I Look At You And I Don’t Want To Admit That What We Were Has Died Somewhere, In Between Missed Messages

Me trying to figure out how loki has all these powers yet decides to stab Thanos

رميت كل قواميس في النار وسميت لغتي.

I threw all of my dictionaries in the fire and named you my language.

me showing up at the theater for infinity war:

me, five minutes into the movie:

Things no one tells you about when you’ve been mentally ill for years and it won’t get better

— everyone will give up on you. Some will say it upfront, some will have indirect ways of showing it (you’re a lucky mf if you still have someone )

— your symptoms/ breakdowns/ panic attacks are cute for a few months. Everyone wants to help. Later on people find them annoying and inconvenient

— you will be blamed for not getting better. Doesn’t matter if you’re doing therapy, taking meds, exercising, eating well and sleeping. You can do all of it, some of it or none of it. They will find fault in your efforts.

— desensitization to your pain. This one isn’t their fault, it’s human nature. But it happens and yes it hurts cuz you would wish you were desensitized to your own pain but you have to feel it no matter what. Doesn’t matter if it’s the millionth time. It demands to be felt.

— people move on. But you can’t. You see people cope and get over things while you simply can’t. And it’s so much worse if you’ve been mentally ill for years. Even the smallest things break you and trigger you.

— you slowly realize this world isn’t made for mentally ill people in any way

— you’re tired / fatigued all the time. You have been for years now. You simply exist but you aren’t capable of living anymore. Your illnesses have taken everything that made you feel alive. You’re nothing but a shell. A body.

cocosupernova: 💥Avengers!!!!! 💥Loki on the same flight as me on Business Class!!! The most mesmerising flight ever!!!

I can never find the right words to tell people what I’m thinking. Telling them I’m tired doesn’t work, but I can’t seem to vocalize that I’m mentally exhausted and sick of existing. Telling them I’m sad doesn’t work either, but I can’t explain that I’m struggling not to kill myself and that the joy in everything in my life is gone and when I wake up to the sun in my eyes, I have to struggle to get myself out of bed because most of me didn’t even want to wake up at all. I can’t tell them I’m numb because what I’m feeling is so much more complex than numb and I don’t have the vocabulary to tell them that I feel like I’m drowning and it terrifies me that I feel nothing as it’s happening, and that my insides want to scream but I can’t even find it in me to shed a tear anymore, that every single aspect of my life feels like it’s shaded in grey because all the colors were sucked out but I can hardly even remember what colors are because I can no longer remember a time I didn’t feel like this. No, I don’t know how to say that. So I just whisper “I’m fine.”

You don’t understand, I don’t want any of it anymore. I don’t want happiness or love or success or anything. I need to stop living because that’s the only thing that can make my pain go away. So no, you telling me to wait for good things doesn’t work. Don’t you get it, no matter what happens, it’s always going to hurt.

me, on my death bed: l-l-loki is still alive