secret-paranoia

All my life I’ve had people tell me;
“You’re 16. What do you know?
You don’t pay taxes.
You don’t pay bills or a mortgage.
You don’t worry about having a job.
You don’t have mouths to feed.”

You’re right.
I’m only 16.
But at the age of 13 I was already contemplating suicide.
At the age of 13 I was relentlessly told how ugly, fat, and untalented I was.
How I would never amount to anything.

At 15 I held a bottle of pills in my hands several times a week.
At 15 my parents fought so loudly the whole house would shake.
At 15 I started telling myself how fat and worthless I was.
At 15 I stopped eating for two months.

By the age of 16 my thighs were covered in battle scars.
At 16 I learned what it was like to pray every night that I wouldn’t wake up to see the sun.
At 16 I swallowed a bottle of pills and had my stomach pumped in the middle 3rd period.
At 16 I woke up in a hospital and crying and screaming because I wasn’t dead.
At 16 I was told my depression and anxiety were just cries for attention.
At 16 I learned what it was like to feel the rejection from the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally.
I learned what it was like to feel the love my parents used to have for me drain out of their eyes.

So I maybe 16 but I feel like I am a thousand years old. I have fought battles you cannot even begin to imagine.

I have endured years of relentless torment and taunts, and when I asked for help I was told I deserved it.

I may be 16 but I have endured more than you ever have in your 36 years of life.

So I may not have to pay taxes.
But at 16 I have anxiety attacks over the piles of homework I have to turn in the next day.

I may not have to worry about feeding my kids.
but even after 2 years of rehabilitation I still get depressed if I eat too much.

So you tell me;
“You’re 16. What do you know?”
And my answer will always be;
“Far too much”

Sorry. this was a rant.   (via secret-paranoia)
kaili-makena
I don’t want what we had with anyone else. I want you, I only want you, and it will always be you. We had something wonderful, but that something wonderful evolved into something undesirable, something toxic. But I’d still choose our toxicity over anything else. I don’t care if it harms me, I don’t care if it kills me, and I don’t care if that makes me stupid. Maybe I am stupid, maybe that’s why I’m still hung up on you.
thoughts 8/2/14 (via depresant)