• chidera 58w


    It hurts. I’m trying my best but it’s not enough. I want to be strong but it’s so lonely. You’re breathing on my goddamn neck and it hurts. I hate it. I don’t want it. I’m tired. I wish I could run. I do run. Run into pain like it’s all I’ve ever known. I hate looking at myself in the mirror. I am so ashamed because I don’t even recognise myself anymore. I’m just breathing and breathing and breathing and breathing and breathing but I’m dying and dying, going down and down and I get more lost and lost. I’m so broken that I don’t even cry anymore. I force myself to, so these things will leave me, but I can’t make myself cry. I’m just in pain. I’m just hurting. I’m just tired. But I’ll be fine. I am going to be fine. I won’t let anything break me. I’ll keep trying.

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    It’s funny how the world expects you to heal yourself when you didn’t break yourself. They hurt you, destroy you and leave you to find the reason why as a consolation and to do the healing on yourself by yourself. They tell you to not become a burden to others, directly and indirectly.

    “It’s your cross, carry it.”

    You were perfect and someone broke you, yet they tell you to not sulk about the life snatched from you but rather take responsibility for someone else’s transgressions. No one wants a broken toy but nobody ever learns how not to make broken toys and lost souls.