Hello :))
Since I havenāt been able to access my website recently (https://thegvttr.neocities.org)
im gonna dump all my thoughts here as a temporary blog, this might go to shut but all we can do is try.
recently life has been quite a struggle, Iām not in school because of my mental health, and that means Iām stuck inside baking in the heat of my laptop screen and fossilised into my 3 mattressās. I claw my way out every morning to take a piss and roll back in, instagram reels already rolling past my eyes. A constant headache pumps blood behind my eyes and Iām slowly waiting for my skull to explode from the pressure.
(Tw for description of self harm, suicide and a brief mention of eating disorders)
to give context to the āmental healthā that has been keeping me from school. Iāve struggled with self harm for almost 5 years now. Despite everything, the stitches and the blood and the bubbles of flesh, I canāt stop. And thatās where my problem comes into play
why stop when I donāt want to?
im not hurting anyone and even though I feel like my flesh is peeling away in the shower and the concave cavern of my stomach aches and groans, Iām not in emergency pain. Well, the hospital trips and nights spent hunched over the toilet bowl say otherwise, but who is to dictate what I do to my body?
splotchy ink adorns my skin and pins are pushed through my ears and yet, whenever I choose to leave a stylish scar above my right ankle, I need to go to therapy.
I understand, Iām not stupid. But I the way your brain terrorises you, Gambles with your life every day, your subconscious just a bystander. There to watch and the bath water turns red and you squish your flash back together in a desperate attempt not to splash blood on the bathroom tiles.
the scariest part isnāt the blood, or the yellow bubbles of fat, or the stringy fabric of pink muscle. Itās the fear of someone finding out, if your innards being smeared on the walls for all too see. In some ways I want that to happen, to stand, in a powder pink slip dress covered in my own blood like Carrie herself. Maybe then I would be sent away, where I could rot in a padded room only to strangle myself using my own blue hair.
my hair is blue and my blood is red.
just as tv girl said
