When you truly hate yourself, there's no being talked out of it.
No amount of "no, you're pretty" or "don't do it, you're loved" can snap you out of it.
Because when it comes down to it, they all feel like lies. Then you don't know who to trust or who to turn to. That's what hate is like.

I'll lie und you'll believe.

So hard to stay alive. Every day is a fight, over and over again.
Having a meeting with both my therapists, both are telling me that they actually can't let me go like this, when I feel like I do right now, when I can't promise that I'll come back next time. But both are letting me go anyways.
And you know why? Cause I am lying. All the time. And manipulating.
I am telling them that I can't promise to stay alive until next week. This is the truth. I can't.
But when they finally get to the point, when they don't want to let me go anymore, I'm just switching my moods. I don't want them to lock me up somewhere. I want it to be my decision whether I wanna live or not. I don't want them to take over control.
I'm just telling them that I will stay strong until next time. Just staying serious. And it always works...
I am glad it does. But on the other hand I hate that it is so easy to lie, to get back control, to stay in control.
I wish there would be someone to save me. I'm dying.

I'm sad.

Depression is like one big, black hole. After it pulls you in, you can't get out.
So you spend countless nights crying yourself to sleep. You spend days in your room.
You feel like doing absolutely nothing. You're constantly hoping that things will get better, but also wondering if they ever actually will.
And the worst part? When you finally start to get happy again, depression pulls you back in. You crash harder than before.

Photography

I've made a photography blog where I put "all the pictures" I made with my camera.
Well, at least the good ones of them.
Maybe you wanna take a look?
MVP Photography
There you go. Have fun and maybe tell me if you like them or not.

Thanks, loveliest.

The razor blades call me.

They scream my name over and over. 

They beckon me to come, use them, just one more time.

To let the blood flow, to paint a picture on my skin that will last forever.

They scream at me to let the warm blood cover them.

I bite my lip and cling onto something, hoping, wishing to get away from the addiction

that took over my life.

"Na da hast du ja aber mal ordentlich hingelangt."  

Danach Stille und mein Arzt setzt sich erstmal.  

By the way...

Is it just because I buildt it up for like 2 hours that I love my new closet so much?

Opinions? Maybe? Anyone?

Fat piece of shit. You could as well say: ME!

Nothing's working out anymore.
What I got for Christmas this year? Fat, I got fat! Nothing more...
Need to get back on track. Quite fast!
Gonna see my doctor and the therapist from the inpatient treatment this week, my "home therapist" by next week. Can't go there as the fat cunt I am right now... Just CAN'T!!

FML.