ask me things and request things
All my life I’ve looked at words as though I were seeing them for the first...– Ernest Hemingway (via deadwriters)
....the thing's that go through my mind.
Why does the thought of death The feeling of ending this life The torture, the pain, the hurt The discomfort I cause, Why does it feel so right? But the thought of the pain The mechanics, the method The hows and wherefores.. Why is that so beyond me, my abilities, My confidence? I know I would be better dead All I care for is others All I do is hurt others All I want to do is leave...