There were times when I was with him and it was too much . Does that make sense ? When someone stirs a world of emotion in you and it's so intense you can barely stand to be with them . During those moments , I wanted so desperately to leave , to go home , walk in my bedroom and shut the door behind me . Crawl into bed and lay there in the dark , tracing the outline of my lips with my fingers , replaying everything he said , everything we did . I wanted to be left alone- with nothing other than my thoughts of him .

- Lang Leav

I wanna quote from one of the most beautiful songs me and my sister adore...."Que sera sera" by Doris day
Meaning "Whatever will be, will be."🖤

Listen!

I'm still writing you, are you still reading me?

"We know but talking about it helps. Specially when noone talks about it specially when where you come from you arenot supposed to talk about it."

It's how you love me as though I matter!🖤

I’m tired. Sometimes I wonder why I write. There are times when my hands and my heart feel so heavy and I remember what I was before I took the pen and I cry. I cry because I know that I can never go back to that time that was perhaps simpler, and it is that writing has come to disturb my life and heart. I can no longer keep everything inside like I used to. I can’t. It has become as necessary as breathing, this beat of my soul on the page, but it hurts. God, I don’t know what hurts more, to write or hold it all just silent inside.

Noone wins in this writing game.

what Professor Robert Sapolsky calls, "the worst disease you can get" and what renowned psychiatrist Peter Kramer believes is the "most devastating disease known to mankind." And those who don't make it through another day, they didn't give up- they simply lost the battle to a powerful enemy.

Depression fucking sucks. Fear of death is not nearly as scary as fear of living another day. But how do we see most diagnosed with serious illnesses? Rotten luck. There is no shame in suffering the illness of depression. It’s just rotten fucking luck.

I am gonna repost one work since I have no new ones...for the ones who didn't read them. Enjoy!🖤

Pain demanded to be felt cause in denial came greater suffering.I was always good at fighting myself on the truth and believe me not from the world but from myself.i denied what it longed for more than any sexual pleasure,more than being understood and even more than love. The truth was as naked and as gruesome as a stripper...As she shakes her ass for a stranger who is gonna throw her a couple bucks not enough for her to even buy panties to strip on for another random stranger as they suffocate their nasty minds inside the gold mine she hides between her bruised thighs as she witnesses the convulsion of her tiny filthy world when they tap her body. you see all her life pretend .hunger. indigence. lack of comfort. disgust. lack of breath. bruises. lack of being understood and lack of love lingered over her and bruised her with their touch more than the men she serve and beyond all that she faces she fools herself into thinking that all of it that came in her existence is washed away as she pours water onto her and rub her body. she thinks she can rewrite her life when she opens the bible and repeatedly say onto her mind
""For I will restore you to health
And I will heal you of your wounds"declares the lord. because they have called you saying "its Zion noone cares for her""
She denies the ugly truth hiding behind those beautiful words.
-Yeab T🥀-