TW for uhh..vent, I guess? And a lot of sensitive topics. Scroll with caution.
Does anyone else just get WAY too stressed and completely shut down? Like..have a kind of, Momentary, Pseudo-braindeath? You’ll just..keep taking information in, and you can’t do it, and you stop functioning like a ‘normal’ human being, and you can’t even nod or shake your head in response to things. And everything either gets ‘muted’ or turned to ‘100 volume’. Hearing everything, feeling your own blood pumping beneath your skin, but it’s nothing but static— and then when you come back, you missed whatever was going on? 4th time this week. I’m REALLY not excited for this to end. I mean, 7 siblings waiting at home. None of them are nice. Dads always at work, moms either stoned or drunk— I just needed to talk about things, even typing this I feel sick. I feel guilty, because, oh! At this age I don’t have anything to be bloody ‘worried or stressed’ over. When I’m not at Hogwarts, I’m taking care of breathing creatures that I didn’t even create. And that’s not even talking about the bloody intrusions. I enjoy taking care of those I love. Those I’m related too, despite being a sour apple about it, because most of the work wasn’t even done by the people who ‘made me’. I would’ve rather died in some fucked up accident then do this, sure, but then I wouldn’t have met them. The people that basically— saved my life. MY life.
I wouldn’t be alive, without them, genuinely. And I’m so thankful they’re here— but I get so frustrated with myself when I still can’t understand the answer to; “ Why do you enjoy being around me so much. “
I don’t know if I was just, entertaining. Like a jester infront of a large crowd. I don’t want to care for my own needs, but to cling to those people, would mean caring for how I look, How I dress, and how I act. I act upon intrusions, because, countless times— Robyn has had to chase me down all because I saw a frog. Or Kevin having to correct me because I didn’t word something correctly, or having to have one of the FREY’S remind me that I was ‘too close to the edge’. I don’t understand why people worry so much when I run into death and life situations, that’s all the time for me. The basilisk, the trolls, myself, and amongst other things people are concerned for— why and how I haven’t been stricken with the might and tyranny of the gods yet. A part of me, still can’t believe that someone still unconditionally wants me, so I sabotage myself into depressive episodes until I freeze in place and don’t move until things are over. Because it’s ‘better’ this way. I make the meals. I bathe them. I dress them. I have multiple jobs just to feed them, am I NOT doing it correctly? Why do they hurt me. Why do they call me ‘MOM’. I’m not a woman. I’ll never be a lady, I don’t care. I don’t care anymore. I’ve stopped caring for myself so long ago, that even the people who claim to DESPISE me, have to tell me what is and isn’t dangerous. For Merlin’s sake— I’m exhausted. I don’t know how much longer I can do this, I’m only in the 3rd year. I don’t know if I even WANT to keep this up. How do I know what comes next? How do I know if I’ll even have the energy to keep turning the pages? I’m not thrilled with my life. Most of the joys in it, only consist of people I’ve known for such short spans of time I can’t believe it. But I know the sinking feeling I get every time that makes me get worse, “ what if they leave eventually. “ kind of deal. I know they wouldn’t, they’d never. Right? I’m likely just overthinking again, it’s a bloody pain to deal with. I want to remain happy for them, I do. But it’s rare enough for me to be able to physically cry around people. I feel like a fake when I do. Like I don’t deserve to, and it just keeps ripping at me like an enraged Cerberus.
I don’t trust myself alone in a room for more then 10 minutes. There are so many things that cross my mind, some of them could get me out in a mental institution, and it’s not that I CRAVE death. I’m afraid to do it myself, but I consistently second guess it when I do think in such a manner. “ what if I slipped from the window and fell to my death? “ wouldn’t work. Can’t swim, why not drown in the lake? Get mauled brutally by some kind of vicious man-eating plant? Who knows.
I must be ‘perfect’ to continue to have people like and enjoy my presence. Even if it makes me tear at my own arms like they’re thin tissue sometimes. I have a hard time remembering people after long periods of time. I never want that to happen to them. I don’t want to forget, but eventually it’ll occur. Like the moron I am. All I ever was, is an object.
I could die tonight, tomorrow, the day after that. Who knows. Maybe I’d finally do it, and put an end to the fact people just have to- ‘put up with me’. Maybe I just need to sit down and breathe. I don’t know anymore. I get a break from these thoughts SOMETIMES, but who knows! Maybe I’ll be gone by morning.
…It’s funny isn’t it? I tried once. Didn’t work that first time. She wasn’t comforting at all when she found out. Those words were always left in the back of my thoughts after that. “ if you’re this miserable here, maybe I SHOULD let another family have you. “ but then again. She doesn’t need me when it doesn’t have to do with the kids. And with the recent accidents, all of them? Sometimes I wish one of them actually, finally, just…kicked me down hard enough. So I didn’t have to get up. But it’s for them, I can’t leave. It’d hurt them. I did have broken ribs, I did dislocate my arm. Severely. I don’t have upper body strength, but it’s fine right? She wouldn’t need nor feel the need to keep me around if her kids didn’t exist. Oldest of 8 in total. What a big joke.
I feel guilty when someone shows me unconditional love, so I constantly feel the need to give back to get it. And I try. And sometimes I fail, i barely eat as it is. I know it could be alarming to others around me, I understand why. I just don’t feel hungry anymore. The lack of it decreased my appetite to the point where I could eat half a bowl of cereal, or eat a small bag of granola, and I’d be full for hours. If I eat more then that I feel the need to vomit. I feel disgusting, and greedy. “ I can see your ribs! “ I know. But I physically can’t take more. I cannot eat more. It’s not fun. It’s not silly, it’s not any of the other STUPID phrases I use for ‘good’. I wish I could look myself in the mirror and genuinely mean the compliments I give myself. I’ve gone to the hospital wing so many times I’ve lost count, because I didn’t just fall asleep. I past out in the middle of class, and I’m not trying to sound melodramatic, but I take in so little nutritional value for my body that I have been close to having a reaper knocking on my door. I know what it’s like. I can only HOPE to the gods, that those kids NEVER turn out the way I did. That my friends don’t need to know what being uncomfortably grabbed or harassed for your suddenly ‘small’ body size is by a few of the more vile older students. Or your own blood, Or being forced into a position you can never forget and being overly ‘sexual’ because of it. I cried for hours after what happened to them. Not because I just, felt bad. I could’ve noticed. I could’ve done something for them. Because I’ve seen and dealt with it to extremes I shouldn’t dare mention, but I didn’t. I was blind. I was fucking BLIND, and I wanted to paint the floors with that horrible man’s blood. I should’ve known. It isn’t the first for me either.
But I’m not allowed to give him what he deserves. He’s ‘gone’ now. But it doesn’t change anything, you can scrub until you bleed, but it still feels it’s not gone. I wouldn’t wish this shit on my WORST enemies. It stays with you forever. Even if you want to stop remembering it.
I’m so sorry, that I didn’t see it.
