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

wish we had more internal organ emojis

i hope that if you ever exist that you don't feel alone in those feelings like i do right now.

can i come over and make you extremely uncomfortable with my lack of social skills

posted this on twit but rejected draft for a transgender horror anthology. based on my youth experiences having dinners with bigoted family members while closeted. (deemed too gorey to fit the theme)

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.

I’M QUESTIONING MY OWN FUCKING SANITY

i think if mental illness had a physical symptom it’d be mold

I ate her

alone with these thoughts