will I ever rid myself of this
itchy feeling
claustrophobic rooms in claustrophobic mansions
in claustrophobic towns on claustrophobic ocean fronts
or claustrophobic huts in claustrophobic haunts
Peter Solarz

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RMH
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Cosmic Funnies

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Claire Keane

JVL

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Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
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dirt enthusiast
styofa doing anything
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todays bird

#extradirty

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@youngforests
will I ever rid myself of this
itchy feeling
claustrophobic rooms in claustrophobic mansions
in claustrophobic towns on claustrophobic ocean fronts
or claustrophobic huts in claustrophobic haunts
You say the oceans rising
Like I give a shit
You say the whole worlds ending
Honey, it already did
You’re not gonna slow it
Heaven knows you tried
Got it? Good, now get inside
California
I’ll stay in California
Even though it brings me down
And i love California
Even though it brings me down
I’m on the beach
And I think that this is fine
Sweet skin sweet lips sweet tan
You’re pretty nice to me baby
I needed to get out
So I went to
Long Beach let my hair down
Let my walls down
Wide eyes full of hope
Desperate for the attention I know
I deserve
Don’t we all deserve a little affection now?
Talk nice to me on Saturday
Found out I just got laid off and now
My worths decayed
I thought I hated the winter but
Maybe I need some snow
Maybe I just need somewhere to go
But I think I’ll stay in California
Even though it brings me down
And I love California
Even though it brings me down
My mother hates California
My father hates California
My brother hates California
But I love California
Even though it brings me down
Oh I’ll stay on the pier
Get the fuck away from whatever brought me here
Yeah I’ll stay in California
Even though it brings me down
Put me anywhere than California
And it’ll only bring me down
Yeah I love California
even though it brings me down
I almost want to show my therapist my blog? I never want to show anyone my blog because well…no one wants to see this! Even reading back on it I cringe because why did I think that was deep at the time I wrote it? But it’s because I didn’t think it was deep. It was honest feelings being laid out without judgement. And damned if I “trust” my therapist, she can’t help me if I’m not being open! I have to trust her because who else can I if not a licensed professional. I think this is a good sign. Real progress. I finally was really honest with someone and it is actually proving worthwhile. yay! but also kind of sad? I feel a lot of grief lately over who I could have been. especially because I knew. I knew and no one believed me. No one trusted me. That’s particularly frustrating. But it is what it is, and I think I have to keep riding the wave and just be ok with it. At least we’re here now and I’m being vulnerable and someone hears me and I’m proper working on it. I’m proper working on it.
That’s something to be proud of. I’m proud of me.
I don’t want your love
I just need your sweet validation
No I don’t want your lust at night
I just need to know you feel it
It’s been three years
Since we’ve been near
I’m not trying to complicate it
I’ve been in love and so have you
There’s no need to explain it
I hope the stars sing you symphonies
I hope your days are always light
I spend my days thinking
Of how I can do you right
But there’s no answer for tomorrow
I take it day by day
But if you’re still here after all of this
I promise you I’ll stay
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
BPD, like I've been saying for the past 13 years. cool cool cooooooool.
If I had to be truly vulnerable, like truly... I'm not very often. Or maybe I am all the time. At this point, I'm not even quite sure.
What would true vulnerability even look like?
To me, vulnerability has been allowing myself to simply exist as I am.
What's bizarre, though, is that I'm often praised for my authenticity, while actively refusing to be truly vulnerable with anyone.
To me, vulnerability feels like...
Singing at your truest, more effortful, core.
Throwing a ball and expecting (hoping?) the other person can catch it.
Someone asking a subjective question, and confidently providing an answer.
Dancing with your friends and not freezing up.
When I dance with my friends, I freeze up.
When karaoke comes along, I don't participate.
I don't throw the ball. I've had too many people correct me on my technique.
I only fully participate in the things that don't spark a great deal of anxiety and feelings of vulnerability in me.
I don't want to be an asshole and correct others on objective truths...but sometimes, it's the only thing I feel confident in. I have never felt confident in anything that is subjective.
It's not that I don't want to learn (I really, truly do), it's that the judgement of others is such a huge mental block for me that I simply cannot allow myself to be subjected to it.
I have never felt free of it. I cannot say that I never will...but I can confidently say that the opinions of others have never felt safe for me.
Unfortunately...everything that sparks anxiety and feelings of vulnerability in me feel like the very things that I truly CRAVE to be vulnerable about. Almost as if...everyone views me as vulnerable, but I view myself as hiding who I truly am.
Praised for my confidence regularly, while never ever ever feeling like I'm confident at all or showing who I truly am.
There is no vulnerability here. It's the illusion of it.
Can i just tell you something?
You told me once
that you couldn't believe
the monster that I'd become
monster
that's what you said
that's the word you used
monster.
like something unknown from the lake
or crafted by an evil genius in a lab
I was a monster in your eyes at the time
that we were fourteen
and unfortunately one forgives
but one really never forgets
because MONSTER is branded onto my mind
hot metal on brain matter
I am both everything
you wanted me to become
and also nothing like it
I am closer to who I was then than
to who I was at 18
Which is absolutely fucking nuts
but now
I think about
the monster
monster
monster
fanged teeth, scaly skin, cruel of heart
that i've become
maybe you're right
or maybe monsters are make believe
I think we're both correct.
"There's a light at each end of this tunnel, you shout, 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out."
Shall we discuss the elephant in the room?
I'm deeply uncomfortable being vulnerable.
I'm so deeply uncomfortable being vulnerable that I have felt plagued by it since I was four years old.
I refuse to sing karaoke in front of everyone, including my partner of five years. Well, at least I refuse to sing with my true voice, undistorted by some funny twang that I think will fit the occasion.
I don't tell anyone my favorite anything. Usually not even a favorite color. Sure this is partially because decision paralysis also plagues me, but does this paralysis come from a similar rationale? I believe so.
You see, everyone tells you to be yourself and to not care what anyone else thinks; however, I view the truth of the situation to be that "what anyone else thinks of us" is all we really have.
Who would we be if we were stranded on a deserted island alone for a year?
Perhaps you may consider who you were during the COVID pandemic.
There's an argument to be made that if you wouldn't make the decision on a deserted island (granted your basic necessities are procured), that you shouldn't make it at all.
I disagree with that notion. I am not on a deserted island. I live in a society. A large one. A huge one, actually. The largest one ever known to mankind. We have the more people here than we've ever had before, and we are (almost) all connected to each other through the magic of technology.
Everyone may have an opinion. They may have an opinion on what I wore the day that I saw them. They may have an opinion on how I spent my weekend. Hell, they could have an opinion on what I ate for breakfast this morning. We hear it everywhere.
"That's not healthy enough."
"This is too woke, you're acting like a sheep."
"Your breakfast makes me feel bad about myself, therefore you're being judgmental."
And those opinions don't matter, right?
Except they do.
I am an insignificant being living in an insignificant time, caring about insignificant things. I believe this to be true. At the same time, these things are all that I have.
I wouldn't be able to make a living if my boss didn't think at least somewhat highly of me.
I wouldn't have a safe place to go, should I lose said job, if I didn't care about the opinions of my family and friends.
My anxiety is regularly criticized while at the same time regularly rewarded for my attentiveness to the opinions of others.
Nothing matters, I tell myself. I truly believe it. Nothing matters. We exist as part of this time that we are granted. It is insignificant time. Who knows how long living creatures have existed? Life on other planets is so heavily discussed, but there is a strong possibility that it has existed or will exist long after humans are gone. It's even possible that there was once a society far more sophisticated than ours that eventually died out. I do not believe in heaven or hell, nor nirvana, nor any other answer that has been granted by religion. I believe that religion is a widespread coping mechanism for the sheer bleakness of it all: nothing matters.
But because nothing matters, the opposite must also be true: everything matters. Everything matters a lot. To me, at least, it does.
This life is all I have ever known, and it is all I will ever know. How I am treated by society. I see it in the little, everyday things.
The girls directly in front of me at an hour-long line to the bar are escorted to the front immediately. They are objectively attractive. Their experience of this life is kinder than mine.
By that same token, my experience of this life is kinder than it is for others.
Who or what is rock bottom? It can't be answered, for everyone's ideal is different. This is also why heaven and hell cannot exist.
I've learned that this rhetoric is not something anyone wants to hear about. So I can't be myself, truly, around anyone. My mind is too filled with philosophical questions and logic and complex theories that leave everyone feeling depressed.
This is supposed to be considered a mentally ill thought pattern. I guess I do feel sick. No one around me thinks about things in such a way, and I haven't found a quiet, content calmness ever in my life.
But, to my brain at least, it feels so based in logic and truth. I think "maybe I should have been a philosopher." That seems cocky. I don't think I'm extraordinarily intelligent.
Maybe some of us are just cursed to understand the truth of it all, to an uncomfortable extreme: it just doesn't matter. And so it all matters.
"I do not know where you all are tonight. Maybe you are in the clouds."
-a beautiful European woman in my ACA meeting one night in 2024
Mister Manhattan
you always took your whiskey neat
But I'm more Old Fashioned
I like to pretend I've got a taste
for dirty martinis
and smoking with you on your balcony
Please let's skip the pleasantries
I'm just craving an epiphany
Cause I'm twenty-seven
But somehow still seventeen
And can you hear me?
I feel like I scream so much
But my inner voice is louder
Why aren't you listening?
And do I even have the words
to express how I'm feeling?
Or is it just an overthought
Can't believe I wasn't taught
This highway of conversation
everyone seems to have figured out
somewhere between
not too much, and not too loud
not too quiet and not too proud
Give me the driver's manual
and I will learn
I will learn
I swear I'll learn
I keep all my thoughts written down in case I get to tell you.
I take pictures of my favorite sights, in case I get to show you.
I probably won't.
I probably won't, but just in case.
I write songs in my notebook in case I get to sing them to you.
i hate that I look like you
that I can see you in
my nose
my chin
my hair
my smile
my eyes.
I hate that I can see the same
sorrow, pain, yearning for relief from the never ending darkness
I hate that I can see the same addiction
know the same anger and hate and rage
that has so often overcome your being
I hate that I have to know this about myself
I hate that it makes me feel like there is no end
without giving up all of my coping mechanisms
knowing that I have to be better
I don't want to try to be better
I don't want to have to do the work
I want to stomp my feet and scream
I want to throw a tantrum
I want to put my now grown body in front of my
younger smaller self
to block your punches.
I want to hold her tight
and tell her that you can't hurt her,
that you don't mean the things that you stay
that this is all a bad dream and it won't be this difficult forever
but she didn't know that, and she'll never get to know that.
All she'll get to learn to know is
fear, self-hatred, anger, loneliness , misunderstanding, hate.
And it's all because of you.
And you're not even sorry.
And I'm supposed to forgive you anyway.
Forgive you for the nightmares
And the ruined relationships
Forgive you for the self hate, the doubt
Forgive you for the constant anxiety, for the stress
Forgive you for the cuts on my thighs, forgive you for the liver damage.
It's not fair.
It's not fair! It's not fair! It's not fair!
But I'm not allowed to say that, right?
Because "life's not fair" and I just have to forgive you anyway.
and they say
hey steph give it up
steph, give it up
let it out now
you're sinking down
but they say
hey steph let it go
forget about it
take it slow
it'll all get better now
it'll all get better
and they say
hey steph it ain't a curse
could be worse now
could be a hearse now
but that doesn't make it better now
will it all get better?
if i said
hey steph i'm better now
steph, don't you see me smiling?
At least I'm trying
are we all just faking now?
she forgives me
she forgives me and i feel so fucking stupid
she forgives me and i'm almost sad about it
she forgives me!
she forgives me
Why am i so sad about it?
I’ll drink alcohol til my friends come home for Christmas