cuttrgrl:

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iamthefirechild:

cuttrgrl:

iamthefirechild:

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I’m just. I don’t even know how to respond. My mind just keeps spinning the same things around. The same things I keep saying over and over. I’m not strong. I’m not worth it. Why would anyone care? I just…

I don’t think I can stop again. I did it once, I got scared out of it by someone physically catching me, following me, finding out. No one follows me anymore. No one bothers to try and find out why I duck away to the bathroom so often “to check on my hair and makeup”. I’m also not 15 anymore. There’s no reason for me to be scared anymore. They can’t take me away, lock me up, force feed drugs into me now.

Even if anyone sees, no one’s going to act on what they’ve seen. No one’s going to care.

Oh, god, honey, don’t trick yourself into that one. This one I will scare you with.

Yes, they can. They can still take you away. They can take your rights away, they can lock you up, they can put you on whatever they want and they can ignore anything you say about it.

That is what happened to me two years ago. I didn’t ask to be put in that hospital. I didn’t want to be there; I fought tooth-and-nail not to be there, and policemen came to my house and handcuffed me and forced me into that place, and no one listened to a word I said the whole time I was there.

Yes, I /am/ trying to scare you with that.

And believe me, if I was there, where you are, I’d be checking. I’d be sitting down with you and asking if you will let me keep the razors for you. Sadly, teleportation does not yet exist, or I would be on your doorstep right fucking now, and I do not lie when I say your hurting right now would be all the beacon I need to tell me where to go.

There’s a reason I insist my fiance keep his knives out of my sight. There’s a reason I have four cats and five hundred books and spend my hours roleplaying on tumblr. These are my strengths. You have them too. You’ve told yourself you don’t, and I … well, I don’t accept it. But I comprehend it. I know the little voice. It’s sly and it’s smooth and it’s as wicked as Loki as he tries to take Black Widow apart and it is /wrong/.

You are not the monster. You are not weak.

You are strong like the willow. Maybe you lose branches to the storms, and maybe the slightest breeze feels like a terrible storm. It’s okay to be that kind of strong. It’s okay to need people. Random people, specific people, whatever.

I don’t know, this is a problem with me and I don’t know if it applies to you, but it’s okay to let yourself BE cared about. ‘I don’t deserve it,’ does your little voice say that? Mine does.

Do you need me to stay up with you all night with this? Do you need to hear me say this so you can hear sincerity? I know text is hard. I can’t hug you this way. I can’t wrap you in my voice and have you hear all the right stresses I’m putting.