The worst part about being there for everybody is that no one ever bothers to ask if you’re okay or not

(via silentlycry1ng)

Source: cartel

When the words die out
I would have nothing to live for

For my tongue has dried out of emotions to taste
For your finger tips have already uncoiled from mine
Time stopped when you stepped onto the seat beside me and I felt your heat
You then walked out in utter silence
Wandering into a narcissistic limbo
and I froze in time

…my ink just dried


Some people don’t deserve your reminiscing
They are narcissistic shallow beings
who deserve to be buried in the past


If you were truly mine
I would have induced my own coma
So I can once more hear your voice
Lingering under my breath

But I will never be yours


I wonder how would it feel if those suffering with depression had a choice to press a button that would end their life and their torment for good


I will not be there when they need me
and at that moment they will realise
they let me go
they lost me forever


Careful, don’t choke on your own betrayal, for I am loathing you in my own unique way


I don’t want to heal,
for that means I have to close up the wound,
that contains YOU,
and you will no longer be pumping inside my veins.


Your drift is so strong
baiting me to get sucked in
against all that’s rational


My jagged edges,
are no match for your fragmented masculinity.

I am an orphan of life,
roughened by war,
against an invincible adversary,
a coward of terminal measures;
a soul that has fallen through the dark crevices.

I am an orphan of life,
yet softened by the fall,
that broke what was left of me.

Now, I am your wrath,
hidden under the faulty cracks that mark your smile.

Now, I am your guilt,
The unrestrained reflection crushing your bones on the silt.

Now, I am the fear that will worm its way into the grey of your brain,
a mental scythe dissecting through raw flesh, I will unveil the beast within,
shrivelling the hope you safeguarded…and held so dear.

I am your self-fulfilling prophecy of abomination,
a hoarder of all that’s dark,
like a shrapnel, I’ll drill through your depths,
embody your own personal rigor mortis,
while I continue to bleed myself to interminable idlity


Grim reaper’s claws
Gashing wounds that had already felt raw
Bound by a lethal,
silent drug
And her soul raves inside a meat vessel
Pounding, howling at nerve endings
No more control
What used to be dormant
Is now boiling just beneath a cracked surface
Epilepsy of a hidden human being
Not her, her other ; a warped reality of an ethereal being
A whirlwind of shit on her shoulders
Her internal organs bleed out
From pores she didn’t know existed
The sound of the implosion, too deep;
Too constricting
She calls to the Grim Reaper:
Please take me home..


He continues to stab her with the edge of his remains

The ache; bone-deep, blinding

Bound to her like a leech that won’t let go



When I was growing up, I watched as my mom had trouble holding a job. She was quick to anger, quick to tears and in and  out of the hospital for depression. I remember thinking to myself that she just wanted attention, and she just didn’t want to work.

Oh, how I regret those thoughts today. These thoughts that are shared by so many people out there that just do not understand what it is like to suffer from mental illness. The employer that doesn’t understand why you are missing time from work. The friends that think, all you want is to get attention when in fact, you often stay at home afraid to go out into public because you don’t want to draw attention to yourself.


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I sometimes wish there is a way out .. but most of all I wish that people would stop pushing me even further towards the edge when iam barely holding on…I hear you mate, can totally relate… Keep trying :)

Source: namiorg

To leave everything behind
To contour a grey universe with yellow
To stop feeling like a shattered soul, that will never come back to life
Where does the mess end?


"Once again you have snatched away that fire that kept me going, hoping, living. Once again I am leaking dispair and all I can do is stare blankly, idly, coldly… at the ceiling"