okay so this is a nice outlet ;3
bpd free write moment!!!!
šŖ”š§µšŖ”š§µšŖ”š§µšŖ”š§µšŖ”
ribbed skin
I feel like my flesh is patch-worked,
Held together by strands of some sort of consciousness trying to sew together some sort of personality.
the looseness & the hastiness of these stitches leave every limb hanging on, miraculously
I fly through life, blindly & enjoy the recklessness. While i was falling I needed to tell myself that I was going to get out of this, somehow.
I didnāt know how, but I knew where I wanted to be
i put on a face, and said somehow
šŖ”š§µšŖ”
I lied to everyone
The flesh may be stitched but inside is a stew
this mind lies to me about reality, teeter tottering between and through all emotions
It was a whirlwind
my stomach continuously falling out during the periods of starvation
I tore my heart out and threw it at a brick wall, hoping it stuck to someone ,,,, like a noodle
I became frantic, i was running out of time. sewing together every popping thread, unable to see or notice whatās next
I am actively losing time endlessly and the threads are growing brittle.
i am growing brittle.
š§µšŖ”š§µšŖ” š§µ
finding this out in a 15 page psych report was paralyzing and I was in a constant state of panic. I couldnāt sew the pieces together because they didnāt go together.
what do you even make of a 3D flesh puzzle that doesnāt have instructions? or any sort of picture on what it could be or should be or will be
I am so afraid of doing it wrong, but Iām afraid itās too late
Time goes by and i am completely immersed in my vices
with a blank slate and mental illness soup, nothing tasted better than learning what love was through the sirens
I was ravished by them, as written in stone despite being aware of the prophecy.
I felt some sort of catharsis seeing my blood spill, I mean, I deserved it. I remember this kind of sharpness and the familiarity almost makes it feel nice.
the red O+ river rushes faster due to guilt, shame and mania. It felt good to laugh about it.
šŖ”
the predictability is boring at this point and I am so tired of falling.
trust me, I know that it is me
the over explanations, communication barriers & misguided passion has left my circles exhausted
itās ripping them too.
I need to do something about it.
šļøšļøšļø
the thing about thread maintenance on a doll like me is that the only way forward is doing everything I can to maintain balance between the pieces.
it doesnāt take long before some latch together like second nature & the flesh puzzle develops line work
š§©š§©āļøš§©š§©
I have to face these stitches everyday to keep it together - I owe it to those throughout time whoās believed in me. Given me a hand. Pushed me up.
the grip is easier but the heat persists, for them
on my best days, I can only feel the scars of my stitches. molded by the heat of disappointment, passion and unconditional love, my skin is thicker and I was somewhat weld together, only for myself
it almost feels painless to run my fingers across the scars
It will never go away, but on my best days
the threads of nurtured connections tie me to the earth
&
I can look in the mirror and know that somehow wholeness is near
after thoughts idk
uhhh I just wrote this on my couch while I let the brain worms have free reign on my notes app.
idk if itās good, iāll reevaluate during a time outside of the witching hours.
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my hair is getting longer & I donāt feel the need to cut it anymore.
itās nice to feel capable
