Tumgik
#selfharm problems
brokenfrombirth · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
🎵 Maybe if I hurt myself you could be the bandage. I don’t wanna ask for help, you’d call it baggage 🎵
1K notes · View notes
aalaaskaaa · 2 years
Text
Being mentally ill jn your 20s is not the same as being mentally ill as a teenager. It’s just embarrassing. Everyone got better and I’m still stuck in my mind. Nothing improved, nothing changed.
Why can’t I move on and just be better?
~M 10.10.2022 22:33
1K notes · View notes
Text
I feel
so fat....
So annoying...
so unimportant...
so ugly....
So unlovable...
So disgusting...
so complicated...
so superfluous...
so undesirable...
like a problem....
Okay.
214 notes · View notes
top-secret-suicide · 1 year
Text
I feel like I'd be doing the world a favor if I killed myself. People's lives would be better without me.
208 notes · View notes
peribirb · 29 days
Text
you ever catch feelings for somebody but you've spent your entire life convinced/convincing yourself that you're fundamentally unattractive and broken in a way that makes you unlovable and unsuited to any sort of relationship, and so instead of just enjoying that extra dopamine burst of seeing them around you just make yourself feel miserable for even daring to feel that way in the first place? or is that just me?
8 notes · View notes
owlmam · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
I have a thought-
20 notes · View notes
doodlelands-dwellers · 4 months
Text
Better.
[Please read this with caution! It is angst and may contain content that's harmful to some! Selfharm, blood, (probably poorly portrayed) academic trauma, and (also probably poorly portrayed) body dysphoria.]
Travis hummed along to the song playing from the speaker in his room as he scrolled through the seemingly never-ending amount of assignments he had. He'd done all of them, of course. Turned them in and completed them all to the best of his ability. He's learned by now that's the way it should be. Everything perfect and complete so his parents won't hate him. He opened a new tab to view his digital gradebook. As he expected, all of his classes held A’s. Some lower than others, but whatever. An A is an A. He double checked everything and very quickly realized he did, in fact, not have an A in everything. His expression faltered as he stared at the pixels forming a “D” on his screen. Fuck. Oh, fuck. Didn't his parents plan to call him later this week? Or was that today? Shit. He was done for. He swore he could hear the yelling from the other end of the phone now.
“Oookay.. Don't freak out, Travis! You should be able to contact the teacher about it and fix that assignment! Simple as that!” He told himself this and believed it! Until, he realized the grade was on a test that he knew he couldn't redo. He had flunked on the only test that mattered and now his parents were going to hate him.
“Shit. I'm fucking stupid. God damnit..” Travis pushed himself away from his desk, digging his nails into his arms. Small trails of white appeared on his skin where he scratched, blossoming into red as he sped up the pace. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he continued the motion. He should've paid more attention. He should've done something more to make sure he would've gotten a good grade. Now all he'd get was an earful and probably some scars from his scratching and biting for a few days. Speaking of biting, he raised his arm to his mouth, biting it with incredible force. His teeth only clamped tighter around the flesh of his arm as the pain took place. A cycle of “bite harder, more pain” was all that Travis focused on for a few good minutes. When he finally pulled away, he had created a large bite mark that had blood rising to the surface beneath it. It stung like hell, but that was his end goal. To make sure it hurts. He doesn't even remember when he started doing this. This tradition of biting and clawing himself to shreds everytime he was stressed or upset. He faintly remembers Auto telling him to try his best to stop. Which he had. He had tried his best. Not like it worked. His other hand shook as he rose it, reaching out to grab a pencil out of the cup on his desk. The one he chose was mechanical. It had long run out of lead and the eraser was barely there. Still, it served a purpose to Travis. It served a “wonderful” purpose to him. He brought the pencil back to the arm he had already beaten up, trailing it along the bright red marks he had left behind with his own hands. The tip of the pencil soon dug into his skin. It didn't break the surface, but it dealt more pain than his nails did. He dragged it back and forth, pressing it a bit deeper into his flesh each time. A sharp burst of pain, more so than everything else he had done, snapped eyes back to his arm. Out of all the times he's done this he would've expected it to happen sooner. The small gash he had torn with the pencil started to ooze blood. He pulled the pencil away from the injury, a drop of red covering the end of it. He set it down and stared at the red dripping down his arm for a bit. Funny how this is what he'd wanted to happen, but it was also the action that had tears leaving his eyes. They streamed down his cheeks as he tried to keep from making that stupid sobbing sound. He curled into a ball in his chair, one hand twisting into his hair and pulling as hard as he could while he just sat and cried. He was pathetic. Just like he'd been told by his parents several times. He just hadn't wanted to believe them. Now he realizes they're right. Everything they've ever said was right. Every single harsh name he’s been called for his grades dropping. Every little insult when he was caught doing anything but schoolwork. All of it was right. He truly was pathetic. He was lazy. Now his laziness would land him in trouble. Blood mixed with tears as he wrapped his arms around his chest which didn't even feel right. He’d noticed that recently. He'd noticed that something was missing. He’d catch himself puffing out his chest more often. Trying to fill in for something. Not like he knew what it was, but he was trying to substitute for it. It didn’t matter. It was just another thing wrong with him that he wasn’t able to fix. Just another thing to be bothered by.
7 notes · View notes
lifee-iz-a-melodiee · 5 months
Text
Sitze selbstverständlich auf der Parkbank und drücke selbstverständlich eine Kippe nach der anderen auf meiner Hand aus.
20.11.2023
@lifee-iz-a-melodiee
7 notes · View notes
all-dead-inside21 · 8 months
Text
Started to SH again... Was Clean for years. Just want to stop feeling my emotions. It's really to much to handle...
Tumblr media
10 notes · View notes
heartstopper26 · 1 year
Text
I think it's a real shame that many doctors are so insensitive when it comes to self-harm scars, up to now there hasn't been a doctor who hasn't spoken to me about it and every time I had to come up with an excuse because it was always in situations where my parents were there, I think doctors shouldn't talk about something like that, especially not when the parents are there, because my parents don't know anything about it, for example, and it should stay that way
27 notes · View notes
brokenfrombirth · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media
🎶 I just wanna thank you for beating me down, for messing me up, for making me feel like I’m not enough 🎶
298 notes · View notes
lilangelcamsgf · 1 year
Text
Who would love a girl covered in scars?
14 notes · View notes
aalaaskaaa · 2 years
Text
why do I have to try so hard to be loved by others?
18 notes · View notes
superdumbfan · 9 months
Text
I've been up for hours. I have always had the sensory issues but it wasn't until I got out of my dad's abusive house that they really hit me and now I'm up right now literally coughing up loogies that are pink from blood and fighting the urge to literally claw my skin off. It sounds like some edgy thing some kid would have put here on Tumblr in 2008. I hate everything I want to die it sucks so fucking bad. I clean and clean and clean off my bed before laying on it I make my bed I make sure everything is to a tee. And no matter how many fucking time to do with the bed still has something on it it could be as clean as marble and it's still feels like I'm laying in the fucking desert. Always starts off feeling like I'm laying on Sand then it gets itchy to the point that it's unbearable and I just want to claw my skin off and it hurts it stops being itchy and just straight up hurts. I am so tired and I'm just crying Non-Stop and I can't even stop myself from crying and it sucks. I'm tired I'm always you never feeling comfortable in my own skin in a literal way not metaphorical not oh I look in the mirror and I'm ugly literally feeling uncomfortable in my skin I want to be skin I would pay for someone to find a way to live without skin. This is literal agony and it's always hits me when I'm vulnerable. It never hits me in the middle of the day when I'm just chilling relaxing it's always when I'm trying to go to sleep or do something important it's always in the middle of a test or some other bull like that. It's always there I don't know what I did I'm not a good person I know I haven't taken it. And no matter how much I look stuff up we can't find any way to fix this I don't have money to buy a weighted blanket. And my next therapy appointment in this until Wednesday. Sometimes I think if I didn't make a promise that I made my mom I probably be dead. I just said melatonin and I'm hoping that I've been to just get worn out from crying and fall asleep. But it sucks that I even have to do that I want to be a normal person so waiting to sit on my bed and go to sleep. No crying no tantrum no painful itching sensation no need to literally sit as still as possible just hope that it can fall asleep without literally crying so hard that I can't speak anymore.
I just want to be "normal" person i feel bad I don't want to be neurodivergent. I want to be able to do things normally without my brain trying to punish me. This is like living hell. And it's so much worse cuz I never never the problem when I'm like distracted throughout the day I sit on the same bed all day and watch TV and do other things I work on my bed because it's the only thing I have and there's no problem the second that I actually got to go to sleep it's like oh no now your bed is made out of needles and sand and bugs. If I didn't promise my mom I wouldn't kill myself I probably do that right now. I hate everything I hate this I'm going to sleep so badly I'm literally writing this while crying and so tired that I could fall asleep but my body won't let me I'm so so tired this isn't fair.
Please please please please please please if anyone knows anything that can help please tell me I am literally having panic attacks and I can't do this. I am on the verge of just scratching all my skin off Jesus Christ and I don't even know why my brain would act like this why am I so faulty that my brain actively makes my life worse what is the possible reason that my brain would act like this
4 notes · View notes
Text
"Just stop, it's not healthy" ~thats the point it's unhealthy.
How disrespectfull. "Just stop" haha..
40 notes · View notes
lifee-iz-a-melodiee · 2 months
Text
Bitte glaub mir wenn ich sage ich bin ein nichts, ein niemand...
26.02.2024
@lifee-iz-a-melodiee
4 notes · View notes