Remember that you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Screw that. Prove to yourself that you can stand up for your own beliefs, not just with drugs but with any concern in school or at work.
My mental illness is not some picture of a storm cloud in an art museum you can think is ‘tragically beautiful.’
When you quote the Bible to me in an effort to give me comfort, what you are doing is trying to make sense of my story for yourself. You are trying to comfort yourself.
Know this: it’s not your fault. Your partner may retreat simply so you don’t have to deal with his or her unpleasant feelings and return when the person feels able to give him or herself without dumping a rainy parade on your head.
I have never met my real father. Honestly, sometimes I’m not entirely sure my mom remembers that.
She’s not a psycho bitch, alright?
She slouches hoping to hide behind the pity filled eyes of the others she so desperately wants to morph into. The mirror is her enemy reflecting what she most loathes: herself.
I’m trying what feels like every possible solution or medication I can find, and no matter what I do everything is hard. And when everything is hard and you’re crying all the time, it’s easy to watch the weeks slip by without one perfect night to tell the person you care for most in the world how you feel.
I know what it must sound like to you whenever those ugly words start pouring out of me.
Sometimes when I’m lying in bed in the morning, I picture my door opening and a little one barreling towards me, leaping onto my lap. She’s in her footed PJs, hair still a mess from her dreams.