#bloo bloo

[meltymoth]

oh, also, the lack of art posting is just cus i'm trying to be real diligent about getting my current set of comms done in a certain amount of time. it's going well!

[hunni-hive]

#bloo help me pick one

UHHHHHHHHHH........

Yes

LOL WHY IS THIS KINDA FUNNY

[heartsnbruises]

more whining!

this time, under a convenent cut, cuz i’m not on mobile!

so I emailed my mom about the whole UNENDING TIDES OF BLOOD thing, told her about everything I’ve tried, and admitted that we’re now looking at a hysterectomy to solve the problem. and what did I get in fucking reply?

“ Oh dear, surgery seems so … so … extreme.”

yeah? you know what else is fucking extreme? TWO YEARS OF ONSTOP BLEEDING. EVERY DAY. HEAVILY. my crotch deciding it’s a great fuckin’ idea to wake me up every day with a fuckin’ re-enactment of the prom scene from “Carrie.” THAT is fuckin’ extreme. and mind you, they have NO FUCKING IDEA what caused my uterus to go from being totally cool with me for the past 29 years, to suddenly becoming a meat version of the elevator from “The Shining.” so I don’t even have a reasonable explanation for what’s going on. and it gets fucking WORSE every time I try to do something. after my first ultrasound last year, I started dropping blood clots the size of a friggin’ garden slug. The birth control pills had no effect other than turn me into a raging mood swingy bitch. I STILL haven’t stopped cramping up from last week when they tried to put in the IUD. and now I think I’m bleeding even HARDER after this last batch of ultrasounds.

yes, it’s fucking extreme. I want to nuke this fucker from orbit and go back to a normal fucking life without worrying about bleeding on every fabric thing I own.

[sewingkagz-blog]

IM SO TIRED BLOO BLOO BLOO

[heartsnbruises]

two weeks sober, and the demons that were kept silent by my nightly drinking have awakened again, howling at me incessantly.

i try to remind myself that I am loved, that people appreciate me, that i would be missed if i was gone, but my words seem to vanish into the abyss of whatever the fuck this is in my mind that fills me with such despair. like throwing lit matches down a mineshaft.

it’s all i can do to keep putting one foot in front of the other, keep showing up to work, keep being a good little productive cog in the machine that capitalism built. after all, a broken cog is worthless, right?

[p0cket-dragon]

My duty in this existence is to serve, but it is not to be taken advantage of time and time again.

[thetigerisariver]

Moving finally?? Let’s hope so.

[heartsnbruises]

WALL OF SADTEXT. on mobile.sorry.

My life is turning into a series of dates to survive until; my birthday, Halloween, lores next visit, the next big game release, just landmarks in the distance I keep telling myself to get to next. Every day is blurring into the next, smudging into one long, bland parade of bullshit. Its beginning to feel like the world's shittiest Resource Management RTS: do I have enough gas for my car? Enough money for gas? Enough food? Money for food? Clean clothes? Enough fucks to give for grocery shopping/doing laundry /working /showering/getting out of bed /existing? --I drink because it gives me some control over my head again. I feel like a prisoner in my own mind, subject to the fickle whims of my past, my memory, my neuroses, the fucked up electrochemical soup that decides whether I want to die today or put on pants and pretend I'm a functional member of society. Flooded in gin, whiskey, vodka, everything becomes more manageable. The pain is numbed, the inexplicable sadness replaced with fuzzy contentment. Now try to tell me its a bad thing. If I'm not punishing my liver, I'm scarring my arms, drawing blood in a futile attempt to purge the sorrow like a medieval surgeon. If I'm not killing brain cells, I'm killing myself slowly in any other way, food, reckless behavior, god knows what else. I hurt myself to keep from hurting myself worse.