"When I was a little girl, my mom always warned me about the stove being hot, and the dangers of jumping out of the swings.
She told me what to do in case of a fire and what to do if someone was following me.
I just wish she’d warned me about the panic attacks at 2 a.m. and the mental breakdowns at 9 p.m.
I wish she’d told me what to do when the boy I loved ripped out my heart and stomped on it right in front of my face.
I wish she’d told me how to handle the nasty girls that spread rumors and push you into lockers.
I wish she’d told me what to do when my chest got so tight with pain and I couldn’t take in a full breath because I’d been crying in the floor for hours.
I wish she’d told me what to do when the pressure got so bad that I decided to take a razor to my skin in attempts to cut the demons out.
I wish she’d told me that growing up wasn’t like it’s shown in the movies.
I wish she’d told me that there’s no such thing as prince charming or true love.
But most of all, I wish she’d told me that I could come to her with my problems because she didn’t and I held it all in and it fucked me up worse than any boy or rumor or project ever could."
(c.m.t.) Things My Mom Didn’t Think Were Important Enough to Warn Me About (via brokenpoetswork)