A collection of the intrusive thoughts, unpleasant feelings, and the deepest, darkest secrets that I’m too afraid to share. A montage of self loathing, self reflection, and silent cries for help. This is what the devil on my shoulder whispers in my ear when I crave self destruction.This is what the angel watching over me soothes me with whenever I lose my way.This is the love that eats me alive every day.This is the depression that weighs me down like a weighted blanket draped over my shoulders.These are my dreams turned nightmares.Whenever I get tired of yelling, I come here to whisper. No one knows me here. This is where I come to be alone.
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Statistics
We looked inside some of the posts by turnthepaiiige and here's what we found interesting.
Average Info
Notes Per Post
250K
Likes Per Post
171K
Reblog Per Post
79K
Reply Per Post
280
Time Between Posts
7 hours ago
Number of Posts By Type
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17
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“your trauma doesn’t define you” no actually it does. it dictates every aspect of my shitty life.
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i think many of my issues and problems stem from the fact that, narratively, i should have been long dead. by this point in the story. the story being life, of course
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i hate being cursed with this fucking disorder i had an awful breakdown and wanted to slit my wrists 5 minutes ago and now i’m dancing to club classics by charli xcx and feeling like i’m on top of the world
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I wanted to kill myself and you were screaming about a messy room
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I’m not allowed to die all in one go, I’m forced to die a little every day
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t4t? oh no i think you misunderstood me. i said tnt. we’re going to explode you. with a bomb
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Okay well sorry i died in ur bathroom get over it
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do i piss you off platonically. are you mad at me forever as a friend
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can i [REMEMBERS THAT TALKING ABOUT KILLING MYSELF IS NOT GREAT. THE MIND KILLER. ETC] be killed with a hammer. By someone else
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they call me the freaker outer the way I’m always freaking outing
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theres no such thing as tmi to me. i want to live in your ribcage.
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