I used to have panic attacks every time I saw the sun rise - collapsed on my knees, hands shaking, lips blue, eyes red, and the air in this room is so thin I swear to God I can’t breathe.
It’s like
You ask me how this feels but I can’t tell you I can only show you and even then I will fail to mention the hornets in my wrists and my fingers are like coffee filters and there’s lead in my throat.
And it’s
I want to be honest, I’m trying to be someone new, someone I don’t know yet, but old habits die hard. If it’s not alcohol then it’s getting high, it’s the muscle memory of my hands grabbing a throat, gripping a hipbone like a pistol.

But sometimes it’s really nothing. It’s just you pushed me and I fell. I’m lying on the ground, your laugh sounds deeper from down here. It’s just you walked away, mud on my legs, rain water in my hair, and you inhaled deep. You had one last drag and then you quit.


Venetia Dearden


Cherry Glazerr


Nurse Ratched


~   Clementine von Radics

(Source: 47giraffes)