(Source: apriljoe14, via rainbowsandsadness)
Omg I don’t think you understand how many tears I’m shedding with this. Suicide is 100% preventable. Even if you have to forcefully show that person. Bless that guy. Bless him so much. The rush of adrenaline he must have felt at that moment. Lifting a person like that is not easy. Seeing someone about to jump to their death, knowing he’s one of the few who can save his life. That’s all the motivation he needed. He’s one of the few who didn’t just walk by. I’m officially inspired.
He’s like a boss with it. She’s twisting out of his arms and everything and he’s like “Nope you’re worth it, I got you.”
This is me and these are my scars. August 2010, on vacation, Greece.
I’m recovering from self harm and these are my scars. They’re there. They’re visible. They always will be and I know that. I can’t go back and undo my mistakes. I used to hide my scars, always. I used to be so ashamed, I felt so ugly and disgusted with myself. People who say self harmers do it for attention? You have no idea of how far we go to cover it up, to conceal the truth, to keep it a secret, to keep it from you.
I regretted my mistakes for years. You know what that does to you? It makes you bitter. It makes you sad. It makes you lonely and miserable. It makes you push people away because you’re so ashamed. Everything hurts. Breathing hurts, living hurts, existing hurts and what hurts the most - to go on. To keep breathing, to keep living.
But you know what? I’m still me. I always have been. My skin might be damaged and yes, it’s self inflicted - but what difference does it make? The people who love me, they love me for me. Flaws doesn’t make them love me any less. My scars are a part of me. My scars made me who I am. People who can’t handle that - they’re free to leave. Friends who left? I let them leave. If I’m not good enough for them because I cut, that’s not my loss.
That’s shallow. Everyone has flaws. Everyone has a story. If people want to judge me based on how I look, go ahead. Are you perfect? Are you sure about that? Have you never done anything in your life you wish you could go back and change? Are you flawless? Really?
Because I’m not, and I know that.
I can’t believe this is still going around. And the notes, omg. Thank you so much for all your kind words and support, it means more to me than I’ll ever be able to express ♡
(via thatbrokenpromise)
(Source: islandviewgraduate, via there-is-too-much-hate)
I just had to screenshot it, that’s the most perfect answer ever Matt.
(via gofollowwallcuddler)
(via TumbleOn)
:-) this makes me happy because I’ll never be ashamed of my scars.
(via thatbrokenpromise)
I’m crying so hard right now guys, it’s taking a lot of effort to type properly, my vision’s all blurry from the tears and not wearing my glasses
This is my arm, covered in butterflies as part of The Butterfly Project. All are in various states of fading, except for that shiny new one, with the polka dots, which is why I’m crying.
I just got back from walking to Cosmo’s, a cafe near my house that I go to often. While I was sitting there, waiting for my drink, a man (who seemed maybe in his mid to late thirties, like 36 at the most) tapped my shoulder. I was already on-edge because I was by myself, something I don’t do often, so a strange man talking to me made me jumpy.
He had a serious look on his face, and he pointed to my arm. “Those butterflies on your arm. Are they for The Butterfly Project?”
Still flustered, and now embarrassed, I told him yes they were. “For yourself, or did you do them for your friend?” he asked. I told him that they were for myself.
“Can I sit?” he asked, and I said something like “Yeah, sure.” cause I was still all nervous and stuff
He then pulls a black Sharpie out of his pocket. “Would you please let me draw a butterfly on your arm?”
I almost started crying right there. A complete stranger wanted to give me a butterfly. I told him yes and gave him my arm, and he drew that beautiful polka-dotted butterfly right there.
I asked him how he knew of The Butterfly Project, and he told me this:
“I found out about it last year. My… My son committed suicide, because some kids at his school were bullying him because they found out he was gay. After that, I looked up as many suicide prevention and self-harm help things I could. I don’t want anyone to commit suicide or harm themselves for any reason.”
I didn’t know what to say- I’m not very god with words. I told him I was sorry that he had to lose his son like that, and I thanked him profusely for the butterfly.
We talked for a while about things; self-harm, homosexuality, bullying. When I had to go, I stood and he hugged me and said “I love you. Please, don’t ever harm yourself again. I know it’s hard, resisting the urge, but please stay strong for me.”
I had to bite my tongue to hold back the tears. I said I’d try my hardest, and he smiled and left.
I never asked his name. I wish I would have, because that man is one of the kindest, most beautiful souls I have ever met. I wish I could thank him again.
Oh my god, that is so beautiful…
This is the reason projects like this exist.
I’m crying
(via home-made-constellations)
there are too many notes on this. too many people shouldnt have to know what this represents.
Agreed
(via 3ndless-torment)
Here’s to the boys. The boys like me. The boys that self harm. The boys that are suicidal. The boys that have eating disorders. The boys that feel that they are alone. The boys that have been strong for way too long. The boys thinking of hurting themselves. The boys that hate the world. The boys that have been forgotten. Here’s to all the boys.
(via use-your-brain-kids)
(Source: long-days-and-longer-nights, via letsmoveonshallwe)
