#day1509

[deathimselfart]

⌇⍾⎍⟟⎅

[yourflowersfirst]

day 1,509

“look at me,” kyle grabbed my face roughly. i pulled back. to no avail. the tendons in my throat sang with pain. “you are nothing but a slut. no one will ever respect you. do you understand that? you’ve embarrassed me.”

i stomped out the fiery urge to bite his hand clean off. “i don’t even have anyone except you in my life anymore. i have only ever done what you told me to. what more do you want?”

“i want you to be mine.”

“i am yours. if only you were a little nicer-‘’

“what? what did you say?” kyle shoved me, not hard, but enough to cause me to collapse onto the cat-stained couch with a hmph. “do you think anyone will treat you better than this, given how disgusting you are?”

i thought about it. i rubbed my jaw and cheeks where they ached. “no. i guess not.”

kyle invaded my space then, leaving no room for protest. he was on me. incessant. parasitic. he kissed me so hard i bled. it wasn’t sweet or loving, it was all consuming, leaving no part of me left. he sank his teeth into my collarbones, making me bleed there, too. i squirmed, trying to escape, but he was twice my size. i gave up. my body froze, went slack against his harsh skin. fighting would only make it hurt worse. “that’s it, you whore. my whore. don’t fight this. you know i’m what you need.”

i started crying, really crying- it made no difference. i drove back to hilliard that night, the space between my legs sore. my back warm with blood and fresh scarring, and the cicadas were singing as i wheeled past- echoing what kyle said. i’m just a whore. no one else would ever love me like this. he was the best i deserved.

the lamb may bleat and cry, and that shiver of fear may crawl up its spine when it sees the knife. but it knows not to curse god, it knows not that it was born for sacrifice. it only knows the betrayal of the shepherd who’d raised it, once loving hands become violent. you have to understand, this was how kyle and i were. that’s all i was.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

“hey. look at me, please.”

my mother didn’t sound angry, just sad and tired. i glared at her, in a teenage girl sort of way, one eye covered by my stupid emo bangs. “you ruined my life,” i mumbled.

“i’m just trying to help you,” mom sighed. “you’re giving everyone such a hard time. so difficult. i’m sure this is all a cry for attention.”

my freshman year of high school was plagued by arguments like this. i was 91 ish pounds but i still felt like a walking monster, too big for anyone to want or notice, taking up too much space. i wore huge band tshirts and black skinny jeans every day, played clarinet, and wrote in my journal during meal times. i often loved people so hard i was afraid my heart would fall right out my chest, slithering out of my sternum and onto the ground with a splat. i was dizzy with self control and counted calories until i fainted.

“i don’t mean to,” i whined. “and it’s not a cry for anything, just let me do what i want in peace. i’m quiet about it. i promise ill be fine.”

my mom started the car- a 2005 teal saturn. “that’s not how this is going to work. you’re not healthy right now.”

“what, coming into school during my lunch period isn’t enough? you have to make my life worse, embarrass me? you have to force feed me like i’m a prized pig?”

“if i don’t go in, you won’t eat lunch,” i felt her frustration with me growing. “your doctor told us this is what you need.”

“that doctor is full of shit-

“hey. language.”

“-and you lied to me! you’ve been sneaking ensure into my food this whole time. that’s so many extra calories, fattening me right up. you’re a liar. you and everybody else thinks i’m ugly. i hate you.”

the silence was roaring for a while. i burned hot, but didn’t apologize right away. i sank into my seat and chewed at my nails until they bled, ignored my stomach growling and gnawing. finally, my mother said quietly, “you don’t mean that.”

“whatever.”

later, i’d scream the same thing at her, when she and my inpatient doctor tried to put tubes down my throat and nose, and bandage my knife wounds with gauze. the gauze and polysporin didn’t help long term. i still have white slashes on my legs and left forearm. i still have an eating disorder, too, and i am still quiet about it. my mother was right, though- i didn’t mean that. years later, i’d apologize to her for being difficult, and feel so guilty i left. 2,000 miles away. out of sight, out of mind. all i am now is the stench of blood, stench of death. unnoticed by all. i am the withered hollyhock in the yard, blooming over bones, untended to and left to rot.

[kabunaluna]

May 22,2024 Han Yangs flowers still look full on the second day

[russellolsonart]

2022 Daily drawing no.:048 Daily drawing no. to date.: 1,509 . . . . . . #day48of2022 #day1509 #1509 #february #february2022 #procreate #random #design #onedrawingadaychallenge #onedrawingaday #dailydrawing #drawing #illustration #russellolsonart https://www.instagram.com/p/CaGmx_HLB6p/?utm_medium=tumblr

[marcmadej]

#rsd1509 #day1509 #dailyrun #runstreak #nrc #fvrj #foxvalleyrunjunkees #runjunkees #goingfor2000 #dedicatedtochad #rip #godspeed #daily5kplus #blessed #drawwithyourfeet #brooks #lifeisgood #harvestnewbeginnings #loggingmiles Got 4 solo miles done in this awesome cool weather #happyplace #morningmiles #hashtag #yorkville #thedarlenemccuetrail (at Steven G. Bridge Ball Park) https://www.instagram.com/p/CDcVVFEgWetQ0yitu7jbx89DI1e6VUt3LG7bKw0/?igshid=exptxa33w7rq