also considering normal blogging/ whatever tf you call it on this acc idk
if anyone wants to know how to make bombs dm me /j for legal reasons (its not /j its /srs i mean it just yk laws and that shit legit if u wanna know i can tell you just dm)
tags;
j writes badly (all the fanfic shit i sadly make bc im scared to post it to ao3)
no beta we die like jirou (stupid funny tag for writing bc i dont have a beta reader and i aint letting my parents read over this shit)
j suffers (mostly my writing or drawing or smth when im in a bad place like having a mental breakdown or smth of the sorts, uh mild tw? usuall consists of themes of wanting to disappear or die)
J’s misc shit (all the shit that idk how to label, might be rambles, might be writing, might be drawing idk!)
can i even complain? theres so much to say i just dont want to. its like everyone cares all of a sudden and im the only person who doesnt. fuck i mean. just.
im objectively a bad person?
i dont know the definition of abuser, but even though it was an accident every single fucking time, i was still skirrting the edge of it.
thats irredeemable right?
i mean i know 'you can always change' but. do i deserve that? absolution, repentance, any of it. would anyone think the same of me if they knew? would i think more or less of me if i could remember it all?
why are circumstances so ignored
S loves me and cares, R loves me and cares, P loves me and cares, they all do. Why?
Ive had it explained to me multiple times but. no one knows it all. i cant explain it all cause my memory is shot. even if it wasnt when do you bring it up? 'hey btw ik were dating and all but ive fucked up the 2 main relationships i ever cared about so just warning you'?
i didnt even want this i only accepted because i know his issues.
when hes better mentally i plan to leave. stay friends of course but leave in the other sense.
i know how itll feel for me since it wont be an accident.
i know im a sadist.
but why didnt i take pleasure in the other parts?
why did i want to fucking die everytime i messed up opposed to that watching.
watching as you slowly spiraled.
im not against beinng a sadist or anything, but more the fact that.
out with it no one cares
that its more emotional sadist which is shockingly (sarcasm) not consentual nor safe.
especially when the two ends are two emotionally fucked mentally ill people.
why is this only happening now? why could i not like it before?
is it because it was a mistake? because i genuinely didnt mean it?
he loves me.
and i feel.
nothing.
i feel nothing.
towards it.
i could go into what i do like. positive reinforcement. how i could force myself to like it.
but my default state.
i just dont care.
if someone is reading this itll be real awkward huh.
uh. im working on this. granted hy self isolation but by most people standards that counts.
i dont know if its peace or anger, but i want to run.
I hate poetry. I absolutely despise poetry. from the multiple of books i own, to how i write. I hate it. Funny how its the one thing people have said im good at.
I cant learn to love what i hate.
to hell with this
why do i still feel a little something for you. why. i dont. like you. like that anymore. but i feel something. towrds you. gratefulness? i cant fucking pin it down and it drives me insane.
to get it straight. you and i could never have a relationship. it would never work. i dont mean just romantically but socially period. how i was, which. fuck who ever that was, mine or his mistakes however you want to call it. my personality and yours would never work.
but i still feel some instinct.
ill be civil when the day comes. ill tell you happy birthday. and ill ignore discord until i see a notification. ill be casual. ill be light. ill make a joke, ill regret it. we wont speak until next year.
do i want your forgiveness? do i want to thank you? forgiveness doesnt fix anything, and hell i doubt you even want to see my profile ever again.
its shocking that you havent blocked me yet
kinda glad you didnt, because id still be obsessing over the why.
maybe it just really sucks that one of the only people you can confidently confide in, you fucked your whole relationship up with them, fucked them and yourself up beyond belief.
you should regret meeting me. because i regret ever bothering you.
it shouldve stayed professional. i should
fuck it doesnt matter anyways because thats not what happened.
this is why ive never sent you an apology since that day.
if youre reading this, then youre probably refrenced in this. sorry.
fuck being cryptic i hate who i was i hate what i was fuck i hate how this all turned out i hate i hate i fucking hate. and theres nothing to do about it.
if you enjoy this, reconsider your tastes.
--
Im sorry for what ive done to you. I hate you. I will always hate you. Looking back at it all, which one of us was the common denominator? Was it my hate, or your inferiority complex? I hate you for ruining my relationships. But looking back at all these drawings, we had a good time didnt we? at least for a bit. maybe im deluding myself of the stories behind it all. Maybe youre dead and i have no memory of it. Maybe i refuse to look at those messages.
What ive always wondered is how you talked to everyone. All the time. Because right now even, im almost paralyzed by something that i just cannot speak to anyone.
Were you that desperate for help?
Why am i the one stuck isolating now.
Why is the only help i can ask for, is to be handed a knife?
how did you even ask for it. what did you ask for. and why did you do it so much. sure our lives are slightly better. (no its not), but i dont understand. Who do you think would free you. How did you think they would? even i cant help myself. you couldnt help me. why did you think anyone could help us.
why were you so set on it.
why did i ruin it.
its like im a constant borderline of not caring and almost caring.
but you.
how was that for you.
i get the luxury of fully not caring. but you did care.
you felt.
what you felt was real.
did you question your or mine feelings?
you yearned so much for absolution.
i remember the order of names you craved it so much from.
i remember how it felt.
watching as you tore it all down.
maybe it was me you couldnt take.
i want to admit.
i want to admit it so casually like you did.
i want to say it all, not be questioned, not have to answer if im alright.
i wish we couldve traded places.
i need you right now, and you needed me back then.
unfortunate how it works, isnt it?
but now im standing over a metaphorical grave.
thinking of all the references of all the drawings of all the conversations i ideally watched.
but thats not my call is it?
sometimes i wonder if theyd hate me more than you.
sometimes i wonder if hed like you more than me.
i guess romance wasnt the right option for someone who doesnt care.
and doesnt want it to begin with.
maybe youre still there in some form.
on january 10th at least.
or maybe i watched what you did and was desperate to not make the same mistakes
unfortunate how i will.
its unfortunate how i am the awful you thought you were.
all the comfort in the world couldnt stop you or me.
unfortunately my impulsiveness, while it doesnt last long, it bites me in the ass a lot further down the line. because how the FUCK am i signing a goddamn NDA because i was being impulsive.
Moto X3M. A flash game i played when i was younger. Theres no fanfic on ao3 of it. So. I made some.
I cant believe what im doing with my life.
< 1000 words, this is short but its something. It may or may not have turned slightly into a bitching of pain. Been having issues with my own if you cant tell! um. Ooc but like. unless i fanmade a new level for this game, it all is. i already did that in a dream, maybe if i learn coding ill make it real
Xm.
Xm is what people called him. Announcers.
Its not like he particularly had any friends.
Anymore at least.
Xm.
Thats a radio station.
He doesnt call himself that.
Actually, nothing fits him.
All of it feels too clunky. Nothing to be singled out.
Xm the third.
aint that stupid?
aside of the pain of his parents- rather his mothers, awful naming skills, everything hurt. Physically.
As much as riding gear saves a good bit of your skin from road rash, it sure doesnt stop broken bones and bruises and burns- well to be fair that was actually his fault.
Frustrated at 2 am at not being able to learn a new trick- damn old dog- getting hot and sweaty, whats the solution? Taking off your gear changing into shorts and a shitty t shirt of course!
He was pissed off and just ignored the exhaust. He regretted it for days after he got a nasty burn.
Nasty bruises from falling, totally not from kicking anything in anger.
He walked - partially limped- to the kitchen, grabbing another monster.
Look just cause youre sponsered by redbull doesnt mean you have to drink it all the time.
Sitting back down in his recliner, god he felt old. He turned on some random riding playlist, connecting it to his bluetooth speaker. An actual speaker, not his riding one.
Sipping on the somehow still cold drink, staring at the ceiling, not particularly focused on any visual.
Ah, Aerials. Must be the tree hugging playlist.
Theres been a lot more of those nowdays.
Maybe hes getting burnt out.
Annoyingly, this isnt a stable income.
Meaning he’ll have to get “a real job” whatever that means. Isnt a job just whatever pays?
Not that he liked to think about it, but god what even is a stable job in this economy?
So many medical bills to be paid, so many deductibles, so many debts.
Ironically, this was just as sustaining as a job as a cashier in the end.
Which isnt much.
Everything just hurts, he needs pain meds, nsaids arent getting him through the day anymore. Hes either gonna end up with stomach ulcers or fucking jandiuce from how much shit hes putting on his liver.
Maybe he should just suck it up. Yeah.
But fuck when the 15 shots of vodka, god knows how many pills of naproxen, and whatever else he could think of just to make it stop, arent working anymore- are barely reducing the pain- when hes fucking damn near crying every night because what can he do, maybe its not enough anymore.
Sure an ass ton of caffeine isnt doing him much good, but hey if his livers going hos heart can too! Plus it tastes good. Bite him.
Actually please dont.
He loves this job. Hobby. Whatever you want to call it, doesnt matter to him. Just wished it didnt cause all this.
Maybe in another life at least sleeping is a bit of peace.
Not this one.
Its not like he can just stroll in and ask for higher mgs, or something stronger. “Drug seeking” apparently such a crime to not want to hurt 24/7. But hey, he doesnt look like hes in pain! Hes so young! He couldnt be in pain! He must just be a heartbroken teenager whos trying to impress his friends right.
Cause pain isnt measurable. Because theres no test to register a non biased number of what hurts.
Or something.
He shifted to a position that looked marginally more uncomfortable, but god did it help is upper back.
He loves his babys- motorbikes. Dirt and actual casual motorcycle(s), he couldnt just give it up. But what can he do?
The idea of either having to quit what he loves, or have a constant only getting worse pain- he should stop.
Hes been brash enough, he cant go out like him.
Switching the mental topic to something else.
Like what the hell was in the white monster that makes it so damn good.
Or if you could realistically sand down the ceiling with sand paper and if that was even a good idea.
What the fuck even is a stud finder for? arent you supposed to avoid the studs? Since when are you supposed to anchor something in them?
God how drunk was he when he made this playlist, sure the artists were the same genre but the song vibes clearly where not the same.
Damn margaritas sound so good right now.
Does he have tequila? he has margarita mix. Whats that even for anyways.
Maybe he should go to a bar.
How will he how home? easy, driving. Reckless? Yep. Who cares.
Oh.
Christ.
He rubbed his eyes with his left hand, right nursing the nearly finished drink.
Goddamn he sounds like his father.
Thats reckless. He has enough issues. He doesnt need more pain.
Though, he doesnt particularly want to ask anyone to drive.
It was dark enough.
He might regret this.
Considering the history.
But hes done it before. Itll be fine.
Chugging the rest of his drink, he crushed the can.
Tossing it in the bin, he grabbed his keys, and gloves. Only.
