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See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna

every thing feels wrong and that’s worse than just not feeling anything bc now i have to deal with the fact that things that once felt right feel wrong now and aren’t comforting or helping anymore and i don’t know how to go about this like i always find a way to deal but i’ve been looking up ways to overdose on my antidepressants that aren’t working and i’ve been trying to stop doing anything in hopes that maybe i’ll just fucking die. i want this to be over and it’s not even an empty feeling anymore now it’s a heavy sadness and it only goes away when i’m distracting myself with pain and that pain is so permanent on my skin and it makes people ashamed to be seen with me i know it does but does that stop me no it never does i always get angrier knowing that because i do this to not be selfish i do this because they’re being selfish but i can’t handle it and i hope if i die of cancer maybe people will blame that and not be mad at me even tho they didn’t do anything and it’s been more than eight years since i’ve wanted to end my life and more than four since i first tried and i’m only 18 so you tell me how that doesn’t justify needing help and there’s always something kinda watching me even now as i type and maybe i’m fucking dilusional and maybe i’m fucking mad but it’s comforting because at least fucking some body cares about me and means it and even if it’s something my brain made up then whatever bc these boys are made up but i can’t stop writing about them and pretending life will end up okay for the suicidal boy and the irregular gay boy who just needed to find out for themselves how it would end up instead of listening to other people and my phone is at 4% and my life is at 2% and i need to stop rambling i know everyone just scrolls past all my posts that are longer than two lines now

i haven’t been avle to write more than a paragraph since i was a freshman unless it’s about how my heart is lovesick for a romantically destroyed version of my life and really i’m just anfucking spoiled brat and the thing is that even tho i can admit it i can’t seem to do anything about it and i can’t make myself bleed no matter how hard i try and how much i absolutely need it and goddammit i can’t handle this life i just need an exit and maybe i can find a way to do this that won’t hurt anyone but that never works so i think i’ll burn all my bridges before i disappear and they’ll wonder but never know and i’ll be a john doe or jane doe or whatever people wanna call me because once i’m dead who cares if i’m Jack or jane or someone without anything is called in another language and fuck in such a goddamn brat i hope this makes people unfollow me so i have a reason to give up on this sight even tho this isn’t done for you it’s really just a venting place for me and a record in case i finally don’t fuck up as absolutely horribly as i knowninwil but bever voukdnbefoee so good night and let’s cheers when i don’t wake up on christmas morning tomorrow

“we can’t find west. everything is strange. even the ocean.”

goddamn i miss home. i miss the west coast and i miss my only family. i left it all behind unwillingly, and i’m stuck. i’m really not sure i’ll ever get out of here. if i can’t, what the fuck am i supposed to do? i’ll die if i stay here and if i die here then i’ll have a funeral here and i won’t be recognised as who i am or who i was and my writing wil stay hidden (which i’m almost okay with) and i’ll never see my mum or my kitten or anyone i left on bad terms and will they even realise i’m gone? or will they just stop following my instagram which is the only contact we have and will they ignore my absence again like they did before and will they know my name or will i be another ghost they never thought about in the first place and what about my friends who need me because they can’t manage to lose another person without losing themselves and isn’t that ironic that they can’t lose another person or they’ll lose themselves? because that’s more than just one person being lost and then i’m a killer and it’s not just a suicide but a murder suicide or a homicide or a fucking mass suicide and i won’t see my fucking mother again and what will that do to her except absolutely destroy her but fuck i need an escape from this bitch of an earth and its selfish i know but i can’t stay here and i can’t leave and i don’t know what to do and i’m supposed to be happy tomorrow but i’m so goddamn broken i don’t know what to do but write out my feelings on here to no one who cares and cry in my bed while i try to go to sleep and wake up happy and it hurts not to take my pills but it hurts more to take them and i don’t know what to do anymore except stop eating and hope one of these days i can finally just cut as deep as i meant to the first time or swallow just a little more than last time or finally empty that goddamn bottle and my parents don’t care besides that it looks bad on them but they don’t know what to do and they’ve never known what to do except panic and yell because what will their friends think?

fuck i’m exhausted ofneverything.

i hate tea but i love the hot cup, and i love the bitter shock it brings me, scalding my tongue. i like to think alex is the same way when it comes to tea, which just reinstates the idea that not only am i mad, but i’m a little insane

im homesick and im broken hearted over someone i dont know and im obsessed with hurting myself and its getting really bad but i dont know what to do so now i have addictions and im going to go use one again good night

Alex could never put into words how much he adored Jack. He couldn’t ever understand why the loud boy with bad humour and goofy antics held his heart, but he knew he would never be disappointed by the fact. He loved how much trust he held and how he would never let him down, even if it was purely accidental, or how he would make sure to do everything in his power to make sure he felt safe and happy.

He watched him on the balcony, texting his sister with a dorky grin and a cigarette between his thumb and pointer finger, his free hand typing. He stood by the kitchen, prepared to turn back to nothing as if he hadn’t been watching him, but Jack never turned to check. He flicked the excess over the balcony, his wrist hanging between the wood slats and carefully pulling it back. He held the cigarette with so much potential and so carefully, as if it were capable of being hurt.

As much as he hated cigarettes and the thought of smoking, he couldn’t help but feel so amazing towards the idea of one simply because of how Jack held them. He never imagined someone having so much power over him, but there he was, sitting and watching with pure adoration as he laughed at his sister’s texts, arm hanging over the banister and smoke escaping his mouth irregularly at the laughter.

im back on my bullshit jalex smoking drabble love Alex gaskarth Jack barakat adoration im a sap for bad romanticism

i’ve hit another bump in the road and i can’t fucking wire myself right and i can’t make things right and i don’t know how to use words the way i want to but it doesn’t matter because maybe i’ll finally grow the fucking balls to get the fuck out of this life and maybe i fucking won’t because it would be selfish in this time but goddammit i’m so tired and pissed off and i want to screams and cry and hit the wall h til my hand is throbbing because that’s the onlyti

me i truly feel fucking alive and there’s no reason for me to be like this bjtit doesn’t matter anymore i’ll just go to bed now