the way i want to take a knife and cut off all that excess fat in my body
i feel so wrong in my body right now
i could peel the skin off my bones and shred it to pieces
i hate this
follow the yellow rabbit
i dont care (this affected me deeply and made me cry for several hours)
i dont care (this affected me deeply and made me cry for several hours)
keep going
I never asked to be born
I’m going to have to live my whole life sad, aren’t I?
“do you want to talk about it?”
no, i want to kill myself because of it.
some days i think i’m okay and some days i wish i was six feet in the ground
no one cares to ponder the existence of a mind weaponized.
The inevitable result of using your child as a stress toy.
Of radiating rejection and hammering doubt into the soul.
The broken child emerges the shattered adult.
Already bruised and bloodied from their short road so far, the road ahead isn’t so far after all.
Bleeding glass unto those compelled to help, an animalistic curse as old as time.
Unlearning, panicked strikes spewing long brewing pain.
This shattered adult is little different from a venomous snake on display:
pretty,
loved,
but best kept away for everyone’s safety.
I love realizing I’m incapable of contributing to meaningful relationships. Not broken enough to not love, just broken enough to make everyone else miserable.
I think I’m past the point of being allowed to say I’m not okay.
maybe later we could hang out and take turns bursting into tears
pls? i’m very good at it
i was taught at a very young age that i am unlovable, that my feelings are too big. that never went away.