#tw thoughts

[shadowed-gazes]

okay I took the meds and I feel better now but it’s probably the placebo effect

(tw overdose)

I had to try not to down that whole bottle along with the Tylenol (I didn’t dw)

[maleficsin]

I'd love it if life could stop fucking up every couple steps I take lately. I've always felt a little off or a little weird or different...I've always held different perspectives on things than other people that may not have always been deemed as normal...but I always just thought it's just cause people don't understand me or my way of thinking an it's something that they're lacking..But Im starting to feel like the problem is me.. : /

[ratwithatophat]

Im so tired of everything. I just want to lay down for a moment...

[ivykatgreene]

What I was thinking during my panic attack.

I was alone. At night. No one knew I was panicking. I had music playing in my ears. Trying to block out the words that seemed to be coming from someone not myself.

I kept thinking. I couldn’t stop thinking.

Idk what I was thinking. I just couldn’t stop the panic.

I was alone.

And death didn’t seem scary.

That’s why I was afraid. I wasn’t afraid of death. It felt exciting and enticing 

It was extremely late. And I was probably being stupid from being afraid of nothing.

While my sister went to get my dad, there was a moment where…I wished I could just stopped breathing. Because it so hard to breathe..

Death didn’t seem scary. It seemed peaceful. Peaceful because I wouldn’t have to feel pain ever again.

And that’s why I was having a panic attack. Because I was having suicidal thoughts. I never had actual suicidal thoughts before. That’s why I was freaking out.

_____________

I’m ok. This is just me sharing on here because I’m scared of telling my family. Again.

I told my dad all that I was feeling. But I feel like talking about it again. And I don’t want to..bring anyone down rn.

I just need to talk about it.

[parasitexmoonxscarfy]

Don't Even Bother..

No one will ever choose me as their love. They'll never yearn for me. I'm done waiting on bullshit that'll never happen. This is what happens of years and years of pain does to me. Numb, useless, and done with love and life.

This is going to be my last post of this.. it's not going to do me any good. No one will fucking care.

[thrillhoues]

Someone asked on the Teen Wolf subreddit, and I don't go there, "What would you change about season one of Teen Wolf?" and I was about to answer "Gayer and less incel St!les."

But I knew I would get angry stans in the reddit I mostly use to ask dumb questions like "My cat fell asleep funny, what do?!"

[dismembereddream]

TW[SA, so please don't read if you're not comfortable :) }

I wanted to get a tattoo of Medusa(Iykyk). Not seriously, but the thought haunted me anyway. You know what I mean. But it feels like nothing would change even if I carved her into my skin.

Hell, I wouldn't feel relatable at all, because I have no memories. I'm trapped in the aftermath of something I can't even name, living in the echo of a scream I never heard.

It makes me wonder what the true reason is for Medusa having snakes for hair. Did she weaponize everything she went through, transforming her agony into armor?? Do the snakes represent her venom toward others, or the poison she turned inward because she can't even grieve herself peacefully anymore? She's no longer someone. Not god, not human. Just something in between, untouchable and finally untouched.

I can't use her eyes in the tattoo because I don't remember.

I can't tattoo her mouth because I'll never be able to express my thoughts to another human without it looking like theater, like I'm performing false symptoms because my brain learned trauma as its native language.

I can't even accept it for myself. I never did and I never will.

So I can't tattoo her ears or mouth or anything. Not even her voice box, because that's where her voice lives, and mine feels like all my vocal cords have gotten tangled together, twisted themselves into knots of inevitability and darkness, trying to strangle whatever I have to say, whatever I need to say, before it can escape into the world. Or maybe they're choking themselves on their own silence.

I don't know anymore.

I can't give her usual jagged cracks over a rocky surface on tattoo, because I still feel myself, and all those unfeelable, maybe unprovable surfaces of mine feel so fucking vile and rotten. Like something left to fester in forgotten places, crawling with maggots that feast on what I've become and never became, reeking of death of something that never properly finished its dying process. Medusa is marble carved, yet turned into something mournful by herself, yet beautiful even in her monstrosity, unbreakable and eternally strong.

She is strong. I am not.

What the fuck do you do when you're so fractured that you exist in the space between pretending and truth? When you've reached the point where you feel you may never be able to symbolize what lives inside you because even the most significant symbols taste like metallic ash?

When the very act of trying to give form to your formless pain feels like betraying something scarred, sacred and unnamed?

.

.

... call it void-as-testimony?

... call it I-have-no-mouth-yet-I-must-scream syndrome?

[sammybammy22]

When I’m gone, everyone’s gonna be like omg I miss her etc etc but I’m here right now and I don’t have a single person.

I just can’t wait to not be here…