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I’m sitting here at my favorite coffee shop drinking my 3rd cup of coffee for the day. I look down, and I see my self harm scars on my arm and I’m not even remotely bothered. 437 more words

Personal

Portrait

Scars kiss her arms like brushstrokes in a twisted self-portrait.

Of love, or hate? She is unsure which.

Her body is a canvas, though not quite blank. 194 more words

When you want to self-harm but you can't

First, if there is anyone who follows this blog, I don’t have the parasite that makes you sleep like my mom thought. So maybe I’m just still tired because 2017 was a pretty fucked up year and I didn’t get much holiday. 340 more words

Bipolar