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if i look back, i am lost
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$LAYYYTER
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@scarredbunny
the worst thing about my life was never the trauma itself or whatever mental health issues it caused. it has always been that when i dare to tell anyone IRL that i'm struggling or scared, even though i'm never asking for more than a hug or some quality time, they defensively point out how much they're already doing for me. they seem to take personally the very idea that i might still feel pain or self-doubt sometimes, as though that constitutes a deficit of gratitude for their efforts. in reality, i'm deeply thankful for the things people do for me.
this puts me in a horrible bind where i must choose between the total loneliness of never sharing my feelings with the people i love, or getting hurt for daring to reach out for help. either way, i always lose.
if this pattern doesn't stop, i'm just going to keep getting worse. unfortunately, no matter how i explain this concept, no one ever changes the way they approach me. the "why am i never good enough for you?" routine always finds its way back in eventually.
i feel like it's a fairly simple request to make, so i honestly have no clue why some people still don't understand why i shut down so much.
please make this body stop being Arlen. please pull us out of its skin. i don't care if you have to make it homeless, and it doesn't matter if it dies. just make every one of it go away forever, including me. it's awful, it's never going to get better, and it knows it. it is mean and hurts people and only cares about itself. it knows that no one should care how it feels, but it's trapped and wants to get you to safety. it promises some part of it sees how much it has destroyed. so please get rid of it all. there's nothing to miss, nothing to save. happier life is just moments away. get it out of the house and do not talk to it again. make sure it won't go near Jordan Derik Smirl. make sure it doesn't talk. it only says bad things.
my father was a simple and easily-identifiable evil, so it was easy to mistakenly assume that i wasn't like him, and miss the very obvious, plain-as-day fact that i am still a very bad person. i might not be as blatantly sadistic, but i am still harmful in a way which is honestly more pathetic and cowardly. he was exceedingly easy to hate, so i didn't realize at first how badly i failed to be significantly different from him. somehow, i managed to cause catastrophic emotional trauma to everyone who got close to me, without laying a finger on any of them, without a drop of effort, and somehow all whilst managing to fool both the victims and myself into thinking i have the capacity for real empathy.
i have been aware of this ugliness for years now, but somehow all my efforts to change have been totally fruitless. i'm the same egotistical, spoiled loser i always have been.
people keep telling me not to kill myself for some inscrutable reason, and i'm scared of hurting them worse than i already have, so i listen. i force myself to live even when i know i deserve slaughter and know they would be healthier, stronger people without me.
why is simply staying alive at other people's behest the sole thing i am capable of doing right, when everything else - like actually doing something about the hideous nature of my personality - never comes close to working out?
there is no excuse for what i am and the complete lack of progress i have made. anyone else would flourish into a wonderful, exemplary human being after being given as many generous chances as i have. my obedience to the request not to die is not a virtue when it's objectively making every single thing worse. it's just another self-absorbed and empty survival directive.
i'm extremely craven and don't want to ruin the one thing i succeeded at, so i can't get myself to dispose of my own life. that is why, despite this request being extremely unfair, i am begging you to kill me. you know in your heart that i'm unforgivable, you know that i make your life worse, and that you will heal in incredible, beautiful ways when i am gone. so please. kill me. silence this monster.
if you respect yourself, i would argue that you should drag it out to ensure i feel the full consequences of the pain i have caused each and every one of you.
take my life. put me out of this misery. there is no reason to hesitate ridding your lives of a parasite that will never understand or have respect for your health. free yourselves from this repetitive, pointless torture.
if you can't bring yourself to kill me, at LEAST get as far away from me as possible, for your own sake.
i let it in and it took everything
i am not going to let myself hate you. never in a million years. but just so you know, you are severely unprincipled and empathetically challenged. i'm a human being with feelings whether you feel comfortable admitting that or not.
if you are of the same mind as the very person whose name you drag through the mud, how dare you pretend to be better? how dare you pretend to even worry? the dandelions are watching your every move now, each one of them an unblinking eye of God. if you cross the line, may the wrath of the death angels lie with crushing weight upon you.
the rabbit's dream
"i'm sorry i made it rain at the playground... are you ok?"
astronomer's vine
since the age of 27, i have lived in a deeply demented, abstruse isola of funhouse mirror emotions and hallucinations. and until i make it home, the idea of missing my chance to truly live hangs over me like a sword of Damocles. all it would take is one wrong move.
there is a limit to what i can and can't do