The Secret Keeper

A blog of someone who struggles with PTSD and MDD who loves anatomy, physiology, and things of the like.

[ruknowhere]

“We are here to help each other get through this thing, whatever it is.”

- Kurt Vonnegut

.

[buttonpoetry]

“You want to grab the past and tear it from your body even if it takes your organs with it.”

— Andrea Gibson, from Lord of the Butterflies 

[s3cretkeeper]

“I don’t think people love me. They love versions of me I have spun for them, versions of me they have construed in their minds. The easy versions of me, the easy parts of me to love.”

— (via allthatmattes)

[s3cretkeeper]

“This is why you should never, ever get your hopes up. This is why you should see the glass as half empty. So when the whole thing spills, you aren’t as devastated.”

— Emily Giffin, Something Borrowed (via simply-quotes)

[naturaekos]

“I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.”

— Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis (via amargedom)

[amortizing]

““Sometimes people don’t want to hear the truth because they don’t want their illusions destroyed.””

— Friedrich Nietzsche (via naturaekos)

[lolasweetsurrender]

[buttonpoetry]

“You want to grab the past and tear it from your body even if it takes your organs with it.”

— Andrea Gibson, from Lord of the Butterflies 

[sickwithsyllables]

“I. Flash lightning twice if you’re out there, God. II. I wish you’d look at me like I still mattered. III. Your dog is in a better place. IV. Is her mother doing well? She was always kind to me and I’d hope that kindness would be repaid by the universe. V. Roll thunder once if you’re not. VI. Where does a memory go when it is forgotten? Does it cease to be a memory then? VII. I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow. VIII. He doesn’t deserve reprieve. I want his bones to disintegrate. Marrow first. IX. I am sorry that I am a hypocrite. X. Are we just like memories? Do we cease to become when we are gone? XI. Please don’t break me. XII. I can’t see lightning. I can’t hear thunder. XIII. Have mercy on those that do not understand. XIV. May death never touch those that I love. Protect the ones I leave my heart for. XV. I do not understand. XVI. Please forgive me.”

— “My Prayer Bracelet Has 16 Beads (16 Prayers)” - Nishat Ahmed

[s3cretkeeper]

Marrow First.

[buttonpoetry]

“The truth hurts. Like when you take your hunting knife and you carve your initials into my chest, I remain stoic. Unflinching.”

— Ben Wenzl, “Deforestation”

[adrenaline]

“I’m lonely. And I’m lonely in some horribly deep way and for a flash of an instant, I can see just how lonely, and how deep this feeling runs. And it scares the shit out of me to be this lonely because it seems catastrophic.”

— (via flame)

[beautyinthebellejar]

Can you write a letter from your ptsd to you? I've been trying to put it into words but can't seem to do it

Dear tortured one,

I am sorry

I am sorry

I am sorry

I am trying to remind you.

And how many sleepless nights have I forced you to spend with me wide eyed drawing depictions of debauchery on the cavernous ceiling until the stark light of an early sunrise bleeds through Venetian blinds like weeping wounds wilting seeping through bandages.

I did not steal your light. I am the symptom of that which was pilfered. I am the aftermath of a transient hurricane terminally traipsing through your cranium cloying in tangled masses of grey matter seasick like mermaid hair every synapse

misfires into an anthology of history

I will not let you forget

the worst day of your life

gathered in huddled masses heaps of uncremated ash still incarnate carnations assembled in human form flocking to the mandible of a jarred kitchen door I am the resonating whitewashed winter whiplash of a ricocheted car wreck boomerang returning nightly to your doorstep like a sickly dog,

I will not let you be inveighed upon again, I will not allow you to be harmed

vigilant wide lipped pupils dilated like an eager Doberman defending the fortress of your fragility every silhouette will ignite in red flags and signal flares your skin will crawl in porcupine quills of vapid venom menacing reaching for Mace like a tube of red lipstick at the onset of a soiree

I am here to protect you; I am here to destroy you

how many days have I forced those lonesome verdant stems of anorexic forget me nots shriveled down the turnstile Seine of your trachea making you remember every melancholy moment every stab wound inflicted between the porous colanders of your thighs 

I have turned every breath into a revival, every stranger smile a Civil War reenactment at Antietam suffering soldiers slipping through the cracks of your capillaries when you cut deeply into the Alaskan white of your arteries mining for gold trying to efface those intrusive thoughts I provoke

like a sadistic snake charmer rising

every fractured, faded bone buried in backyards face down when he tore your nylons and you drank from the swamp gutted by the Gestapo a cameo appearance in every silver haired nightmare 

I refuse to allow it to fade

this portrait will not blur to vignette at the edges like an unfinished symphony I will not let this protein digest in the annals of your sick stomach twisted in constrictor knots of constant anxiety unrelenting ache within your marrow 

I will repeat his face like a spectral haunting hanging from mother of pearl strands in Kosovo gallows a coda at the end of an orchestral piece played out in the uncoiling of body memories flooding the contracted hammocks of your sacrum

the thrusting of mistrusting pangs at every wedding shower

I will awaken you in flashbacks in cold sweats like clippings of obituaries commemorated in massacred memoirs rancid repetition fluttering flashbacks flickering in frequent flooding every Freudian slip

will taste 

of his name.

Dear tortured one,

I am sorry,

I am sorry,

I am sorry

I am trying to protect you. 

Sometimes

lightning strikes

twice.

[s3cretkeeper]

2/18/14

In the last 48 hours a was re-victimized. In the last 24 hours i had to sit through a rape kit, sit with two detective all the while working 13 hours in between the incident and the hospital. I didn’t shower after the assault because of my extreme pain from my skating injuries, which are now even more exacerbated. Which i guess was lucky because they could pull dna still. I feel like my skin is infested with him. I want to drain all the blood out of my body. All i can visualize is that blacklight tinting my skin purple with disgusting neon splotches appearing from their once invisible domain. I can’t keep going on living like this.I’m already do damaged and use. Re-victimization is bullshit. I can’t keep living, This is impossible.

[s3cretkeeper]

2/14/16 This is the only thing I’ve thought about since February hit. I feel like trash.

[s3cretkeeper]

2/17/19

And still, I can’t help but to feel so disgusted and damaged.

[priezpourlui]

[purplebuddhaquotes]

“Sometimes I just think depression’s one way of coping with the world. Like, some people get drunk, some people do drugs, some people get depressed. Because there’s so much stuff out there that you have to do something to deal with it.”

— Ned Vizzini

[purplebuddhaproject]

“I hate small talk. I want to talk about atoms, death, aliens, sex, magic, intellect, the meaning of life, faraway galaxies, music that makes you feel different, memories, the lies you’ve told, your flaws, your favourite scents, your childhood, what keeps you up at night, your insecurities and fears. I like people with depth, who speak with emotion from a twisted mind.”

—

Breagha Young

(via purplebuddhaquotes)

[buttonpoetry]

“I’ve got a hamper full of really loud mistakes and a graveyard in my closet. I’m afraid if I let you see my skeletons, you’ll grind the bones into powder and get high on my fault lines.”

— Rudy Francisco, from Helium