anxiouskanger00

[theanxiouskanger00]

I’m Still Struggling

I forgot to eat again today. This is like the 6th time this week. It’s almost 1pm and I’ve barely eaten a single thing. I guess I had a croissant, but that’s not enough. That’s not nearly enough for me.

I’d have an easier time speaking up for myself if I felt my voice was being heard. I’d have an easier time standing still if my body didn’t insist on shaking. I’d have an easier time finding the light if my past wasn’t so dark.

Collin and Nickel have been magical for me, but magic won’t take the bottle out of your hand when you’re feeling sad. Magic doesn’t erase memories from last September. When nothing feels real anymore, suddenly magic doesn’t feel so special. Nothing is real. Even magic.

“It gets better” is nothing but a fabricated lie made in an attempt to make it to tomorrow. When this day ends, another one starts and it’s up to you to make it worth it. But when you feel like your own life isn’t worth anything the obligation for tomorrow doesn’t leave. Another day’s another pound and the weight pushes you another inch closer to the floor.

I’m so sick of being alone, even when I’m surrounded by people. Why does no one share my trauma? Am I the only one in the world who has fallen victim to false accusation?

I paint my face with white to hide the darkness that it’s seen. Maybelline slides from my eyes as I try desperately to lock the windows of my soul. If I shut the windows, nobody can feel how cold my soul really is. I swear I’m fine, mom. Just tired I guess.

[theanxiouskanger00]

Gay But I Have a Boyfriend,,,, help lol

I love my boyfriend.

I’m not saying I don’t, because I really, really do. I love his body, I love his parts, I love his aura and energy and vibes.

But boobs????

Have y’all ever seen a nice pair of tits? I don’t know what these feelings are, but the thought of a woman in my arms just makes me feel all kinds of things.

But I’ve been straight my whole life. And I can’t just ‘decide I’m gay’, or bi or pan or whatever because I don’t think that’s how it works. I didn’t have these feelings in middle school, why am I feeling them now?

Maybe I did a little, but I’ve always had such a thing for men; and this is the first time I’m even putting it in writing! This is terrifying, will probably delete later but...

Yeah. No, yeah, I’m sexually confused as fuck. Someone please help.

[theanxiouskanger00]

Nobody Believes the Falsely Accused

I keep 3 klonopin and a bottle of wine on the top shelf of my dresser in case I ever want to kill myself.

I’ve never told anyone this before.

I’ve been falsely accused of sexual assault.

The man who has accused me is lying of course, but in this day and age? Who would believe the assaulter?

Nobody believes the accused.

I am guilty until proven innocent. I am struggling to live with myself.

I did not harm this man.

He has no evidence.

But it doesn’t matter, because he said I hurt him and nobody would ever lie about that.

Right?

Nobody believes me. Does that matter?

Of course not.

Because he believes me, after all. He knows deep down I didn’t do it. And as long as he knows it, does it matter who else does?

Of course.

He’s addicted to the attention, so why would he come clean? After all, he’s the one with the support.

I’m the one who lost all their friends.

People feel like they’re helping when they believe those pleading cases blindly.

Is that a savior complex?

I have drank so much liquor. I have done so much coke.

Nothing numbs the false pretense of feeling like you’ve hurt someone you love.

Except I haven’t. Everyone just thinks I have.

Sometimes I even think I did. Then I remember the truth and cry myself to sleep.

My hearing doesn’t exist yet. Nobody will listen to me.

Every week I buy new socks because I can’t bring myself to wash the old ones.

I’ve been falsely accused of sexual assault.

I keep 3 klonopin and a bottle of wine on the top shelf of my dresser in case I ever want to kill myself.

I’ve never told anyone this before.

But it doesn’t matter.

Because nobody believes me.

[theanxiouskanger00]

somebody fucking listen to me

I don’t miss you

I miss who I remember you were

You miss who you remember I was

I miss how I remember I am

I can’t remember how to cry but I can still do it

I can’t remember what I was like before you but I can still feel it

I can’t explain what love is like but I can scream it

Sometimes I think the polaroids on my wall are mad at me ‘cause they remember things I don’t

Don’t, they ask, or can’t?

I’ll cry again, except it’s a relief ‘cause I’m reminded of a skill I forgot I know how to do

I’ll stop and forget all over again

Suddenly I’ll be 19, but the me that died is tired of watching my body grow old

Sometimes I’ll visit the grave of my soul, and I’ll see myself crying

A relief, my soul cries, my body remembers how to stop

I go to bed with the boy in a pastel sweater. He smells like winter

I cry just 1 more time and fall asleep in bed

Longing for August to come back.

[theanxiouskanger00]

I look so pretty today.

I look so pretty today.

I look so pretty with my pretty pink eyes.

They’re swollen and glittery and sad.

I love my eyes.

They’re shaped like almonds and will tell you the saddest stories you’ve ever heard.

They’re painted white and died in the downfall of September.

Sometimes my soul feels more pain than my body ever could.

It burns like a candle and melts from my eyes like tears. Have you eve felt you soul melting from your eyes?

Knots turn to rocks in my chest and my torso will sink to the floor.

Lying is nothing more than speaking. Betrayal is nothing less than doing.

I am nothing and my soul has fallen.

But at least I look pretty today.

[theanxiouskanger00]

Beginning of the end

It’s currently Tuesday, and my prom is on Thursday. I leave for a little over a month on Saturday, and then we have 4 weeks until I’m gone for good in college. I know it’s not like I’m dying or anything, but still, forever’s a pretty long time.

He’s coming over on Wednesday evening to spend the night at a hotel, night 1 of 2. He doesn’t want to, though. Anxiety gets the better of him and as he lays with me, he wishes desperately he was back in his own bed, his parents safe below him, his bird a foot from the old wooden staircase. For some reason, leaving the nest has him overcome with the darkest thoughts imaginable, sensations that leave a 19-year-old boy trembling.

“No tears this time,” I plead with him. “Let’s have no tears.”

“I can’t promise anything,” he says coldly, unconsciously resenting me for having him come at all.

He wants to live life, he just doesn’t want to leave his house to do it. How can anyone work with that? Hell, how can anyone live like that?

[theanxiouskanger00]

Saying bad things

I said a bad thing today to my boyfriend.

we were talking about his therapist, who I fucking hate. why? ‘cause he’s a bad therapist, and hasn’t been helping my boyfriend in the way he needs to be helped. my boyfriend- a beautiful, lovely person- has some serious, deep-seeded issues that- IMO- his therapist doesn’t do a good job at helping with. I digress. we were driving, and my boyfriend is defending his therapist to the grave, saying how “how could I say that?” and “you’ve never met him, you wouldn’t know.”

“I don’t need to have met him,” I said, not taking my eyes off the road. “I’ve seen his work and I’m not impressed.”

what a bitch, right?

we end up cutting our hangout short about 2 hours which, if you didn’t know, is extremely unlike us. I felt like shit and he felt like shit and it was really just a mess overall.

anyways, a few hours later he messaged me that there were no hard feelings at all and he was excited for tomorrow. shit, I thought, I had forgotten all about tomorrow- we had plans to go to a farm and see the cows. I decided to ask my mom if she thought I should go, but requested she give no advice about what I said or our relationship ‘cause I was already feeling really bad/sensitive.

well, she ended up saying that she thought I was “tearing him apart” and that I should be a more cognizant, caring girlfriend. what a knife to the fucking chest man.

now I feel twice as bad and just want to die. why do I feel so much worse than before? why don’t I know how to selectively overshare?

[theanxiouskanger00]

Given up sensuality

we’re pretty much in love, as you could have probably been able to tell via my previous post. so much so that we had decided to give each other more than just our time, presence and values: we wanted to give each other our virginities.

on february 18th, I went behind my parents wishes and got birth control. I took it for the rest of february, the entirety of march, and half of april in the hopes that we would be able to be with each other more than just romantically.

all in vain i’m afraid.

my beautiful boyfriend couldn’t hold an erection to save his life. every time we went to do any sort of penetration, he’d go flaccid, as if he were in math class or doing some sort of homework. i’d ask him what was wrong, if I did something wrong and if he still wanted to do things with me, and his answer was always the same: I don’t know.

“I don’t know why I can’t do this with you. I don’t know why this is so difficult.” we tried everything-- patience, enhancers, different locations, different times of the day, and nothing worked. nothing ever worked.

i’d think he was gay or asexual or something if he never got hard around me, but the thing is he does? and I don’t understand the inconsistency? we fool around a lot, it’s only the thought of penetration that literally scares him soft.

I don’t know. it makes me sad because I wanted it to be him, you know? I wanted him to be the one to take it, I wanted him to be the one I had that experience with. I leave for college in a couple of months, and given we’ve already been trying for a couple of months, we’re probably not going to lose our virginities to each other. that makes me sad, but I think i’ll be okay. i’ll find another boy one day who loves me a lot and can show me with more than just his words.

[theanxiouskanger00]

I fell in love in niagara falls

doesn’t that sound kind of silly?

I had never slept with a boy before. I had never kissed someone with such passion and longed for them to kiss me back. I had never shown anyone myself shirtless. it was so emotionally vulnerable, so unbelievably taxing on our psyche’s.

I think of this one particular moment every day. we were lying in bed together- not sexually, just being together- and our faces were inches apart. my hand was resting on his cheek, and our noses were just touching. and under his breath, just like a movie or fairytale, he goes:

“you’re so beautiful”.

i’ve been with this kid for 6+ months, known him almost a year. and in all that time, all those adventures, all those months- he has never made my knees as weak as he did in that one sentence. my heart beat a little faster, I felt flustered. 

why aren’t guys more romantic? I suppose the scarcity of such a sacred act results in a bigger reaction. shame, as i’m under the belief frequency doesn’t always diminish value; meaning if my boyfriend spoke to me like that every day, I really can’t see myself growing tired of it. but he doesn’t, so I guess i’ll never actually know.

I leave for college in august, and for my job in june. we have april, may, half of june, half of july, half of august. that’s gonna be one wicked breakup, i’ll tell you that much. I wish he’d do distance.