Tonight my best friend from seventh grade messaged me telling me that a boy broke her heart and that she was so high she could feel the stars against her fingertips. I told her that it was okay to cry and feel angry but while she ate icecream and choked down self pity she had to love herself, because in the end that’s the only thing that’ll save her from suffocating in the memory of his hands on her scarred skin.
Honey, go ahead and hate him. But don’t you dare drag a razor across your wrist or thighs or anywhere else on your perfect body because it’s no substitute for the lips of an ex lover and it sure as hell isn’t draining out your demons, it’s letting more in. One day someone will love you again, and dear god, it’ll wash away any blood or hurt you’ve felt in the last four years. I promise.
—My oath to a girl who feels dead inside (via cinness)