It Hurts So Bad That I Am Utterly Speechless. Nothing Comes To Mind When I Try To Write. No Creative

a loud playlist to rival the noise in my head

resting peacefully tonight :)

feeling v sub-human as of late. i’m not that scary to talk to i don’t think?? i know i have a disorder. i know i’m like a pitbull and everyone seems to think i eat toddlers. but i genuinely just want to talk to humans n have real friends for once,

like i love poetry, and folk & indie music, and playing ukulele. i love my gods and i read tarot sometimes and collect cool rocks. i have the cutest cats and want people to send pictures of them to. my favorite color is a muted tone of forest green.

i’m a pitbull, but i think i am a little human sometimes too. i promise the genes don’t make me a completely bad dog. someone just take a chance on me, im begging,

i was so real for this

the only way out will always be through.

(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.

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