melancholia ✔︎

astrophilicflaws tarafından

4.6K 756 144

all i need is a reason to live. a reason to keep living in this hell you call life. because melancholia is ju... Daha Fazla

| i n t r o |
dying inside
the number
teen help service
reaching out
welcome to my family
introductions
the bad days
sarcasm
stupid
no answer
missed calls
crying
anger
scars
reasons
overreacted
talking
poem
if
kyle?
sarah
feelings
pretence
longing
angel
reasons to live
numbers
like you
bullying
four am
death
war
burning
again
ex
portrait
breakfast
sick
easing the pain
pointless
empty page
tell him i called
the end
sarah and kyle
hope
rain
reception
tubes and wires
the actual end
epilogue pt. 1

pessimist

101 20 2
astrophilicflaws tarafından

People say I'm a pessimist.

And I am. I know.

I am a pessimist. A sceptic, doubter, cynic. I kill joy wherever I go and create misery. I'm gloomy all the time and believe we're all doomed. Eventually.

Nothing ever goes right. I'm forever sleepy and can't conjure up the strength, time or energy to do anything.

At all.

I'm useless. I guess everything would be better off without me, a useless pile of crap.

I'm inconsolable, melancholic, depressed... I just am.

And nothing can make me better.

My dad stumbles home at three am in the morning. I wonder when I check the clock why I'm still awake. But I am. I hear the door crash behind him and his heavy footsteps. He grunts and groans, kicking off his boots across the floor that hasn't been clean in forever. I know the dirt from his boots will remain, and will still be there in the morning. I'm still awake, even though it's morning, and he crashes around in the kitchen before going to bed.

Probably grabbing another (couple of) beers.

I know he'll only wake up at noon with a serious hangover. And I'll be the one sitting next to him before he goes out to the bar to intoxicate himself once again, being his good girl, getting him water and waiting on his every command.

Because I know he can't help himself. I can't help myself. So I'll help someone else who's just not me.

My homework sits in a forever growing pile on the desk. It continues to grow, every day.

Because... I have my priorities right, of course. And homework just isn't one.

School... I've skipped so many times I can't even count anymore, I've withdrawn from everything I've used to love, and spend as much time I can locked up in my room.

My dad, when he is sober, tells me that I used to be such a perfect pretty little girl.

Their perfect child.

When Mom was still alive.

But look who I've become. Look where Mom is now. Look what dad has become.

We're a shattered family, depression, death and alcohol cutting through the bonds that used to be so strong.


Author's Note:

Hiiiiii! Thanks for reading bros! Love you soooo much and look for updates! So weekdays it'll be updates at this time, weekend it depends! Vote, comment and share!

xxx

dreamer :)

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