#&damsel

[vernalvacancy]

Being screamed at and threatened for trying to take any knives out of the bathroom so our housemate doesn't hurt themselves fucking sucks :)

[altartidingarchive]

chronic pain is super fun

[altartidingarchive]

sing your prayers say, “I’m gonna be alone forever because I fucked up and ended up here and now everything is awful and I just want the fucking terrifying horrible life I had before because at least you were there and he didn’t have to be and now I’m just sitting here on the verge of fucking breaking because I so desperately don’t want to be alone that I’m going to be a baby about it. Being hunted was better than this.”

[altartidingarchive]

Also apparently? It's? Not a common thing to have the compulsive urge to stick your finger in your cats mouth when he yawns?

[altartidingarchive]

We have 200% Normal™ behaviors, what are you talking about?

[altartidingarchive]

makes UP pay us for being on tumblr because there's nothing else to do at work rn

[altartidingarchive]

I don't know why objectively looking back at the distance between moments in our brain you get these half-hearted feelings stuck in your gut. It's a system-wide thing, it's the same ache that twists itself into anxiety upon thinking about something too close to the edge. We feel sick, whether it be anxiety or fear or actual illness who knows these days, everything's been blurring.

You are a figment of your own imagination, you are a mirror a glass half full of air and half empty of water, of every person who's ever inhabited this space. You are a blur.

We're scattered, we're sand over wind over sand over water. We're fractions and decimals, we're first grade science class learning how to grow a butterfly from a crysalis encased in concrete. We always have been.

There isn't a time before the chasms in between memory were spelunkable. There isn't a time before deepsea exploration in the oceans in our bodies led us to the bottoms of our hearts and to scraping the bottom of the barrel for the things to dress our wounds.  Before the war effort of head vs heart, the battles between the church of forgetting and the state of remembering.

He is standard issue, built from parts and pieces, built from nothing more, build from everything and nothing, built to be a figment of a figment of a figment of your imagination. A filament that just burned out.

She is running from a thing that doesn't exist anymore, she went extinct a decade ago and since she's just been pretending she's not a ghost. When her fingers brush the inside of your palm you feel cold and something wrenches your gut.

You are losing, you are the losing game the losing battle, lost in the cracks between reality and what you suppose reality must be.

You wonder if the people who used to know you know how many people they knew. You wonder if the people who used to know you know you're not them anymore. You wonder if that's a good thing

I don't know why I feel the need to rip myself apart at the seams for a history that's not even close to mine. I just know that something has to be done.

[altartidingarchive]