I did a thing and then I fell

he/him powered by spite.

[idontreadtherules]

ykw? Ive realised, love, or what I call ‘love,’ arrives like an unexpected houseguest. It crashes in, uninvited, leaving me breathless and scrambling to accommodate it. And so, I play the perfect host, hanging on every word, enchanted by every quirk, rearranging my entire existence to suit it. I pretend not to be bothered by the disorder this causes, I do my best to feign interest in every little detail, every seemingly insignificant movement as if its somehow important. His laugh, her smile, the way they hold their coffee cup, each quirk, every little nuance, becomes a fascination. I rearrange my life for them, shuffling my priorities like a deck of cards, pretending that this moment, is worth the utter upheaval of my being.

[idontreadtherules]

TW(?): themes of self destruction, chronic pain and venting

Ykw, the thing about pain is it doesn’t just “get better.” Fuck no. It moves in, sets up shop, settles into every nerve, every thought until its not just a feeling anymore, it’s the background noise of ur life.

Ive gotten to a point where happiness feels like a trap because the minute I think maybe, just maybe, something good might last I feel that sting of foreboding.

And you know what? self-destruction doesn’t look so irrational anymore. The pain never stops, and I feel like theres this sick kind of relief in tearing things down yourself. like beating the world to the punch. You think ah maybe if you can just ruin things on your own terms, you’ll take back some control. But that’s a lie too isnt it. The pain’s smarter than that cuz its already two steps ahead, feeding on every ounce of anger, every moment you try to fight it. It wants you broken.

And I’m tired. Tired of the weight, tired of pretending that tomorrows going to be different. The world keeps throwing “hope” at me, like Im supposed to reach for it, but all I see is a shiny package with nothing inside. The pain is so fucking real, the rest of it happiness, peace that’s the lie. And maybe I’m okay with that. Maybe, if destruction is all Ive got left, at least its mine.