Recently I’ve been passing the days, not living them.

I feel so detached from this world

I don’t like needing anyone for anything.

I've had to learn it the hard way, that you should never let your happiness depend on something, you may lose.

You ripped me into pieces so small, I wasn't sure I still existed.

I’m carrying so much right now and I’d really like to put some of it down

I don't know how I'm going to live with myself for the rest of my life.

How many times have people used a pen or paintbrush because they couldn’t pull the trigger?

Do you ever get that feeling when you’re sitting in your room alone, your thoughts wander, you’re not crying but you just feel sad and empty, replaying moments from your life and wondering. Where did it all go wrong?

I'm destroying myself so other people can't, and it's the worst kind of control, but it's the only form I know..

I feel empty in a way I never have before.

It sort of feels like I’ve entered into a fucked up reality, where I’m doomed to feel out of place, forever.

I'm not living, I'm just killing time

I've been mentally ill for such a long time, I don't even know who I am underneath it all.

The neurodivergent urge, to melt into the floor in mortification, after making a minor error.

I have spent all my life resisting the desire to end it.

I'm not living, I'm just surviving

I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it.

I have survived. I am here. Confused and screwed up, but here.

Even those we love the most can be a poison to our souls.