#writingwhore

[psychedelic-ink]

i accidentally read your header as ‘writingwhore’ now i want to crawl into a deep hole and die 🤣🤣

I feel like that would be more accurate with my blog dfbvfgb

ALSO speaking of writingwhore might as well mention that there's a blog that I follow named the same @writing-wh0re 💗💗💗

[swallowgold]

I'm not mentally intense enough to kill kyself

I want a future but I also want to be drastic and irrational and unbearable just so some medic can say "yes we need to help them"

Just cause I'm not slicing my wrists hourly like I used to doesn't mean I'm ok now

I am finally willing to talk please allow for services to let me do that dear government

[swallowgold]

Perhaps I'll die in a rain storm, crippled, crushed to the ground by the heavy beating drops.

Perhaps I'll die with a smile on my face, when you take me by the hand and you tell me you love me, where I'd smile, then I'd jump.

Perhaps I'll die drinking tea, choking, coughing on my own in a one bedroom apartment, far from school, struggling to pay bills, slipping from the world unnoticed.

[swallowgold]

I think; the words are falling. Expiring. Letters chipping off sentences, like the old cream striped wallpaper that provides the background to your summers spent at your grandmother's, the one who stares and hates and makes you sit up straight and wear those high collar dresses.

Speech is collapsing, rusting. Each word falls to the ground with a loud thump, causing dents in the earth, never wearing away, never to be used again, and soon you've set alight to all of your words and the only form of communication left is to stare into someone's eyes as yours fill with the sea and hope that they can hear the screams within.

[swallowgold]

A pointless morning filled with memories from a hidden world inside the brain. It hurts, to see it all in front of me and so I'll hate my being for now as it's all I can think of, I can't blame him, for he is not around except in my head, but I can hate myself, and hurt myself and blame myself for it all. Perhaps after one more year, sum of seven soon, the pain will become more tolerable, perhaps soon I'll be able to see the film inside my head without needing to destroy my body.

I'll burn for now, sit in fire and burn and watch the world as it avoids me as I clearly hurt.

[swallowgold]

. and everything hurts, and the pain seems silent but quick to swallow. Who cries for life? Let go of the ropes, rid yourself of the training wheels and all you will do is fall and die. It's there it is all there in front, waiting for you to take the pills, waiting for you to down the cheap clear poison, yet the body tenses up and shakes and all you want to do is breathe and die, but this can't be it. Not yet.

[swallowgold]

Mornings seem to shake you out of life, wake you from the crazy sleep, where you live in worlds where you can be anything, you can be it all. And the you wake, and the tragic sadness sets in, the confusion, of whether the dream was a dream, I can't distinguish what's real.

Exams, limit your brain, answer a sheet to be told if you're good enough for life. My blood is still intoxicated from the night before, though with the sun still down, resting her head, it still is the night for me, so should I sleep? I'd rather watch my skin opened by knives, and who thought that knives sleep in the day, wake only in the dark, when the sky matches our souls.

Sins, surrounded, drowning in sins, a cheater and a whore, a liar is all I own. Words that describe my body and mind, conscious decisions I make without thoughts of others involved now.

[swallowgold]

Escaped life by surrendering to a world without time, where time can't pass, can't swallow up the present and make the future a brighter place, where nothing shifts, nothing gets better nor worse. Simply breathing, simply walking along the wet trashed pavement.

Pick up a needle, jam it into your eye hope for an infection, hope for a death. Useless and weak, and all battered and frail, dragging, breathing out last breaths. You still won't die. This body still won't fucking die.

[swallowgold]

Waiting, waiting, waiting. It’s all I seem to do. I was sitting in Starbucks and all I saw were people walking around, living. I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to stay alive, I live just so I could die soon. Don’t we all? Is it a strange thought to have, a strange dream to wish for? I can’t help but think that everyone sees life this way, I can’t understand how anyone could see life in any different way.

Soon my dear child, soon. Soon you will be allowed to die and you’ll be happy. Soon you’ll slip away from this world and all will be better.

[swallowgold]

My insides hurt. To me I picture the inside of my soul a disgusting and dirty rotten swamp. A horrible dark place covered in soggy green slime. Weepy trees, puke green leaves. No live, not even the tress are alive, they’re long dead slowly decaying, but not even maggots live in this horrid place.

[swallowgold]

How do I explain to you that my mind won’t let me trust what is in front of me, how do I tell you that despite you talking to me, and touching me and you being here in front of my eyes, still it feels so surreal and fake. How do I make you understand that I have lost control of my own body, my own hands and legs? I cannot walk to the store the safe way, I automatically calculate a route which will take me through a dark alley way, in hopes that I may get stabbed. I can’t cross a road during a green light. I wish my mind made sense because then it would be easier to make you believe and see what I see, what I think and how I live. But I can’t words can only do so much and I’m not very articulate, I cannot pain you a picture to make you see what is inside me. I cannot play you music to make you hear what I hear. Even if I could draw or write or play music, even if I could come up with an equation to express the feelings, I’m not allowed to help myself so I stare at you, not saying a word hoping that you can hear me screaming from within and take control of my life for me.

[swallowgold]

I can get all bleak and depressing and use words that don't suit me, but why bother to write, to use metaphors when life is too short? I want you to take a blade to my skin, quite literally to cut open my veins, you seem to do a better job at hurting me, both emotionally and physically, than I do.

Perhaps you'd prefer to slice open my neck, use a big knife, I'd like that very much. Oh look a sex scene gone disastrous, a dead girl and a horny guy. Tonic water is sweet compared to how bitter and pissed I am.

Oh well, that's all I can say, I didn't get ran over by a car today, oh well. I hate being used, but oh well. I need you, when you lie to me, but oh fucking well, because it is me, because I for some reason cannot do anything, because I'll die soon anyway so why fucking try.

I will not kill myself yet, but I'm not going to fight the urges, so perhaps I will still reach twenty-five, perhaps I will never pass the second decade.

Oh well.

[swallowgold]

and all the lights are floating and flickering behind my eyes, and I can sense it and it's is rather disturbing, and oh the hate that fills the streets, like fog it chokes you they all hate and I cannot find the line, the line I need to put it all together, the line to follow, a path. Stuck in mud, unable to breathe because my mouth is full of crickets, those loud beings they chirp chirp like birds but in their own green way, with their bodies, vibrating, they've filled my throat and I can't speak nor breathe. And they shake me, those hands they constantly grab me and shake me in perfect silence, I shake and quake and freeze.

I'm slightly afraid. I have no magic pills to take care of me, and I have no white coats to look after me, though I hate them and am a stubborn five year old refusing medication, I do not know what to do without it. 18 and no money, it's time for me to take care of me and I can't do that, I don't know where to begin, the white cloaked people know what to do with their degrees and pointy fingers, they have magical pills and.. there is no use in even trying because I won't accept the magic cures.. but I can't snap out of this, I can;t it's all so busy and fast and there is no line, no sequence, it's all so dirty and messy and I don't know what to do.

[swallowgold]

Something so very terrible lies on a cliff and it's soon to jump but I do not know quite yet, just waiting for the fall, and the crash, the painful blood that will splatter and pool together at the bottom. It's that horrid feeling, that makes me cautious on the dark, barely lit streets that makes me so afraid of this world. And I do not know what will happen, just that something will, and it will be a hammer to my bones, braking my insides.

[swallowgold]

and you know it could all end, but no, not enough pain nor torture in this limbo of a life, fighting and being torn apart in two by the hopeless reality that keeps losing this battle and the one eyed fish that controls my mind, dragging me deeper into the depths of that murky waters. 

Back to collecting pills, because I may not be able to die, but I can certainly make sure I am safe.

[swallowgold]

I don't think I even have the energy to be disappointed in myself anymore. Tomorrow my brain, mind and body age another year, and though at 18 my life is not what I had ever expected it to be, I cannot bother to care anymore. If I live another day then fine, if I don't then that's fine too. I wanted so much by this time, but I have nothing, all I want now is any excuse to cry, to weep, and rid my body of the waters that have accumulated within. A stray dog, wondering around, I just.. do what you will to my body, I do not care.