#borderline vent

[maybeineverwas]

why wont they love me what am i doing wrong (said right after screaming and breaking things and sobbing and throwing up and trying to admit self to 5 different wards and arguing with the corner of the wall)

[birdlocated]

I genuinely dont think a show has broken me in a long, long time like The Case Study of Vanitas has. I cant tell if im just close to my period and hormonal, but the amount of distress I feel just thinking about Vanitas and Noe-

Literally was just watching edits of the show and had to stop because a particularly angsty one made me cry. And it was just the Amusement park arc with Mary had a cross. Like??? Girl you did NOT need to cry over that

Anyway im broken i will never recover ive shattered into a million pieces just like Vanitas and Now I gotta find a hot vampire guy to kill me when my time comes

[virtualsorrowhellscape]

Me when I know that no matter what they say to me, this conversation is pointless.

[emaildog]

there is something in me that is not the same as other people. and I know everyone says that. and I know I'm probably not alone. but I also know the people to accept me will never Actually accept me and for good reason, because I am not one of them. I only find reprieve in thinking about being braver and actually doing normal self harm, or running away, or trying to die and regretting it. but I'm not that brave. All I feel in my stomach is this churn of anxiety and when I see the version I wish I was, which is more traumatized and more abused and more hurt so that the way I feel can be validated by something real (and because I have tricked myself into being turned on by these things, because in the end I am still a rotten person), represented - guilt and shame and jealously and guilt over the jealously and anger at myself and the artist / author / poster and then shame over the whole thing all over. I want bad things to happen to me sometimes because I think it will feel good. how awful is that ! this form of flagellation that is also stolen valor, in a way, from the people who experienced terrible things and wouldn't wish it on their worst enemy. I refrain from saying I'm a bad person because truly I don't feel human at all. I feel like some animal, some well-loved pet dog, that was made to walk on two legs. I want attention and affection and compassion and friendship and romance but the darkest parts of me still feel so empty because I do not hurt enough? And even at my most depressed I only want to be hurt more, even though I feel plenty of pain as is. Is it just for it to be more real? So I have an excuse? there's no question about my sexual and shameful desires and personality that are not answered by my selfish, superego tendencies. it feels like no one is ever going to be allowed to know who I am outside of the people I see on tumblr with the desire to hurt me or also be hurt. I am so glad there are people who would like to do bad things to me, but the admission of that makes me nauseous. I cannot ever imagine a world in which this doesn't haunt me and eat at me and alienate me from my peers at a base level.

[maybeineverwas]

having a partner thats actually good for me after everything ive been through is so unorthodox. what do you mean i dont have to tell you exactly where i am at all times and its okay that we dont talk sometimes and i am allowed space and privacy. what is this. whats the catch. when do i get hurt?