“Death inspires me like a dog inspires a rabbit”
Wed, Jul. 30th, 2025 01:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
americasuiteheartsugh, my brain won’t shut the fuck up so we’re making a list of things I don’t like:
- crying
- that pressure in my chest that gets heavier every time I cry over people who will never love me how I need
- periods
- panic attacks
- how every time I stand up I get dizzy
- incomplete fics
- how much I crave any ounce of attention I can get
- my brain
- yelling
- how I have a resting bitch face that me family likes to use against me
things I do like:
- dr. pepper
- being alone
- walking around my neighborhood while listening to music
- crying
- being barefoot in grass
- my sketchbook
i still haven’t talked to anyone. I keep telling myself to text one of my friends because i don’t wanna be a shitty friend, but i keep putting it off. who puts off texting their friends? it’s just exhausting holding a conversation. it’s exhausting to be alive. it’s exhausting to be home. for context, for the past year my family have been living in my bitch of a grandma’s house to save up money and it’s been hell. my grandma is a miserable person and loves to make everyone around her feel as miserable as she does. she screamed at me again today, said i was rude and horrible child. it was because her and my mom got into an argument. no matter what my mother says, i feel like it’s true. i feel like a horrible person despite how hard i try to please everyone. it’s tiring. i feel so empty. is it selfish to want it to be over. my mom has talked about suicide before. her friend killed himself years ago (rip Tim) and sometimes she talks about it. not much, but one or twice. she tells me a lot of stuff, more than what she tells my brother or anything. im glad for that, to feel like someone cares about me. i remember sitting with her when he died. death is a horrible thing so why do i want to be dead? i don’t think I could put her through that, but I’d be dead. at least i wouldn’t have to know. god, that’s selfish.
keep quiet. fabric can cover the cuts that people don’t need to know I have. im getting off track; the track of your words that plays on repeat in my mind at night. “you feel too much.” i wish I didn’t. when i don’t respond it’s because my vocal cords have already broken. i want to talk but that look you give me seals my lips. no one can take your breath away when you aren’t breathing in the first place.
-r
- crying
- that pressure in my chest that gets heavier every time I cry over people who will never love me how I need
- periods
- panic attacks
- how every time I stand up I get dizzy
- incomplete fics
- how much I crave any ounce of attention I can get
- my brain
- yelling
- how I have a resting bitch face that me family likes to use against me
things I do like:
- dr. pepper
- being alone
- walking around my neighborhood while listening to music
- crying
- being barefoot in grass
- my sketchbook
i still haven’t talked to anyone. I keep telling myself to text one of my friends because i don’t wanna be a shitty friend, but i keep putting it off. who puts off texting their friends? it’s just exhausting holding a conversation. it’s exhausting to be alive. it’s exhausting to be home. for context, for the past year my family have been living in my bitch of a grandma’s house to save up money and it’s been hell. my grandma is a miserable person and loves to make everyone around her feel as miserable as she does. she screamed at me again today, said i was rude and horrible child. it was because her and my mom got into an argument. no matter what my mother says, i feel like it’s true. i feel like a horrible person despite how hard i try to please everyone. it’s tiring. i feel so empty. is it selfish to want it to be over. my mom has talked about suicide before. her friend killed himself years ago (rip Tim) and sometimes she talks about it. not much, but one or twice. she tells me a lot of stuff, more than what she tells my brother or anything. im glad for that, to feel like someone cares about me. i remember sitting with her when he died. death is a horrible thing so why do i want to be dead? i don’t think I could put her through that, but I’d be dead. at least i wouldn’t have to know. god, that’s selfish.
keep quiet. fabric can cover the cuts that people don’t need to know I have. im getting off track; the track of your words that plays on repeat in my mind at night. “you feel too much.” i wish I didn’t. when i don’t respond it’s because my vocal cords have already broken. i want to talk but that look you give me seals my lips. no one can take your breath away when you aren’t breathing in the first place.
-r
