Thinking About This

falling asleep feeling empty and hollowed out and i cant cry anymore bc i literally have zero tear ducts and my stomach feels funny and i think everyone wants me gone

i went to the doctors today. they told me something was wrong with me but i think they are just afraid i will tell you what the milky way is saying

death will not do us part you stupid cunt

Yohji Yamamoto Pour Homme AW1995 Floral Turtleneck

sometimes i think about how others may have perceived me; of course, the thought of being perceived itself brings about a disgusting turn in my stomach as i cannot handle being another person's momentary topic. i wonder if i had ever caused great pain for being neglectful as i'm sure i am. i ignore and ignore because i need to ignore the voices in my head and it's easier to do that when you aren't thinking of anyone else. i wonder if i ever broke someone's heart, if they ever thought of me and felt an ache because i was worth not losing, and keeping up with. i wonder if i ever caused a wave in someone's life that was bright enough to be noticed when it wasn't there. i wonder if someone thought of me months later and wished we still talked, if we had moments together that we could have repeated. i know i'm neglectful and i know i'm terrible at showing i care and sometimes i wonder if i do. do i care? am i just really cold blooded inside and don't give a fuck about making others happy? it doesn't matter, because either way, i'm sure i hurt some people at some point in time. or i could just be delusional. i could just be cellophane, or a ripple in the water as i drift from people's lives. i could just matter for a moment and be erased from memory from hence forth, and i'm aware it is because of my own abilities, or the lack thereof. i suppose i'm not afraid of not being wanted, i'm afraid of being forgotten. i think about people that played the smallest roles in my life, and how little i could care about them, and yet how i obsessed i can become with them. i wonder if they remember me and if they think about me sometimes, i wonder if they care that i'm alive, and that i'm not doing well. i wonder if they know i have this sickness and i want to end it all every day, but really i just wonder if they would care to know any of this. i was nothing to them, and i will always remain as such, i want to be remembered, i want to be thought of as gently and intimately as possible because i'm not sure how else i want to be perceived and known. it won't happen but i just want and want and want. i want everything i want people to know and i want people to care and i want people to see and see and see i want people to lunge their hand into my heart and pull it out and eat up the blood and the pain and i want them to understand how i feel and i want my pain to be their pain and for us to be lost in the middle somewhere and i want them to care because we are parts of each others and they can't abandon me now

it bothers me that you often don't really hear about people having a "favorite album" the way they might have a favorite movie or favorite video game

i think about my mother and what she had to let go to take care of me. i think about the photo of her when she was young, her eyes bright and golden, maybe she passed them to another child in another world. i think about how she didn't grow up, i think about the pain she was inflicted with to prove herself of her womanhood, of the burden she earned when she had children. i think about being in her womb, warm and parasitic, sucking the life force out of her, making her losing all locks of her dark, long hair. i think about her drastic weight loss, i think about her face holes, i think about her sudden shift in mood and satisfaction. i think about how i was the end to my mother, how i brought death to her the moment i was born and months i laid in her womb. i think about her mother calling her every other day, wishing she could see her and embrace her. i think about the nights my mother misses my grandmother, and how i wish she didn't have to be with me instead. i think about my mother and it aches because no matter how hard i try, i can never be gentle with her. i think about how i hate her with so much fury, but never wipe her watering eyes when she wanders. i think about how i love her to the point a part of me breaks and shakes and dies, but i can't show it without shouting and screaming and yelling. i think about how my mother yearns to be hugged and embraced by her own mother, how i wish i could be that for her, how i want to coddle her and kiss her forehead and tell her everything will be alright. i think about how my mother has crossed oceans for me to sleep beside me on lonely nights, how her mother would cross the same oceans to wash her hair, how i can't even seem to reach out to her and hold her close. i think about my mother shampooing my hair, and how warm her hands are, how safe i feel so bare infront of another human being, how the love from the womb comes back.

nevermind im mad at her again

i need to hug my mother and cry into her neck because i miss the warm embrace of her womb and this bed is too cold for me; i just wish she held me. i just want her to care for me forever, no matter how bitter and painful loving me is

The soundtrack ripping my soul right out of my body didn’t help either

do you ever sit there in your bed with your head in your hands and it's like you can just imagine 9 swords behind you