I’m afraid I’ll never finish college. I’m afraid I’ll finish college with student loans I can never pay back. I’m afraid I’ll get a degree and won’t be able to find a job in that field. I’m afraid I’ll get a degree, get the job I dreamed of, and hate it.

A Mental Illness Happy Hour listener whose list of fears matches mine four for four.  (via erfisperf)

I don’t expect people to care. I’ve been on my own for a long time, and I’m fine with that. I don’t mind being sad or petrified. I’m fine with all nights spent alone, and cold days freezing my bones.
I deserve to feel that way because I am not as good person as I could be.


I don’t care, do hear me? I don’t care. I don’t care that drugs are bad and that they ruin your insides. I don’t care that sex is toxic and it makes you feel things that aren’t real. I don’t care that your lungs become just as clouded as your mind when you smoke that cigarette and I most of all don’t care about you.
Let my brain stop reminding me of how you tunnelled your way inside the deepest most secretive parts of my mind and exposed every part. How I gave every meaningful thing I had to you and most of all how quickly and carelessly you managed to throw it all away.
Now, I know that you didn’t ask for this. That you didn’t want me to trust in you because, to you, I was nothing. You didn’t mean for it to go this far because you just wanted something to fill the tear in your heart that someone else thoughtlessly broke. But you were so incredibly good at false love. I lived for that cruel lie. It was all I had, knowing you were there. You saved me when I was drowning. But I hope you know that there’s nothing you can do now. You can’t take back every plan we made together, every late night conversation, every kiss that made my heart fly, every emotion that was so heart-rendering real it hurt to feel it. You stripped me of everything I had, everything I was.
So tell me was it worth it? Did it make you feel better to take my innocence and leave me to face this dark corrupted world alone knowing that I’ll never be the same again. Was it worth making me feel so threatened by your kind that I don’t let anyone in anymore for fear that they’d see the scars you left on me. Was it worth making me feel so damn dehumanised that it pains me to admit the truth that’s screaming in all of our faces. The truth that’s so blatantly obvious and pathetic that no one dares say it. The truth that haunts my sleep and kills my dreams. The truth that, yeh…
…maybe i do care a little.

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.

 Neil GaimanThe Sandman, Vol. 9: The Kindly Ones (via feellng)