𝘓𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦s ☽

I want to dye my hair really bad but again I think I'm just going through something 😭

I hate summers

The way you guys just know me>>>

For years, I let my sorrow sleep beside me like a lover winter-worn; it kissed my wrists with quiet teeth and taught my grief to mourn. I wore my pain so faithfully it fitted like my skin; the deeper that the hurt would cut, the more I’d feel within. Each wound became a lighthouse flare across a dying sea a brief, unbearable proof that I was still in me. And God, how strange it is to heal. They never tell you this: that letting go of agony feels more like loss than bliss. Because the night I chose to live, laid every blade to rest, the silence moved into my bones and nested in my chest. No choir spilled from heaven’s mouth, no light broke through above; no hand emerged from out the dark to praise my choice for love. Just emptiness vast, colorless where suffering had stood; the awful absence left behind when poison once felt good. For pain had held me for so long it almost felt divine; a cruel and constant heartbeat rhyming neatly into mine. And when it left, I grieved for it the way a child might grieve a burning home that kept him warm despite the smoke he breathed. So if I seem a little lost inside this gentler skin, forgive me I am learning how to live without the ruin. _by Arista

Two months of sorrow and pain, all for no change in sight

توی این مدت حتی یه تلگرامم نداشتم من

I don't think life's ever been good enough for me to be scared of dying.

I want to rip my skin apart just to silence what it says about me to tear out the mirror stitched into my body. My hands shake with rage at the shape I’ve been forced to wear, like my existence itself is a mistake I cannot repair. I feel filthy under my own touch, like poison running through my veins as if my reflection is built from guilt and chains. I want to peel myself open and throw away the parts that carry every cruel word burned into my heart. I want to scream until this body feels foreign, unreal, gone erase the version of me that everyone has judged for too long. The urge is violent. It feels urgent. It feels true. But the hatred is louder than what I actually am. And somewhere beneath the fury is someone quietly begging not to disappear but to be seen without weapons. _by Arista

So so truee

Youuuu