Hoje li isso num tumblr:
"if we don't kill ourselves, we'll be the reasons for a messed up generation…
Suddenly, the thought of dying doesn’t scare you. You don’t look while crossing the road anymore, and you take however many pills fall out of the jar. You secretly have that sensation in your stomach when you feel more then five delicate pills lying in your hands, as they slowly descend down your throat. You realize you’re not afraid when you hear the eerie creaking noises in the dark of the night, because you hope they’ll get you. You stop caring about yourself, unconditionally. Nothing about you matters anymore, and at some point, you look at yourself, and instantaneously become afraid. You now seek out dangerous things because you want destroy the monster that engendered all of this pain. But at some point, you realize you’re not frightened by the monsters under your bed that used to petrify you when you were young, because the real monsters don’t hide in dark conners, or under tall beds. The real monster lives inside you, and you can’t run away from yourself.
You starve and hurt, just to be thin. Not caring if, what you do is a sin. Bones are the goal, the game is to win. But what happens when the game is done, you’re out of luck. No one has won, but your insanity can’t be undone. "
O fato de eu ter me identificado, é triste? :(