To be honest, I forgot about this place.
Uh.. hi?
It sure has been a time. Time feels fake. Is it real? Is 2020 even real? Did this all really happen?
~*STATIC*~
I’ve been feeling dizzy only in my brain every now and then. Light-headed. Dizzy. Out of it. Out of focus. Zoned out. Spaced out. Dissociated.
Emotional instability. Mood swings. Emotional dysregulation. :) :( :) :( :) :( :) :(
“Are you me or are you normal?” — that’s my catchphrase that plays in my head all the time. 24/7.
I’m not normal. Never was. Never will be.
//ARE YOU ME OR ARE YOU NORMAL?//
“!! hyper! happy! energy! :D” (short amount of time later) “... lowkey feeling suicidal. i have the urge to kill myself.” (switching between these multiple times a day).
What’s the real me? What’s my identity?
I don’t fucking know! My mind is a carousel and full of static. I keep on feeling dizzy only inside my head.
I love you. I hate you. I love you. I want to kill you. I want to kill myself.
//HIGH. LOW. HIGH. LOW. HIGH. LOW. HIGH. LOW.//
I read very disturbing and graphic content for my classes. Most of my reading assignments are like that.
//IT GETS IN MY HEAD. AND IT STAYS THERE. MY MIND DISTORTS IT AND I’M THE PREDATOR. I’M REPULSED. WHAT IF I’M CAPABLE? I’M CAPABLE. WHAT IF? I DON’T TRUST MYSELF. I DISTRUST THESE HANDS.//
I hate and want to kill you! Why? I don’t know.
(not “you” whoever’s reading this. “you” isn’t you.)
//KILL. KILL. KILL. KILL. I’M A MURDERER IN THE MAKING. AND I’LL BE MY FIRST VICTIM.//
I want to throw up all the bad. I want to stab a knife through my head. Feel the blood dripping down my forehead.
Expel the evil out. Bad person. Bad friend. Bad blogger (or whatever the fuck this place is).
Spiraling. Relapsing. Regressing. I’m going nowhere. No progress. Not even making any effort to.
They’re not coming back! They’re gone! God damn it.
//SHE DIED. SHE DIED.//
Trauma. Trauma. Trauma. Trauma in the stories. Trauma in the memories. Trauma in the records. It’s not okay! That’s not okay!
it’s not it’s not it’s not it’s not it’s not it’s not it’s not it’s not it’s not—
//TRAUMATIC. TRAUMATIZED. THEY FUCKED ME UP. I CAN’T TRUST MYSELF. I DON’T KNOW THE REAL ME. THEIR WORDS ARE BULLETS SHOT OUT OF GUNS AND I’M COVERED IN BULLET HOLES. NOT EVERYONE HAD THAT SHIT HAPPEN TO THEM. NOT EVERYONE LIVES IN FEAR OF PEOPLE THEY LOVE. NOT EVERYONE HAS A COMPLICATED RELATIONSHIP WITH THEIR LOVED ONES. WITH THEIR BLOOD.//
I impulsively overshare.
I regret it.
And I do it again. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over. Again.
//THEN I PUSH THE BLADE IN...//
~*StATiC*~
This isn’t real. This is a simulation.
Make it stop moving. Make it stop!
I don’t exaggerate. But...
Welcome to the show!
The commercial break is over.
Welcome back.
//WAKE THE FUCK UP!//
And go back to sleep.
This isn’t you. This isn’t me. This isn’t you. This isn’t me.
//WHO ARE YOU? WHO AM I? WHO THE FUCK ARE WE?//
Peel the skin around my fingers off. Pick at scabs. Tie a noose with my guts. Put my hand inside my chest and take out my heart.
Take it out! Turn it off! Make it stop!
I have no identity. Chronic emptiness. I feed on others’ feelings.
Give me something. I need it.
//I NEED IT. I’M OBSESSED. I’M ADDICTED. I NEED IT.//
Welcome back.
//WE MISSED YOU.//
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