kmills95

I looked at all of my suicide notes, Stacked in a pile Of tabs. Never once on paper have I Apologized directly to everyone, Doesn't mean I haven't apologized. You think this shit is venting. Pretentious teenage angst. I'm at wits end, And where the fuck are you? At work, waiting for the call From guidance? "She's really struggling, I think She's in a rough spot." No kidding. All of this is just another load. An attention seeking, Ungrateful response... To what? If I cared so much about the spotlight, Why would it's rays burn my skin? If I was ungrateful, Would I refuse care because I waste too much by just existing? I am drowning in

I would gladly strangle All of those who tell me Eating disorders are a choice With the tape they use to measure their hips. I would, without hesitation Beat a person with their prized scale If they let on that in their head, Eating disorders are lifestyles. Anorexia is not your fucking Pass to be cool or paid mind to. It is not your new fucking purse That you got for free with a coupon on the internet. Anorexia is not a new pair of Pretty red shoes that glitter in The right light and make all of your Friends drool in envy. Anorexia is not a little black dress Or the size fucking two your Sister would kill to fit in And the pride you fuc

I'm drowning In my own misery I reach out Searching for a helping hand But nobody is there And so I sink Still trying to reach a hand That is not there

Mommy shakes her head because she doesn't understand. She calls it "food issues" and makes it seem trivial, Asks what she can do to help you, and when you tell her, Things don't change. Mommy gets angry when you're too weak to go to school. She calls you lazy and makes it seem like this is a game, Asks your therapist why she has to walk on eggshells In her own house. Daddy demands to know what the fuck those pink lines are. He tells you that shit will leave ugly scars. He lets you know he's not happy with this and won't have a cutter Under his god damn roof. Daddy laughs at all the big women that step outside of their homes. He nudges your

the coolness of the marker tip felt good as it glided over her skin- right where others would use a blade.

I once said that people are naive, And i stand by that statement still. We are naive in many different ways, about many different subjects. My next story to you is a sensitive one, one close to my heart. It's about a subject which effects nearly everyone. {Even if we are not aware of it} Yet, we are still so naive about it. My story is about Self Harm. What was the first thing that came to your mind when you read those words? A person? An image? A stereotype? Possibly, a feeling or memory? Nothing at all? For me, all of those. I think of my friends, showing me scars, in need of support.. or help. I think of a blade, a wrist and blood. I thin