The only happiness I feel anymore is when I’m stoned but afterwards I feel worse than I ever have and want to kill myself. I ride an intense high before sinking to rock bottom. No one knows I’m bad again, no one knows I’m doing worse than I was before. No one knows that I’m hurting more now than I ever was.
My birthday is coming up again in a couple days. I look back at my post around this time last year before I turned 21, and I almost want to say I was completely wrong. I don’t think it had anything to do with age or the number 21, but it feels like this past
I feel after I’ve made my 2016 recap post I’ve said all there is to say about what I’ve been and am still currently going through. I’m sure I’m the only one that’s read it, and that’s alright because it was really only intended for me. I keep waking up every morning with this naive
There are so many other posts I’ve been wanting to write for the past month or two. I have about 4-5 different drafts about half written out; one’s an opinion topic on how hostile discussing gender can be at times, one was a sort of farewell to an old friend to give them some sort