I don't know why I made this account or why i'm sitting here writing this bio but oh well
I like bands. Like, a lot. Not sh*tty ones like 1D. Ones such as Bring Me The Horizon, Fall Out Boy, Sleeping With Sirens, Pierce The Veil and Evanescence.
My name is Ellie, I'm 15. Don't expect me to talk to you because I don't like talking to people. People scare me. And i'll probably just annoy you anyway.
Don't go thinking i'm another one of those attention seeking, depressive accounts because i'm not. But i'm not a happy account, I never will be and if you try to ask me "why are you depressed" or "you have nothing to be depressed about" I will block you.
Glad we've cleared that up. Bye.
I can't take this anymore. I'm doing it. On Sunday, I'm killing myself. Don't try to stop me, I've made up my mind No one loves me Everyone leaves This isn't for attention, please don't say it is Thank you all, for dealing with my sh*t Don't forget me. Goodbye. 12/1/1998 - 20/7/2014
He was my only hope I thought he would save me from this But he left I can't blame him She's prettier than me, she's not suicidal Who could love a girl who cuts? Then I realised No one can save me From myself
~ Depression Thoughts ~ "You're pretty" *He's lying! He just feels sorry for you* "I love you" *No one could ever love you.* "Don't cut. You can do this" *Do it. They don't care. They'll leave you. They'll get sick of you.* *No one loves you. Kill yourself.*
You have no idea how hard it is for people with self infliced physical wounds. Imagine: sitting on the bathroom floor at 3 in the morning, crying hysterically and pushing the knife futher and further into your skin, trying to get a distraction from this constant mental trauma. But you'll never understand.
I thought to myself the other day... God? Why take people like Michael Jackson and Whitney Housten when you could take people like One Direction and Nicki Minaj? I sent my question in a prayer. 5 minutes later, God answered. "Simple" God replied. "I don't want to listen to sh*t music in heaven!"
There will come a time when we will stop using our Twitter and Tumblr accounts that are dedicated to Sleeping With Sirens. We might stop using them because the fandom just breaks apart, it might be because they break up, or it might just be because we grow up. But when that time comes, we’ll deactivate, tear down the posters, hide away all of the merch we’ve bought over the years. Then a few years later, when we’re married with a house and kids, you might hear that first single played on the radio on the way home from work one day. Tears will start to fall from your eyes and you’ll pull to the side of the road as it all comes pouring back. The tours, the interviews, the laughs, the cries; the memories. You’ll that about those people who changed your life, the only people who could make you feel beautiful, feel like you were worth something. You’ll think about all of the amazing friends that you met because of those people and wonder why you never stayed in touch with them. You’ll realise how lucky you were to be a part of the amazing journey of SWS; how amazing it was to be in the fandom that had meant so much to you all of those years ago. You’ll remember every little detail about what happened with those people and how proud you were of them for living their dreams. You’ll realise that there are fans just like you all over the world, thinking about all of this at the same time as you. Because fandoms never really die out. We never really move on. We never really forget.