The scars on my hands and legs can tell you stories my mouth never could. Me 
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Eat better. Run more. Squat more. Sleep earlier. Wake up earlier. Make a good breakfast. Drink water. Eat fruits. Read books. Adventure. Talk less. Listen more. Feel deeper. Love better. Open your eyes. Experience life. Be happy. my motivation to be happy. (via insignificantttt)
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insignificantttt prolusion
tylerblvr scales-are-deadly

slaughteroftheweeaboos:

ppl my age have children what the hell i am a children

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pahaari disorder
Depression is a painfully slow, crashing death. Mania is the other extreme, a wild roller coaster run off its tracks, an eight ball of coke cut with speed. It’s fun and it’s frightening as hell. Some patients - bipolar type I - experience both extremes; other - bipolar type II - suffer depression almost exclusively. But the “mixed state,” the mercurial churning of both high and low, is the most dangerous, the most deadly. Suicide too often results from the impulsive nature and physical speed of psychotic mania coupled with depression’s paranoid self-loathing. Unknown (via hellagnarlydude)
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hellagnarlydude cutme--numb

There’s this saying in my country, that to be truly happy you need to embrace your bad emotions/flaws too. Okay.

The scars on my hands and legs can tell you stories my mouth never could.

I was called heartless monster today. Because who can touch a blade without the fear of getting a cut? Only the one who got cut too many times. 
My cousin who’s a 5 year old boy plays only with me. Sure he has friends and all but when it comes to family, he only plays with me.

He kissed my hand, the scarred side, today. He asked me who hurt me and I said, “You know honey, sometimes words hurt more than somebody hitting you.” He showed me his scarred knees and told me, "We’re the same, then!"

And then we stayed in his room and he was drawing us as superheroes. Because we’ve got scars to prove it :)

Then I went home, made myself nice cup of coffee (completely forgetting that my stomach is still tender because of this ) and my mom was there, sitting in the kitchen…. and she asked me when I see myself after school. And I muttered, “In a grave”. To say that it didn’t hurt when she stood up and left me… I would be lying. 

"You’re whining again. No man want’s a whiny woman."

You’re right. But not just men. Women too. Everyone really.

No one want’s me.

Not even you.

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nic0tine-kisses pushed-too-far
discolor3d the-tears-we-hide
  • Family: *insults my weight*
  • Family: *insults my interests*
  • Family: *insults my friends*
  • Family: *insults my music*
  • Family: *judges me constantly*
  • Family: you're being so rude why aren't you spending time with us
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arecatsreal e-xspes
unabashinglyme suicide-is-my-father
weheartit.com they-messed-me-up
inritum screamingsadness
skinsrebellion tatteredghost