“Some days I woke up and got out of bed and brushed my teeth like any normal human being; some days I woke up and lay in bed and looked at the ceiling and wondered what the hell the point was of getting out of bed and brushing my teeth like any normal human being.”
— It’s Kind of a Funny Story (Ned Vizzini)

(via wordsthat-speak)

Q

Anonymous asked:

I'm killing myself tonight. Bye.

A

pizza:

Please don’t.

You wanna know why? Someone is gonna have to find your body.

So imagine your mum or dad come in in the morning to wake you up. They yell for a bit, open your curtains, yell some more telling you to get up, thinking your just wanting to sleep in a bit like every other day. They get your brother or sister to come jump on you, that doesn’t work either. Eventually they’ll come and try to shake you awake, and realise there’s something wrong. After a bit, they’ll start to get worried maybe check your pulse. When they realise that there isn’t one, they’ll hope it was just them, not being able to find it. An ambulance will get called, everyone will be in tears, realising there’s nothing they can do, because you’re gone. Imagine being the person who has to deliver the news to your best friend, or your grandparents, or your teachers, or your brother or sister. Your friends are going think its their fault, and wonder why they didn’t notice or do something about it sooner. Your teachers are going to wonder how they could have made school better, to make you want to stick around. Your brothers and sisters are going to wonder why, or if it was their fault and could suffer from depression. Your parents will wonder if there was anything they could have done, or they’ll look back for signs you weren’t coping. But it will be too late, and they will forever blame themselves. Everyday, people are going to walk past your locker, and know that you’re never coming back. People will look at where you used to sit in class, and wait for you to come into class and say it was just a joke, when in reality they know that’s impossible. Your family will walk past your bedroom door or wait for you at the breakfast table, even though you’ll never come. If you kill yourself, nothing will ever be the same, nobody who knew you will ever been the same, and you can’t come back. Killing yourself is permanent, and causes more damage than you know, but you won’t be around to see it. So before you take the blade to your wrist, or swallow those pills, think about how its going to affect those around you. Please, its not really worth it.

“Something else is hurting you – that’s why you need pot or whiskey, or screaming music turned so fucking loud you can’t think.”
— Charles Bukowski (via unextinguished)

(via i-didnt-know-i-was-lost)

easier said than done some days, but it is still a step in the right direction

(via fuckinq)

hidingthetearswithafakesmile:

just-a-skinny-boy:

Just think about it…

This is so beautiful
hidingthetearswithafakesmile:

just-a-skinny-boy:

Just think about it…

This is so beautiful
hidingthetearswithafakesmile:

just-a-skinny-boy:

Just think about it…

This is so beautiful
hidingthetearswithafakesmile:

just-a-skinny-boy:

Just think about it…

This is so beautiful