TW For SA And R*pe

michael i search and scan every damn tweet and every new song added to every playlist you make. i cant believe i meant nothing to you. after all this time, not one day goes by where you think of me. i’m not even worth a text back, an acknowledgment, a godforsaken breath in my direction.

fuck you. fuck it all. i wish i hated you. i hope you find everything you ever wanted in that fuck ass disgusting place you moved to. don’t come back, not now, not ever.

i hate how every man i ever love is a narcissistic, unfeeling asshole. i give up. i won’t make friends, i won’t love anyone, i cant do this anymore. being alone hurts, but mourning every person i ever lose for YEARS like they’re dead hurts way worse.

thank you michael, for ruining me. for ruining everything without so much as a fucking clue to what i could have done.

fuck you. hope you’re happy.

“The greatest loss is the kind that you never had in the first place. I am reeling from the missing out on something that was never mine to begin with. This tragedy cuts me deep.”

— remnant-thoughts

we're all under the same moon, and that's enough for me.

god life has been so messy lately, take me back to a month ago.

i had a cat. through everything i had a cat. i don’t have the cat anymore, and everything sucks.

I will be like "I'm fine" and then another fucking event will occur

for her:

cosmic love - florence + the machine

<3

3.22.23 - quantified damage.

[in no way do i condone ANY stigma that pwNPD are inherently abusers. us cluster b’s gotta stick together. this is simply a post documenting my literature and growth into the recovery process from my own personal childhood traumas. THIS BLOG WILL ALWAYS BE A SAFE SPACE FOR THOSE WITH NPD! ONE ABUSER IN A COMMUNITY OF PEOPLE DOES NOT MAKE THE ENTIRE COMMUNITY BAD PEOPLE!]

sometimes i worry that people think i’m a furry for all of the dog imagery. it’s more about how bpd makes you feel subhuman, that it rots your brain and turns you into some wild animal. not that being a furry wouldn’t be dope as fuck, but that’s not me i’m just mentally ill and like symbolism.

it’s 5am and i’m listening to the birds chirping, i hear my breath, and the soft indie music that always is coming from my phone. i note that there is pink in the sunrise this morning and that i do not dread the day ahead of me like i have for my entire life.

the work is noticeable sometimes, proper therapy and medication pays off.