Reblog if you’re perfectly fine with mutuals speaking to you through the new messaging system

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1. When I was 11, my mom taught me that it’s better to clean up the liquor on the rug than try and fix the man chugging it down his windpipe. I helped her clean up broken bottles on the floor and cut my fingers on the pieces. My dad would come back hours later with roses in his hands and plead that he’d rather be dead than see my mom with another man. I learned that flowers don’t fix the shards of shattered glass and blood stains don’t make the pain go away. Not even his own daughter could make him quit, an addict doesn’t give a shit.

2. I learned that just because your chest is moving and you’re breathing, doesn’t mean you can feel anything. You could be cold as ice, grieving at three in the morning screaming “Jesus Christ, are you even real or are you just a hallucination between my ears?” God doesn’t exist, he’s just an figment of imagination we use to excuse our scarred wrists and broken promises.

3. 60% of marriages end in divorce. I wish my parents got divorced because the ways they were destroying each other were worse than anything in this universe. They’d scream until their throats bled and fought until their knuckles were red. They’d leave me hanging outside my window by my fingernails as they continued lashing each other’s lungs out. It went on for months and their demons would not die and all I could do was stand by and burn myself to ashes.

4. I watched my dad inhale smoke more than speak, he’d burn his chest to crisps and it’d turn a bleak black in the process. It was the worst when he was stressed. He was so fatigued sometimes that he would leave cigarettes burning in the ashtray and fall asleep, they’d go out on their own usually, but we still have black dots from it that seep and creak through our floor boards. He drank vodka like water and claimed the sun rose and set on me, maybe that’s why his hands were covered in blisters and he burned a whole into his liver.

5. Sometimes my mom would sit in her rocking chair and shake so hard, it made the room sound like the wall’s had hearts that were beating. She’d have the house phone in one hand and some Xanax in the other, wishing and praying that my dad would come home. I watched her repeat these things every Sunday as she soaked her bed sheets in tears while my dad walked the empty streets contemplating how many lines he’d do this week. Cocaine won’t get rid of the pain in your brain. One line is more than a crime, it’s a bind with the devil himself. That extra drink will only make the feelings sink for a few more hours until you can’t even remember how to think.

6. Pave your own path and burn your fingers to the tendons with fire if you have to. Fuck getting abandoned, leave before there is any tension and don’t turn around no matter how many of your grandma’s old plates are broken. No matter how much despair there is, go upstairs and clear your mind before they corrupt yours too. It isn’t fair, don’t let them scare you, erupt like a volcano spilling lava all over the fucking place. Set everything ablaze, but get yourself self because you’re the one thing that shouldn’t be thrown to away to waste.

7. Some cough syrup or Niqual in a broken Christmas cup when you don’t have a cold can mold any fractured bone or thoughts of drowning in teardrops and jumping off mountaintops. The drugs may numb your lips for awhile and get you drunk till you can’t remember when you got that tattoo of a tulip on your right hip. But then at least the bile in your throat will stay down and you won’t feel like such a child anymore because that part of you was killed before you got a chance to leave milk for Santa Claus.

8. We hurt the people we love the most, it’s a fact and the clichè saying, “You wouldn’t hurt that person if you really loved them” is complete and utter bullshit. I’ve watched my parents kill each other over leaving the refrigerator door open, but they still loved each other. My mom still held my dad’s hand and my dad still tucked my mom’s hair behind her ears. He even wiped her tears when she cried that life isn’t fair when I started snaring razors in my veins to escape from this nightmare.

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"Our scars make us know that our past was…real."

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Moving on

The person I reblogged this from deserves to be happy