𝗧𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗱 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻

I left the ‘fixing people’ era behind. Don’t come to me with childish energy.

Not even the warm mug you've been putting your hands around a lot lately wants you.

The pain did not make me a better person, it did not teach me not to take anything for granted, it did not teach me anything except how to keep walking with a dead weight.

If you don't understand my suffering, then you've never really known me.

I deserve better than to have the gut wrenching feeling like I've done something horribly wrong all the time.

I don’t carry guilt for my isolation, I just feel the pain of it sometimes, but stepping back into society feels wrong in a way, like looking for tenderness where nothing is genuine anymore.

You can't speak poetically to someone who has never needed to take up a pen or read to survive.

As lost as Alice As mad as the Hatter

Gray November I’ve been down since July

The worst pain is getting hurt by a person who you explained your pain to.

I’m far from what I should be, i just keep dragging my scars with me through life, a mistake wrapped in skin and bones.

I walk past people who look like they have it together, and I’m reminded I don’t.

hopebaiting myself everyday

I’m always there, slipping in and out of people’s lives, close enough to feel the warmth, never close enough to stay, they tell me things they don’t tell anyone else, then forget I exist until they need that feeling again.