365 days of Nayomi
Hey, I'm Nayomi. I'm 16, absolutely crazy and I am addicted to the Beatles.

(Source: eminoraddnine, via ejaculaterhater)

Good, Better, Best.

My dad just keeps yelling. All he ever does is yell these days. 

I want to tell him to shut up and to stop being mean to us and to go take his bullshit somewhere else  calm down but I know all he’ll do is slap me tell me to shut up. 

My family is a walking mess of broken pieces and I’m not strong enough to be the glue anymore. 

I have tried and tried and tried to pick up the fractures and the fragments but all I end up doing is cutting myself and loosing more blood and I’m struggling to hold it all together and just breathe breathe breathe. 

They always want more from me, my parents. Better results, more smiles, less stress, normalcy. Can’t they see that I’m doing everything I can to keep this family together? Can’t they see that I’m tearing at the seams trying to keep my sanity, my homework and my family stable? Do they not see the pain in my eyes when they yell? Or the reclusive days stuck in my room just lying in bed or in my cupboard, dreaming of another world or another life?

I want to run and run and run far away until my organs burst and I’m no longer weighed down by their negativity, until their problems don’t suddenly become mine anymore. Until I am free of the burden of their yells as they pierce my rib cage and settle somewhere just below my heart, stroking it like a slow flame. 

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore. 

I can’t deal with my epilepsy and the stupid stupid stupid medication which gives me nightmares and makes me groggy and slow. I can’t deal with my parents who simultaneously care too much and not at all for me. I can’t deal with school and tests and assignments and friends and people. 

I can’t do this anymore.

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