Last night was hella not radical
God fucking dammit. What the fucking fuck. I honestly can’t. Like what the fuck.
"We live in a world where losing your phone is more dramatic than losing your virginity"
Um ok but I don’t recall my virginity having 16 GB of memory with all my contacts, music, photos, calendars, and apps or costing over $200.
my phone is an expensive and important material object and not a useless social construct put in place to shame and commodify women
Plus I remember where I lost my virginity.
Scars cover my legs; up and down my thighs. I suppose it would look horrifying if I wasn’t so used to it by now. Scars and burns that can tell a timeline from years to weeks ago.
I’ve had to change in the stall in the boy’s change room since one guy called me out for it. The most douchey guy in my gym class looks at me and says “what the fuck is wrong with your legs”. To say the least, this is a guy who definitely doesn’t understand mental illness, and is one of the worst people I know.
Even with all those reasons not to, I still crave it. I still have the urge. I’m getting worse and worse, everything is just going downhill. I don’t know why, either. I’m well off, I don’t have many stressers, I have a lot of people to talk to. I don’t know what it is, I just can’t climb out of this sadness.
Every night is filled with anxiety and thoughts of suicide. I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I can keep doing this. I’m on the brink of giving up.