i think i just need to accept the fact that i get sad at night regardless of how my day went lmao
I think you know you’re really over a person when you don’t wish anything bad upon them. You’re not filled with anger anymore, and you don’t want revenge. You just genuinely hope they’re happy.
Even if they did you wrong. Even if they never checked on you.
I really hope the people I’ve loved are getting home safely every night. But I’m not up all night wondering whether they did or not anymore.
(via screw-happilyeverafter)
“The biggest human temptation is to settle for too little.”— Thomas Merton
the saddest thing i’ve ever done was beg someone to love me the way I loved them
“It’ll hit you when you’re 16 and that heart of yours that loved so freely is now shielded by the swords that broke it. It’ll hit you when you’re 18, when you’re lost and confused, while you watch others on their way to be where they want to be. It’ll hit you when you’re 21 and you seem to come home to an empty bed, with an even emptier heart. It’ll hit you when you realise that life was never going to be perfect. It was going to be about being 17 and spending your nights drunk with your best friends. It was going to be sipping coffee in Germany, spending your 19th birthday in Vietnam, chasing horizons in Australia. It’s going to be the year that you spend traveling, while everyone runs around thinking they need to be something by this age or that. It’s going to be that job you finally get, that you have been praying for night after night. And then you’ll realise that life wasn’t about the heartbreak, the rejection or the utter shear of being lost. It was about the moments in between. Always cherish the moments in between.”
(via wnq-writers)
The morning after I killed myself, I woke up.
I made myself breakfast in bed. I added salt and pepper to my eggs and used my toast for a cheese and bacon sandwich. I squeezed a grapefruit into a juice glass. I scraped the ashes from the frying pan and rinsed the butter off the counter. I washed the dishes and folded the towels.
The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love. Not with the boy down the street or the middle school principal. Not with the everyday jogger or the grocer who always left the avocados out of the bag. I fell in love with my mother and the way she sat on the floor of my room holding each rock from my collection in her palms until they grew dark with sweat. I fell in love with my father down at the river as he placed my note into a bottle and sent it into the current. With my brother who once believed in unicorns but who now sat in his desk at school trying desperately to believe I still existed.
The morning after I killed myself, I walked the dog. I watched the way her tail twitched when a bird flew by or how her pace quickened at the sight of a cat. I saw the empty space in her eyes when she reached a stick and turned around to greet me so we could play catch but saw nothing but sky in my place. I stood by as strangers stroked her muzzle and she wilted beneath their touch like she did once for mine.
The morning after I killed myself, I went back to the neighbors’ yard where I left my footprints in concrete as a two year old and examined how they were already fading. I picked a few daylilies and pulled a few weeds and watched the elderly woman through her window as she read the paper with the news of my death. I saw her husband spit tobacco into the kitchen sink and bring her her daily medication.
The morning after I killed myself, I watched the sun come up. Each orange tree opened like a hand and the kid down the street pointed out a single red cloud to his mother.
The morning after I killed myself, I went back to that body in the morgue and tried to talk some sense into her. I told her about the avocados and the stepping stones, the river and her parents. I told her about the sunsets and the dog and the beach.
The morning after I killed myself, I tried to unkill myself, but couldn’t finish what I started.
I needed this tonight
If you’re looking for a sign not to then this is it. My inbox is open if you think talking to a stranger will help.
This is devastating and precious. Wow.
If anyone needs this, here you go. Just remember that somebody, somewhere always cares about you.
I’m crying so hard. But I’m also drunk so ya. But this is amazing.
There’s a difference between being happy and being distracted from sadness
Oh this hit hard
(via suicide-is-my-father)
one day you’ll smile so wide you’ll forget how many nights you spent crying yourself to sleep
(via the-sad-boy)
