earthGlitchdump_site

Hey so I just found out that only being able to relive or remember certain situations (specifically sexual encounters in this case) from a third person perspective is actually a form of dissociation!!!

Something really evil about shaving your legs while your phone is in the other room singing with the message that he’s so sorry and just really tired and wondering if we can reschedule for tomorrow instead. Like I could’ve waited. Now my legs will be prickly like my soul tomorrow. You’ve ruined everything.

I have to stand up for myself today. I don’t fucking want to. I don’t think there is a greater discomfort than having to stand up for yourself against someone who is supposed to love you. Because why do I have to do this? Shouldn’t you, as my friend, be the one who encourages me to be strong and help to lift me up so the weight isn’t as heavy on my own? Perhaps that is asking too much of you, or maybe I have grown too heavy. But I know that I have never been too heavy for my female friends to hold. They have propped up my body like a scare crow when I have felt too limp to hold myself accountable. How is it that now, I must plead my case for decency at your feet when all you’ve told me is that at the end of the day we are always friends, and that I am not to take that distinction lightly. Friends don’t treat each other like this. Friends are people who love fiercely, and who hold themselves accountable for the ways that their actions impact each other. I don’t think you care about how your actions impact those around you. I used to think that you did. Now I think that you are so convinced that you are such a terrible person who is beyond saving that you must prove to everyone around you that you are by being a dick. You have created such a daunting self fulfilling prophecy of asshole-ness that you can’t even see a way out anymore. Grow up. You’re almost 30. Sit in the uncomfortableness of the disappointment of everyone around you and really take stock of what that means. I can’t tell you in any way you’ll hear that you’re fucking up. You stopped listening to my assessments of your character a long time ago. Do better Fuck Face. Your tail between your legs is a look that’s getting old.

I think I feel really lonely after we hang out. For a while I thought that feeling was just the absence of you, but now it’s maybe feeling like something different. Like it’s something you carve out of me while we’re together, and then take with you when I go. Or maybe it’s not that you’ve taken any actual piece of me, but there is something in you that makes me feel bigger somehow when I’m next to you, and then when you leave I am left feeling smaller than before. Or maybe it’s that I’m the one giving pieces of myself to you, and I never feel like you’re giving anything back to supplement the pieces of myself that I’ve torn up. But that also doesn’t make sense, because I feel like you give me so much. I think maybe it’s because I know that you’re not giving it freely? There is a tactile responsibility that I know you feel for me, and I also know that you deeply resent me for that. I am something to be taken care of in your eyes. A squirrel you found on the side of the road that you can’t help but turn back for no matter how many times you tell yourself that it’s never gonna make it if you keep feeding it people food. I hate being the squirrel, but I don’t know how to stop taking the crackers and peanuts you feed me. I know how to be a wild animal on my own. I know how to take care of myself and create safety and a home within myself. But then you fucking look at me with big sad eyes that doubt my independence and in a heartbeat I have lost all faith in the body that has done so many hard and wonderful things on its own, before it even knew you existed. Why do I repeatedly convince myself that you know what’s best for me, when you have proven that to be incorrect time and time again.

I need to learn how to stop feeling broken just because someone else thinks they can fix me. I am not something to be saved. I know this. I know that I am capable of saving myself a million times over every day. I know that I love the feeling of being a man’s wounded bird. Something small for him to hold tightly and fix and mend and repair over and over until I am one thousand broken pieces taped together in his favorite image.

posting into my public void that nobody ever sees has really become an important ritual for me. i can say anything in here. i can scream as loud as i want and bother no one. it’s comforting to know that anyone could read my whole mind with a mouse click, even if nobody ever does.

i get worried that the only reason i like the music that i do is because i miss my brother. sometimes i swear i am still 7 and sitting outside his bedroom, sliding pictures i drew of us through the crack under his door. i want to ask him if he’s ever wanted to be my friend, but i’m scared that he will tell me he’s never really thought about it. i’ve thought about what that might be like everyday since he left for boarding school. maybe he just needed space from an annoying younger sibling, but now we are over a thousand miles away from each other and i haven’t heard from him in months. i hope he misses me too.

i miss my best friend. i don’t think they’re my best friend anymore, and i know that i was part of that choice, but i miss them and i wish it hadn’t gotten all fucked up and stupid. they really piss me off. they get so petty and hold a grudge for an eternity and can be generally rude as fuck. they also make me laugh, and when i got in an accident in a snow storm it was them that came and picked me up, not my boyfriend. i don’t think they want to be my friend anymore and i didn’t think it would make me so sad but i miss them. i tried to text them the other day and they did respond but idk, didn’t feel like they were all that jazzed i reached out. im scared i am destined for people to only exist in my life in 4 year shifts. i am scared that i will never have anyone who has known me through multiple phases of my life. i think i ruined it.