Journal Vent Space: if you relate, lets cry together

[Shawdios]

Im just gonna take the 0
i dont care anymore

I text people
And i get no response period
This is why i don't bother
Fucking

Three separate people.
I wanna try and be friends with
But this shit is why i dont wanna try

 

[Shawdios]

I hate how I’m invisible most of the time
And how used to it I am

I remember how someone just randomly said “Hi [my onpaper name]” one time
And I was just so confused and off put by being addressed

It’s like that one audio
“The reason why you hate physical contact yet also crave it is because you’ve gone so long without it that your brain misperceives it as a threat”
I dont know if I’ve quoted it in verbatim but you get the idea

I crave peoples attention
Yet if someone random addresses me
It’s weird and I’m uncomfortable
On the internet it’s different
I can be whoever the fuck I want

I can be Shawn, the bee cryptid who’s an artist and a proud Aromantic non-binary

Rather than ____ the weird girl in the corner always with headphones and a sketch book or notebook who butts into conversations because she doesn’t know how else to start one

I can draw a sona who’s a robot
Or draw a me with really short hair and no breasts
But out here, out of the screen
I’m stuck with just above shoulder length hair and tits

There’s this internal disconnect
I don’t know how else to describe it
Like yes that’s me in the mirror
I don’t like me
But that’s me I guess

I hate skin tight clothes on my torso
Not from the feeling
I love the skin tight feeling
It’s how it looks
How there’s this obvious bump
Anything that shows off feminine body shape
I am uncomfortable with

UNLESS ITS A SUIT.

THIS THING
I LOVE
it’s a bit tight
But it brought so much serotonin
Along with my fav:
Button up and vest

Dressing up in “guy” fancy stuff
Best feeling

Dressing as a slutty upper class man = serotonin

Top hat and cane?
Three piece suit?
Slutty lil red clip on bow tie?
YAS.
I LOVE WEARING.

deadass be the penguin from Batman

Dressing classy
Tis the only time I feel good when looking in the mirror

Boots are another guilty pleasure
I’ve got a slowly building collection

I’m queer as fuck in case you couldn’t tell
Living under a Christian house

While my older sister gets to be the goth/Emo with black makeup and torn skirts

I get to be the closeted queer played off as a basic bitch with turtlenecks, five of the same exact t-shirt and black sweat pants, and boots.

(Younger sister doesn’t get allowed a personality or else she’ll end up like me *le gasp*)

I just want out of this house.
That’s it.

(Note, photos were from a while back when trying on them for previous Halloween)

 

[Shawdios]

I hate this
I hate this
I hate this
I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate

 

[Shawdios]

(Damn I missed a chance for a funny joke, oh well)

“Write a poem describing you”
Does it have to be though?
What if I don’t know?
Who exactly I am

What if I have a fractured sense of self?
Will you accept a poem
That dances around the subject, Ma’am?
Please say yes
Because I don’t know if I can

I certainly hope so.
I don’t quite see myself as anything
To be truly worth describing
Nor do I know what would appease
And qualify as trying

Cut me some slack here?
I’m giving my best effort
To keep a good rapport
Without crumpling under the implications
And proceeding damnations

 

[Shawdios]

The urge to run off and fake my death is strong again
I want to cut from everyone that knows me
And start fresh
Gain a new life and disappear

But obviously that’s not possible

Maybe it’s having been inactive so long
that it feels more easy to disappear than to reinitiate
And I feel guilty that I’ve been busy and “can't seem to find time”
despite just spending two hours scrolling on YouTube
Yes I’ve had shit I needed to do
I’ve had to crochet my fingers off

(I still have more plushies to make)

But I’ve been drawing too
And writing little bits here and there
but not for the Roleplays I’m part of
and not even for my main solo project
its the violent writing with Ritz

I have these social commitments
And I can’t get myself to fullfill them.
fuck

 

[Shawdios]

Holly shit I just realized something.
The reason I’m very very sensitive to people touching my stuff
Is cause I had the “If you don’t pick up your shit, Ima throw it out!!” Punishment as a young kid

Or at the very least, my older sister did
I remember vividly seeing my mother “clean” my sisters room
She was absolutely pissed while doing it
picking up everything and tossing it into trash bags
I don’t remember what happened to the stuff
Whether it was snuck back inside or the punishment was never followed through fully
¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But I also had things I made torn to shreds as a punishment
I sewed a enderman plush out of felt and
I crocheted a tails plushie
With a sonic one to accompany him soon after

However
This:

Is all I have from those three.
And I think it’s cause I hid him
I don’t remember exactly how he survived
Either I hid him or the punishment to destroy him was only threatened

But my enderman plushie and Sonic plushie
THAT I MADE
were destroyed

Because I was sneaking onto electronics and hiding them in my room to play on at night

I was 11 I think
Or 10
Not sure
But It was during that “stealing” era

I didn’t steal anything from stores
I only took devices we no longer used
But it was always compared with the argument of
“If there was a chance to take someones car, you saying you’ll take it?”

I was having impulse control issues you fucking bitch
To the point where I felt like a puppet
And latched onto characters that got possessed
Or had their bodily autonomy stripped from them
Magolor: possessed by a evil crown and often headcannoned to having had to watch himself fight Kirby with no way to have any say
Spring Bonnie (the specifically the animatronic): had its body used for murder then housed said murderer for 30+ years

I wasn’t gonna steal from a store

The different punishments dished out in an attempt to get me to stop that I remember and how many times:

(Once) Forced to T-pose
(3+) My belongings destroyed
(Twice) Forced to watch a sextraficing documentary
(Always) Screaming
(Once) Hit with a belt
(Unknown) Tv remote/consoles locked up for undisclosed amount of time

Cameras were put in the house
Passwords are on everything
And I had to be watched whenever I was on a device

The problem THAT I HAD CONVEYED WITH:
I just can’t stop, I see a chance and I can’t leave it

Alongside how no matter the potential punishment
or hoops I had to jump through just to stay out of trouble
I still snuck onto devices

SOUNDS AWFULLY LIKE AN DRUG ADDICT
DOING WHATEVER THEY COULD TO GET THEIR DRUG DOES IT NOT?

But no
I “had no care for the other people in this house”
I was “willingly putting my sisters into danger”
And constantly asked “Why?”

When I didn’t even know myself
And conveyed whatever I could
Only for it to never be believed

I was the Lier
The Problem child
The Fuck up
The one yelled at first when something disappeared even if it wasn’t me
Then yelled at with a “Well you built that reputation for yourself!”
When whatever my sisters were discovered to be the culprit
and I got upset about being blamed for something I didn’t do

Anyway,
Back to my possession sensitivity

When I play on servers
Even when it’s only two of my friends
I hide my base
And hide my valuables
Because I hate my stuff being touched without me knowing

If they need something
All they have to do is ask and I’ll give it
Its them rummaging through my stuff that bothers me
Whenever they come over to my base
I check all the chests they open
Even though these are my best friends
I can't trust anyone looking through my things
I always think they'll touch something

Maybe it’s just a combination of the items being destroyed punishment,
sneaking around I did,
And ingrained paranoia I was taught to have

I don’t know

 

[Shawdios]

ya know, i came here to vent
then ended up spending an hour rereading all of my previous rants.
and now I've forgotten what i was originally upset about.

WAIT NO I REMEMBER
FUCK HARK
FUCK THE DESIGN I HAVE FOR HIM
PIECE OF SHIT
WHy DID I MAKE hIS hAIR THE WAy IT IS
FUCK HIS HAIR
ITS AN UTTER BITCH TO DRAW ADN KEEP CONSISTANT
FUCK IT
FUCK
IT
IM NOT REDISIGNING HIMM THOUGH
ILL JUST HAVE TO DEAL WITH IT
BUT GOD FUCKING DAMNIT IM GONNA BE ANGERY
WHENEVER THE SHAPE OF HIS HIAR FEELS OFF OR WONKY
FUCK SPELLING WHILE IM AT IT

(also, to the deary who is making a new thread every time they want to say something random, i love you, but please stop and use one singular thread. This aint tumblr, twiter, instagram, or any sort of social media site, what you're doing potentially counts as spam, and i'd like to stop having my notifications going off every time you make a new thread in personal discussion just to say the randomest shit ^-^ i mean this with the uttmost love ive got cause i dont wanna see someone rreporting you for spam and you geting a tempban)

(im realizing that sounds like passive agressive threat, shit. JUST PLEASE CONFINE YOUR RAMBLES TO ONE THREAD, IF YOU FEEL AS IF A TOPIC IS TOO HEAVY TO BE MIXED IN WITH THE MORE SOFTER STUFF, HAVE A SOFT TOPIC THREAD AND HAVE A HEAVY TOPIC THREAD, YOU CAN PUT TITLES IN THE THREAD MARKS OR AT THE TOP OF THE POST)

 

[Shawdios]

(Wrote this five days ago, but it’s relevant again)

I swear I’m working on RP replies now
It’s just hard to get back into the swing of writing



I weighed myself
Because my older sister
kept making comments about how she needs to lose weight
She doesn’t.
She really doesn’t.
She is a healthy weight.

She’s ~135 lbs
Which is HEALTHY.
OK?
SHE DOESNT NEED TO LOSE WEIGHT.
125-135 is HEALTHY FOR HER HEIGHT.
I AM 127
WHICH IS ON THE LOWER SIDE OF HEALTHY FOR MY HEIGHT
IF I DIP INTO THE 120’s AND LOWER
THAT IS UNHEALTHY
THAT IS UNDERWEIGHT
I USUALLY WEIGH 130-135
NOT 127
ME BEING UNDER 130 ISNT GOOD.

EVERYBODY STOP NITPICKING YOUR FUCKING WEIGHTS
WHAT MATTERS IS YOUR MUSCLE TO FAT RATIO
A BODY BUILDER THAT WEIGHS 200+ POUNDS
ARE THEY OVERWEIGHT?
FUCK NO
BECAUSE ALL THAT WEIGHT IS FUCKING MUSCLE
NOT FAT

AND YES
YOUR BODY IS SUPPOSED TO HAVE FAT
ITS WHAT CUSHIONS YOUR MUSCLES AND BONES
IT KEEPS YOUR BODY INSULATED
IT HAS A FUCKING PURPOSE

STAY AWAY FROM CERTAIN FOODS BECAUSE OF THE HARMFUL CHEMICALS, PRESERVATIVES, AND PESTICIDES IN THEM

NOT SUGAR OR CARBS
A POTATO IS OKAY TO EAT
THE ONLY TIME IT IS NOT IS WHEN IT IS GROWN WITH HARMFUL CHEMICAL PESTICIDES

I’m so fucking sick
of people who are healthy weights
Calling themselves fat
And BEING CALLED fat

Yes, maybe you need to go out more
Exercise more
But restricting what you eat?
Cutting down the portion sizes?
Don’t do it.

Mind you, some people cut out foods for other reasons.
But if it’s for the reason of “I’m too fat, I want to look skinny”
Don’t fucking do it.
Your body knows how much it needs


Yes you should stay away from eating fast food
But because it’s fucking expensive
It’s much cheaper to buy the ingredients and make it yourself

MODERATION.
EVERY FOOD IS OKAY
IN FUCKING MODERATION
YOU CAN HAVE CAKE
JUST DONT EAT IT EVERY FUCKING DAY FOR EVERY FUCKING MEAL
YOU CAN HAVE POTATOES
JUST DONT EAT IT EVERY FUCKING DAY FOR EVERY FUCKING MEAL
YOU CAN HAVE CANDY
JUST DONT EAT IT EVERY FUCKING DAY FOR EVERY FUCKING MEAL

WHY DOESN’T EVERYONE FUCKING GET THAT
ITS THAT FUCKING SIMPLE
TAKE EVERYTHING IN MODERATION

I’m losing weight
Because I’m not eating enough
I don’t exercise
I dont leave the house
I don’t do anything that majorly burns calories
And yet I’m losing weight?
In the winter no less
I’m not fucking eating enough
And I’m not intentionally doing so!

It’s cause there is nothing that is easy to eat
Or make
In the house anymore
We’ve run out of the easy foods
There’s no cereal I like
There’s no honey crisp apples
Nothing I can JUST GRAB
Other than yogurt
And I can’t eat more than one of those a day
There’s ice pops
And bread/tortilla shells I can munch
But that’s not a meal

If I’m not forced to make a meal
I’m not gonna make a meal
If there’s no easily grabable food
I’m not gonna eat.

I’m hungry right now.
But there’s nothing I can just grab
(Plus its nighttime as I’m writing this)

this is a fucking issue.
But I don’t know what to fucking do
Is this an eating disorder?
I’m not doing this intentionally
I’m a healthy weight
I’m content with my body shape
..with the exception of my junk

I have no issues with eatting
You offer me something to eat?
I’ll eat it!
Got an extra fruit cup?
Fuck yeah, I’ll take it
Got chips you don’t wanna finish?
Munch on up
Cupcake?
Cookies?
Candy?
Carrots?
Cheerios?
Chinese?
Chicken?
Cucumber slices?

I’ll eat it if it’s unwanted!
But the minute I have to make the food
Without prompting by someone else?
I’d rather go hungry.

It doesn’t help that I’m starting to have issues with certain foods
Tomatoes give me acid reflex
So anything with tomato sauce I can’t have a lot of
Without needing to munch on bread and milk for a while afterwards

I don’t know what to do.
I just can’t find the motivation to make food
When I could be writing or drawing
Or doing literally anything else
I wish I didn’t have a fleshy body
I wish I could run on electricity
and only have to worry about getting enough sleep
So I can recharge my battery for long enough



I hope this isn’t a disorder

And its just my fucken adhd and/or depression

 

[Shawdios]

For once.
I’m happy.

But not without pain.

I made drawings for my best friend as a Christmas gift
The best friend my mother doesn’t approve of
And that I talk to anyway because I would have strangled myself a long time ago if I didn’t

Anyway.
I showed them the one of the drawings last night
and they showed me some of theirs

We originally were going to show everything on the 24th
But my family is doing a bunch more stuff than I expected
And so we agreed to spread out the stuff over the three days before Christmas

But it’s almost chrismas
And I’m…
Excited.

I’m excited to give my friend the drawings
I’m not excited to recieve
But that’s nice too
I’m excited to Give
To hear their voice
And to hear them happy
From something I made for them
Something that I worked on for them
That I spent days on

But I’m also scared
Scared that they’ll hate their own art
From seeing mine
Scared that I’m hurting them
I’m scared to be a cause of pain
Because I used to be that artist.
I used to be the one with only two years of experience
And hating my art because it didn’t look as good as my older sister’s
Then drawing anyway because Fuck Her
Hell I look at these three gifts I made and feel scared because they look Good.
I dont hate them.
I made them my phone screen
Because it’s the rare drawings that are phone background worthy

Then I look to an inspiration of mine
And try to make a comic
But it looks like shit

And

I’m not good
And if I’m not good
What does my friend think about their own art?
I’ve got five, going on six years of drawing experience
They’ve got two.
They’re in the awkward beginning growing stage of an artists journey
That I’ve litterally just finished
And so I’ll try to give advice that helps
As someone who just “leveled up” so to speak

I’m feeling happy
I’m feeling sad
I’m feeling guilty
I’m feeling mad
Mad at myself for subconsciously looking down on my friend
And guilty that I’m further along than they are
And knowing that if they were to post their art on social media
they’d get bullied off whatever platform it was
(Cough TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, Cough)
I try to watch my comments about my own old art
Because it’s similar to theirs right now
And I’m paranoid about them being hurt from that

I’m paranoid about hurting people in general
Emotionally and physically
I’m the one to apologize
Even if you did the wrong
They tell me “The ones who worry about being a bad person, aren’t ever usually a bad person”
But
What if I don’t know?
All true villains think they are justified in their own minds
So what if
What if Ive justified it
In my head
And I can’t tell if I hurt you
That I’m hurting you
What if
What if
What if

Paranoid mode
That’s what this is

What if I’m hurting someone and I don’t know
What if because I worry about hurting people
I’m hurting people with my worry?
With my assumptions for the worst?
Am I a weight that they’d be better off without?
That’s the start of a suicidal mindset
And I know that
I understand it
I know it’s not true
Or is it?
Am I irrational?
Or being completely sound in my understanding?

Why can’t I be happy
Without a spiral?
Why can I not stop poisoning my joy
Do I really believe I deserve happiness?
Do I?
Cause everything points to NO
I don’t
My Self harm
My paranoia
My nonexistent spine when it comes to being asked to do things
How I find the worst part of every idea
So I can throw it out
Or hate being spent time on
Wasted time on
Wasted money on
How I can’t write something from my own perspective
Or about me

Who am I?

Am I [on paper name]?
The ADHD girl who tears apart her shoulder and chest because the scabs feel nice? Who wears baggy clothes and only ever feels good when dressed in suits?
Am I Shawn?
The guy who rocks those circle glasses and spiked hair? Who is a proud Aromantic and is fucking enjoying life
Or am I someone else?
Am I Shaw?
The best friend who’s an amazing listener, who you can talk to for hours? Where they ramble on and on and show you whatever they’re working on because they feel like shit if they don't have your encouragement?
Am I Shawdios?
The android internet art cyptrid? Who sometimes spits out a new video or illustration for the masses to observe? Who streams their art process and chats with the rare few of their 400 subscribers that show up?

Who the fuck am I?
I cant picture myself older
I can’t picture myself
And if I do
It’s not the body I’m in
It’s a flat chested and bubbly person who keeps bees, does art, publishes stories sometimes, and lives in their cabin in the woods with their best friends, never having to face the horrors of the world.
Who doesn’t have to think about World War III being on their generations doorstep
Or about the school shootings
Of which they may have been the cause of if their circumstance had been different
Or about the countless homeless population they’d have to join if they wanted to live true to the parts of themself that they DO know

I hate using first person pronouns.
It feels weird
Because why are you referring to me?
There’s just some sort of disconnect
And I or Me attacks it
It brings my insignificance into question
Because I think
I think I’m insignificant
Deep down

.
.
.
I have low self worth.
But I don’t think I’m worthy
Of changing that mindset

No.
That’s just another persona
Who am I really?
What do I really think?
Do I have a low self worth?
Or am I just extremely guilty
For being a selfish coward?
And I’m desperately trying to cover that up?
Is that why I’m parinoid?
Because I know how I think?
And I’m worried everyone thinks like I do?
But do I know how I think?
Hell, you can lie to yourself
So how can you possibly ever know yourself?

I am schrodinger's cat.
My personhood only solidifies when I’m observed
Otherwise, I’m a bag of what ifs

 

[Shawdios]

There is the person I envision
Then there’s me
Little
Shitty
Insignificant
Me.
Who cant take care of themselves properly
And barely eats without prompting


I hate me.
I hate my brain.

Why can’t I talk to my best friend about this shit?
Why brain
Why can’t I

I know fucking why
I’m scared.
I’m scared I’ll hurt them
And trigger their OCD with my existentialism
And I don’t want to hurt them
They’ve stayed
They’ve stayed for so long
Through thick and thin
They’ve stayed
They’ve seen most of my horrific self
And still wanted to be around

But I’m scared
That if I open up again
That I’ll be taking advantage of them
I’ll never off myself.
Not while my friend exists
While they exist in my life
I could never hurt them like that

But I can never tell them this.
Because if I do
There will be a fear.
And I know what that fear is like
The fear of a “you are an amazing friend” text in the middle of the night
The fear of “Don’t push them over the edge, if you say something wrong it’ll be your fault.”

I don’t want them to be scared like I am of myself
I don’t want them to feel like I did with Toxic
I don’t want to be like Toxic

I want to talk to them about my shit
But.
I cant.
Because I care about them.

 

[Shawdios]

I dont

I

I’m scared I’m fucking scared I’m scared

I’m a coward

I’m an utter coward

I don’t get help because it’s scary

And I dont strangle myself because it’s scary

I’m a fucking coward in limbo

I’m a mental case

Who isn’t taken seriously by their parents

I’d rather feel nothing

And have muted joy

Then this



Give me something

Indint

I need something to make this stop

That isn’t offing myself

I can’t do it



Fuck

I can’t talk to my best friend about this

And not for the previous reasons

They’re out of the house with family

And won’t be back till later

So I cant just call them

And I can’t call a hotline either.

My phone won’t let me contact anyone outside of my contacts

Fuck

Fuck

Fuck

I’m not gonna do anything

I’m a coward

That at least i can rely on.

But I’m fucking scared of myself and my own fucking head



Why is it always the holidays

That I get like this.

 

[Shawdios]

Autism, or Borderline

Which is it?

Autism or Borderline

Both are seen as demerits

Autism or Borderline

I’ll feel guilty either way

Autism or Borderline

Just tell me someday

 

[Shawdios]

(First section written yesterday, second section written this morning.)

I just woke up from a dream.


A dream where I was in some weird amusement park place that also was a store or something.
And I was teaching people something
I don’t remember what
But then Toxic showed up and saw me
I ran.

She followed.

I proceed to try to evade her and end up circling through this amusement park place. And finally shake her by hiding behind a icecream counter
But it wasn’t icecream
It was like
Cold and colored whipped cream
That they were making art with
But it was edible

Anyway

I finally evade her but then a few minutes later she finds me again
And she latches onto my arm
And apologizes,
Then saying that she wants to talk
So then we go and try to find somewhere we can talk
Where it’s just the two of us

We struggle
She’s clinging to my arm the whole time
I both hate it and crave it
Then we end up in a store place and there’s this door
It’s in the corner surrounded by instruments
It looks like a closet
But then it turns out to be stairs to a attic or some weird back stage thing
And it is filled with old instruments
But then I hear these shady dudes
Start coming up the stairs
Talking about the instruments like it’s gonna be a gold mine
So me and toxic look for a place to hide
Because we don’t wanna get caught up in shady shit
We end up in this weird alcove thing
And we talk
Sitting next to eachother
She leans on me
I lean on her

Then for reasons I don’t fucking know

I kiss her on the cheek
She turns and makes it a full on kiss
Then I wake up.

And I don’t know what to feel.
The urge to unblock the number she used to contact me is strong
The urge to call her is strong

I want to apologize and beg her to talk to me again
I want her to lean on my side
I want to be her pillow
I don’t—

It will be bad for me
But I want to try and have a healthy something with her
maybe she’s changed since I last knew her
Maybe she hasn’t
And then that urge to talk to her is a self destructive one
Because that means I want to be further ruined
I want to feel that panic and sadness
The worry

Regardless.
I want to apologize to her at the very least.
Just so I don’t feel guilty anymore
Because I don’t know if I hurt her or not

I want to know
If I’m the actual villain
and just playing the victim
Even if I wasn’t aware of that at the time

I want to know what was the truth.
And if the truth is that I hurt her, and she hurt me.
Then me apologizing will at least ease my end.
Hopefully.







Had another dream.

This time my family was on a road trip for some reason

I dont know

But we were crossing states

And stopping at churches??

Each time we stopped I recognized people from my homeschool co-op

And then we eventually lined up and played like yard games at each one

Idfk

Anyway at the last one

I met up with my two best friends

Then

Toxic showed up

And she wasn’t kind like the previous dream

She was the opposite

“Oh yeah I forgot you were friends with ___” to one of my friends.

Then started updating me and on the people I knew

That she was now friends with

And I just kept trying to get away

I think I curled up with my knees to my chest

In some sort of alcove the first time I saw her

Then she made the comment

And I told her I didn’t care

But she kept talking anyway

Then I got up and walked away again

And she followed me

Making comments about my (likely FP) best friend

So I turned and snapped at her

Shouted out I was sorry for whatever I did to hurt her

And that I’m trying to leave shit behind

Then went outside



She didn’t follow

But when I went back to the door

She was standing right there

Then said that she was trying to prevent me from coming back in cause I was a bitch

Then I called her a bitch too and walked away again



I don’t remember when I woke up

But that’s the clearest stuff I remember



I haven’t called her yet.

I think this is my head worrying about how she’ll act.

These two dreams

I hate her

And I don’t

The mere mention of her or someone doing something she used to

Is enough to make me freeze and stop me in my tracks

That goddamn

“Crazy? I was crazy once, they put me in a rubber room, a rubber room with rats! Rats make me crazy… Crazy? I was crazy once—“

She used to do the loop so many goddamn times

And whenever I hear it

She’s my immediate thought

And I freeze

I grow quiet

My expression grows strained



Why does she matter so much to me

Fucking why

She was a fucking bitch

And she nitpicked everything

Made little offhand comments about how I dressed

Made a “mmmmmmmhm” whenever I talked about something she didn’t like

Or mentioned a new turtleneck I got

Winced just so I could hear her disapproval

when I told her how much I weighed

Or mentioned some treat I ate



I’m so fucking lucky I was strong willed in the weight department

Because if I hadn’t?

I’m sure I’d have gotten an ED

Honestly

I’m surprised I’m not so much more damaged then I already am

Guess it’s my obliviousness

And semi-embracement of my weirdness

That saved me some from the pain

 

[Shawdios]

Had a talk with a friend.
He’s the blunt truth giver I need
But obviously it hurts

I hate how I want someone to hurt me.
How I want to feel miserable.
I want to be beat into a fucking pulp
By the truth
Because at least if it’s truth hurting me
I will eventually face that truth.

He told me
That I needed to confront the side of me that
hates me
And fight back against it
But how do you fight your own fucking thoughts?
Verbal affirmations?
Fine.
I am decent at art.
I am decent at writing.
I am a good person.
I am a fucking good person.
IM A GOOD PERSON AND MY FRIENDS DONT SECRETLY HATE ME

fuck

It’s a lie it has to be
I dont
I don’t see that as truth
Why can’t I see it as truth?
Why the fuck can’t I see it as truth?
I’m a good person
Two separate people have told me that.
Three!
Why can’t I be a fourth?
Without feeling like I’m lying?
Why why why
Always the whys.

What is the cause of my self hatred?
What makes me feel like I’m a shitty person?
What does this to me?
Is it myself?
If it is, How do you confront yourself?
What can I do to stop viewing myself like this
And how do I do it?

Because I want to stop being a coward.
I want to face this shit.
I’ve internalized that I’m the fuck up so badly
That this is where I am.
I don’t want to hate looking in the mirror
I don’t want to step back when eating out
I don’t want to be the one going “oh sorry” all the time



But how?

 

[Shawdios]

Hey there folks.
Been a while.

Shits happened
But I’ve been a non-cryptic bitch
And leaned on my support system
So I didn’t feel the need to rant into the void

Anyway.
My screen time currently has my phone locked down
And so I’m typing in my notes app rn

I hope she isn’t another Toxic.
I—
I don’t know what Id do
If I go though that again
She’s really fun to be around
She’s funny
But sometimes i feel like I’m walking on eggshells
Or that she’s being fake as fuck

The eggshells is more of
Not wanting to open up as queer
If she’s not alright with that
Since I became friends with her at a Christian co-op

She’s flirty
And chaotic
Potentially to her own detriment

We were on the phone
While reading something I wrote
And she mentioned potentially having adhd and dyslexia
(Because she’s a slow reader)
Then following that up with
“But it’s just all in my head yk?”

I don’t know what to do.
I see the potential of her being another Toxic
And that makes me want to avoid her
But also it makes me want to talk to her constantly
Because I want to get hurt.
I recognize that is part of the reason I ignore the potential red flags
Another part is
That “it’ll be different”
That “maybe she’s also queer”
That maybe
Maybe
Just maybe
I can finally answer the question of whether I’m ace or not.

Cause goddamn
I hate not being certain.
And goddamnit
I want some sort of experience
In this great thing allo people talk about
Just so I can know
If I’m gaslighting myself
Or not

I wanna go kiss someone behind a school and pleasure them
In theory it’s very enticing
But what about in practice?
Would I care if it wasn’t just a fantasy?
Would I find it disgusting?
I haven’t been put in the situation

Am I just hypersexual and craving to be used?
To be abused and discarded?

…to be the abuser?

Cause it comes so fucking easily in writing.
So easy to write a rape scene.
So easy to force and torture characters
And goddamn it’s fun to write

To read?
Not so much.
Because
Shit
I wrote that.
I can never show this to anyone
God I’m so fucked up
What the fuck
What the fuck
What the fuck

I’m despicable
I’m despicable for writing this
For enjoying writing this

I wanna fucken tie someone up
Or be tied up
I wanna get deprived of my senses
I want—

This is treading too far into the M rating
Shit
Uh
Fuck
I can’t talk to anyone about this.
I cant.
Ah yes
Let me just

“Hey uh I’ve had dreams of coercing one of my —“

Yeah sure.
Best idea in the fucking world.

I wish I could pull off being slutty
I don’t have the makeup skills or clothes for it
Fucking use me
Someone.
Come on down pedos!
Use me!

.

.

.

It’s 12am.
I should sleep.















Well it’s four am now.

…

My cat woke me up around and hour ago

From hopping up into my bed

I was listening to Slayfer James before I fell asleep

And I continued to after I woke up

But now I turned on Ethan jewel

Cause

I feel like shit

And his stuff helps me cry

…

I wish there was a artist who made stuff like his

But aromantic

Because so much of it is based off love in the partnered sense

Maybe I could make it

Idk

I could try and verbalize some of these rants

To “pretty piano cords” as he puts it

I mean

I format these as if they are lyrics anyway

What’s stoping me?

My voice?

My lack of musical talent?

….
I’m never gonna be anything am I?
I crave attention
And grasp frantically for validation
But by doing that
I chase away everyone
And only cause more trepidation

I’ll never amount to anything.
So why can’t I be content
with my own fucking damnation?

Maybe I’m a coward
Maybe I’m a fake
But
At least I care
I care!
I care about whether I’m hurting others
About what my presence does to people
Someone please understand

I wish I could text my friends.
I know this isn’t true
I know they don’t just tolerate me
But
What if they do?
What if they don’t actually care?
What if it was all just done for a dare?
What do they actually think?
Would they notice if I wasn’t there?
Why brain why
This isn’t fair
Give them a chance to prove they’d be here
I’d never off myself
I’m a coward.
But I’ll curl up in my bed
And wish I could cry for hours

Because when I’m sad
I’m poetic
And if I’m not poetic
Then I’m not creative
And if I’m not creative
Then who am i?
I don’t know.

.

.

.

I’m gonna be 17 in three months.

God.

Seventeen.

Why am I nearly that old?
Why am I not dead and stuck at 14?
Why am I here?
How the fuck am I here?
Where did the time go?
I started this thread over a year and a half ago
How am I only a year and a half away from graduating?
What the fuck.
I don’t want to be here
I don’t
I never imagined being here
What do I do?
I hate being here
I hate it
I hate this house
I hate these restrictions
These constant contradictions
I hate all of it
I fucking hate me
For never having the damn guts
To prevent from getting this old

You’re a good writer

You’re a good artist

You’re a good friend

Am I?
Am I really?
I don’t think so
I think I’m cliched
I think I’m in need of more practice
I think you’re just seeing a front I somehow put up

You’re a good person

No
No I’m not.
You don’t see the thoughts
The desires

No good person thinks of the things I do

No good person reads the things I do

No good person finds enjoyment in what i do


Why can’t i convince anyone that?
Why does no one get it?
What are they seeing that I’m not?

What is this good thing about me that keeps them bound?
Cause not even I want me around.



.

.

.





I wish I could go sit outside
Go stare up into the black void of a sky
Pleading with the world
To just finally give a me a reason for this hurt

Because why am I like this?
Nothing traumatic has happened
To so much as cause it

I wish I could see people
Other than my family
On the daily

I want to draw
But I cant leave this bed
I want to vent my feelings out onto Fall
But this bed traps me
And dooms me to more tears

What’s it like to not feel like this constantly?
How can you not feel like this?
how do you be normal?
How?
What is the Magic chemistry?
That gives perfect balance
Instead of shorts highs and abysmal lows
With bland nothing filling between
What is the secret?
Tell me please
Or don’t.

Let me rot and wail
Like the little bitch I fucken am

 

[Shawdios]

[Written last night]
I am not shit.
I am capable of making things
I am capable of reconnection
I am capable of joy

I am capable.

Why does that feel like a lie.
No, I am capable.

Goddamnit

My redlines are fading.
I want to paint
But it’s tiring
And too much of a hassle
It’s not worth it
But I feel fake if I don’t do them
I feel as if I’m just an attention whore
If I don’t do them
Which is funny
Cause SHers are often called Attention seekers
Yet if I don’t do them
I feel as if my pain isn’t enough
To be taken seriously

The burn in my stomach
is growing all too familiar

I hate this diet I’m on.
I hate having to do this.
Because it’s fucking up my eating
Worse than it had been before
Hunger?
Pfft whatever.
I’m not in the mood to make rice
And eat dry as fuck chicken

A can of Peaches for breakfast
Puffed rice for lunch
And caned pineapple in applesauce for diner
Fuck rice
Fuck chicken
I hate chicken
I fucken despise chicken

I’m losing weight.
And I hate it.
I don’t want to lose weight.
I don’t want an Eating Disorder
I’m fine with my body
I’m not happy with it
I’m not hateful towards it
I’m OK in my body
But everything is fighting me
My older sister making comments about wanting to lose weight
The “Walking Dead” diet jokes
I hate this

I hate how I’m not sleepy all the time
Because then
It’s not depression making me like this
It’s fucking whatever I had been eating
Am I splitting?
I don’t fucking know
Autism
Borderline
Adhd
I dont fucken know
Fuck this
Fuck this fucken world
Fuck my brain
Fuck my food intolerances
Fuck everything
Fuck all the people who don’t answer my fucken texts
Fuck you
.
.
Why am I like this.
I’m just tired of being shit.



[written next morning]

I don’t want to get out of bed
I want to curl up and continue to sleep
But I’m not tired in the slightest
Well
Physically I mean
I’m not physically tired enough that I can fall back asleep
But goddamnit
I’m mentally tired
I’m tired of this house
I’m tired of the yelling
I’m tired of school
I just want to get a job and then live stably in a condo or something
Where I can go hang out with my best friend after work
or even be roommates with them
But we’d be horibly conflicting roommates
I’m messy and live in clutter
Who can’t get themselves out of fucken bed most days
I’m indifferent to how clean things are
I let the dishes pile up till I can’t avoid them
I’m that slob roommate people despise
if how I live in this house is any show for it

I’ve got economics homework to do.
I’ve got literature homework to do.
It’s all due tomorrow.
And I honestly don’t give a shit.
I don’t want to get out of bed
I want to just wither away

I wish my bad luck with cars finally results
in something worse than a rear ending
For once
Or I wish I could just get shot
It’s America!
That’s highly likely to happen here
Passive suicidal
Got its grips on me
Please don’t grieve if I die girl
I’m just passively suicidal
Heh
I should write a song

Here’s the thing though.
I can’t picture myself as an adult
A functioning one I mean
Sure I can picture Fall
And nod towards
his addict and passively/semi-actively suicidal ass
But I cant have that as an answer to
“Where do you picture yourself in five years”
I’m a broken record
I’ve ranted about this before

I could also picture Sam
And his self sabotaging ass
The one who flys recklessly
And sleeps around
Who is easily pissed off
And pushes people away

Or maybe Rise
The people pleaser
Who rarely speaks
Then gets paranoid about people leaving them

I don’t even know who I am
What my personality is
I cant describe myself
I just project
You want to know me?
Pay attention to my characters.
Pay attention to which ones i fixate on
Because I break off pieces of me
To create them

Flame is a more confident and trusting me.
And well.
Also a guy.
He’s the one who powers through shit
Who isn’t plagued with these bouts
Of being stuck in bed
He’s not a coward
Like I am.
He’s who I wish I was.

Holly is honestly more like me than Flame
She’s the coward.
She’s the one who
When it comes down to it
Placed herself first.
Before the “safety” of the people
She’s jealous
She’s a doubter
She’s paranoid about what people think of her
(Albiet only because the cult drilled in the “impure” mindset)

Flame has my neurodivergentness
My ADHD and maybe Tism
Along with my self sacrificing

Holly has my insecurities.
And issues with food

It’s weird
I don’t like writing girls.
I don’t like writing the words She. Her.
In reference to a character.
Mostly because I don’t like being one.
And I feel like I don’t have the skills to write a three dimensional one
It’s also like there’s this massive weight.
This social pressure that nearly crushes you
Because you’re writing a Female.
You fuck this up and write her unrealisticly
You are screwed

Autumn is intersex,
But if he existed in our society,
he’d have been assigned female and “corrected” to such.
So I place him also as Transmasc
His voice is a whiny crack riddled mess that’s somewhat feminine
Cause he doesn’t have access to T to knock his voice down

Now. Big vs Flame
We’ve established that Flame is who I wish I was
But what about Big?
They’re the same character.
But Big.
He’s the hurt one.
He’s the one deserving of comfort.
He’s both me and not me
I wish I was him
In the way that I wish I’ve been “properly” hurt
And thus deserving of comfort
But
He’s got my mindset.
That it’s his fault
That he’s the one screwing up
He hates being under Ritz
Just like I hate being in this damn house under my mother
But he’s got a justified reason.
And yet?
He doesn’t believe so.
The words I’ve written him saying
Of him arguing in defense of Ritz

I’ve said them.
About Toxic
And about my mother.

I’m told I have justified reasons
But are they really?
On the surface I’m aware of who is at fault
But deep down.
I don’t believe so
The core of my being doesn’t believe so
And I don’t know how to fix it.

Big is who my core being is
A whimpering
Sniveling
Pathetic and pleading being
Who is an utter coward
And defends their abusers

But then.
There’s Ritz.
He is concerningly easy to write
His vicious glee
His threats
His anger
How he views Big.
That is very easy to write.
His view of Big.
How I just described Big/me above
That’s near word for word
From a bit of writing I wrote in Ritz’s POV
“And every time, fear blew his flame’s eyes wide open and a whimpering, sniveling, pathetic personality emerged where it swore to never do the tic again.”

I don’t like my inner Ritz.
Ritz is a terrifying villain to me.
Because.
I could end up that way.
If I lived as long as he did
And had the strongwill to not off myself
His villainy is UNDERSTANDABLE to me.
Because
If everyone I could ever love (All forms of love)
Would always die long before me?
Becoming apathetic
And viewing people as things
It’s understandable.
It’s… relatable?

Ritz scares me.
And I’m sure he’d scare others on this deep inner level
If I ever finish writing Big’s story
And publish it.

Well.
That or people would onclerfy him.
And write fics of him from “before he went apathetic!” Or “I can fix him!!” Fics.
Or they’d megatron him and—

..people would ship Big and Ritz wouldn’t they.
People already ship Megatron and Starscream.
….
Goddamnit.
I wrote megatron and starscream
Just in a different font
FUCK
.
.
.
How did I start rambling about each of my ocs
I was ranting
Oh
Yeah
Cause they’re built off pieces of me.
And I don’t really know who I am
So I’ll analyze my characters in search of myself

 

[Shawdios]

[11 o’clock pm]
I swear I didn’t lie.
.
At the time
I felt okay.
I felt alright.
Or at least I thought I did
I don’t know how I feel most days

I hadn’t lied.
I swear upon the game I’ve yet to give back.
I hadn’t lied at the time.

Spoiler: SH

When eleven had rolled around
I began to do evening chores
And so I was drying dishes
And when I put the glass containers away
The block of knifes drew my eye
They were the brand new ones my dad’s friend got us for Christmas.
No one was downstairs.

So
I took one out.
And tested how sharp it was
On the pad of my index finger
Barely any pressure made a small bloodless line.
They were sharp.

So then I went back to drying
And when another dish
made me go back over to put it away
I pulled out one of the steak knifes
And ran my thumb down the edge
That time
Paint leaked.

And it was like I couldn’t get enough
I knew the new knifes
I couldn’t get away with sneaking upstairs
But one of the old ones?
Definitely
Wouldn’t be missed.

So I finished my chores.
Slipped the old steak knife into my waist and
And went upstairs.
Did my nightly routine giddy as hell
Then was told to check the downstairs for lights being left on
It gave me the chance to grab a packet of paper towels

And oh boy did I take that chance.
I walked back upstairs and slipped around to my room
And deposited my new treasures

But.
Much to my disappointment.
The brush was dull as fuck.
I had to work up a shit ton of courage to swipe it fast
And it barely did anything
My cat could have done deeper strokes

So I grabbed the singular thin brush that survived the purging
And went to town on my shoulder.

All that to say.
I relapsed.
And fuck
I crave it
Now that it’s easily accessible
And doable
Holly fuck
I CRAVE

I’m not feeling bad
I’m feeling energized
I’m probably manic right now
Whatever
Thrill
Thrill
Thrill
I want more
But I can’t do more
I cant risk rust
I cant risk visibility

It’s bumpy
That’s something I love
The redlines make pleasant textures
On my skin
I don’t care for depth
I don’t care for amount of paint
I care for texture
I want dried and scratchy healing lines
I want the raised stroke sides that come directly after the paint stops spilling

I want the sight of white
That comes months after
The sting is manageable
I just wish I had the curled brushes I did before the purge
They were amazing
I had so much control with them
and could write with them
I miss’m

The brush I’ve got will have to do though.
Damn shame I can’t be on a social without being tracked anymore
It was nice having people to cheer and guide me along
People to impress with my paint
Was really easy to do back then
I think I carved a name somewhere from that actually
Oh yeah I did
Went over it with more strokes though
God I miss that
Fuck
This is fucked up
Ik it is
But fuck
I miss it
I had a shitton of fun
Followed by emotional crashes
But pfft so what?
Someone wanted me around
Someone was impressed with me
Someone told me what to do
All I had to do was paint strokes
And I was praised
I got thrill
And I got praise
Win fucking win right?

Except afterwards
I was parinoid as hell
A coin could drop
And I’d jump three feet into the air
I checked the dried strokes constantly
Wishing they’d fade
Because
SHIT I HAVE ——— ON ME
I CANT EXPLAIN THIS AWAY

Still miss it though
Felt nice to be attractive
Especially through my fucked-upness

It’s funny how I don’t project this
onto any character of mine
Yes Big SHs.
But not by painting
He just gets a bit careless with his fire magic
Or scrubs till his hands bleed and tremor
(In a desperate attempt to get rid of the TAR THERES STICKY GROSS DISGUSTING TAR FILTH I FEEL IT STILL WHY CANT I GET IT OFF—)

None of my characters paint.
It just feels too edgy.
(Hah, pun, not intended)
I could project it onto Sam
But he’s already toeing the “edgy” line
So no.
Maybe Rise?
…
Maybe.
Mmmmmmmm
Nah.
It just doesn’t feel like them.
Maybe it’s cause I wouldn’t be able to ramble about it
Maybe it hits too close to home for me to project it
Or cause it feels cringe to write about.
Which sucks.
That it’s that stigmatizing to write about
Considering just how many people paint redlines

Whatever.
Ima try to sleep.

 

[Shawdios]

Gonna see my bestie today.
Im terrified
Cause like usual
I went manic
the night before something that’s supposed to be good
I’m also terrified I’ll act wrong
That I’ll be different
Or that they will be different

I have their birthday gift
I’m worried they’ll be disappointed
Cause I said I was making pins
But there’s only three
Cause I just didn’t have the energy
And kept forgetting to fix the digital designs
So I had to make them traditionally
But then I didn’t have the glitter pens I needed
So, I could only make two ghost bunni ones
And not the four I wanted to make
I wanted to outright put THEIR art on some pins
But I never got the time to fanangle it
And figure out how to print the stuff at the right size
I feel really guilty about that
And i made a pin based off an inside joke
But it also feels self centered to give a pin of my character
Even if it’s with an outfit they made for her
Well it’s 1:38
The science center is open
Hopefully they show up.

I don’t know how I’ll feel if they don’t






They showed up!
I gave them their gift
They loved it and loved the pins


But.
I was anxious.
Other visitors were around
So I couldn’t openly chatter
So we went on a walk around the trails at the science center
But i was still anxious

All in all I just was really anxious
And a little guilty
Over time I eased up
But making eye contact (with anyone) was really really hard
Then it got loud because of visitors
And I just wanted to combust right there

It felt off.
Probably because i was in Professional mode
And thus on edge
And constantly scanning the room for visitors
Showing Friend around felt awkward
I’m glad I got to see them
But a different location would have been better
…
Hopefully
Hopefully it would’ve been better
Hopefully it wasn’t just how it inherently would have been






I’m tired
I don’t know how I feel
I think I might cry when I get home
And alone
Might draw some gore
I’m cold
Idk
I feel like shit I think
I wanna just collapse

 

[Shawdios]

[11pm ish]

Blood
Why do people feel icky from hearing it mentioned
Prick your finger and the person next to you goes “Ew gross, blood”
Meanwhile I’m the type to pick at the scab
Squeeze the wound
And let the blood build up into a thick droplet
Playing the game of
“Will it overflow?”
Then lick it off once it smears.

Periods I understand
That comes out right next to where you piss
It’s gross because it’s near your excrement
Not because you bleed
Or at least that’s what I had assumed?
Apparently it’s gross because it’s blood.
Not just because it’s from your crotch.

I’m in different to blood.
Mostly.
Huge wounds I cringe at
But oops,
Paper cut,
That mother fucker
It’s bleedin’
I play with those.
Or
Oops that blackhead pimple is bleedin’ now
Whatever
I need to get the gunk out
Keep squeezing
This shit’s annoying and making my fingers slip
Mother fucker.
Better grab a paper towel so it’s dry again

Then the following scabs are fun to peel off

I’m weird.
Ik.

But honestly,
Me not being bothered by blood
As a child
Should have been a warning sign for now

 

[Shawdios]

[12am ish]


Fuck you Toxic
Eat shit
Go chew on some cherry pits
At least then you won’t hurt anyone else
Hell I’ll do it my fucken self
Give you some muffins
And bake ground up pits into it.
Whoops!
“How was I supposed to know my cherry muffins were going to do that?”
Fucking suffer you bitch
You don’t get to hurt another friend
You don’t get nearly shove her out of the closet at a Christian co-op
Because of some stupid jokes

As far as I know
You haven’t mended your shit behavior
Your gossipy bitchiness
How you talk shit behind peoples backs
And talk shit about them to their friends.

I wish you were never in my fucking life
Maybe I never would have met one friend
But I’m sure we would have encountered eachother at the summer camp
Even without you.


But you’re human.
And so am I.
There’s a person there.
I could have been you.
Maybe I was your Toxic.
Maybe I’m other peoples’.

And I’m sorry.
But I hate you.
For making me have a panic attack about a locked door
And about whether or not you were going to off yourself
in a summer camp dorm

I miss how physically affectionate you were
Maybe it was love bombing
But you were 14
I doubt it was something originally malicious

I miss how you linked arms with me that one Wendsday
And we giggled about being “drunk”
on the shitty “fairy juice” that they called the punch
As we walked back to the dorm rooms

I miss how you leaned on me
As we tuned out the bullshit devotionals
That the camp forced us to do in groups each night

I fucking miss having something like that with someone
I miss being ABLE to have that with someone

I hate how you so clearly used me
For my fucking mp3 player
That I happily let you use
Because, you were a friend to me.
And it made you happy.

I miss myself.
I miss the happier me.
I miss the me who was a chatterbox and class clown.
The one who always had a pun ready
Or smart and goofy remark
The one who wasn’t scared of walking up to someone
And asking them what their favorite video game was
Or favorite tv show

You made me paranoid.
You fucking broke me.
I hate you.

But I’d do it all again.
Because I was fucking happy.
I was /happy/
I laughed my ass off around you
I let myself be weird for you
You made me feel like I wasn’t trash

But then.
You /did/
You guilt tripped me if I missed a call
You guilt tripped me if didn’t do what you wanted
You joked about offing yourself and depression
Like they were the fucking weather

Sometimes I wish you did.
Because then maybe I could have had enough of a shove to do the same.
I remember telling you that “if you do it, I’ll follow, so please don’t.”
And meaning it.
But I don’t remember your response

It was at summer camp
And you were quite literally dragging your feet
Your mood was so low that it was down in the Marianna trench
And I was terrified.

It was my first experience with someone suicidal.
Or at least, seemingly suicidal.
And I didn’t know what to do.
So that’s what I said.
And I’m sorry.
You’ll never read this
But I’m sorry.
Please
Please forgive me
Please
I’m sorry for all the other moments I may have done similar
I’m sorry for blaming you for being the start of my SH
That’s such a fucked up thing to say to someone
I’m sorry
I’m so fucking sorry
We were just mentally fucked up teenagers
And you very likely had abuse going on
I’m sorry for saying such fucking horrible things when I cut off our friendship
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
Please.
Understand that I was dependent on you
You were a lifeline in a dark time

I’m sorry.

 

[Shawdios]

O
Not feelin the best.
I’ve got homework I need to do
So much homework
But I’m not gonna do it today
I’ll push it off till tomorrow
The day before.
Because fuck it
I can barely get myself to go fucking eat
I feel weak
Not mentally weak and like a pussy
I mean physically
I feel like I could be blown over by a gust of wind
I wanna just sleep
And whither away
Continue to avoid eating meals that taste bland as fuck
Lose more weight
And feel like shit because of it

The window is looking pretty tempting
But I’m too tired
And I don’t want to hurt my bestie
They don’t deserve that pain
I said they’re stuck with me
And I won’t let that become a lie.
I refuse.

But god fucking damn it
Not existing is a heavenly concept to imagine
I’m working on an animatic/comic
I’ve posted it up in my traditional art thread
But the song tends to make me cry
When I’m feeling like this
Because fuck
I’d cause that last half if I gave in.
The first two thirds is me
But the last third is what’d I’d cause
The last verse is so fucking raw
And apparently was recorded in one shot
and off the top of his head
The words apparently just came pouring out of him
After he sung the first few lines
And fuck
It’s so powerful

I’m on a phone call rn
Waiting for a friend to come back.
I’d call him a friend
Not bestie though
He’s fun to be around
Always gets me laughing and me cracking jokes along with him
But we don’t have deep talks
Or at least, not frequently
We don’t tell the other about our days
Or send eachother random shit

I trust him to be blunt with me
To tell me the truth
Without the padding of platitudes
Even when it hurts.
But fuck
It does still hurt.

He’s back now.
We’re gonna play a shitty dating sim based off vegetables
Well he’s gonna play it and screenshare it with me
So I can backseat game

I feel bad that I’m low energy
While hanging out
Even if it’s over the phone

Fuck I feel bad
Really bad about it
I just wanna curl up in a ball
and press myself deep
into the corner of my closet

Now we’re just sitting in existence together
Again I feel bad that I’m not interacting more
I don’t want to say I want to go
Because I don’t,
Not really
I’m scared what I’ll do if I’m not on the phone
But i feel bad
That I’m here
And not working on homework
Or really contributing conversationally

I need to eat something
I really need to
But I don’t want to make rice
Or go downstairs
Or do anything

 

[Shawdios]

[written at 8amish]

Omissions of detail are not lies.
“Are you alright rn?”
Yup, not gonna Sh
-because the hour before we reconnected in Notes, I spent painting on my shoulder
-and now I’ve run out of space and stopped leaking paint, so, I can’t.

I wasn’t lieing about being alright
I am alright
Just because I didn’t tell you WHY
doesn’t mean I lied.
Right?

And I know you check this
I still give you blanket permission to
So it’ll just be a matter of time
Before I have to talk to you about it
But this is easier than a direct conversation

I just don’t want to be your Toxic
I don’t want you to feel like you HAVE
to spend the night on a phone call
Because I crave the Redlines
It didn’t do anything but delay the inevitable
So what if I didn’t do it last night?
I did it this morning
At least without you spending the night on then phone with me
I can have two sessions
Or just get the craving over with
And be fine the next morning
And you wouldn’t have to be kept awake
Or stressed about me not responding

It’s gonna happen anyway.
I’m not doing anything too bad.
You don’t have to be worried.

I’m okay I swear
I’m not gonna do the “beans” shit
(If we’re gonna use SHer terms)
Please get that
One,
Those would be very inconvenient in how long they’d take to heal
Two,
I really don’t want to be pressing for longer than fifteen minutes
Because it’s annoying (and scary) as hell to stem paint for longer than that
Three,
It’s terrifying.
And easy to get infected.
Which is even more terrifying.
Four.
Those are the ones that cause nerve damage.
Or at least risk it.
They are the ones that require stitches

Never.
Hell, accidentally doing deep “styros” scare me.
It happened only once, but
Fuck.
No.
Nopeing the hell out of that shit.



It’s weird how I can tell which ones are shallow “styros”
Based of the color of how they look when healing
They’re darker in shade
A little twinge of purple
Instead of the orangy red the “baby” ones have.

It really is like an addiction
I’m craving it
And scheming for a time to do it
Stealing for it
Getting irritated and snappish when something blocks me from it

Fuck the crave is back
But no.
I said I was okay
I told them I wasn’t gonna
FUCK
I’m not gonna be lieing to them.
Omission is one thing
But going back on my word is another
Fuck fuck fuck
Fuck fucken promises
Why’d I have to go and fucking say that
Cause now if I do it I’m a lieing piece of shit

Well they asked if I was alright.
And yeah I was
At the time
I hate how swiftly that can change for me
I wanna just fucken not have to deal with worrying them with my flip on a dime emotions
Perfectly fine
Then boom
Stuck in bed and staring at the bowl that hides my brushes
Swearing at the words I’ve said to them
Because rn is perfect
Mother is out of the house
So is older sister
Dad is playing his stupid fucking Diablo
And Lil sister is on the Mac or in her room
And only one (dad) knows I’m awake

It’s perfect time.
And even if I wanted bestie to distract me
I cant contact them with a time sensitive message
Notes doesn’t have reliable notifications
Fuck Notes

 

[Shawdios]

I dont know what i feel
I dont think i feel numb
I weirdly have energy today
Maybe i should alternate between
Sleep and awake
My body usually wakes me up every two hours anyway
I made breakfast
I got out of bed
I dont have my phone
But i AM doing shit
Maybe it's cause i turned on The Narcissist Cook Book
I love his stuff

.
.
.

Well its now two hours later.
God im tired
Sorta

Anyway time to rant about yesterday
..
I dont quite feel the need to though
I dont feel the emotional RAGE
To rant rn

I feel..
Okay?
Sorta?
Idk


.
.
.

I finally hunted down a poet Tiktoker
That i had downloaded some videos from onto my mp3 player
A long while back
(joshuatreenationalpark)

He’s very romantic
Most of his stuff i don’t really relate to
Its often about love (romantic love)
But i find it interesting

I’d point to him
If you asked me what Spice’s voice was

God damnit i could listen to him for hours
There’s a subtle lisp when he speaks
And his voice isnt extremely deep
But its also not high in pitch
Its pretty average for a guy
Maybe a slight bit lower

I’m not romantically fawning over this guy
I admire him
And the art he puts out into the world
But based off the way he describes love in the romantic sense
That not what this is
I admire the emotions he can invoke
I admire his skill with words
To paint such a beautiful scene
And to speak them in such a way
that reading cannot match

I envy his skill.
I envy his experiences
Not that the world needs another poet rambling on about romantic love
There’s already plenty both living and dead
But i envy that he can experience this painful and beautiful emotion
And that i can’t.

 

[Shawdios]

[25th]
If i weren't surrounded by people
Id cover my canvas
From neck to knee
Full of these redlines
Because they make me feel free
But i limit myself
Out if fear
That id be walked in on
And spark horified tears
I want nothing more than to show off
Yet im equally terified of such
The idea of the people i love
Seeing what if done?
Its-
Its too much
Ive gone over the same area
So many times
That its not even showing healing lines without scabs
Every day i hide behind closed door
And every day theres a few more
I dont want to stop
Cause is just marks
Done far into the dark
In the witching hours
Where everyone’s asleep
Or yet to rise from their slumbers
Blood isnt gross
I find it quite pretty
So long as there’s no dangers
I used to bleed for random strangers
And i felt good
I felt happy
Felt like my body could have beauty
I dont have many qualms
With how i look
I feel meh about it
But rarely ever like i could be an eye hook

[27th]
I “got” new brushes today
“” because i shoplifted them
Im ansty to use them
But as of writing
Its roughly 5:30pm
So
Lotta people around
Too risky
Oh
I did get some vinyls too
Old ones
Really old ones
From the same place i got my brushes
The records are probably from the 50’s or 60’s
(typing Shaw here, one of them was made in 1959)
They’re jazz records
I really like one of them
I havent put the other on yet
This one is just instrumental jazz
The other isnt
God i hate not being able to type these
Its so slow to write out
Might have to purge my account though
Mother probably knows about it now
Said “after we talk about what’s on your phone”
After i asked when id be getting it back
Im tempted to not purge it
Let her see ME unfiltered
In all its fucked up glory
Id probably be frisked for brushes though
So.
: /

[28th 11:30ishpm]
[-------]
I wanna fucking tear apart my shoulder
I wanna watch blood rush down my arm
Im so fucken full of rage rn
But terror holds me in place
Terror of the damage and consequences
And as long as im writing this shit down in a journal
Im not tearing myself apart
And i promised bestie i wouldnt get worse
I dont think bestie knows just how much they mean to me
I promise to them means so much more than a promise a sibling
Or to anyone else
I swore they wouldnt have to worry about my Sh getting worse
And Fuck.
Im not breaking that.
Oh yeah im definitely splitting rn
Shit
Fuck
Fucken shit
They stayed they stayed theythsayt]htatheystatyedtheystayed theysateadyed theystayed theystayed theytsatyeahthyaehayeaeyh
They stayed with me
I matter to them
They;ve cried for me out of worry
I matter
I matter to somebody
Are they my FP?
Is this what this is?
Fuck i get now then
Cause rn?
Id do anything they said they needed me to
If they wanted my to hurt someone
I think i would
Id go out in a blaze of blood and gore
If what they needed required it.

 

[Shawdios]

[29th]

I forget just how heavy this shit is
That yeah
Sh scares others
And that having suicidal thoughts even once in your life
Isn’t the norm.
That sui, sh and mental disorders are fucking heavy to hear about
Most people aren’t exposed to this
Most people aren’t hearing that one of their good friends
Has been cutting themsself

I forget
That the common person doesn’t deal with this
Or is paranoid like i am
I forget im a 1%~
Most people link cutting
To slitting your wrists
Not satisfaction in seeing red
And being okay with living
I forget that

When this is your whole life
And you surround yourself in people
Who understand or relate
And can handle the darkness
You forget.
You forget that, to most?
The Darkness is terrifying.

I find peace in Dark
KNOWING that i’m not the only one
Who deals with these evils
Its comforting.

[30th]

This thread doesnt feel safe anymore
Does it?
I feel scrutinized now
Me putting the section of the previous post thats now been redacted
Was an asshole thing to do.
Esspecally right after id given waffle permission to read the whole thread

But now
This thread is censored
I dont know how to feel
Or what to do going forward
Do i put up everything i rant about?
Or do i cherry pick?
And begin hiding the “worst”?
The point of this thread
Was to show everything
To let out everything
Unfiltered and to be seen
But now its not safe anymore
Bestie checks this constantly
Which i have been fine with
But i made the mistake of telling them
To send someone else the link to it
And lo-and-behold
that person got hurt

I dont know what to do
This was where i was completely honest
No bullshitting
Or hiding behind the curtain
This was where i let the dark shit out
And documented it
For myself to have
And to be seen by understanding eyes
(And potentially a therapist
Once im able to get to one)

Now its tainted
The point
Of all my shit being harmful when seen
Has been proven

I dont know what to do

I feel trapped
Cornered
I want to run and avoid the both of them
Everything i write here will be seen by bestie
Hi!
How ya doing?
Im not good with telling people shit
At least with this thread
Its a “oops! You read that? *snaps fingers* damn, well lets talk about it now”
And not a “Im spiraling, please, please help” out of the blue

Because when im writing these (or typing)
Theres a layer of distance
I dont quite know how to explain it
Its easier to talk to a “void” about this
Than a person
And someone i know on top of that
It just feels different
I know i wont get mad at them
And start lashing out
If they attempt to reassure me
I hate that i lash out too
How i instantly start growing hostile
When attempted to be reassured
Bestie i dont get as hostile with
(i still have under certain circumstances, just not as easily overall)
But everyone else?
Claws and fangs
Cursing and snapping
Back pedaling and lies
I hate it.