closetedcloud - Tumblr blog

[closetedcloud]

Struggle of a Survivor

The urge to trauma dump is fuckin strong... Casual conversation started veering about motherhood and my brain started reliving shit and it feels like I'm about to burst. Only options I have are to either relapse and take it out on my leg or trauma dump. And to be frank, I would rather die than appear toxic or be a burden or upset someone bc of something I said or did. Sooo looks like I only have one option. And for some reason, I'm scared of it while also craving it. It's been long overdue, but at the same time, it's been almost a year since I've last cut. Last April was the last time (could never remember the actual day until I looked).

By "looked," I mean checked my photo gallery... it's a long story... Sorry internet. Signing off now. Wish me luck. Update: Couldn't do it. Don't know why. I want to so fuckin badly.... but I know it's wrong. But I deserve and I need it. Fuck. Gonna yank the chain, watch some Critical Role, and go to bed. Again, wish me luck. Fuck.... Wish I had hair clippers and bleach for my hair.... New hair give serotonin but that's not an option either. Fuck my fucking life

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Can feel myself falling back into old ways and I need to pull myself out. Nobody is responsible for my emotions except me and I need to stop getting upset when people don't message me constantly because they are their own people with their own lives and I never ever want to try to take that away. That is unhealthy and I refuse to be that selfish, so I choose to accept that my mentality is fucked up and I have a lot of work to do.

And if he wants to help her too, that doesn't mean he will abandon me. But... He hasn't been messaging as much as he did before, he doesn't seem as happy around me, when it gets bad he doesn't respond and if he does the responses are short. And every time I find someone I see as family, they replace and abandon me. Am I dooming myself to this trauma cycle or is this actually real?

I can't tell what's real or what's not anymore. Can't help but wonder if everyone would be better off if I was dead or if it would make any difference at all. I need to empower myself but I have no idea how.

Idk how to start hobbies and get good at something to give me a sense of purpose while in the current position I'm in. All I've got is cake decorating. But maybe I should practice that more... I have the materials... Hmm... And if Comcast decides to get their shit together and turn the internet back on, I can try to do more on guild wars... Idk...

I don't want to be toxic or a bad friend so I need to do better at handling my emotional shit and stop relying on outside validation. But... She gets it all the time with her art and fashion... So why can't I? Ugh... I'm a mess...

I need to see what good qualities that people apparently see in me, if there are any. I'm scared of asking them directly cuz it may come off as just trying to fish for compliments when in actuality, I just need a realistic outside perspective so I can try to build from that to improve my mental health.

I wanna cut so fucking bad...

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I wanna die lol everything is fine

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Why does it always end like this?

TW: descriptions of SH, trauma . .

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. Things were fine. Great even. For a very short while. Until they weren't for a very very long time. Between the pandemic and my internal spiral chasing me down time and time again, every single day. I thought things with my mom were great when I was small. She was my protector, the reason for my existence, the woman who took the best care of me. But then she remarried and I blamed her behavior on him. And now looking back, she has always done fucked up shit to me that I never even saw or thought was wrong. It was normal... right? Living my life inside a single room for safety, sleeping all day, isolated from the world by my mother. When I finally gathered the balls and resources to run away, I ran from one danger to another to another and continued similar patterns. Lost myself along the way until I saw mom again... that pain brought me back to reality. So this time when I left, I really left. I thought things were great with him and his family. Despite their... controversial opinions... things were perfectly fine. Wonderful holidays, sunlight and chlorine summers, the illusion of freedom. I have everything I ever wanted... so why am I so fucking sad all the time? So I find myself yet again, living my life inside a single room for safety, sleeping all day, isolated from the world by myself. I sabotage every good thing I have out of fear of losing it. Every time I meet people who actually have a chance of loving me, I re-live all the times I thought things were perfect, normal. The people who I thought were my family, people who would always be there and love me for me... all a big lie... all to be brought to an inevitable end when they leave or it gets so bad that I have to run again. I can feel myself drifting away because I don't think my mom ever left me. It's been 6 months since I last glided my beautiful blade across my skin, I long for it. It beckons me to it, speaks to me like an old friend. The longer I resist the urge, the stronger it is to the point where I can feel the blood coursing through my veins. They beg to be released. I tell them no, but I'm not entirely sure why anymore. For the things I've done, for the DNA, for the disgusting thing I see in the mirror, for pushing away everyone I love, for not being worthy or deserving of the good things I have... I need to be put in my place. Why deny myself the discipline I deserve? Today, the blade beckons me so loudly my ears are ringing and my head is pounding. My leg is a dam begging to be broken. And yet again, I deny it. For no reason. Everything I do is because of patterns started because of mother dearest. I don't know how to break these cycles and I have no money to get some fucking help. I'm stuck in the same cage time and time again with no way out. Why does it always end like this?

[closetedcloud]

No caffeine, only mental illness

I can almost feel wings growing on my back, but I know if I jump off this roof, I'll fall back into the bottom of the barrel of a gun. I want to ride this wave of euphoria, even though it'll crash on me at any moment. But if I constantly tell myself it won't last, maybe I'm manifesting it? But if I prepare myself for the next spiral, maybe it will be easier? Rationalizing this is difficult, my mind is a fragmented labyrinth. Mental illness is the powerhouse of the cell, I don't care what anyone says. The mitochondria can suck my dick. Also I gave myself bangs again *chopchop* :D

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Why is my heart breaking when nothing is happening?

Probably because it's being held together by spite and scotch tape...

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How does one compare a broken pencil with a glorious painting?

How does one befriend a grain of sand when they have a shining star?

How will one keep an old popsicle stick when they have a gorgeous lantern?

A broken pencil can't impress or blow the minds of friends like a painting can. Paintings end up in museums while broken pencils get thrown in the trash.

A grain of sand has no other task than to be an annoyance and get tossed away once found. A shining star brightens the sky with it's radiance and captures the love and attention of many. A star is worth more than all the money in the world but the grain of sand is nothing more.

A popsicle stick has no use once the popsicle itself is gone. The stick is destined to be thrown away by anyone who uses it, for it has no other purpose. But a lantern shows the way out of darkness. The lantern is intricate, graceful, everything that a broken popsicle stick could never be.

How could I ever measure up?

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Should a star die

because another shines

much brighter than I?

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This song gives me super strong Sylvie aka Lady Loki vibes. Giving me dnd ideas 😈

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you see perry the platypus when I pull this lever it will scan the brains of everyone in the tristate area and automatically give free HRT to every trans person, driving local gender affirming centers out of business, and then I can buy all their medical equipment at a severely discounted price and dismantle it for aa batteries. my wii remotes are dead

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Feefal on Instagram / Tumblr

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So I think I might start writing again... To the void it will go. Nobody's gonna read my garbage anyways 😂😂 thank you, my tiny little corner of the internet. One person party! Whoop whoop 🥳

[closetedcloud]

TW: childhood trauma, abuse

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Heart pounding in her ears at the empty residence, stomach churning in shame and panic, awaiting the next catastrophe. There was a call home from school about her latest poem dug from the trash bin. She knew it was coming, her body knew but her expression couldn't keep up. How could it?

She sits on the couch with the clock ticking 8:34pm. When was the witch coming home from work? The occupation of sharp scissors snipping away at the identities of men and women in the town hoping for change that will never come. She stares blankly at the empty television screen until the inevitable end of this wretched day. Weird to think this was the calm before the storm. Was she coming home at all or was this a second night of plans for her grandmother's house?

Suddenly, the familiar headlights of the witch's broom beamed, travelling along the apartment windows. That was her queue to rush upstairs to attempted safety. Hurriedly tumbling up the stairs, she takes caution to not slam the door and throws herself under the covers, flicking all switches off. Why did I write that stupid poem, she screams in her head. I need to just bottle it up like a normal person, she seethes in self-hatred.

At the tip toeing heard from downstairs, she silently screams at her body to stop shaking. The apartment was so quiet that all she could hear was Terror's keys hitting the dining room table in the level beneath her, pensive steps up the stairs, the door across the hall closing shut, and the deafening drumbeat of her heart threatening to be heard from out of her ears. The poor little girl winces in anticipation for the probable chaos to ensue in that room, soon to enter her own. After all, it was routine. But it never came.

Maybe Abhorrence is asleep or out with another woman again, she exhaled in relief, not realizing she had been holding her breath. She is safe, at last. She lightly lifts the pink covers and looks at her arm, the fresh red and purple marks on it. She will have to wear long sleeves to school tomorrow so no one sees. Settling into her bed, her muscles relax and prepare to let her dreams take her to sanctuary. Her mind finally quiet for the first time the whole day, at least from what she can remember.

The careful creak of her door abruptly tears her away from her unconscious sanctum, popping her eyes open, daring not to move. Terror floods her system, measuring the energy of the room to figure out if it's the witch or Abhorrence.

"Anna," he barks.

"Daddy?" The little girl quavers.

Then it happened.

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There is always some disconnect