burning in hell
this piece of me fits in nowhere
as other people find things
to do
with their time
places to go
with one another
things to say
to each other.

I am
burning in hell
some place north of Mexico.
flowers don’t grow here.

I am not like
other people
other people are like
other people.

they are all alike:
joining
grouping
huddling
they are both
gleeful and content
and i am
burning in hell.

my heart is a thousand years old
I am not like
other people.
I’d die on their picnic grounds
smothered by their flags
slugged by their songs
unloved by their soldiers
gored by their humor
murdered by their concern.

I am not like
other people.
I am
burning in hell.

the hell of
myself.

Charles Bukowski (via henrycharlesbukowski)

(via lonelystarstuff)



Loneliness becomes an acid that eats away at you.
Haruki Murakami, 1Q84. (via ithurtssomuch)

(via ithurtssomuch)


Self-harm isn’t about how deep the cuts are, how many there are, where you do them, how bad they scar, if one person has more than you or has gone deeper. It’s not a goddamn competition. It’s about pain, and suffering, and being trapped in your own fucking mind with no way out. It’s being so fucking desperate, and down, that you have to result to a physical pain to let out the psychological pain. I don’t give a shit who you are, if you tell me self-harm is for attention, I’m going to kick your goddamn ass.






(via fight-it-off)


(via fight-it-off)