𝅄 ༊࿐⠀Blog 4 | 27/06/24

ㅤㅤㅤi spent so much time making sure it wouldn't happen again, but here i am and it's happened again. a heartbreak. a light word to describe everything that happened to me, because for my body it was like losing all my limbs at once and still living after that. my birthday left me grieving and i remember every word that was said that day, but after that there was nothing - pure mist of observation of my body experiencing something, that i didn't want but was not able to stop. i let it cry, weep, vomit, sob, beat it's head on the floor tiles till it bleeds, starve itself, scream until it felt nothing; then there was hate, but so, so much more nothing than ever before. his loss consumed the body. it's left me in all that i am. i had to hold the burning grief with bare hands and let the saliva drip from my mouth while i yell with my eyes dry. i had to did my worst in my daily life. feel the flames against my head. feel the beat of my enemy in my chest. alive, alive, alive... i felt the same way i did when i was 13. and the same urge split me in two and let me get out of this state.

ㅤㅤㅤi dragged myself to the therapy appointments, wiped my tears dry, went through all dialogues times and times again trying to understand where could i act differently, being painfully self-aware, not letting the therapist did his job until he stopped me in my self-devouring ways, turning my attention on survival. "no greater desire exists than a wounded person's need for another wound" he said. so i survived till the time i needed to be at work.

ㅤㅤㅤsummer met me with a scorching sun and new people. slipping through cracks, being the only local counselor, i let myself spend my free time with an old forest ranger and his fosterlings, helping him with herb safety classes and hunts. he knows me long enough to not let me be alone with a gun, but i secured several kills, one of which was... significant to me. i gravely injured a young deer and my gun got stuck, not budging. in a complete silence we stood, me, trying to fix the gun and shoot the poor thing, ranger, just looking at me, until he dropped a hunting knife to my feet and i had to finish the deer. i remember crying silently, not because it was something unusual, but because i was overwhelmed and put all of my thoughts in that one movement of a knife that brought me some moral relief. when we got back and he registered the carcass, he told me to clean my nails and that the next clean shot will grant me horns for my office as a trophy even if it's not allowed at summer. so now i have to go to the shooting range once a week at the city nearby, just to get better at it. holding a gun to the shoulder feels so cold. and i feel myself getting colder. more collected too.

ㅤㅤㅤbut i could not kill the soft animal inside of me for the god knows how long even while holding a gun in my hands, yesterday, today and tomorrow. i might be exceptional at hitting bulls eye, but why bother? i will still feel everything as deeply and express it as violently as i please. i want to be a better animal. i want to love what i can while i can. i forgive myself for loving, for doing everything i could to save what was not there, i let myself send that one last message to the blocked tg chat that will be never read just to feel at peace. because the thing is. you can never say the wrong thing to the right person. 
ㅤㅤㅤ

gluing myself with gold,

jox