Every single part of my soul wants to call you up and have you tell me that I’m better off without them, or tell me that it’s all my fault and I need to win them back, but you’re not here, and I don’t know what to do anymore,
365 days ago I decided that it was best for me to seek actual professional help, for me to sit down with someone who went to school to help people like me, deal with being alive.
My anxiety is the safety net which allows me to create an online persona where I am happy and funny, and incredibly light on my feet.
6 is the number of weeks it took for me to be convinced that what I did in my past does not make me a person with less importance.
“I’m sorry.” That’s all people get from me now.
I am the beginning of a song that you can’t figure out who it’s by but you know all the words and god dammit it’s on the tip of your tongue.
I dropped out of school because I couldn’t see a future,
or apparently more than 3 feet in front of me.