Monterey Bay Aquarium
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Not today Justin
Keni
Game of Thrones Daily
@theartofmadeline
AnasAbdin
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$LAYYYTER
One Nice Bug Per Day
if i look back, i am lost
d e v o n
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occasionally subtle
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@vonluftundliebe
🥩🫀🥩🫀🥩🫀🥩🫀
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
All I am is meat.
🥩🫀🥩🫀🥩🫀🥩🫀
it's always send nudes and never send pictures of you covered in your own blood
One thing parents/ caregivers need to understand about sh is the fact it doesn’t just go away
Your child will only get sneakier about sh or they will do more drastic things if they can’t sh.
Unless you get to the root if the problem self harm will never just disappear because you wanted it too
I mean fuck I like blades, I like wounds, I like having scarring, I like bleeding, I like to cut
i wonder if my friends still worry about me self harming or did they just forget about that part of me.
I hate being in between. Not actively suicidal, but hell how I want to die… I just want to vanish, disappear into thin air, I’m not strong enough to attempt… I wish I had though…
a ridiculous thing that annoys me is that on my left arm (around my big ass Attempt scar) i have a bunch of little SH scars. I always swore to myself i would not cut on my arms - where it's visible - only my legs, because i can always just wear long pants.
I only allowed myself to do minimal damage on my arms. No proper cutting, only scratching. ok i did a few TINY cat scratch cuts, I admit. But really, i thought they would not even leave a scar. Scratching myself had never ever before left a scar, not a permanent one at least.
But for some reason, these weak ass scratches just stayed with me. they got a good bit more visible already this summer, my scars always get more visible if i get a teeny tiny bit of tan around them.
So now it is not only visible on my arms that i SH'd, what truly annoys me is the possibility that people think i only do baby cuts and no real damage. like, if i already have to show the scars then they should at least also know about the styrofoam y'know
Only feeling satisfied with your cvts when you've gone deeper than last session<<
it's an "i hope i get sepsis from these cuts" kind if night
i want someone to hug me. i feel so lonely and tired. i want someone to help me.
Talking about the “scary” aspects of mental health feels weird, I’m stuck between “I sound like such a melodramatic edgelord. welcome to my twisted moind haha” and “ok if I say this people are legit going to put me down"
me: i don't know why everyone is so worried about me. i mean I'm not doing great but I'm fine
also me: *literally bashing my head against the table*
i'd make such a great field doctor in a like, lost in the woods after an airplane crash situation. like yeah I can operate the giant wood splinter out of your calve just give me your shaver and I'll get out a nice, sharp blade. You have any duct tape or maybe a long sock and some menstrual pads? No just tissues? will work also. don't cry it's only a scratch you can't even see the styrofoam
cried at work today. feels appropriate to revive this blog i guess
my cousin killed himself last november. my uncle is someone who is important enough that people gossip about him and his family. my at work we had a birthday lunch thing and my coworker, who is an asshole but i hardly ever see him luckily, or have to interact with him him, just excitedly announced, and very loudly, to all the gathered coworkers
"HEY HAVE YOU HEARD THAT [uncle]'s SON KILLED HIMSELF????"
for no reason, nothing prompted that. just a casual conversation starter at these, always kinda awkward, gathering of coworkers.
Now, he didn't know that he was my cousin of course. I mean I have mentioned him being my uncle occasionally, when the topic of his profession came up. And we share a last name, so a person with more than three braincells could have maybe guessed we are related. I don't have a rare last name.
I think he even called him by his last name, but I'm not sure, I rushed out at that point, no one questioned it.
our office space is arranged as a circle, so there is only one single office that is actually closed off and that you can't walk through accidentally. it's not my office. but i hid in it, mostly everyone else was at the lunch, but one coworker saw me visibly upset and came to comfort me. which is very nice and i appreciate it.
anyway i calmed down enough to join them again. but i was messed up all day. went and bought a pack of razor blades, went to work on my leg when i got home.
it's rare for me nowadays to actually SH so i always forget how good it makes me feel. And, fresh, new, sharp blades.... gliding through my skin like a warmed knive through butter. Love how easy it still is to take them apart, out of their plasic encasing, how tricky it was the first time, how good I got at it over the years... how casual i still feel about it.
I'm 25 now, I have real job, my own apartment, buy groceries... and I still haven't completely gotten away from this dirty habit i started a decade ago.
I'm not sure how mentally well I am lately. Been worse, that's for sure. been better, too. The winter was rough. My cousin killed himself on the first day of my vacation. Also, I was weirdly sick as well. Had something like long covid, had a flu or cold or something and then felt fatigued for weeks afterwards, got a fever occasionally again, too. Not nice. Was also close to burnout I guess. Or maybe it was due to the fatigue. Spiced up with a bit of seasonal depression, too, I'm sure.
it's better now, but i'm honestly not great. even before the incident today... i'm once more back in a place where i just feel kinda devoid of emotions. i feel incapable of feeling. it was in some way a nice thing today, feeling so strongly upset, getting actually triggered in the true sense of the word. having a cry, even if it was an awkward, rushed office cry. but it was an emotion. i feel like a robot or a puppet and the puppetmaster, pulling my own strings and emoting the way i feel i should but it's all fake and acted
and girl this ain't my first rodeo. i've been here so many times, in this exact headspace. i know i'm not gonna kill myself because of this even though i still think about doing that most days - but I mean, I think about killing myself even during my best times. it's more of a habit, an innate reaction, at this point than any serious desire. but flirting with self destruction once more.... it's nice and familiar and warm. old friend welcoming me back. saying "i missed you too"
