It hurt until it became physical pain and I was blinded with my own problems when all this time I’d tried to prevent that.
I hate not being able to sleep because I’m thinking about you. Not even in a romantic way but a bone crushing, lung shattering brain collapsing way. And I promise you, it isn’t beautiful.
I’ve finally come to realise no matter who you are you can still hate yourself and I know we should encourage people not to, and tell them we love them, but really that’s not what you get. Hate yourself if you want to. Do whatever the hell you want to because it’s not like we’re getting anywhere and it’s not like it doesn’t apply to everyone out there.
If you’re battling a mental illness and didn’t want to wake up this morning but did anyways, you’re a motherfucking badass. Because living with a mental illness is hard and I’m damn proud of you for still being here and fighting. You’re metal as hell and tough as nails. So keep on fighting, you kickass Viking warrior. You can win this.