I'm becky.
I'm 19
I'm shy
I'm extremely short.
I live in Scotland.
and I'm awkward as fuck.

"If you want to find out who your real friends are, sink the ship."

My face



Recently I’ve really started to feel frightened by my situation. For the longest time I kind of held on to this silly idea that my depression or whatever this is was just going to go away one day and I could go back to living a normal life. I mean for the past year I’ve really fucking tried to get better yet I’ve made no progress whatsoever. It’s really started to sink in now that I am never going to get better. 

I can’t connect with anyone or anything. Everything just feels so fucking pointless. Like why hang out with friends when I have nothing to contribute to the conversation? It just ends in me feeling guilty for not really appreciating their company. Whenever I leave the house my mind is constantly calculating how much longer it will be until I can be back in my room.  

I really want to tell my mum how bad things are getting again but at the same time I don’t want to upset her.

I don’t even know where this post is goin I’m going to stop with the word vomit now.

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i feel so bad and then the end


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There it goes again. That heavy feeling in your chest when you don’t feel any desire to speak or move. All you want to do is close your eyes and sleep, because the process of being broken is incredibly exhausting. You attempt your best to make your days fulfilling, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to connect to anyone or anything. (via wordsthat-speak)

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At first, I’d try to explain that it’s not really negativity or sadness anymore, it’s more just this detached, meaningless fog where you can’t feel anything about anything — even the things you love, even fun things — and you’re horribly bored and lonely, but since you’ve lost your ability to connect with any of the things that would normally make you feel less bored and lonely, you’re stuck in the boring, lonely, meaningless void without anything to distract you from how boring, lonely and meaningless it is.

Allie Brosh, Hyperbole and a Half (via xinisterx) 147 notes
The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the side walk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling. David Foster Wallace (via rabbittongue)

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Sasha Grey, from the book “NEÜ SEX
Photographs by Ian P. Cinnamon

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I cannot stand small talk, because I feel like there’s an elephant standing in the room shitting all over everything and nobody is saying anything. I’m just dying to say, “Hey, do you ever feel like jumping off a bridge?” or “Do you feel an emptiness inside your chest at night that is going to swallow you?” But you can’t say that at a cocktail party. Paul Gilmartin, The Mental Illness Happy Hour (via ongradschool) 46,508 notes

Anonymous said: I think you're lovely and amazing. Please keep going.

I appreciate that you care but there’s not really much you can say that’s going to help. 

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I don’t think i’m ever going to want to be alive. I wish I could kill myself and make it look like an accident. 

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I’m a goner. It’s tearing me all up inside. I can’t help it. I’ve never been able to help anything.  Ernest Hemingway, from The Sun Also Rises (via ignum)

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I stayed in bed for over an hour
looked at things on my phone
I felt slightly anxious about nothing particular
I walked downstairs and poured coffee into a jar
I asked a person on the internet if I should take drugs
I took drugs before the person had time to respond

I feel alienated by people who express concern about me without
defining their concern in terms of a specific solution or goal
I dont feel comforted by the idea of an afterlife
I dont want to continue experiencing things after I die
I want someone to pull my hair because I like the idea of someone
controlling my head without touching my head

what is the difference between being an independent person
and being a person who is accepting of loneliness

“Today My Alarm Went Off at 12:30 p.m.,” Mira Gonzalez (via commovente)

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