaped this traumatic demise with no pain whatsoever. Quick, and easy. Or is that the end of it all? Nothing more, no recalection of a past life, no constant replay of distant fading memories in black and white. Just solid black, nothing... Haunting, how once an existence of life flowing as far as the eye could see, you feel, breathe, taste, and hear life. All around you. Everywhere. Next second, non-ixsisting, darkness. Either way, it is still the ones who loved you when you couldn't possibly find a single attribute about yourself to love just enough to stop you from your attempt to control fate, that end up in utter ruins over this. They feel it all. At times, their pain is possibly so intense that they wish it was them who had died. I get chills when I start to think about it. I get chills when I start to recollect it. I get chills and have to shake it off, when I start to remember it. It is without a doubt the darkest, saddest, and most haunting level of depression that I have ever felt. And yes, the drugs stopped working. They also caused it, and by no means whatsoever were they helping me in any way. The truth about that lifestyle is, drugs will take a hold of you and won't let go. Drugs will change you into a completely different person, ignoring every moral, belief, and value that you hold true to yourself. Drugs will erase your emotions and your spirit. People that you know, people that you consider close to you during this, will be taken away from you. Your "friends" will go to prison. They will become institutionalized. Or worse off, they will die. You will lose jobs, money, respect, possessions, homes, and your kids will be taken from you entering yourself into yet an even deeper level of dispair.. having had felt all of these hardships, still Satan refuses to loosen his grasp on you ever requiring you to endulge more and more in excess until you also die. I write this memoir, not only to remember this pain that I chose to leave behind me, but also in hopes that maybe somebody will take a glance at it and suddenly feel inspired to change the road they are traveling down. So one day my daughters can read this and understand what had happened. Also because if I hadn't changed, that fatal loud bang very well may have been the last choice I ever made...
Source: my heart
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tophj86-blog · 7 years
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I do not own this
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tophj86-blog · 7 years
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tophj86-blog · 7 years
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