part time soulmate, full time problem

she/her | 23 | demi-lesbian

[cattylittleshit]

day 102

So! I have nowhere to vent, really. That means I'm gonna hijack this blog and dump all my trauma here.

It's been 102 days since I left someone who was incredibly important to me. I guess it's your typical story- we met online, got closer than ever, and then I was told that she wouldn't ever be able to meet me in person.

Okay, maybe that last part wasn't quite so typical.

Took me a while to figure out that she was terrified of intimacy and commitment. Mental illness and trauma are funny like that. I have reason to believe that... she never actually wanted anything real.

I was the perfect fantasy. A fever dream, according to her. I was a bit like a love interest in one of her books. That is to say- I was purely fictional. As long as I stayed behind a screen, I didn't have to be real. That's why she needed to make sure we'd never meet. All of this has left me questioning my own sense of reality.

And I suppose... I've long since stopped grieving for the loss of her. I'm not sure what it is that I'm still grieving for. The hope for a better future, the way I felt with her, my own warmth, the illusion of her...? She was like a mirror. Who I saw in her and who she told me she was might not have been her at all.

The most painful thing about this is that... she was the first person who'd ever made me feel like I was lovable. Like I was worth something. It completely shattered the lie I was telling myself: That no matter how hard I tried, I'd never be good for anyone. That my mind would never be safe for anyone else, let alone me.

I know that I can't hold onto her. But I want to hang onto the hope that all the things that happened... might have shocked my system so much that I'll finally be able to leave a decade of depression behind me. She's forced me to face myself. And it crushes me to think that she might run away from herself forever.

I've realized that... I'd been trying to cope through fiction all these years. But now that I myself became a mere fiction in somebody else's head, I don't think I can keep escaping into fiction. I don't want to escape. It feels like my brain just rejects anything it deems 'not real enough'. I want to live.

Call me insane, but I've started learning her language. It's hard to explain, but... even though it's her language, I can't bring myself to fully associate it with her. I've never met her, I've never heard her speak the language and... it's not like I actually knew the real her. When I think of the language, I get reminded of my own feelings. Of how it feels like to be hopeful for the future. I want to make that feeling a part of myself. I want to overwrite the bad feelings with that hope I was so desperately clinging to. I'll tie it to myself so I won't lose it.

[cattylittleshit]

That ř is gonna be the death of me.

[cattylittleshit]

心は器の如し

[your-local-anomaly]

I love reading books about fucked up queer people committing violence

[cattylittleshit]

I wish I could just let go

Of all the memories I know

But they're still stuck in my brain

[cattylittleshit]

It's a bit sad that I'm the only one I remember actually being there.

[fromhersoul]

may you attract someone who treats you like they’ve been waiting their whole life to find you

[cattylittleshit]

[cattylittleshit]

I wish I could just let go

Of all the memories I know

But they're still stuck in my brain

[brightbeautifulthings]

"'Climbing into my house, into my bed, touching everything except for me. I was yours before we even met and I'll be yours until we die.'"

— K. Ancrum, Icarus

[teartra]

CG Drews pls release a toxic yuri book

[derangedrhythms]

There isn’t a version of me that could’ve looked away from you.

Yael van der Wouden, The Safekeep

[cattylittleshit]

'Cause I'm tired and I'm hurt

And I always try to put you first

But I see I'm not broken like you

And you are not broken like me

So why were you worth it to me?

[kaikartel]

i promise you it’s always gonna be the little things for me

[whendidmythoughtsgocrazy]

And if I can’t be the love of your life I’ll be the loss of your life instead.

k.b. // voilà, megan cromwell - get a room

[riotd]

i’m very self aware. which unfortunately hasn’t solved anything

[cattylittleshit]

Book Review:

Decomposition Book by Sara van Os

★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

No, there's no necrophilia. Yes, there is cannibalism.

And now that I've got your attention: I can't believe that this stupid book managed to make me cry. This isn't a romance, this isn't even a love story- it's nothing but a tragedy; and yet the ending somehow felt so very bittersweet and true to its message.

‘I don’t think you’re real. There’s too much that doesn’t make sense. You’re a fantasy, a beautiful, kind fantasy, but a fantasy nonetheless, way too okay for what you’ve been through, way too devoid of the huge grief I read in your words. You’re perfect in a way real people aren’t. I made you up inside my head, like that poem I wrote a paper on in high school. A mad girl’s love song.’

This book was advertised as 'weird girl fiction' and I hadn't a single clue about what that meant before going into it. It was quite obvious after a page or two, though- the protagonist sure was a little bit eccentric. I guess the premise alone should've tipped me off that something wasn't quite right. Something about her strange demeanor and the constant inappropriate, chronically-online jokes about drugs, cults and corpses lulled me into a false sense of security. I didn't take the book seriously at all.

For the majority of the book, my biggest criticism was that it somehow couldn't get its themes of grief right. That Ava fell for Savannah way too fast without even shedding a single tear for her past lover. But apparently, that's exactly what I was supposed to think all along. I can't really criticize the book for those things anymore.

‘Oh god, I can’t do this. It hurts so much. Ava, it hurts so so fucking much, fuck, I can’t. I can’t. I shouldn’t have. I— And without you? I’m supposed to – I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t…’ [...]

‘You can,’ you say eventually, lifting my wet face with both hands, making me stand. ‘You can and you will. I promise.’

‘You’re wrong.’

‘I’m not.’

‘How do you know? I made you up inside my head.’

‘You’re just going to have to trust me.’

‘How? I don’t trust myself and you’re not even you. You’re just more me.’

At its core, this book is about overcoming trauma and learning to trust yourself in the process. It's about letting go of the things that may feel safe, but are actually nothing more than a fantasy you've conjured up in a desperate attempt to keep yourself going. It's about accepting that sometimes, all you can do is hope for a better future in the face of uncertainty.

Eventually, we both have to get to the end of the page.

Sometimes it's the things that only happened in your head that feel the most real to you. That doesn't make them less of an illusion, but they still end up shaping you.

[cattylittleshit]