I will continue to pick away at the skin on my hands. Peeling away my palms in order to find something underneath. To find some new hands that are worthwhile, worth using. I pull myself apart trying to find something competent, someone confident, something worthy, but i’m just left a bleeding mess. I’m all these vague ideas trapped together in a body. So many tangents that have been talked up, but never followed through with. I am dying, choking on dust, unable to move, just talk shit about all the things I’ll do. All the things I say i’m doing with myself and my life and the things i’m doing for other people. It’s all internalised. All inside. As i bind myself to a couch, to a chair or a bed. I recline and let time sweep across me and I look back on every day as something I have wasted being depressed and lonely and hating myself. But I can’t find anything I can do. People always inquire as to what I am doing with my life and I have no response. I have no goals, no dreams, no aspirations. I have no hobbys or talents or things I enjoy doing. There is nothing I want more than just to be asleep. That is my favourite part of being alive.

If I could, I would recline backward to months ago. To when this imminent wave wasn’t coming toward me, slowly looming above my head and stealing the sun from my skin. If I could go back in time, to change my course I would of done what I’d always planned. I wouldn’t of been swayed by touches and words. Wouldn’t of allowed myself to start seeping through. Would of managed to stop my exterior from cracking and crumbling, stopped it from becoming soft again. Becoming malleable to your touch. I could of walked away into the middle of nowhere. I could of continued to live as my own, on my own. With no other person to rely on, no one to need. No one to attach myself to like a limpet on a rock. I wish I had of followed that dirt road til the end and stayed out there in the bush. But I did not. So much of me regrets this connection that I know will become broken- that will be severed in half. I’m quite afraid of how it will ricochet across my heart and my head and my hands. What I will do with the residue and remnants that will lay across my table. Across my bed and my clothes and my skin. I don’t want you to die. I don’t want you to leave. But you will. You don’t need me.

Anonymous asked:

There are a lot of people who care about you. You are an important part of a lot of peoples lives. If that doesn't make you feel better then how bout this hilarious fact.... Norway once knighted a penguin... His name is Sir Nils Olav... Colonel-in-Chief Sir Nils Olav to be exact. It's a fucking knight penguin!!!

Thankyou :3 i honestly don’t feel that way but i hope so. HAhaha that fact really has made me laugh out loud though. Best thing i have heard in a very long time hahahah

cheeks-seems-nice:

trenchcoatinimpala:

things you don’t point out about people:

  • acne
  • cuts
  • Scars
  • body hair in places you’re not used to it being???
  • fat rolls/curves
  • how much/how little they’re eating
  • how skinny they are/what bones they can see because of how skinny they are
  • How fat they are.
  • If they have crooked or misaligned teeth maybe even yellowed
  • If they sweat a lot

don’t do it

don’t

Please don’t

when people point out my scars by grabbing my arm saying ‘what are those from????’ are you actually fucking serious bro ugh

really trying hard to stop myself from hurting and clinging onto this

love something let it go love something let it go love something let it go

awperspook:

diefantasie:

Truth lies just beneath the surface by “Sarmati”
In Slavic mythology, the rusalki were fish-women, who lived at the bottom of rivers. In the middle of the night, they would walk out to the bank and dance in meadows. If they saw handsome men, they would fascinate them with songs and dancing, mesmerize them, then leading them away to the river floor to their deaths.
(A World of Fantasy)

hes about to be drafted into the skeleton army

awperspook:

diefantasie:

Truth lies just beneath the surface by “Sarmati”

In Slavic mythology, the rusalki were fish-women, who lived at the bottom of rivers. In the middle of the night, they would walk out to the bank and dance in meadows. If they saw handsome men, they would fascinate them with songs and dancing, mesmerize them, then leading them away to the river floor to their deaths.

(A World of Fantasy)

hes about to be drafted into the skeleton army