borderlinebattle

I don’t care that you got into drugs for three months straight, or how much sleep you lost in that period. I don’t care that you went home and fucked that person and woke up at 6am hating everything about yourself, or that you smoked so much you sounded as though your lungs were giving out.

You’re not a bad person for the ways you tried to kill your sadness.

You’re just human, and being human means you need to survive and you do so whichever way you deem fit, fuck everyone else.

"you’re not a bad person for the ways you tried to kill your sadness" 

WOW

(via i-want-spankings)

veinsofice

I’ve been burning through a lot of matches
and praying to nobody
that the smoke detector won’t go off.
I’ve been holding conversations with the moon.
Sometimes she talks back more than you.
Sometimes she doesn’t.

It’s cold here now.
The trees keep shaking their heads,
stomping their boots, losing their patience.
They are sick with want for new things.
Or maybe I am sick with want for new things.
Either way, I see temper tantrums everywhere I go.
I’ve been having chest pains again
when I think too much.

Everything tastes a little bit like cinnamon
and missing people
that I’m not supposed to miss anymore.
My mother says that it finally smells like Fall.
Something about crisp air and burning leaves
and the scooped out insides of a pumpkin.

I don’t feel connected to anything.

"The Hardest Season" Trista Mateer (via tristamateer)