𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘷𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ☆

❤️‍🩹 ~ when i feel like an open wound

tw: suicide, suicide attempts, murder, mental health struggles.

now before we start, theyre both utterly insane in this. like out of mind crazy. and if you are feeling even slightly like they are, reach for help. you have people out there who care about you. dont deal with that kind of stuff like them. please dont read if you struggle with any of the things mentioned upon. and i dont want to see any comment saying "this feels like you dont even know what you are writing about", i do. ive felt like this for as long as i can remember. i dont comment on your mental health so i hope you wont do that to mine. but yeah, i really cant say enjoy reading, this is very dark.

~ ~ ~

I had wanted to die most of my life. Since I was ten years old. That was the first time someone told me to kill myself. That was the trigger that started it all. It was a guy from my class. He told me that girls like me shouldn't exist. They should kill themselfs. So I tried. I don't even know why I cared. I didn't know the boy. He didn't know me. However that was the first time I had a knife on my hand. I made a deep scar on my left had, which is visible to this day. My mom found me in the bathroom, before it was too late. That night i was transmitted to a mental hospital. I lived there for three years. I barely can remember anything fron those years I was there. Only moments. I remember being tied to a bed, while I was screaming from the top of my lungs. I remember my mom being on the side of my bed while I was acting asleep. I remember her crying and mumbling things like "Don't leave us, Taylor." and "Don't die. Please".

The day I got out of the hospital was horrible. I hadn't been out of the hospital, for three whole years. Only to the hospitals inner yard. And I had to have atleast two nurses with me while I went there. My room at home looked exactly the same that it had. And the thirteen year old me hated it. I saw the My Little Pony colouring book on the table. I just looked at it. It had been there for three years in that exact position.

Sometimes I wonder why I even got out of that hospital. I guess the people who made the decitions there wanted me to even try to live. Like I was going to be there for the rest of my life if they didn't let me out now.

~ ~ ~

At the age of 15 I realised that the feeling of wanting to die, was never going to go away. It was going to be there for the rest of my life. I didn't have control for it. And I accepted it. I didn't try to kill myself again until I was 20 years old.

When I was 16 my career started. I released my first song called 'Tim McGraw' and it went viral. Music had always been a thing that calmed me. When I was making or listening to music I didn't want to die. At least for a while.

I released my debut album. And my second album. And went to a world tour. I think during Fearless World Tour I was maybe the happiest I've ever been. But the desire to die was still there. I started dating. Thought that maybe a bunch of sex will make me happy. It didn't. I started dating John. He was over ten years older than me. I told him about my dream, to die. He told me that I should do it. Kill myself. That it would be for the better anyway. And I tried again. This time drowning myself. And again, my mom found me. This time it was closer. I was actually almost taking my last breath when she came. I remember her telling me that I couldn't do that, that there were millions of teenage girls idolizing me. And I knew that. I knew that now with me being a idol to young girls, I couldn't do it.

I started starving myself. That was as close as I could get to dying without actually doing it. Skipping meals was a daily basis. I ate a full meal once a week. Nobody noticed. I hid it that well.

For years I didn't try it again. The feeling remained the same. The whole media slut shaming and sending me death treaths didn't help. But I didn't care. Or I did too much. Cause it was all I wanted too. To be dead. To not feel anything anymore. Everybody I knew thought I was getting better. That my problems were long forgotten. They were there. I just didn't talk about them.