Lauren Jarvis-Gibson

I’m done feeling like a burden. Feeling like I am less of a fantastic human being because of a chemical imbalance in my brain. And if you can’t handle my imperfect life, if you can’t handle that I have a mental illness, you can walk away. You can get out of my life.

She’s better off without you because you took too much of her when you were with her. You took too many pieces. You took too much. And you never, ever gave anything back.

It’s always the ones you don’t expect. The ones you gave your heart too. The ones you told your everything too. It’s always the ones that you care about most that end up walking out. It’s always the ones you love the most, who end up hurting you the deepest.

It doesn’t matter how many shots I took. How many bottles I downed. It doesn’t matter because it does not mean I ever, ever asked for this.

You find yourself having FOMO constantly. Even though you say no a lot and you don’t get out much, when you see yourfriends enjoying time together, you are filled up with jealousy and envy.

I think a part of me doesn’t know who I am without you. Without the part of my heart that longs for your warmth. Without the part of me that wants you desperately. Without the part of myself that adores you to no end.

I want someone to love who is going to make me believe in them. Who is going to make me finally breathe a sigh of relief. Who is going to make me not regret looking at them in the first place. Who is not going to make me regret loving them.

Old souls don’t settle. They honestly would rather be dead than to ever settle. They have always known that they can’t do casual relationships like most people their age. They can’t stomach the idea of being intimate with someone who they hardly know, and they won’t give into peer pressure to have one night stands.

We don’t know how to breakup anymore. Because we don’t know how to feel. We’re too scared. Scared that if we feel too much, we may not ever be the same. Scared that if we break too much, we may not ever be able to stand again. Scared to admit that we loved someone. And to admit that we lost them too.

I’m done saying sorry. I’m done being treated like I am the worst person in the world because I have to take care of my mental health before I take care of other people. I’m done having to say sorry to people who don’t understand what I am going through. I’m done apologizing for taking care of me.

She is going to leave you. Not because of the things you did, but because of the things that you didn’t do. She is going to leave you. Not because of things you said, but because of the things you never said.

When you’re a friend with someone who has anxiety, you’re friends with someone who will never neglect you. They aren’t going to ditch you for other people, or the ‘cool’ crowd. They know your loyalty and wouldn’t ever dream of giving up a wonderful friendship. You make them feel more comfortable and more at ease. Why would they ever give that up?