I’ve no idea @biblicallyaccuratebreakdown - Tumblr Blog

05/07/2026

Distraught as I am, I know it is pointless. Somebody always has it better or worse and comparison is hardly useful. I might cry myself to sleep tonight as somebody wins a million dollars or finds their way home, but I will also weep as somebody bleeds out from their own self inflicted wounds, I will wipe my tears as somebody is zipped into a body bag and I will start to calm down again as somebody rattles out their last breaths. As long as I have time I am not doomed yet.

You don’t know how much is set to change. Spend two decades in a static nightmare, work your way through every pill in the medicine cupboard and learn who is fittest to wrestle your brother as he sprays blood up the walls of the custody suite. Let it all fall apart tremendously. Cut your way into the adipose, vomit the bile, thrash the sheets off the bed. Run. Run and don’t stop running until you no longer recognise yourself. Learn to live with boredom like your sanity depends on it, because it does. Sit with the silence for the first time in your damned life and really, actually think about what happened to you there. Wrestle with the thoughts of abandoning it all once you have been too poor to eat for days or you are too sick to even crawl. With enough chemicals, enough silence and freedom, you will even find joy in being at knifepoint someday.

Every day is a mission in which I wrestle to subdue, to sedate and soothe every past self. One craves the comfort that was never offered by childhood, another just needs to talk. I feed the voice that urges me to starve and I refuse to dissect myself for the child that never saw an alternative. Still, they thrash and they scream, threaten to split through the skin with every opportunity.

Inside me is a child that spits vitriol when we eat for nourishment and not performance, furious that we are ignoring every chance to waste. After all, we are finally alone, with the autonomy and freedom to rot. I must cram toast down her throat.

Deep within is a child, scouring every cupboard and counter for medicine and finding only biscuits and books. Desperate for a breakthrough dose, I sedate her with birdsong and blankets.

Beneath the tissue writhes a child insistent on pain as the only peacebringer, unaccustomed to the feeling of safety. I trust that the shriek subsides eventually, but for now it is the only thing she knows. There is nothing left to be stitched.

Every child felt sure that life would be forever caged, but now the door is open. I am out in the tall grass, alone with nothing but my thoughts and myself. I am for certain safe now, but they don't recognise safety out in the real world, out of the cage. There is always a sprint, a free fall into the sea of safety nets– they don't yet know that I can just let things be. Someday, they will just let things be.

18/07/2025

On my happy place

p.12

Anyway, [ ] is thinking about making a statement, giving evidence. Something to add to the endless list of things I thought would never happen, that I'd never have to think about. Good for him, of course. I have always felt that the truth is so indescribably freeing, despite how terrifying it is. It feels easier to breathe knowing that despite any distance, there are people who know my truth in all its grim detail. My truth is scattered across the world, in people’s memories, in police tapes and documents, in my journals and in the brains of people who somehow love me. But the process of getting that truth to reside anywhere outside of myself was a years-long, nauseating wrestle. A cowardly part of myself is desperate to tell him how harrowing the ordeal really is.

Still, that boy has always been braver than I. If I can do it, then he surely can, too.

It is a strange event, the silent turning of tides. Spending years being chipped away at, ground down, thinking it can never get better. Realising, slowly, maybe things can get better. Then, taking the terrifying steps that might make it better.

Somewhere, is a murderer who assumes he has gotten away with his crime. Victim slain, they are dead and within them, his wretched secret is sealed away forever. He assumes he is safe. But somewhere, the victim still has a heart that beats and lungs uncollapsed. The victim is quietly plotting revenge, gearing up for justice. The victim, sick of being a victim, is starting to feel human again. The victim has removed the knife lodged firmly between their scapula. The victim, ready to live and to breathe again, sharpens his knife. The victim is getting set to plunge the knife back into its rightful owner.

Martyr in Vain

August 2023//May 2025

And so it was

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