TW for uhh..vent, I guess? And a lot of sensitive topics. Scroll with caution.
Does anyone else just get WAY too stressed and completely shut down? Like..have a kind of, Momentary, Pseudo-braindeath? Youāll just..keep taking information in, and you canāt do it, and you stop functioning like a ānormalā human being, and you canāt even nod or shake your head in response to things. And everything either gets āmutedā or turned to ā100 volumeā. Hearing everything, feeling your own blood pumping beneath your skin, but itās nothing but staticā and then when you come back, you missed whatever was going on? 4th time this week. Iām REALLY not excited for this to end. I mean, 7 siblings waiting at home. None of them are nice. Dads always at work, moms either stoned or drunkā I just needed to talk about things, even typing this I feel sick. I feel guilty, because, oh! At this age I donāt have anything to be bloody āworried or stressedā over. When Iām not at Hogwarts, Iām taking care of breathing creatures that I didnāt even create. And thatās not even talking about the bloody intrusions. I enjoy taking care of those I love. Those Iām related too, despite being a sour apple about it, because most of the work wasnāt even done by the people who āmade meā. I wouldāve rather died in some fucked up accident then do this, sure, but then I wouldnāt have met them. The people that basicallyā saved my life. MY life.
I wouldnāt be alive, without them, genuinely. And Iām so thankful theyāre hereā but I get so frustrated with myself when I still canāt understand the answer to; ā Why do you enjoy being around me so much. ā
I donāt know if I was just, entertaining. Like a jester infront of a large crowd. I donāt want to care for my own needs, but to cling to those people, would mean caring for how I look, How I dress, and how I act. I act upon intrusions, because, countless timesā Robyn has had to chase me down all because I saw a frog. Or Kevin having to correct me because I didnāt word something correctly, or having to have one of the FREYāS remind me that I was ātoo close to the edgeā. I donāt understand why people worry so much when I run into death and life situations, thatās all the time for me. The basilisk, the trolls, myself, and amongst other things people are concerned forā why and how I havenāt been stricken with the might and tyranny of the gods yet. A part of me, still canāt believe that someone still unconditionally wants me, so I sabotage myself into depressive episodes until I freeze in place and donāt move until things are over. Because itās ābetterā this way. I make the meals. I bathe them. I dress them. I have multiple jobs just to feed them, am I NOT doing it correctly? Why do they hurt me. Why do they call me āMOMā. Iām not a woman. Iāll never be a lady, I donāt care. I donāt care anymore. Iāve stopped caring for myself so long ago, that even the people who claim to DESPISE me, have to tell me what is and isnāt dangerous. For Merlinās sakeā Iām exhausted. I donāt know how much longer I can do this, Iām only in the 3rd year. I donāt know if I even WANT to keep this up. How do I know what comes next? How do I know if Iāll even have the energy to keep turning the pages? Iām not thrilled with my life. Most of the joys in it, only consist of people Iāve known for such short spans of time I canāt believe it. But I know the sinking feeling I get every time that makes me get worse, ā what if they leave eventually. ā kind of deal. I know they wouldnāt, theyād never. Right? Iām likely just overthinking again, itās a bloody pain to deal with. I want to remain happy for them, I do. But itās rare enough for me to be able to physically cry around people. I feel like a fake when I do. Like I donāt deserve to, and it just keeps ripping at me like an enraged Cerberus.
I donāt trust myself alone in a room for more then 10 minutes. There are so many things that cross my mind, some of them could get me out in a mental institution, and itās not that I CRAVE death. Iām afraid to do it myself, but I consistently second guess it when I do think in such a manner. ā what if I slipped from the window and fell to my death? ā wouldnāt work. Canāt swim, why not drown in the lake? Get mauled brutally by some kind of vicious man-eating plant? Who knows.
I must be āperfectā to continue to have people like and enjoy my presence. Even if it makes me tear at my own arms like theyāre thin tissue sometimes. I have a hard time remembering people after long periods of time. I never want that to happen to them. I donāt want to forget, but eventually itāll occur. Like the moron I am. All I ever was, is an object.
I could die tonight, tomorrow, the day after that. Who knows. Maybe Iād finally do it, and put an end to the fact people just have to- āput up with meā. Maybe I just need to sit down and breathe. I donāt know anymore. I get a break from these thoughts SOMETIMES, but who knows! Maybe Iāll be gone by morning.
ā¦Itās funny isnāt it? I tried once. Didnāt work that first time. She wasnāt comforting at all when she found out. Those words were always left in the back of my thoughts after that. ā if youāre this miserable here, maybe I SHOULD let another family have you. ā but then again. She doesnāt need me when it doesnāt have to do with the kids. And with the recent accidents, all of them? Sometimes I wish one of them actually, finally, justā¦kicked me down hard enough. So I didnāt have to get up. But itās for them, I canāt leave. Itād hurt them. I did have broken ribs, I did dislocate my arm. Severely. I donāt have upper body strength, but itās fine right? She wouldnāt need nor feel the need to keep me around if her kids didnāt exist. Oldest of 8 in total. What a big joke.
I feel guilty when someone shows me unconditional love, so I constantly feel the need to give back to get it. And I try. And sometimes I fail, i barely eat as it is. I know it could be alarming to others around me, I understand why. I just donāt feel hungry anymore. The lack of it decreased my appetite to the point where I could eat half a bowl of cereal, or eat a small bag of granola, and Iād be full for hours. If I eat more then that I feel the need to vomit. I feel disgusting, and greedy. ā I can see your ribs! ā I know. But I physically canāt take more. I cannot eat more. Itās not fun. Itās not silly, itās not any of the other STUPID phrases I use for āgoodā. I wish I could look myself in the mirror and genuinely mean the compliments I give myself. Iāve gone to the hospital wing so many times Iāve lost count, because I didnāt just fall asleep. I past out in the middle of class, and Iām not trying to sound melodramatic, but I take in so little nutritional value for my body that I have been close to having a reaper knocking on my door. I know what itās like. I can only HOPE to the gods, that those kids NEVER turn out the way I did. That my friends donāt need to know what being uncomfortably grabbed or harassed for your suddenly āsmallā body size is by a few of the more vile older students. Or your own blood, Or being forced into a position you can never forget and being overly āsexualā because of it. I cried for hours after what happened to them. Not because I just, felt bad. I couldāve noticed. I couldāve done something for them. Because Iāve seen and dealt with it to extremes I shouldnāt dare mention, but I didnāt. I was blind. I was fucking BLIND, and I wanted to paint the floors with that horrible manās blood. I shouldāve known. It isnāt the first for me either.
But Iām not allowed to give him what he deserves. Heās āgoneā now. But it doesnāt change anything, you can scrub until you bleed, but it still feels itās not gone. I wouldnāt wish this shit on my WORST enemies. It stays with you forever. Even if you want to stop remembering it.
Iām so sorry, that I didnāt see it.
