Mental Health
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Facing the monster inside yourself is a sobering and humbling moment in time. In reality you may think you’ve caged and quieted them a hundred times over. Locked them away and thrown away the key in some dark ocean depths never to be found again. Then the moment comes and you realize the door you
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I am not a girl given over to soft edges and quiet voices. It’s troublesome, really. I do not ever specifically remember my mother raising me to be such an independent loud spoken, opinionated, demanding woman. If anything, I’d probably owe some of the congratulations to my father. He spent many hours of his time
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I can feel myself slipping again. That gaping pit below me, I can see it and feel it. I thought I was free of it, I thought this was the time I was really going to be good and it was going to last, be sustainable. This was going to be the end. I want
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I wrote half a page worth of a post before deleting it and staring at a blank page for far too long. It always seems my mind is full to bursting and, at times, it requires far more effort to organize and file away what’s in there for coherences sake than what it’s worth. I
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i have always been built of bones, structured from the ground up sutured together with arteries and veins, red and blue, pulled together and weaved through feeding me life of some kind or another as they ought to do pull those bones tight together with muscles and tendons wrapped around with ligaments, building a home
I Would Rather Be In Bed 