#existential depression

[dadaaesthetic]

"I've heard wings in my heart"

Arthur Rimbaud

[guesswewillfindout]

Sometimes I don't think that anyone knows what it's like to feel this broken and sometimes I think that there are millions of people who feel this broken and I don't know which is worse.

[lastpositivist]

The excellent Storykillinger drew this for a Khornite OC detective from a story I'm writing and, like, sometimes it's just the mood.

[futilereality]

Yeah, right.

[salmonella-destroyer-of-worlds]

[nostalgicvybe]

Imagine

[anthropologistfromentropy]

I got positive feedback for my writing in my course today. But the way one older student called it irony and said paying bills doesn't sound like a sadistic prank hurt so much. I wish I could tell them.

How knowing you have talent and potential, but having an exremely poor and inconsistent ability to actually do even the most basic tasks, is a traumatizing experience society doesn't acknowledge. (Especially when you burn out really easily, and get physically sick from stress - sometimes even having had anaphylaxis)

How living as a paraphile and having had to endure years of death and rape threaths in order to find peer support and friends you don't have to fear would hate you, is a traumatizing experience.

Still, doctors and psychologists don't understand why you would need help, if you don't fear you might hurt somebody. Still, you need to find motivation to study and be a part of society that wants you and your friends dead.

How living through 3 years of crisis after crisis - covid, attacks on trans rights and a fear of genocide, war in Ukraine - is a traumatizing experience. Somehow social security and my university expects that shouldn't affect my progress in my studies.

So yeah, I feel like capitalistic expectations that I should be able to write my thesis and pay bills like everything is fine is a sadistic prank. This existential trauma and stress is trying to destroy my ability to write, my ability to function.

I wish I could just collapse on my knees and weep. But society won't even let me have that. It won't even let me talk about my trauma. THIS is what I mean by no one can hear or understand me.

At least, I keep surprising myself by what one can bear, and still find beauty and meaning in their life. Viktor Frankl was definitely right.

[smokethendie]

More pictures taken in Stray

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