I relapsed

I just can’t fucking take this shit anymore.

It’s like everytime I try to get better, I end up twice as worse than when I started.

I just want it to stop.

Everyone thinks the fact I’m depressed is funny.

They keep making jokes about it and I don’t understand.

Am I missing something?

Did my scars suddenly become jokes? Did the fact I think about ending my life every fucking day suddenly become hilairous? 

Why didn’t anybody tell me suicide was funny?

Me: I hate him so much it's almost physically painful to see his face.
Mind: Three weeks ago you loved him. Three weeks ago you'd sacrafice anything and everything just to be near him for ten minutes. You counted his flaws and masked them as beauty and you were happy with it. Three fucking weeks ago you would have given up your own life for him. What changed?
Me: I changed and realized I've wasted an entire year on someone who never gave two shits about me.
Mind: How do you know that?
Me: He told me.
Anonymous Asked:

what language is written on your wrist ?

Japanese. It’s my butterfly’s name. 

This is my first butterfly. I made him a few days ago and he’s a little faded now, but it’s all good.
Now I understand why people do this. I don’t know how, or why, but I got crazy attached to this little imprint of ink on my wrist. I don’t want to hurt him by hurting myself.
He’s so special to me.
four days clean and that may not be much of a big deal, but I’m proud.

This is my first butterfly. I made him a few days ago and he’s a little faded now, but it’s all good.

Now I understand why people do this. I don’t know how, or why, but I got crazy attached to this little imprint of ink on my wrist. I don’t want to hurt him by hurting myself.

He’s so special to me.

four days clean and that may not be much of a big deal, but I’m proud.

i’ma try this.

i’ma try this.

(Source: yankintheuk)

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