Hatingyourself Stories

Elly, not Eleanor. Talking might not be where she wins but writing is and always will be. Unlike her "friends" or her family, if you can even call it that, writing will always be there for her. But, it's not in first place, Showering is, which might sound weird, but when you're mentally ill it sounds normal, which is Elly. When those everyday showers at night start her life. It makes her feel real. When the water hits her skin her breath slows down until she can think again. She feels real again. Not floating anymore.

This book will be out my vents, if you dont like it, please keep your opinions and other hurtful comments to yourself.

Everything is complicated.

love yourself. a persuasive paper on why? why do women have to sit here a view our bodies in such negative ways because of our surrounding. i hope people see this and actually start to realise the impacts that this particular topic has on young women.

Just little thoughts, phrases, and word vomit that I had to put somewhere. Maybe someone will relate, maybe not. I don't know if you call this poetry, I call it emotion.

A collection of words about this time of the year. I am new to poetry, I thought I would put this out there. #1 in #hatingyourself

This is my story of my life like how i remember it. As I go on with life I'll write about it

Imagine being the centre of every joke at the age of eight which left you with nothing but ocean of social anxiety and shallow self esteem. Now how would you react if nine years later you gotta be with those bullies in same class along with friends who barely understand you? Seventeen year old Hazel Murphy is stuck in one such crisis.As the year passes she tries to understand who she is and what she really desires. A story about power of words, determination and respecting yourself. Will she be able to survive in the savage world of barbaric teenagers ??

I am not that good but plz read and bit e comment ... whatever I want to share my story in every way I can

The day he left i knew everything would change everything would never be the same. I wouldn't ever have those piggy back rides,and those long drives he took me and mom on in the car.I would never see him again as he doesn't live physically on earth anymore but just a few mere images and memories of him reside in my head.I still remember that day,the beeping of the machines,the pulse rates,just the mere ticking of the clock in the corridor of the hospital scared me.I never knew what actually was ever going on,i was barely 8 years old.I could hear my mom cry silently but more of an angry look was sensed and seen on her face.She looked upon me and my tiny little baby sis in her arms with those blood shot eyes.......to be continued

a guilty conscious man spilling his guilt that caused him to die and be something that he hated, the bodies it took

I always knew. From the beginning of time. I would cross the line and I wouldn't come back.