sometimes I get a little sad by the fact that I'm fucking insane

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@will-heim
sometimes I get a little sad by the fact that I'm fucking insane
what do you mean “impulsive behavior” i’m just a little spontaneous
sacred prayer and we’d swear to remember it all too well…
yes im too sensitive and what about it
‘god knows all of your ugliness,’ my mother says, ‘and loves you despite.’
‘is that supposed to make me feel loved?’ i reply. ‘i am still ugly. he is still god.’
knifexe:
❝ no, it’s okay, ❞ kei quickly said in response to the generous offer. he subdued his excitement in hopes that the boy wouldn’t feel guilted into wasting his time on kei’s outfit. he knew he often struck a nerve of PITY in many. he should easily be able to find another piece of clothing in the dump, hopefully one that is red so the blood wouldn’t look so ODD.
❝ thank you so much for aiding me.., riah. ❞
“It’s ok to be poor.” He coaxes, the voice at the back of his head whispering secrets Kei had not spoken. “There is no shame in it.” When he speaks his voice has changed, it’s lower, smoother, with the comfort and chill a cold blade brings a warm palm. It’s gone in an instant however, as Riah hops up from his seat. rummaging through a sack on the ground before producing a rather large pillow case like shirt. “Here then. If we cant use what you came in, we’ll have to use something else.”
knifexe:
kei sat upright, the twitch of his eye however giving away his exertion. dark charcoal-like markings were painted on his torso, rituals he followed despite leaving home. he had numerous wounds freckling over his chest, arms, and back— some self-inflicted, the others natural— the rawest of them was hidden under layers of bandages on his lower abdomen.
❝ oh no, my shirt … ❞ kei whispered, noticing the obvious stains of blood and a rather major TEAR on it. ❝ oh— uh— sorry, i’m kei … who are you? ❞ he interjected his own thought process, looking up to the other. he didn’t quite remember the events that had lead to this development.
He thought it a bit odd that the boy’s first response was to fret over something like a shirt. Carefully he picked it up, examining the article of clothing. “It’s not too horrible- despite the blood- and the rip. We can probably stich it back up and i don't know...soak it maybe? To get the blood out? Then it will look better- maybe a little raggedy but better all the same.” He tosses it back down, eyes flicking with he movement, watching Kei to catch a response. “
“We can also just buy you a new one. You have money don't you? I wouldn't know, cause I didn't go looking through your pockets and stuff. Oh- and my name is .... Riah...”
i’m so mentally exhausted, it’s so tiring
what are some indoor hobbies other than blogging and drug abuse
I overthink. I overlove. I overfeel
Cutting Fruit
(please credit if used)
knifexe:
❛ don’t accept candy from strangers ❜ wasn’t a saying instilled in kei’s mind, especially since the PITY of strangers was one of the only things keeping him alive. yet, something about this man reminded him of himself which made him uneasy; he didn’t trust himself enough to rely on this man. however it didn’t quite become a choice he had say in— his body softly fell against the others, his vision turning pitch black.
____
“Awake at last?” Slender fingers pulled the wet cloth from the shirtless stranger’s forehead. “You’re lucky that wound wasnt too nasty.” He pulls the sheets a little higher now that his work is done. “I’d say sorry for stripping you, but im not. It was take your shirt off or watch you bleed out- y’know?”
will-heim:
“It’s alright?” The words rolled smoothly slickened by a echo unseen. ‘It’s alright. Death will welcome you warmer than your nameless figures you call friend.’ “I don't think it’s alright mister, you’re bleeding like a bucket with a hole.” He stoops closer, offering a uncalloused hand outwards. “Let me help you.”
@knifexe
“Hmmm” The youth hummed out, eyes thick with sticky maple umber looked the other over. He could feel his stigma clicking away, like an itch he could not scratch. One hidden behind his eyes. ‘Discard’ the voice whispered ‘lonely, frightened, cold. Make it as broken as you. Make them all broken.’ “Hey are you lost.”