"i have danced with death
i have reached out my hands
and let my fingers brush against her
once or twice i have
disturbed her slumber
the first time she awoke
she reached for me
just letting her fingertips brush mine
and i flinched and retracted
my own arms
so afraid to go through
the second time i only called
and i woke her lightly
only enough for her to notice
that i had tried to grasp her
on my third attempt
death held onto my hand
and i tried to pull myself
into her arms
but something must have
grabbed onto my leg
and tugged me back home
the next time she was waiting
she was waiting for my touch
and she reached her hands out
and snatched me close to her
i grasped at her dark hair
and relished in her scent
but i heard them calling
and i pushed her away from me
i swam back through the darkness to join them
and the very last time
was the time i looked in her eyes
i clasped her hands in my own
and begged her to take me
but she was silent and
all too soon i felt the arms
of many who i loved
coming down on me
and bringing me back
you see, death and i
we have danced a bloody waltz
that has spit nothing
but misery and fear back to me
and though sometimes
i long for death to claim me
take me once and for all
i have vowed that i will
never search for her again"

i will have to live out my days in misery i suppose (m.g.t)

"In school we are taught the importance of algebra
But not what to do when depression clouds our minds and convinces us we are better off dead
We are taught how to read and write
But not how to ask for help when we are clutching to the last shreds of hope
They teach us how to listen in class
But they don’t teach us how to stop listening to the voice in our head that tells us we should take the whole bottle of tablets instead of one
We are taught that violence against others is wrong
But we are never told that harming ourselves is
So when society asks why it has so many teens and young adults who rely on anti-depressants and anti-psychotics to help them to function
Perhaps they should look at education, rather than blaming the victims themselves for being suffocated by black clouds."

It’s not their fault. (via be-fearless-brave-and-kind)

"maybe if i can make enough people happy, ill be happy too"

it’s not working so far (via toxiic-darling)


i can’t look at bedrooms on tumblr because i get depressed that I have a sucky room and im too poor to buy new things for it


I’m not one to hold hands, but baby when you told me you wanted to die, I held your hand so tight that the bones in my wrist molded into one and the muscles in my arms seized so I’d never let go.

I’m not one to know pain, but the night you whispered “sorry” for every pill you took, I saw a darkness in your eyes that you didn’t want there. 
I felt the walls of my skull caving in because I watched you drown yourself in sorrows you couldn’t suppress anymore. 

I’m not one to know hurt, but every time you looked up at me with those bloodshot brown eyes I knew there was an earthquake annihilating the best parts of you.

I’m not one to feel depressed, but when the aftershock rattled your brain and that gun looked like the answer, for the first time I hated natural disasters. I used to think that nature taking the world back was beautiful, but she took you back and that was anything, but beautiful. 

I’m not one to wear black, but when they held your funeral, it felt right to wear the color of the gun powder that was left around the ring of your lips.

I’m not one to cry, but baby, 
when I was cleaning out your room I found a letter addressed to me, I opened it. 

I didn’t expect you to apologize for the pain you were feeling, 
I didn’t expect you to write about the empty pill bottles 
…I didn’t expect you to write about how you loved me 

and baby, 
I’m sorry I never got the chance to tell you, 
I love you too

Maybe I could’ve saved you 


but I guess I’ll never know and I’m sorry for that


(via unscriptedconfabulationmn)