The Realization That If Uriel Was Smart He Would In Fact Know About This Account, But I Don’t Think

vent post about dying young and being a bad dog: an unofficial writing

i am so different, i wish the people of my past could see that and give me just a couple more chances to change. all i want is a friend before i die of some stupid heart defect. for now, literature is my safe space once again,

wish i could see luc like i used to,, they put me on too many meds and now he’s just a voice in my head sometimes. like??? give me my friend back???? pls n thanks????

(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 just want to give up. i’m tired of being damaged goods n hurting everyone accidentally.

it just keeps coming in waves. this soul-crushing feeling that i never can describe right. it hurts, it aches, it longs, it rolls but it’s sharp and stings. the great ambiguous birthday blues are settling into my bones for tonight.

it just hurts to have such a strong word used against you. and not even any gesture apology has been given, how hard is it to send a three sentence paragraph? put a playlist together? apologize?

i was just a kid, how is any of this fair?

i know it sounds stupid but praying in the quiet hours of the morning will always be one of my favorite things.

(god i never thought i would say that lol, but here we are,, life is weird but my gods are good and that is all that matters)

the most punk rock thing i do is wearing my rapist/physical-assaulter/abuser’s ring occasionally whenever things are bad.

it’s like a lil reminder that i will survive, and that’s p cool :)