even i cant always tell
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Peter Solarz

Kaledo Art

if i look back, i am lost
dirt enthusiast
noise dept.
Misplaced Lens Cap
Today's Document
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸

shark vs the universe
Three Goblin Art
Aqua Utopiaď˝ćľˇăŽĺşă§č¨ćśăç´Ąă
NASA

çĽćĽ / Permanent Vacation

JVL

izzy's playlists!
Acquired Stardust

oozey mess
RMH
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@archive-rd1
even i cant always tell

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How do people even find actual reasons to live that are genuinely motivating?
I know itâs entirely a âmeâ issue since I very literally cannot feel positive emotions, therefore I canât actually get motivated or passionate about anything.
But Iâm sure there are people like me that found reasons to keep going. Especially while sustaining a job and shit like that.
How do you not just run away or give up?
Why do I like villains so much?
I think itâs because I see myself as one.
Yes, I am a sadist, but also a masochist in the way of self-destruction and self-pity. I want to make others suffer not only because I like to feel the power and see them in pain - Deep down there is also the hope of making them finally see the real me, the creature in the mirror who I believe myself to be. I am cruel, I destroy myself in every way and every second possible. But I am tired. Tired of people seeing me as a pure, righteous human being. I am so deeply scarred and suppressed by my own lies that I want to show the world what I can be, what I already am to myself. I want to do something terrible, something beyond redemption or forgiveness. I want them to look me in the eye and realize they never saw more of me than I allowed them to. I want them to fear me, to hate me, to despair because of what I have done.
And then, only then, when I finally feel the consequences of my actions, I can finally resent from this world knowing I was right about myself all along. That I am worthy of this suffering and eternal loneliness, and eventually, worthy of dying. I want to fight and cry out trying to make others understand, and I want to fail, I want my friends to turn their back on me, I want to feel the real pain of being alone instead of making it all up and having others tell me itâs only in my head. I want to be free from the chains of social dependency, I want to ascend beyond the borders of humanity and become a being of utter autonomy, something none can understand nor relate to.
In that way, I will dig my own grave and know that the soil is real. I will finally be the embodiment of my own melancholy, the villain Iâve seen in the mirror and whose voice Iâve heard in the back of my head for so long. I will close my eyes and find peace at the very last, in the deepest and loneliest darkness of my mind, for this tiresome, seemingly endless fight will be over and I no more than a mere shadow of my past. To give and to receive, pain will be my first and last creation, my gift to the world and to myself.
I will die the villainâs death.
I hate it when people ask me if I'm feeling something. Are you excited? Nervous? What do you want to watch? Do you wanna do something? Are you relieved now that it's over? Happy that you graduated? Proud to have achieved so much?
The answer is literally no. I have dysthymia, I do not care about anything nor have I for a long time. There is no point to anything so why would I have feelings related to something being important?
Thanks for reminding me that I'm empty inside though. Now I feel depressed about that so I guess I do have feelings after all. It's sure nice to graduated BSc and feel only sadness because you're not feeling happy about it.
This is a comic about my experience with covert NPD, ableism will not be accepted
This is word for word something that one of my close friends said to help me with my tendencies to never express any of the intense negativity I feel and honestly this really helped me understand that Iâm not wrong for wanting to vent that anger
I know my experience is not universal but I felt the need to share this

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Sometimes processing trauma looks like making mini comics about dogs.
UNTETHERED
Inspired by a dream that took me on a flight through our Solar System â leaving me entirely unimpressed by its beauty.
sometimes i want a new face
SzPD culture is not opening up much bc of not really caring about your own emotions. Like, even if I do open up and tell other people my problems it does nothing, I feel no relief, the problem isn't going away, just nothing. And now I feel stupid for opening up.
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I do not feel real. The world is going on around me but I am a stranger.
An outsider.
I don't feel real. Not really. I know I am, but sometimes I wonder.
I cannot focus, if this isn't real, what is?
The world runs in circles around accomplishments I have yet to see.
I cannot focus, my body is here but my mind is away.
Thoughts are broken. Fragmented, like a million comma splices.
I feel so alone here. Everyone else seems to feel real, but I feel so odd, like a ghost haunting a body, wondering if someone will notice.
There is no one to tell. No one understands.
How do you explain that nothing feels real? That it all feels like some sort of dream you have to wake up from at some point but never do.
Does the rest of the world exist? Is it all a figment of my half insane mind? How would I know?
I wish I could stop this feeling. Finally feel life finally get everything done I need to.
But... I suppose that's why I'm here anyway. So much to do, enough time. So. Why. Can't. I. Focus?
I have to hide these feelings. No one can know how much of an outsider I truly am.
I told them. They dont care. Don't know what to do. Don't know what's wrong with me.
I wish I knew. But an explanation wouldn't fix me. Nothing truly does.
They're to busy to care anyway. Trying to fix themselves, put a band aid over a crack in a large dam.
How do you ask for help if no one can help you?
I do not feel real. Time is slipping away.
I've done nothing.
I wish I could. But my mind is so fractured, so frazzled nothing seems to process, to matter.
There is so much I must do.... So I suppose I do none of it.
Time goes so slow. But they day is half over.
I wish I felt real.
I wish my life mattered more to me.

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Okay, youâve heard of pillow talk and talking someone through getting fucked, but have you considered the beautiful intimacy of someone talking you through dying. Like- youâre bleeding out with your head resting in someoneâs lap, and instead of trying to stop the blood or help, they just run their fingers through your hair, maybe lightly touch their fingertips to the edge of the wound, softly telling you that itâs going to be okay. Dying happens to everyone, itâs normal to be a little nervous, but you do it so well and so beautifully. Itâs alright to let go. You can relax. Iâll take care of everything, you donât have to worry your pretty little head. Itâs okay if your eyelids get a little heavy, you can go ahead and close them. Or, better yet, I can close them for you, yeah? Itâs too much work to do it yourself, I understand â you just have to leave it all to me.
And they hover their blood stained hand over your mouth just to feel your breathing get all slow and shallow, reminding you of all the things you wonât have to worry about. Besides, isnât this the best way to die? In the arms of someone whoâs there through every step of it, whispering sweet nothings, promising that theyâll take such good care of you once youâre gone. Telling you all the things theyâre going to do with your body, softly groping you, making sure you feel good and safe in your final moments.
I hate to be all whiny and sad and be the annoying self loathing person, but having persistent depressive disorder basically means that I'm eating well, sleeping well, doing exercise, hanging out with friends, yet every time it feels something is missing and people around me are getting something I just can't have and don't understand because is far away from me.
It's exhausting to live doing stuff with the hope that's the thing that will finally make you feel alive, at peace, fulfilled! Only to discover that you finished and it meant nothing. You feel nothing.
I wonder what I'm made of.
I'm so desperately suicidal every day I know that I exist.
These empty claims of "things will get better", "suicide isn't the answer", "you would be missed", other shallow sentiments .... I don't understand how people could be reassured by things like this. I've heard these and similar statements so many fucking times throughout my life and they're so impersonal and they lack nuance.
They're no better than a greeting card produced en masse in a factory to be then bought by people who want to look like they care.
I know I will be missed, the same way I know I'm "not alone" and "other people struggle with the same things". I know it's true and it doesn't change anything about how I'm feeling. People will be sad about my death no matter what, there's nothing I can do about that, who cares. That's just how it is. I was never going to be the only one on earth, but god damnit if I'm not the only one in my immediate vicinity to be a suicidal schizoid crow. That's just how it is.
I've recognized the impersonal sentiments long before I came to be what I am now, and I make a visible effort to avoid them. They don't help. Caring for someone means saying things that pertain to their situation uniquely. That's how they know you care and that you're paying attention. "You're not alone" is an empty sentiment and your suicidal friend isn't stupid enough to not see through it.
As far as I'm concerned, things aren't getting better for me, which I've known subconsciously for a long time.
Dysthymia
You perpetually have a cold. Except, no one knows that you have a cold, so everyone thinks this is just who you are.
And, youâre not going to die from it. Itâs not cancer or anything. You just donât feel good. You donât feel like yourself. You just feel tired. You donât feel like doing anything.
And, youâre taking DayQuil, but it doesnât do anything.
And you just want to let your body rest so it can get over this cold. But you know that youâll never get over the cold, so thereâs no point in resting. And you couldnât fall asleep anyway.
And thereâs no one there to take your temperature by kissing your forehead or bring you soup. So, you have to bring your own hand up to your forehead but you think youâre probably just biased because it just always feels hot to you, so how would you even be able to tell the difference? And you donât feel like you can cook right now.
And you have to wake up tomorrow. And you canât. But you will.
"Why are you never excited about anything you're so ungrateful most people would be over the moon to do xyz" most people don't have a personality disorder of which two of the hallmarks are anhedonia and chronic apathy. It is literally in my pathology. It is not a personal slight against you.

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The void at the center of the self. [character-design Š by me]
avpd/szpd culture is experiencing "love" more like a reptile would--in the sense that you are familiar to me and I appreciate you, however I cant feel any deep emotional connection to you.