I want to fucking kill you. So badly that you can’t understand. I dream of it. I don’t know what’s real or not. But I want to fucking kill you. With my bare hands Related Post To A Sister… addiction To All My ‘Friends’
I stare at my TV and I almost don’t see it. I see what’s beyond it, the shadow of it. The darkness that the brightness creates. I can’t see myself in that. The brightness, that is. But when you look beyond the light, I start to think, is that me? I can’t see myself in
You left me sweet notes on our bathroom mirror. You kissed me good night. You’re asleep now, holding my hand. It makes it hard to type right now. I know you love me. Sometimes, though, you make me feel like I’m better off dead. Like the attempt I made should have worked. Like I’m not
This is hard but I’m willing to go through it because in my mind I know you will come back to me. It hurts to spend all day with you and your daughter and then bring you back home to him. I know it makes her so happy to know her dad is home and
He took her face in his hands and looked at her. It was like nothing was there. It was like every time she tried to act like nothing hurt. Like every time she tried to pretend that everything was alright. Like every time she tried to say she’s okay. Like every time she lied. S.H.
I was hurting earlier today because my life seemed so empty without live in it. I stumbled across a Reddit about suicide and clicked on a link about how people (who had survived an attempt) spent their ‘last’ day. I was almost instantly transported back to last year. I have come close to killing myself