mo 🪷

[lovedmollema]

"do you love your boyfriend" idk man i have all the symptoms just not a diagnosis

[lovedmollema]

they get smaller and smaller as i look at the white- a plate left fuller and fuller every day that i fight i cant bare the feelings each spoonful gives me i cant bare to watch what i eat consume me i used to feel better. i used to leave plates clean i used to love the white but not it feels fatter i see my legs, the bumps, the caves i dont let it affect me but my stomach feels the waves I feel bigger, thicker, on my body and my head i know im not, i know that truly but my mind is acting sicker all my thoughts go to my hips each number i count i cant face this anymore i need to cut it out of my head i dont feel well i feel ill again i dont feel right i fill big again i dont feel well i dont act well i dont see well so why am i still well why dont i throw it all up or starve myself slimmer i dont eat all my thoughts up and count numbers- make me grimmer i feel bigger, i feel thicker on my body and my head i know im not, -i know that truly but my mind is acting sicker

[lovedmollema]

my room is messy so i cant get out my bed is packed with all my things an apartment layed out on a queen size matress my house is vast, it echoes- it shows how much room i have left to fill i keep food in my room like a hoarder i watch it mould, i gag, im drained if i watch it live i wont eat it. if i watch my food mould i dont eat it. i wont eat. i cant think like this anymore but its force of habit, force of nature stuck in this house i built on my bed with food I cant eat and legs I cant feel i cant eat it. i wont eat.

[lovedmollema]

The heat from outside had sizzled my skin to a red burgundy, a hint of pink tracing the white peeling shell around my body, as my shirt starts dripping in salt water excreted from my body carrying a nauseating smell im ashamed to bring to anyone, the hose starts going; leaving me soaked in so many liquids im scared to name, some chemicals, some just water, hopefully all covering up the putridity left on me already. Maybe I’ll see him today, maybe I won’t, but no matter what I entail the curiosity of Murphys law will abide me to prepare for the meaningless conversation we will both have to endure.   My thoughts race, planning each word said to be spoken in perfect detail, 12 o’clock races towards me, bathing in sunlight left in the rainbow haze of drifting water still chasing after me. I think more, and think again, but im stopped by the sound of his car rallying towards me, that might be exaggerated but his force and his speed told me it was clearly, not a good thing. I brace myself for failure yet he gets out arranged with unboned haste; wailing his whines holding arms flustered arrogantly twisting the smashed up peony’s allotted to his arms. Somehow it’s my fault he cheated on me. Somehow his drunken self is so considerate of my actions and what they do to him, means his forcefield of selfishness perceives me as the assailant. Men who ride dicks for a living cannot be blaming me for getting his twig a little wet. God forbid I do the same the minute he leaves my house.  PS i watched a tiktok and got excited this isnt how i feel about anything nobody cheated on me gang

[lovedmollema]

i grew up in a house where scales were banned, you'd think id be perfect, but sometimes, things are inevitable. my protectors tried so hard to keep me safe from those fuelled by harm but when evil is rooted in blood, and my protectors are sewn to a woman so blunt, so passionate, of my love for brownies, lasagne, and cheese, things are inevitable.

[lovedmollema]

turns up the music so thoughts dont intrude -phoebe bridgers

[lovedmollema]

bittersweet

walked out of the gates that took me in, refused my presence, disputed my actions but something in me, something that shouldn't act this way, felt solemn. bittersweet. i'm leaving, for good. a change in my life so large, so compelled so strong, so harsh, so free, so pure, i'm entering a life i have no plan for i'm entering a world i've never seen before beyond the gates, i'm scared. i cry in my room, i lie to myself, i feel so strong, but merely i am weak. i'm so tied to my life, a place i feel safe but when i'm called, a whisper, a whine, a fire, a window, a world to be seen, a world on fire, a world with a timer, a wire, a lens, a world that i'm chained to a duty, a calling, a dream im engaged to. at 17, something changes. your life shuns before you know it. as you walk out the gate, that has raised you, sink or swim. its bittersweet.

[lovedmollema]

homesick

I found myself at home

All alone, on the grass

Sitting sanctioned

Sitting sad

Sitting where im meant to be

I feel at peace

I feel at rest

When I wake up im 

Stuck

Found myself down Stanley street

Old cobbled dust and rocks on my feet

Im walking alone, arms wrap myself

Im all alone, im so by myself

8 days till its done, 

Till my whole life changes

8 days till im gone

Till my whole world collapses

How is a girl at 17

Meant to know what the whole world means

Found myself on Stanley street

Now im all old, with no home to see

The gate is unlocked, 

The trees are all gone

The house is destroyed

My home is torn

Found myself on Stanley street

A girl all grown up

I sit on the cobbled dust

And I breathe

I choke, I scram, I loose myself

I find a world beyond myself

I can’t live here, I can’t be here

I dont know where else to go I dont live here,

I dont belong

How is a girl at 17

meant to know where she belongs

[lovedmollema]

why do i fear everything i do, like every word i say, every place i land my feet, every time i move, every friend i make, every person i see, is wrong. what is wrong with me that i cannot make a decision worthwhile, that i regret nothing but everything at the same time. im incapable of freeing myself from my own disregard.

[lovedmollema]

i use words to describe how i feel but i dont think i know the right words to use.

[lovedmollema]

"youre not alone" but i really want to be

[lovedmollema]

theres this silence in the world. but, the only way to truly hear it is through noise. sometimes people make the wrong noises. they just need to be heard, too.

[lovedmollema]

Four ones dont make a right

More ones dont make it right

Counting by twos seem to skip some numbers

99 ones dont make a hundred

Numbers overwhelm, suffocated

By issues

Breathe in breathe out

That’s two, now four, 

Restart, restart, 

Skip a few, did I get it all?

More ones dont make it right

Restart restart

Can’t start again 

Im too far gone

Im in the thick

Restart restart

Breathe in breathe out

Breathe again and again

That’s two that’s four

That’s two that’s one

That’s more than enough

Still never more than enough

I need to count the things ive done 

Relapse now count the numbers ive done

Time done, time thought, time listening

Time works, time heals, done thinking

Wrong turn right turn

Left here, left me right here

Count the turns count the breaks

Count it all, dont stop

Can’t have silence, can’t have peace

More ones dont make it right. 

More lives dont make it right. 

[lovedmollema]

i don't think suicidal people think life is meaningless, instead they think life isnt for them.

[lovedmollema]

I'm still here though.

[lovedmollema]

i was there with you when we had the conversation. I sat with my hand on my dog, fingers scratching her ears as she winced when the voices got louder. I winced when my voice got louder. We talk and talk but you cant hear you fight what we say like its nothing, a magazine thread and a hot new thing, but youre hurting us. you lean in for a sip with my eyes watching you, you dont see me, but boy do I see you. I see it every time. At least I used to. It got worse this year. Excuse after excuse, all I heard was your winging, "no car", "so much work", "it's raining", blah blah blah. As soon as I risk my grades to help you fix your problem, it became mine. It wasnt anything to bother you, a deep-rooted decision fortified within your bounds, but nobody can touch it. not even me. I want to help you but you make it so hard, I can't help you anymore. you made dinner, with each walk into the kitchen, stacking plates I cleaned earlier, one by one, you mutter. under your voice, sly comments on my hand around the house, what I'm doing what I'm not doing god i can't do anything to please you. you were meant to be my best friend but it seems like you cant hear me. Im working so fucking hard day and night to do the one thing i need in life and god you make it so hard. god you make my life harder and i feel so guilty about it. I can't help myself anymore. Im weighted down by the glasses poured on top of me glass shards gashing my skin blistering and bubbling and slicing me inside out. im drowning in you. He got up from the table arms wailing voice wailing but what he was saying had a point; you pick fights with us when you drink, you pick fights with me. "i'm not doing enough" im doing what I can. WE'RE doing what we can. you just picked up the slack without telling us when were working our fucking asses off to please you. what do you WANT. we gave you everything you asked forgot somehow. somehow im still your fucking enabler.

[lovedmollema]

i hope i die in this hole