You think I’m over you, because I don’t text you as much as I used to. I don’t like every picture or comment on every status. I go out of my way to avoid you.
“He would be barking at nothing in an empty hallway or he would get in the bathtub and refuse to leave. I think he saw ghosts.”
“Each victim had been shot in the head, thus leading police to determine that they had likely died before the fire was started.”
Whenever my depression hits, I feel like I’ve let my loved ones down. I feel like I’m making them feel bad.
Dating is hard for you, because you don’t always feel like talking, like answering phone calls or sending texts.
As soon as my attack ends, everything I said suddenly feels so stupid. I can finally see the way I looked through the other person’s eyes. I can see how psycho I must have seemed. How pathetic.
He shouldn’t grab your phone when you aren’t looking and go through your messages. He shouldn’t drive past your house to check up on you. He shouldn’t spy on you, like you’re some sort of criminal.
I’m tired of thinking about you every time a friend mentions her boyfriend, every time my mind drifts off during work, every time I see a kiss on a movie screen.
You could pin me down and slit my wrists in long thin lines, watch the blood pour from my veins in a waterfall — and I would still love you.
Cross off as many items as you can from the list. If you skip an item, you lose. If you tell anyone why you’re doing what you’re doing, you lose. If you’re unable to complete the entire list in under 24 hours, you lose.