this one time when i was seven i thought that i could talk to trees (because i had no friends), and i use to sit by them and say things and one day i was talking to my tree friend called kevin and this girl went up to me and said “are you talking to that tree, freak!” and i started crying and hugged on to the tree, and while she was laughing one of the branches fell on the girls head, thanks kevin.
to the window
to the wall
to the trash where i belong
emotional abuse is so difficult to deal with because there’s so much doubt involved, there’s nothing concrete and physical like bruises or smacked skin, it’s subtle and you wonder if you’re just too sensitive or you have a victim complex. in fact you feel bad about even calling it abuse because it feels like you’re trivializing people who have been abused for ‘real’ because emotional abuse doesn’t involve an abuser killing you or harming you physically, it just drives you to do that dirty work to yourself. then you blame yourself for the measures someone else drove you to and that’s just so awful
eyyyy i drew a thing for a thing eeEEYyyY
do you ever wonder what you would look like at your full potential like perfect hair and clear skin and a perfect body like damn