☆Umbra ☆

Might make a vent post later to see if it helps, I know I'll regret it later but tbh idc, this account is ruined anyways

✶⋆.˚Umbra - They/Themᯓ★

Hi! I'm Umbra and uhm, have some general information about me:

⊹ ࣪ ˖Gender'Fluid/Demi'Flux ⭑.ᐟ

⊹ ࣪ ˖Vocaloid/Indie⭑.ᐟ

⊹ ࣪ ˖Bodily Minor⭑.ᐟ

⊹ ࣪ ˖Listening to music/Doomscrolling⭑.ᐟ

⊹ ࣪ ˖Spawnist⭑.ᐟ

── ˖ ࣪ ⊹ ✦ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ── ˖ ࣪ ⊹ ✦ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ —–

⋆˙⟡BYF: 

Just a quick warning, I am a "problematic" person. I have a history of mimicking and "stealing" personalities of people I talk to due to identity issues. I also fall underneath the plural spectrum even-though I do not have any disorder, and I do not claim to have any! If you are okay with this feel free to interact!!! :3

── ˖ ࣪ ⊹ ✦ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ── ˖ ࣪ ⊹ ✦ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ —–

I'm back! Hopefully I'll be able to post more frequently now, but I'm still trying to recover from personal issues so yeah, I hope everyone has been well!

*coughs* pretty much just fanart for @lover-without-a-heart uhmmmm, yeah :D

Oh dear Spawn, help me fight this feeling of horrible idealization, the urge to drag a blade across my flesh and watch my pale skin stain with the red liquid that drips out.

Please, guide me through this fog. I've tripped in this path before, but this time I pray for a different light. This time I'll actually look for an exit, and not laugh at it.

My skin feels moist, filled with sweat and tears, which glistens in a sickening beauty. A warm sensation, opposite to the cold air outside, a deep chill down my spine, which aches from being bent in unnatural ways.

The shadows feel real, taunting me to come closer, but this time I will not approach, I won't listen to the whispers.

I might make it through the night this time, and I'll make sure that this time I manage.

Oh great Spawn, please let me reassemble the shards of glistening glass from a once pristine mirror, though the memories of what once were have been lost through a split in perception.

As I pick up shards, a new reflection greets me everytime, a stranger staring at me, mimicking my expression with a slither of disgust. It feels cold, and sharp, and yet I feel compelled to hold onto the broken glass, clutching them as if being scared to let go. My fists, still bearing the marks of what had happened, were close to white, my grip only getting tighter. I ask myself, why did it have to happen?

But when I close my eyes, a new person greets me, but is it ever me? I see them smiling, or frowning, maybe seething with rage, or on the contrary calm. But it's never really me.

So as I lean over a once perfect mirror, the reflection of light blinding me with a luminous glow, I try to glue everything back in place. But the pieces are no longer useable, they've been chipped and polished to the point of no return for years. I scald my hand as the heat melts the glue, a deep seeking dread climbs my throat, words of apology and pity suffocating my thoughts.

Great Spawn, even if I'm not a full being, guide me to the path of truth, the one where a mirror may show me the correct eyes gazing back at me, and this guilt is buried deep.