I can’t picture anyone daydreaming about me. I can’t picture someone thinking about me when they’re laying in bed before they fall asleep. I can’t picture anyone telling their friends about me. I can’t picture anyone getting butterflies because I hugged them, or even just because I made eye contact with them. I can’t picture someone smiling because my name lit up their phone. I just can’t.
- dad: those people on that tumblr website are gonna kidnap you one day
- me: dad they barely even leave their room
If you have ever taken a razor blade to that beautiful body of yours, skipped one or more meals, cried yourself to sleep because you never thought you were good enough, attempted any sort of self harm, had thoughts of taking your own life, or actually tried it, HONESTLY reblog this.
