you know, i don't remember
styofa doing anything

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@nosebleedmutt
you know, i don't remember

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having evil alters is wild man. what do u mean i have the guy that if he doesnt taste actual fucking blood within 5 hours of fronting he wont give me my body back. Hello?
like sorry the guy who wants to kill everyone is here. and he wont calm down or leave until he has (1) tasted blood (2) he wont let me say this one out loud
WHAT A SHOCK WHEN THEY TELL YOU IT WON'T HURT AND YOU ALMOST TURN INSIDE OUT WHEN THEY BEGIN.
The Living Series, Jenny Holzer, 1989
angel
personal vulnerable art

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Wish I was somethin more than a thing to pin down to the living room floor by my father
Silent Hill 2 - Toluca Prison

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Abusive parents teach you that the only way to show someone you love them is through absolute obedience and servitude. And if you make a mistake, or say no, or annoy or displease them in any way, they can retalliate in hatred and violence and that is your fault, and it's still love. Control is love, abuse is love, crushing your boundaries and neglecting your needs is sold as love.
I spent so long thinking this is just what it takes to be loved; a life of servitude, guilt and pain. Sending a child into the world believing this sets them up for domestic abuse for their whole life.
And the only reason they claim all this is to get away with abuse, to convince you they have the right to do this to you, for your own good, and you're just too stupid to see it's love. That isn't love. Love doesn't leave you deprived of attention, care, understanding, compassion, acknowledgement and support. Love doesn't make you wish you were dead from how worthless and hopeless you're made to feel. It doesn't make you feel like something is deeply wrong with you and you can't be loved or appreciated as you are. That's what hatred and isolation does.
Hunger
You learn young how to stretch a mealā how to split a singleĀ "good job" into portions small enough to last for years.
At first, you donāt notice the empty chair at the recital, the game, the graduationā youāre too busy scanning the crowd for anyone who might clap just for you.
Then comes the craving: teachers who praise like parents should, lovers who worship like itās penance, strangers on screens who sayĀ "you matter" in exchange for pieces of yourself you didnāt know were currency.
You collectĀ "I love you"sĀ like loose change, hoard them in jars labeledĀ "proof", but the hole in your chest has no bottomā it swallows compliments whole and still growls for more.
You mistake obsession for affection, hands that take for hands that give, because no one taught you the difference between being wanted andĀ being valued.
You apologize for existing while begging the world: "See me, see me, see meā" as if visibility could fill the hollow their neglect carved, as if enough strangers sayingĀ "stay" could drown out the echo of your own familyāsĀ "go."
The cruelest lie? Thinking youāre the exceptionā that everyone else was born knowing how to love themselves without a manual, while youāre still tracing the letters of your own name like itās a language you havenāt earned.
But hereās the truth they never handed you: That hole isnāt yours to fill. Those hands werenāt yours to hold. That loveā the kind that stays without being asked, the kind that doesnāt keep scoreā was never theirs to give.
(One day, youāll stop setting the table for people who never come. One day, youāll realize you were always the feast.)
šŖĀ The chair is empty. You are not.
abuse will make you feel like you're abandoned by the entire world and at the same time like you don't deserve anything better and you're unworthy of being a human being anyway
When you grow up neglected the tolerance for abuse gets high, because if someone just looks at you twice and says 1 nice thing, that's already more than your parents did for you your whole life. You feel unworthy and indebted and any shitty thing they do later is excused because you worship the fact that they gave you attention. They are now a 'special person' who pays attention to you, something that is rare and invaluable in your life.
Even if the attention is abusive, you can end up feeling grateful because to someone starved for it, being ignored can feel worse than anything else. Knowing abuse will be mixed with attention can work like a drug on your system and you can't resist.
Neglect makes you feel like you're not worth anything. Abuse then tells you, if you endure enough pain, you might deserve to be worthy of attention for few precious moments. And it just happens that to neglected people those moments are worth everything.

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"Because I Love You" by Lex Marie.
She spent hours upon hours just beating the canvas with a belt...
when you look at the finished painting, you can almost see letters - but there aren't any. It's all noise. a lot of adults process this sort of beating by insisting there is a lesson in it. with the title and artist statement in mind, it's like they're trying to read a message of love written in that chaotic canvas.