my final act of love is deleting your number. i already texted first. i already waited days for a reply. i already made excuses for your silence and stayed up overthinking every dry message. i already begged in paragraphs you never answered. now i’m choosing to stop. not because the love is gone, but because i finally realized loving you was slowly killing me

Without kms or using medication what is the most powerful weapon against anxiety and depression?

my final act of love is deleting you so i never have to wonder if you ever cared. i already texted first. i already waited days. i already made myself smaller so you wouldn’t feel pressured. i already stayed when your silence was screaming that you were done. now i’m cutting you off for good. not because i hate you, but because i finally love myself more than i love someone who never fought for me

my grandma found out about my depression diagnosis and is just being the cutest person in the world. 🥹❤️

i wish depression were an emergency. I wish someone could take one look at how sick I am and go “oh my god, we need to get you to a hospital!” and then when we get there I get rushed into surgery and the surgeons say “it’s a good thing you brought her here when you did, this is a seriously advanced case” and then they put me under and spend the next ten hours pulling metres of long, sticky black strands of gunk out of my body, throwing it immediately into an incinerator so that it can’t infect anyone else. And then they could stitch me back up and I could rest a few days, and when I leave the hospital everyone can see how much better I am and they congratulate me saying “well done, you’ve been so brave, I’m so glad you’re ok. I love you