I Literally Haven’t Been Up This Late In Years. This Is Insane. I Have Read So Much Fanfiction It’s

Untitled 9.12.23 (excerpt) - My head lolled against the cool glass of the SUV’s window, Bridgers blasting through air pods, the eternally grey world of Western Pennsylvania blurred by intermittent rain. I have the thought that my therapist is the only person on this planet who truly knows me. That she alone is whom I have laid my soul bare to and has been the only one to accept its abominable sin without falter. And even this yields to the fact that this is what she is trained to be. An artificial connection forged on the basis of years of schooling. No one will ever understand me just because they want to, nor just because they care.

how do you cope with being everything you’ve ever feared?

reading in my bed is so hard now that it’s uninterrupted. i miss you my sweet girl, so so much. i hope the Gods are taking great care of you.

The most beautiful thing John Green has taught me was the way out of the Labyrinth of suffering is alaska style (straight and fast). for me, my labyrinth is always my perfectionism during the school year. The only way to get out of the labyrinth though, is through. So, you put your head down and try your absolute fucking hardest and eventually it’s over until you have to start it all over again.

“The only way out is through” has been my personal mantra ever since i read looking for alaska during a residential stay. the book and the depth of its meaning are so very important to me and i could write essays upon essays taking about my personal labyrinths and how they are full of demons that i can barely outrun- but i won’t, i’ll save it for later. for now i have a labyrinth to escape.

⋆ Black and Orange Thinking

⋆ Dog

⋆ Untethered

⋆ The Soldier, The Sinner 

⋆  Ballet

(1.30.23) - head hanging out the second story window, i let the strawberry smoke fill my lungs. i glance at my watch. 120. it hasn’t lowered all day. i tell myself that it’s just a bad day, that i’ll quit again tomorrow.

the pennsylvanian winter chill hits my face when the breeze blows. there’s a bird calling that i recognize but can’t quite place right now. texts from my only two friends lay unanswered because i don’t know how to tell them what i’m feeling.

i silently wonder if the devil ever feels cursed. if he too sometimes didn’t have the strength in him, because being rotten at the core is truly exhausting.

an ache of pain disturbs the thought. the all consuming anxiety follows. this semester feels as if it will kill me. learning to walk again while desperately trying to memorize an entire taxonomic language is just too much.

i try to glamorize it, to revel in the tasks the women in my books love. to tell myself that this is the life of a girl in the scribe quadrant, that dragons are real and true love exists.

my cat jumps up, she sticks her head out too and sniffs the breeze. she is the only solace my soul finds these days, her and the fluffy stories i fill my head with when i try to outrun these thoughts. the ones where i have a friend group who loves me like family and a man who sees the stars in my eyes. the stories where i am not seen as a monster, but as gentle and kind.

i want to die, to be quite honest. i am in the wrong reality. there is no found family waiting for me, nor a man to write me letters assuring me that i am nothing but angelic golden light. there is just fatherly pain and the weight of the world on my shoulders.