Report Blog Entry
My mental health has drained. It sucks and a lot of the dark pieces have come from the shadows to grip my shoulders. We never realise what distractions we have until we don’t. I’m listening to music more and more frequently too to block out the noises of both reality and the weird shit. A demented old stranger yelling verbal abuse every near chance he gets, family talking to the point they sound like they dropped out Sims 2 and a deaf dog who has no idea what she’s doing half the time. The jingling of the bells off of Flash’s colour throws me off. I move and I look around cause there’s a jingle but there’s no disturbed cat in the room. I’ve decided on getting some more body modifications; an industrial, maybe a triple upper helix and septum. People are paying for my tattoos as birthday presents. I might rebel and let the ink sneak up over my neck. Get that wet fire pain.
Maybe. I’ve been told my pain tolerance is high where heavily tattooed people have mentioned they usually tear up or yell at some points but what do I do? Futurama or take a nap.
I’m tired not gonna lie. My sleep schedule is like I’m on a manic episode. I’m awake, blinked for a minute then I’m energised. My eating is out of whack. I’ve been slammed back on the spot of thinking of myself whereas when Flash was here I didn’t at all need to consider who I am. The false sense of hope and “oh I’ll just do this for now” has crumbled.
There’s two futures I’ve had on my mind on and off. One where I continue with a bag on my head with a smiley face drawn by a hand that can’t make up its mind on if it’s trying to put strings on my wrists or if it’s going to tear the bag off and stand in acceptance. It’s a future that is miserable and cold with an expiration date of my 40s by my own hand.
The other is one no one really knows about because I’m unwilling to speak of it more, not wanting to admit that it’s there and it exists. It’s such an alien future but it ends in happiness, I can see myself with grey hairs and surrounded by people who accept my person, the baggage and the past.
For me if I don’t stand up now I’m most likely going to see the future with the paper bag on my head. The thought of the cycle continuing makes me clench my fists. I want to scream in rage, look at the people in their eyes and ask “Do you see what you are doing?” But I doubt they’ll even reply with logic. It’s their POV only and nobody else’s because there is nobody else. Just objects. I wonder if they’re aware that they fed me the internal homophobia, the low self esteem and the toxicity. Only if it means they can guilt trip the world.
I’ve been wanting to eat the cat food. I’m a vegetarian.
Comments
Displaying 0 of 0 comments ( View all | Add Comment )