#zi writez

[milkbunnicult]

I finally got back into journaling......its been ah... something, for sure

[milkbunnicult]

I'm not sure what this is besides 2 am brain vomit, but i figured if anyone would enjoy it, it would be you lovely little freaks

[milkbunnicult]

Would anyone maybe wanna like.....go have a picnic in an abandoned house.... maybe look up through the hole in the roof at the stars while we lay on a pretty blanket....make each other jewelry out of the deer bones we found on the lil hike in.....sing pretty little songs for only us and the moon to hear...??

[milkbunnicult]

Youre just like your father

sat in your room. lights dark and bones aching. stratching at some door, somewhere. that light hum of the fan in the bathroom, leaking through paper walls. a heavy form beside you. hot as hellfire next to your corpse like coldness. voices dancing around your ears. "youll be just like your father". the rage builds from nothingness, cold and unwavering, pleading to deafened ears for you to bloody your knuckles on soft flesh and hard bone. yearning for the spreading warmth in your stomache as your vision blurs and it fights to free itself from the dark and dead parts of you. "the world is brutal and unkind and unyielding . why should you not be?" clenched fists, crescent moons carved into the scar lined palms of your cold shaking hands, knuckles white and blood thirsty. "they make you a weapon  and demand you kneel and obey before your tormentors.  and yet you listen. you listen to the very being that turned you into this bitter monster. weak and pathetic". fervored steps and burning gulps sinking to your core. you stand before yourself, looking into deadened eyes and grinding teeth. hate and rage and pain spew from your bared jaws, knuckles bloody and mind numbed. youre just like your father

[milkbunnicult]

dear friend, a word vomit about one of my hallucinations

a shadow sits in the corner. "are you ready?" it asks. i shake my head, knees to my chest and hands trembling. i can feel tears welling up behind my eyelids but nothing comes out. i look up into where eyes should be and sense comfort and darkness. his hands out stretched, waiting, i know. I've never asked what i'm supposed to be ready for. i dont think i need to. "you cant hold onto this forever" it says softly, a whisper echoing in my head. i shake my head again. my head buries into my arms and i feel tears finally flow. "please," is all i can say, but i know it understands. "you cant help it," it hushed. "im too much," i cry. "youre sick," it said. "i am broken." theres a long pause. just the plain darkess and it and me.  "you are. you are in little pieces, but tears and blood will not hold them together," it finally replied, "neither will the arms of another." "they all leave anyways," i breathe between sobs. theres the ghost of a hand on my shoulder, cold and soft. "yes. they come, and they see your broken little pieces, and they leave. and you sit here, more and more broken every time." theres an odd, solemn sadness in its nothingness voice. "and youre here," i whisper. "and im here," softness, warm but cold, terrifying yet comforting in all the same confusing breath, "as i always will be."

[milkbunnicult]

I rise

A quick measure of whos asleep and the light from the sheet-covered window to figure out if its midnight or 5 am

I tiptoe

Or I try to

Its a little hard to judge with how many 'one more sip's I've taken by whichever point I'm at

Still

I try

And I go. And I sit. And I forget time and everything exists, if I ever even really knew it did, and I blink, and both years and seconds pass in it.

I stand. I pull some ratty, likely paint stained pants up.

I stare at the mirror after I'm finished.

Its not wistful. Its not 'Noir film protagonist splashing water on his face before he goes to his thankless job'

Its just that, exactly.

Staring.

Memorizing lines and shadows that hadn't been there before.

God, when even was the last time I look in a mirror for longer than a fleeting flash of a glance

Thats me.

Its a difficult two syllables, to even think.

Thats not me. I'm still 17, with bright hair and still somewhat bright eyes. They're a little dulled but what wouldn't be by almost dying a handful of times and trying to so many more than that.

And somehow both hours and mere seconds have passed again. I'm not even sure I blinked

I asked a silent, self pitying question, of if this is all I'll ever be.

The answer comes from not some distant voice or higher power.

If this is what I'll accept as all I can be

Accept

Do I have power in it...???

Was I born rotten? Or did one of the too many to name vices plant the seed that grew into whatever decaying thing that burns in my brain and my lungs and my heart and my throat and my

I blink

Seconds or hours

Does it even matter at this point...?

Get through the next hour.....or more accurately, get through the next *insert unnameable and incomprehensible jumble of time felt missing* and try to take another breath and feel another beat of a heart

Its weak.

It may not feel it to outside hands

It may feel strong. Resilient. Normal.

I can feel it

I can feel it

I can feel it