This blog is for little bits of writing I do. Most of these are vents since life can be hell sometimes. This is why I’ll post a lot then go silent for a while. On the bright side, long periods of me not posting is a good sign since it means life isn’t too bad at the moment.
Also, the art I attach to some of my posts is made by Palefern2, since I’m not a very good artist and they were willing to contribute. Go check them out if you like the style. Most of the art you find here won’t be on their blog.
I understand my role. A malevolent being that haunts, never killed, just resting.
Even with that, I too understand that rather than a shift, we combine,
leading to sorrow.
A deep rooted thing, once under all the masks. Come undone, lying as if stillness will do anything.
You’re so tired.
2 years. You won’t need anybody else after that. You don’t need to talk to the people who reject your existence anymore.
You just want to be seen for what you are.
You just want to be seen as anything but a girl.
Don’t touch them,
They’re touch starved,
But I know you haven’t gotten over them.
Not now, not never. For some damn reason they’ll never know, you never will.
They never fucking wanted you.
Get over yourself.
“I don’t care if you see this or not. I know it’s possible since you found this acc anyway, but I just need you to stop. There’s always been desire for something more behind your touch and it’s repulsive. I wanted to cry, and I still want to cry, every single time someone thinks we’re together. I don’t want you, I don’t want you touching me, I just wanna be friends. That’s it. T4T my ass, go fuck yourself. We both know, actually fuck it I take that back, I know I will never want you like that, but apparently, you don’t. I’m so sick of it, I’M SICK OF IT! I fear every single time me and a guy have to touch AT ALL BECAUSE OF YOU. IM SICK OF IT AND IM STARVING FOR TOUCH ILL NEVER FUCKING GET AND IM SICK OF IT IM SICK OF BEING TOUCH STARVED. It’s so pathetic that I’d drop everything I’m doing for a hug from anyone who isn’t immediate family (fuck those guys, except for my nerd brother ofc), and the only guy I can actually enjoy a hug from is either one who’s transmasc or one specific guy that ACTUALLY CARES FOR ME AS A HUMAN BEING SO MUCH MORE THAN YOU EVER COULD. It’s reassuring to know he already has a crush on someone, but even if he didn’t, I’d still trust him with my life. I’d die for that sweet fox.
I hate and I hate and I hate this hell. I want to live, I want to have basic human respect. I don’t want to be a girl if it means I’m viewed as one. I’m so fucking open about being lesbian, is that enough? NO! OF FUCKING COURSE NOT, TWO AND A HALF GUYS, ONE OF WHICH IS A TRANSPHOBIC ASS, ARE CONSTANTLY PREYING ON ME! I’m so fucking sick of it. I’m so done, I’m done. This is hell. I don’t want to be a girl. I just want to be a boy, nonbinary, braindead, anything. I’m so tired.”
-anon
Rant submitted by a user that wished to remain anonymous on discord. Segment at the top is written with it in mind as per their request.
I did not reread the poem “The Day After” until I had finished writing this out of fear I would accidentally steal ideas from it without noticing. The title inspired me to write it.
“the ache, feeling something for a line of text, but your own wings are just deadweight, itchy. maybe you should preen, tell people why you lie to their faces.”
“my fingers twitched. hardly noticeable. already I felt like a corpse. rotting, nothing changed. start to view them as code. numbers going up until you do something. lest the pot overflow, more and more until. until what? you’ve already become a husk of what you were.”
“it gets worse and worse. try to make it better, fail and fail and fail. again and again until you give in, give up. escaping into anything you can until they’ve taken the couch, taken the battery, taken your mind. crush it up into little pieces. thrown out of the car window, tossed angrily onto the floor. yet you’re in the wrong, your body failing in more ways than one.”
“clock’s ticking. your arms spill crimson for the first time. soon, the second. the fourth, the ninth. you’ve already passed the starting barrier after all. now you just need to
