Sometimes, I cry so hard I can feel it in my ribs. / I feel like the real me is backed into a corner inside me
— Ama Asantewa Diaka, from "Saturday Evening WhatsApp Message," Woman, Eat Me Whole
If my mental illnesses weren't enough, the seasonal cold has been sitting on my head making my mind even more cloudy and jammed. How is any of this fair?
✨️finally gone manic after being unable to want to breathe for years ✨️
I can't form so much as a tear
but I seem to be drowning still.
The urge to just destroy myself. To cut off everything. To go radio silent on everyone because my brain is absolutely convinced I'll be best off alone, locked in a tiny little box.
Why can't I just have a moment to breathe? To actually enjoy my bit of happiness I get here and there.
I write this with
melancholic music
blasting in my ears.
It's comfortable,
relatable.
It's hopeless,
as I long to be.
And many, many valleys of sorrow and mountains of death.
Marina Tsvetaeva, from a diary entry featured in Earthly Signs Moscow Diaries, 1917-1922
Anger bursts inside of me as fire crackers under the moonlight, with a cackle first and then a battle cry.
yes, please
Craving entertainment but having absolutely no interest in anything
Kill me