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H

@Huntiyoung

@psychoframedc @moodringrock

 Atlanta, GA
linktr.ee/Moodringnu
Joined December 2020
  • Tweets5.4K
  • Following509
  • Followers2.3K
174Media
Photo by H (@Huntiyoung)Photo by H (@Huntiyoung)Photo by H (@Huntiyoung)Photo by H (@Huntiyoung)Photo by H (@Huntiyoung)Photo by H (@Huntiyoung)Photo by H (@Huntiyoung)Photo by H (@Huntiyoung)Photo by H (@Huntiyoung)Photo by H (@Huntiyoung)
i rly hate it when someone famous dies by suicide bc ppl will always post these empty words about « pls reach out » « it’s ok to ask for help » when it’s not true you lot shame ppl for crowfounding (which is suicide prevention for many) and leave many to die. may he rest easy.
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i’d be MUCH more optimistic about getting better like i KNOW i definitely could if only i had the resources & support & care i need, but i don’t & won’t. pushing through more than ANYONE Normal & too much physical exertion to Survive disabled me this severely, not Rest or twitter
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I begged for patience so I could rest and have the smallest chance of bouncing back a little. But I suppose out of sight, out of mind. Here’s to 4 new walls, a new dark room, and nothing but my own thoughts as I continue my descent.
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when you become chronically ill/disabled, or your condition becomes more incapacitating you find out who really just wanted you around for the value they could extract from you/what you -did- for them instead of who you are. it’s a horrible way to find out.
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Cannot eat for months. If I do it’s diarrhea. Down 50 lbs. Rapidly becoming diabetic. Too sick to get up and get water. My skin feels like it’s an electrical fire. I feel I have lost all autonomy. On my hands and knees praying for any kind of relief / deterioration to stop.
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Bloodwork looks like shit because of inflammation. Developing deficiencies. Cannot get myself to follow ups. Can’t tolerate sound, screens, much light. Too weak to walk. Heart rate is out of control even with meds. Don’t want to to die, can’t live like this.
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“If you were really that sick you would…” Have help Be in a home Not be online Be dead People are incapable of believing that support doesn’t magically show up when you need it. You don’t necessarily die just because things become dire. Disabled people need more support:
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Need to go to the hospital. I don’t want to go by myself. I am scared to get even worse. Rapidly deteriorating Why the fuck am I even here? There’s not a soul in the world who cares enough to help outside of putting me away so they don’t have to watch. last tweet.
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Instead of sharing bad music yall could uplift my friends bands and my own band as well
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I am in so much pain I just want to go lay down on the train tracks
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who up feeling like they got maybe 6 months left in them tops
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yall want POTS sooooo bad
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What the fuck
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人はひどくメンタルを病むと「心穏やかに暮らすこと」が人生の目標になるらしい。確かに僕も「仕事で成功したい」「いい出会いがほしい」など高望みはしなくなり、「とにかくもうこれ以上つらい思いをせずに過ごしたい」と思うようになった。
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I’m trying Champa, but I am losing.
H (@Huntiyoung) profile pictureH@Huntiyoung11 Dec 2025
Stay alive for Champa
Image from H (@Huntiyoung)
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"Sorry. We Can't Help You Live. But We Can Help You Die."
Your Treatment Was Denied. But Here's the Good News: Your Assisted Dying Request Was Approved.

Your Treatment Was Denied. But Here's the Good News: Your Assisted Dying Request Was Approved.

Article · @NeurologistMom
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Legit what abilify did to my body
Jose (@Jose90491864) profile pictureJose@Jose90491864Jul 13
type of dude you see through the crack of the public bathroom stall while you're looking for an empty one
Image from Jose (@Jose90491864)
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I told myself I’d tough out this stupid fucking disease until the day came that I could no longer play guitar or engineer on a remotely professional level so I could keep creating and to pay bills but after weeks of just trying to get it together, I believe I am utterly cooked.
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My brain sends the signal but my hands just don’t respond fast enough. When they do, my arms fill with lactic acid and feel like concrete. I sit in front of my computer for hours forgetting things I’ve done thousands and thousands of times.
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I wish there was someone who’s been through this that I could talk to. Not a chronic illness therapist telling me to be grateful that I can see the sun from my bed. No more apathy inducing pills. It’s cooked, chopped, clipped.
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