I See Many Neopagans Who Are Unable To Separate Themselves From Christian Ideas Of "Grace" In That Divine

the urge to bleed out on the bathroom floor while music plays in the background

the stress hallucinations are back along with the most violent escapism known to man and me and my dad got into it the other day. you never really get past age 14 huh?

i wish the gods could fix me. i hate being this way.

it hurts so bad that i am utterly speechless. nothing comes to mind when i try to write. no creative symbols, no metaphors, nothing. just raw pain.

why will i never be enough to be loved by you, father?

i love car rides for the same reason i hate them; they give me the perfect space to finally think. today i’m wondering if 0.5/2 parents is really all that much better than 0/2.

atleast the 0 can’t disappoint you ig.

to my mother who won’t read this: honestly fuck you.

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 hope you see this. you mean so much to me, thank you for not giving up on me. <3

holding back tears in the parking lot of the community college because my mom called to tell me that my sister told college recruiters i was her hero.

taking the years of abuse for her wasn’t for nothing :’)

i wish i still had michael. right now he would let me talk about the weight of the world that is currently squeezing the life out of my very lungs- until i physically could no longer keep my eyes open and it turned some ungodly hour of the night. he would hear my deepest darkest fears, he would hear how i have to face them to make the right decision, he wouldn’t make me do it alone like i currently have to. he would stand outside in the rain, or pick me up a pint of ice cream from three hours away, or just take me on a drive into utter oblivion. he would let me lay my head on his lap in the backseat of his car, or he’d help me grab a blanket to go stare at the stars, and he wouldn’t complain about how my tears are soaking into his clothes yet again when he finally coaxed me to talk about it all.

he would stand by me until i felt like i could stand on my own again.

i hate this. i cant do this on my own. i don’t have anyone who could let me talk this out in the way that i need to. i don’t even know what i would say, but with him the words would just tumble straight from my heart right out of my mouth.

i need that safe space, i don’t know how to ask someone to do that- i don’t even know if you could.