My-ugly-organs - Hand Me My Shovel, I'm Going In!

I thought the earth remembered me, 

she took me back so tenderly. 

Suffering

Its all I can be.

“Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive and they will come forth, later, in uglier ways.”

— Sigmund Freud

A comic about a sick inner child and suicide ideation

Preserved animal art by GrizzlyMacabreInc on Instagram

*Animals are sourced responsibly and are not killed to make this art!

I try to fight it, but some days it is really hard

Vivisepulture - [6/23/23]

None of this is easy. I can’t stay, yet I can’t walk away. Walking away would crush me, as if I was being buried alive. The dirt upon me, heavy and slowing down my every attempt at escape. The more I struggle the more it piles.

I cough, more, and more, and more. The ground you walk on itself is in my lungs. I keep thinking, “I’m going to die,” but I don’t. I am suffocating but the same force killing me is keeping me alive, prolonging the anxiety and the hurt. And the coughing.

All I’ve inhaled is the dirt but what comes out is smoke. For what feels like an eternity I continue to go through the achingly long process of dying without death, and I come to the conclusion that maybe exhaling is always easier than inhaling.

The pain is stabbing and burning and aching. I feel my body giving up. I feel my brain giving up. I have given up. I’m tired of fighting. Does giving up help? No. Does the suffering stop? No. But now all I can do is lay here. I’m still here yet the world continues to spin without me. I am completely alone, no one knowing of my predicament. Life goes on without me.

*avoids even people I love w all my heart*