i miss my boyfriend, thatβs the safest iβve felt in so long i donβt think iβve felt this way about someone ever.
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@thefawnephemera
i miss my boyfriend, thatβs the safest iβve felt in so long i donβt think iβve felt this way about someone ever.
my love my love my love my love
fight / flight / fawn
villainizing
he is right. to a degree. and it is wrong of me. i think. i dont think i really know how to communicate at all. i feel like im ignoring my instincts. i dont know. i can't tell. and that's not fair. thats the only thing i really know. i think not knowing is part of the problem. am i moving the goal post? is that the problem? can it be fixed? am i broken? is there something missing? sometimes i think maybe i really should be alone. its not fair to put someone else through this. i cant tell anymore. all i can do is isolate the whole thing and dole myself out in pieces. in fragments that i can adjust. i dont want to piece and parcel myself and the people i love deserve me fully. i deserve that. but i cant tell what's wrong anymore. it doesn't seem to matter how much i try. which of the battles i should choose. im so fucking clueless and its disturbing. i know i've made my fair share of mistakes but when do i learn? am i not learning anything? i feel like i am but there is so much evidence that im not learning. and its no one's job to teach me.
i just want to be held. but ive grown so many thorns and they are a part of me. im scared that if i cut them off ill just bleed out. when does the self-victimizing stop? is that what this is? there just so many question marks. this is all i got. weeping while i leak into the void. the internet is an honest to goodness grave. maybe thats why its comforting to some degree.
should i let go? is that better? i don't want to hurt the people i love but i keep finding a way to do it. he is right. when you piss off a lion you don't approach it... but im not a lion. im not mad. im just hurt. maybe i should just be alone. its not all about me, i know that. and the only reason i was hurt is because i felt invisible. unacknowledged.
another battlefield, and i only have myself to blame.
thats that.
terminal
"You wanna be buried burned? Whats up? Turned into a tree? Okay I will let it grow and then I'll take the seeds and go plant them in all the different places you didn't get to travel to."
I love you so much.
π±π―π¦ππ© ππΆ π³π’π΅ππ±π¦π¬π«
i am still learning to be okay. but sometimes its hard to avoid, to ignore the nagging sensation that i am owed more. it feels like a slug in my stomach, inching up the walls of my stomach and leaving caustic oil slicks in its path. it gnaws like and chews at me. i hate when this happens because it causes the words i want to speak to slowly dissolve like everything i am feeling was just dipped into a vat of acid. no bones or teeth left, just a feeling that something is missing.
i want to hurt like boys do. i want to bleed differently. this is of course counterproductive to healing, i know it is. men aren't known for all the ways they take care of themselves. they are known for their detachment. but when you don't ask me about my day it makes me feel a bit invisible. i guess i fail to relate or see how it takes any extra energy to simply reach out. is that energy going into calling me when you can? its immediate as breathing for me. but that's my folly; expecting myself from others. expectations will always be what isolates me, and i let it when i probably shouldn't.
vexed.
i think i've always been just a little bit vexed. my whole life i've taken like a bitter pill. there's so much that unsettles me and sometimes i yearn to be back in my room watching movies playing pretend, a world that played by my rules. i hate that at some point, i became more concerned with the notifications on my phone and the attention and inattention of men.
i keep coming face to face with my dislike of men. its consistently considered this broad spectrum "hatred" for men. its not hatred. its pity. its sadness. its uncomfortable. its trauma. but how can i meet someone who simply sees it as misandry. how do i break down my sexual assault. molestation. how do i teach the intricacies of the way i was treated by my own mother when it came to my brothers. how i had to battle with the constant sexual pressure from the opposite gender. how far i've come when it comes to protecting myself and learning how to be strong and empathetic.
then he doesn't ask me how my day was and all i can think of is how i constantly feel like i am making space for him. for his interests. for his day. and all i want is to feel like i am visible. that he cares for my well-being. idk. again does it really take that much more energy to be curious? idk idk. now we will sit here in silence, both of us feeling vindicated in whatever way we feel. but my silence is because i have decided that its better for me to write it. i am actually taking the advice that i've been given so often. i do need to grow up in that way. not everything needs to be fixed immediately or given scope. its healthier this way.
i think it honors my own voice more which is something i desperately need. i think its been helping more than i realized. and i think from now on i will not be tagging him and i think its better to take it all down. i do love him, and i want to do what it takes to share my peace with him. but i will not forsake myself in the process. this trip is just as much about me as it is "us". there was a me before him, and she will always be okay.
not matter what happens i will be okay. life will go on whether or not he is still in mine by the time i leave.
in other news, to add to the anxiety pile, my mom is sick. like really sick. a kidney infection. she keeps getting sick every month with something new. and i swear to fuck its that fucking dog she is married to. i am worried. in all honesty her being sick is the only thing that would stop me from going on my trip next week. I don't think I could handle being away from her while she's sick. and i already feel guilty enough for not having been more receptive to the fact that she is sick. but in my defense, uti to a double bladder/kidney infection over the span of 48 hours is enough to make my head spin. i want her to be okay. im so scared for her health. im sure my uti will go away eventually.
alright that's enough for now.
π³π¦π¦π¦ - π’π¦π€π₯π± π¬π£ π°π΄π¬π―π‘π°
hello darling,
i had a dream last night. yeah it was disturbing. nothing like a dream about the trailer i grew up in while living in NC to make me come back to this blog. i swear all of my creative ventures kinda scare the shit out of me. i think i've been avoiding a lot of important creation moments. i need secrets again. this will always be a void for just me. and i think that's perfect.
right. my dream.
the details are a little more like sand right now, certain parts are slipping into subconscious things that are out of my grasp. but the major points via good ole notes;
one detail that just back to me was the fact that the back window of the door was on the wall instead on the back porch. The curtain was like... pushed back invisibly and my mother's cat Arwen is watching me leaving in the car. seeing the curtain moved even though I know the house is empty gives me this feeling of dread.
focus...
i can really easily remember how dark the inside of the house was. everything was pitch black, or there would be flashes of light like a TV or something was on. kinda felt like scenes from that one movie... hold on let me look it up.
skinamarink. that's the one. my dream was very forced perspective. i can remember things be thrown at me. i was scared. not for my life, but just scared. i felt small but i know that i was my current age. most of the action happened in my room which kind of varies in my dreams lately. i am starting to recall now i've actually had quite a few dreams recently about that trailer. my room changes a lot. sometimes its a mess, sometimes its empty, sometimes its arranged maybe how i would do it now. in this dream though it was both messy and empty. the mattress was on the floor and there was trash as if someone had cleaned it out messily. i remember falling a lot, being pushed down. i wasn't crying, i wasn't hysterical, i was just meek. nervous almost.
there were two other people with me, sometimes i feel like i remember my grandma being there, other times maybe it was mimi. i can't remember very clearly but they were trying to help me. i remember them tugging me in different directions and panicking. they couldn't understand what was happening and i kept telling them that we had to leave. it was like we were fighting to leave the trailer.
i think i also remember the only room that was well-lit and nice was my mom's room. the door was open and it was bright, but for some reason i wouldn't go in there.
i don't think i wanted to admit it until i pulled up at home and z was yapping about bioshock. the ghost was definitely my mom. it didn't feel like she was dead. it just felt like i was dreaming and couldn't get out of that fucking trailer. it felt oppressive. it was exhausting. i didn't feel rested after waking up. i think my dreams have been keeping me up at night.
a lot of bad things happened in that trailer as i said in that note. i remember my mom often told me in those years that maybe we weren't meant to get along or be friends. i remember feeling like she didn't like me. some days it still feels like that. really really bad things happened to me in that fucking trailer. things i am desperate to get rid of. i wish i didn't remember. it claws at me.
here i froze. stopped writing. listening to vacillator by ethel cain. thinking about the way i drew the eight of swords while thinking about this dream. according to the "deviant moons" its associated with censorship. restriction. control via outside forces. big breath here. suffocation. had to switch up the vibe. still ethel cain though. she sings to little me in a way i can't explain. i hope she's having a good night.
i think i am starting to accept a lot of the really awful things that happened to me. why i can't forgive him. i don't hate him. i am just glad to be free of them. i knew i would get better. that they would. the world will always spin on, that's the way its meant to be. everything will always fall into place. and my place is right here right now trying to accept those bad things. to comfort a little me that just wanted to play video games without sexual favors from someone who had no business asking for them.
oof.
that trailer would probably be my personal hell. "that picture on the wall you're scared of looks just like you." type of beat. when i think about what he did to me in that place, it is a sorry reminder that i am just another link in the endless generation curse that links me to my depressed mother. my angry grandmother. all my aunties that never knew peace. my great grandmother who was nothing more than a mother on a farm and never saw past the field until she slowly lost her memories.
it will end with me. should i ever be blessed with children of my own, god ick what am i even talking about. yet it persists. if i have a daughter... i hope she is just like me. i hope she has little pieces of women she never knew. fire and ice and red and blue. I think Mary is really pretty name, and not just because of Silent Hill. But because of my great grandma who carried me once. Teaching me about flower even if I cant remember. I feel connected to her somehow, I know that she looks out for me, I think she spends a lot of time with all her grandchildren. I know she's busy but I can feel her from time to time, and I am grateful.
lol oops look at me using capitalization and what not. oh no my edge.
i think i should try to write more about my formative years in backswamp so i don't forget the sunshine too. there were good times, which i think comes from the sunshine outside during my dream. i was safe outside. it was inside where the bad things happened.
oh wow. the sun was on the bottom of the deck...
well. yes.
alright i think i am out of steam for this entry. z is snoring which means its late and i should go to sleep. but not before i do a quick reading for myself because this deck has been pretty keen tonight ala the full moon. so thanks for the deck michael, i imagine you chose it for me for a reason so i choose to keep that blessing, and release your energy back to you.
-π£.π’
6.12.25 1:57 am
π«π¬π΄ ππ©ππΆπ¦π«π€: nettles by ethel cain & DEAD by sudan archives πͺπ¬π¬π‘: 70% tired 5% haunted 5% scared 15% scarred π π¬π©π¬π―: sun yellow #F39F18 π¨π’πΆ π΄π¬π―π‘π°: "remain" - "pollution" - "scream" - "interference" πͺπ’ππ«π¦π«π€: bondage, being controlled by outside forces, censorship, restriction
one day he'll follow you home
Delmira Agustini, from a poem titled "Unspeakable," featured in The Selected Poems of Delmira Agustini
"That didn't sound like my wife's ass, IMPOSTER. I know the sound of my wife's ass." ZPH - 5/29/25 9:25
"π π― π’ π π± π’"
its an intriguing concept; creating what interests you. what interests me. why does it feels so elusive. i feel like a bad autistic person. it feels like all my favorite subjects and things kinda just slip through my fingers and i end up turning the volume down. putting blinders on. maybe i am too strict with myself. how i should show up instead of just showing up. do i also inflict that onto the people i love? have i always? are my expectations for myself so high that i unwittingly hold others to the same standards?
i guess i was wrong. maybe i do need to journal more often. i always tout that im "so good" at doing shadow work, but not really. i think i am just as much of a coward as everyone else. scared to come face to face with my demons with more purpose than just looking them in the eye. yet i keep backpedaling into this pit of self pity, but its true.
i didn't choose to be a fighter. i didn't get a say in how my life would unfold. if i could do it all again i would be honest. i would be kinder. softer. i wish i could have had a soft life. the hard would still come but i think in any life i would be able to handle it. maybe the same can be said about my being a fighter. are we all predestined that way? is the war born inside of us? or are these battles thrust upon us? when does it end? when do the times of peace come?
or is it really just down to choosing it and to keep choosing it?
as much as those around me and away from me were tired of the battlefield, i wish it was easier to escape it. to drop the warmongering and just accept people for their word without questioning their authenticity. without questioning my own. its not their fault, and deep down i know that. i am not justified in making others feel like the enemy, and i can't ask for that kind of patience it would take to be able to weather my storms when you can just leave. who would be at fault for choosing themselves. but it doesn't stop me from hoping that they will still choose me. that he will still choose me.
it doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be mine. it has to be safe. i just want to feel safe again.
πͺπ¬π¬π‘: 75% somber, 15% bitter, 5% hopeful π«π¬π΄ ππ©ππΆπ¦π«π€: deep green - christian kuria
5.28.2025 7:54 pm
-π£.π’
π¦ - π±π₯π’ πͺππ€π¦π π¦ππ«
hello darling,
i feel like the first post, first page, first anything is kinda awkward but kinda magical at the same time. so much possibility, so many failures to launch. its tiring. but i can't let it defeat me. and my preferred method of divination definitely reminds me that i need to seek balance in the negative and the positive. i think i've been stuck in a cycle of negativity, both willingly and unwittingly. there won't be catharsis unless i seek it out, it definitely doesn't happen in a vacuum.
everyday i am getting closer to accepting a lot of difficult things. the year is flying by, and i've never felt more sure of my path. in a lot of ways i am moving slower than i would like to, but right now i am okay with that. i want everything to stick. i will fight for it since i've been running for so long, and i am so tired. a tired that seeps into my bones and feels so heavy when i read the things i've written over the last five years. it feels like i've been sleep walking, but i am awake now. i am still here. i am still loved. i am okay for the most part.
i still have dreams about the ones with paths different from mine. i still miss them. i still think about reaching out but i have to choose to remember the better parts. the better days. those days mean more than the tears i shed, and the pain i felt. though i'm still licking my wounds, they aren't infected anymore. i still struggle to create. i still yearn to foster life and grow roots that don't feel like they are making me sick. but i will have open windows where music and light pour out of. i will have a stained dining room table where my friends laugh. i will have arms to fall into after it all. i will have everything i have ever wanted.
softness. warmth. support. safety. consistency. patient love.
tomorrow there will be more rain. tomorrow i will wake up. tomorrow the sun will rise and set again. tomorrow i will tell him i love him. tomorrow i will cuddle my cat. tomorrow life goes on and on and on and on...
-π£.π’
5.28.25 1:25 am
π«π¬π΄ ππ©ππΆπ¦π«π€: dog days are over & sun bleached flies & infinite baths πͺπ¬π¬π‘: 50% anxious, 50% thoughtful π π¬π©π¬π―: endless sky π¨π’πΆ π΄π¬π―π‘π°: "gradual" - "float" - "embark" - "inspire"
πͺπ’ππ«π¦π«π€: manifestation, creation, clarity, ideas become reality