Pian
Pian
The scars on my wrists are reminders.
The fresh cuts sting and burn, The red of my blood brings me release of pain that I feel inside. The pain of the sharp and the sight of the blood, it reminds me that I’m alive. But now it just there, there is no pain just numb.
Pain
I’m not scared of death.
No on the contrary I invite it with open arms.
No I’m scared of living. The thought of life is what chills me to the bone. That feeling that I don’t live up to society's standards. That I’ll be treated diffrently if I don’t fit the description of a cis girl.
Pain
It comes in the form of a dress, of long hair, of makeup, of *******
It does not come in the form of a broken limb or a gun wound.
It is not a physical pain. Though it can be more inhabilitating than a broken leg. You no longer have the strength or will to get out of bed. Or even live anymore.
Pain
It comes from those who do not understand
It comes from words spoken about you but not to you. It comes from betrail of the highest form. That of a friend, of a lover, of family. They talk. Thats what gives you the power to take those pills. To bury the knife so deep in your wrist they can’t take it out. To put that rope necklace on and push away the only thing holding you up.
Pain
It is the friends you push away that can’t help you
It’s the feeling of pure depression. It’s not a sickness that you can see. You don’t cough, you don’t have a sniffly nose, you aren’t pale, you don’t have a fever of 127. You are so tierd becuause if you sleep you dream but can’t call it dreaming. It’s only nighmares.
Pain
It’s not what you think it is.
It’s like a friend who never leaves. Deppression lives with you and you can’t escape it. It slowly invades your sleep and every waking second.
Pain
For me my deppression is my body
My skinny waist, big hips, and big ******* From my round face to my girly voice. My shortness and my slender hands and tiny feet. My deppression is my Dysphoria. She huants me when I look in the mirror. I see it in the faces of my friends. So I push them away.
Pain
It’s feeling so loney that it feels as tough you can’t go on any more
It’s pushing away your friends when you need them the most becuse you don’t wan to hurt them if you do leave. And you consider making life better for everyone including yourself by ending it all. Those pills, that blade, the knife, or the necklace of rope makes you feel free.
Pain
No more PAIN
No more PAIN
NO MORE PAIN
PAIN
Jan 18, 2021
Jan 18, 2021 at 11:07 PM UTC
Pian
Pian
The scars on my wrists are reminders.
The fresh cuts sting and burn, The red of my blood brings me release of pain that I feel inside. The pain of the sharp and the sight of the blood, it reminds me that I’m alive. But now it just there, there is no pain just numb.
Pain
I’m not scared of death.
No on the contrary I invite it with open arms.
No I’m scared of living. The thought of life is what chills me to the bone. That feeling that I don’t live up to society's standards. That I’ll be treated diffrently if I don’t fit the description of a cis girl.
Pain
It comes in the form of a dress, of long hair, of makeup, of *******
It does not come in the form of a broken limb or a gun wound.
It is not a physical pain. Though it can be more inhabilitating than a broken leg. You no longer have the strength or will to get out of bed. Or even live anymore.
Pain
It comes from those who do not understand
It comes from words spoken about you but not to you. It comes from betrail of the highest form. That of a friend, of a lover, of family. They talk. Thats what gives you the power to take those pills. To bury the knife so deep in your wrist they can’t take it out. To put that rope necklace on and push away the only thing holding you up.
Pain
It is the friends you push away that can’t help you
It’s the feeling of pure depression. It’s not a sickness that you can see. You don’t cough, you don’t have a sniffly nose, you aren’t pale, you don’t have a fever of 127. You are so tierd becuause if you sleep you dream but can’t call it dreaming. It’s only nighmares.
Pain
It’s not what you think it is.
It’s like a friend who never leaves. Deppression lives with you and you can’t escape it. It slowly invades your sleep and every waking second.
Pain
For me my deppression is my body
My skinny waist, big hips, and big ******* From my round face to my girly voice. My shortness and my slender hands and tiny feet. My deppression is my Dysphoria. She huants me when I look in the mirror. I see it in the faces of my friends. So I push them away.
Pain
It’s feeling so loney that it feels as tough you can’t go on any more
It’s pushing away your friends when you need them the most becuse you don’t wan to hurt them if you do leave. And you consider making life better for everyone including yourself by ending it all. Those pills, that blade, the knife, or the necklace of rope makes you feel free.
Pain
No more PAIN
No more PAIN
NO MORE PAIN
PAIN
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