Depression Is Not Beautiful
I look at the endless empty boxes of takeout, or I clean up after purging, or bandage bleeding wounds, but I see this as normal – I’ve never known anything else.
I look at the endless empty boxes of takeout, or I clean up after purging, or bandage bleeding wounds, but I see this as normal – I’ve never known anything else.
I need to remember that I am more than scars.
There is a voice living inside my head and it’s making me knock on Death’s door.
Ever since you left, I’ve always found myself torn between using past tense and present.
Thank you for making me realize that I am capable of one thing: and that is to love. But I can never thank you for breaking my heart.