#abusedeyeful

Hello Are you followed And We didn’t know your person? 

Like Joe, I have a favourite person. A person who I’d rather die than lose, a person who I never, ever want to have even one negative opinion about me, a person who, when they don’t immediately respond, makes me want to self-destruct. Even just writing this makes my heart heavy.

I don’t know why every intimate detail of my brain, but I do know that as a child, I was already craving the love of another person. This was most likely in response to my parents & caretakers antagonising me. My father didn’t pay attention to my emotional wellbeing, my mother cared more about academics and the way I physically presented myself, my teachers and caretakers would push their ideas of humanity (I live in a very conservative area), all while I escaped to the internet in hopes of validation.

When I met my first favourite person, it wasn't very intense. It was the usual homo-erotic friendship in middle school that'll stick for life.

But during that time, my parents began to push harder. My mother became more clear about her political views, my dad would half-ass reconnecting, and my peers expected me to appreciate these efforts.

I eventually grew apart from that first friend, who I no longer consider a favourite person.

I fell deeper into the loops of self-harm and addiction, leading up to the questioning of my life and my worth.

Then I met a guy online.

We were normal for a while, though I started growing more possessive, but then I started interacting with his friends, too.

Most of his friends were confident, funny people. Far better than me.

So I started texting him more often, sending videos and drawings, asking to call, trying to initiate conversation every day. He got busier, I got more desperate, he slowed his responses, and I beat myself up over it.

There have been times when I genuinely believed that this person hated me for the most miniscule casualties. And I have hurt myself, both mentally & physically as a result.

This man is a genuine, kind person who has never & would never intentionally hurt me.

But if I'm aware of that, then why do I fall into these cycles? Why do I find myself feeling spiteful?

Because I'm irrational. Because I'm fucked.

And this mindset won’t just end with a new year.

But I’ll fight to change it. If not for me, then for my favourite person.

I’ve already accepted how mental illness will always be a part of my life, and how years of addiction won’t just leave, but I’m okay with that. I’m just happy to be real, and to be human.

Thank you for reading, I, Jaredine, am very grateful that you have all joined me in my little tangents, even if your interaction was as simple as reading the title.

Happy New Year.

Can you understand? 

dude what arg are you trying to make

I wanted to reflect on my past age, how my prior year was, not within the bounds of the year, but of my birthday.

Trigger warnings- suicide, self harm, obsession, identity

I wanted to kill myself so bad. I actually made it a deal to harm myself at least once every day.

I spent so much time with my favourite person.

I temporarily had a second favourite person, but I no longer consider them as such because it was made clear that they misunderstood me & my intentions

I lost my sobriety streak

I became more obsessed with my favourite person

I started to question my identity before deciding that I wouldn’t change anything, queer & genderqueer is good enough for me

I lost count of my suicide attempts

I became obsessed with mental illness

I began to embrace the “ugly” parts of my brain

I briefly worshipped a video game character

It is now a day before my birthday, and I’m still a mess

Today, January 15th, is my birthday.

I think something we can agree in is that I’m not a healthy person. There is so much more I’m choosing to leave out, things cement this year as the worst one of my life.

But something we have to remember is that we only have to live shitty days once, and never again. Same thing goes for years.

I never, ever have to be that age again. I never have to live that year again.

I know my coping mechanisms are considered taboo or harmful, but I continue to live. As long as I’m the only one being affected, I’m okay with it.

(The blog post linked below is by Nyalra, the creator of Needy Streamer Overload, a game by the mentally ill for the mentally ill)

Even if I continue to live my life being berated by a bunch of neurotypical, privileged fuckers, I know that my “deranged” methods kept me alive. It kept me going. Healing is not meant to be beautiful, but some scabs have to turn yellow before they turn into skin.

“My mending made sense to me”

- Glen Martin Taylor

Euheuehuhue- I still appreciate the sentiment, even if i’d prefer you donate that money