I Wanna Have Lose Track Of Time, Multiple Rounds, Cute Convos And Giggles In Between During Water Breaks,

ykw id do just about anything if a hot lesbian told me to “keep taking it like a good girl” or that “you can do it. keep going for me.”

No one ever talks about how hard it is to trust yourself if you’ve been through trauma or are mentally ill. Not trusting others is a common assumption but what about not trusting your own mind. Not knowing which thoughts to believe. Not trusting that you will be able to go somewhere and not have a panic attack or ptsd episode or be triggered in general. Not trusting your actions because they’ve always been critiqued etc. Not trusting yourself is a new kind of hell that no one should have to experience.

Just want to be hugged but also fucked til tears are streaking down my face while getting whispered sweet nothings.

Is it too much to ask for?

Things no one tells you about when you’ve been mentally ill for years and it won’t get better

— everyone will give up on you. Some will say it upfront, some will have indirect ways of showing it (you’re a lucky mf if you still have someone )

— your symptoms/ breakdowns/ panic attacks are cute for a few months. Everyone wants to help. Later on people find them annoying and inconvenient

— you will be blamed for not getting better. Doesn’t matter if you’re doing therapy, taking meds, exercising, eating well and sleeping. You can do all of it, some of it or none of it. They will find fault in your efforts.

— desensitization to your pain. This one isn’t their fault, it’s human nature. But it happens and yes it hurts cuz you would wish you were desensitized to your own pain but you have to feel it no matter what. Doesn’t matter if it’s the millionth time. It demands to be felt.

— people move on. But you can’t. You see people cope and get over things while you simply can’t. And it’s so much worse if you’ve been mentally ill for years. Even the smallest things break you and trigger you.

— you slowly realize this world isn’t made for mentally ill people in any way

— you’re tired / fatigued all the time. You have been for years now. You simply exist but you aren’t capable of living anymore. Your illnesses have taken everything that made you feel alive. You’re nothing but a shell. A body.

i’ve come to the conclusion that a hot femme holding me down and saying ”shh baby… let me take care of you, okay?” in a soft voice would probably do more for me than therapy ever could

my love language: making sure you feel safe enough to be vulnerable with me.

You are allowed to grieve for what you lost when you went through trauma. You are allowed to mourn. You are allowed to be angry. You are allowed to feel. 

it is late and i am alone,

sitting on the front porch,

and i wish, more than

anything else, that i had someone

that wanted to sit with me.

someone to look at the stars with

on the nights when the weather

is nice and the clouds

feel like sharing their secrets.

someone that will ask me

to stop by the store on my way home

and pick up a couple of bottles

of that champagne that we like.

someone to wake up with

the next morning,

instead of sleeping in,

because a walk in the park

and a sit by a fountain

cures everything, even hangovers.

someone that will share

those kinds of secrets with me.

someone to stop me from arguing

by reaching over and

plucking a few flowers for me.

someone to say, "here,

i know these will make you sneeze,

but i also know you would rather

have them and be sneezy

than not have them at all."

i want someone

for the little moments.

i want someone that gets

that the little moments

aren't little at all.

-mars