depression OCD anxiety self harm bipolar mental health
I just argued with friend about telling truth. I hate lying, but it's the only way to keep my friends from knowing how messed up I truly am. I did show it a little bit. They cried. I hurt everyone.
"I am not bitter, nor am I sweet; I am water, and how I taste to you depends on what you mix me with.
Such a bad habit, apparently. Is there a twelve step program for jilted writers out there?
dont love me (i dont love me,dont exspect you to,i get it,depressed,sad)
I knew it like I knew the bitter, icy taste of potion. But though the feeling was hollow and shadowy like smoke, I could not wave it away. When I tried, it would only curl and dance and settle back about my soul like a shroud.