#nonsensical ranting

With that out of the way, I need to come clean. I have been on tumblr for about 2 years now, and I have felt guilt the whole time.

..

The thing is, I’m not an adult. I’m a minor. I’ve been a minor the whole time.

I’ve done my best to stay away from things I shouldn’t look at and tried to avoid mdni people. But I still lied to you all. And for that I am sorry.

I’m sorry for being places I shouldn’t belong, and I’m sorry for doing this.

I want to make amends and restart, but I also understand that sometimes there are bridges that have to be burned. I understand if you never forgive me and just walk away, I will not be angry.

This is my fault and I am taking accountability for that.

When I first joined tumblr, I was scared. I was scared of everyone, scared of being judged for who I was. So I became someone I wasn’t. Hid details about my life to make it seem like I was grown and brave and all the things I’m not.

I am not saying it was right, and I regretted my decision every day.

he has no face, none that I can see. his eyes are bright, shining through the shadows that shroud his visage. Watching my every move intently.

He looks like me. He sounds like me. He acts like me. But he is not me. The others cannot see him, he is a plague of my own mind.

He has been here for so long it is almost normal.

He whispers to me sometimes, when it has grown quiet and the silence becomes deafening. When I am the most vulnerable. He tells me I am no one, that I am simply posing as myself. That the others know I have stolen myself from them.

He tells me I cannot function, that I am broken and cannot be fixed. That I cannot fix myself.

I try to ignore him, always. But he will always come back. There are mirrors everywhere.

I tell myself to ignore him, but his whispers will always be shouts in the quiet of my mind. It is hard. I will manage for a while. Pick up the pieces he broke. But he is inevitable, the shade in the corners of my vision.

I want desperately for him to leave, but in the same way I could not stand to lose him.

There is a man in the mirror, but which way is the mirror facing?

There is a man in the mirror, and he looks happier than I. He is better. He still has cracks, but they are patched and glued and painted until he looks like they were given in his birth.

I cannot see much past the shadows that cover me, filling my breaths and choking to me until the only words I speak are in a low rasp. I only see him. His brightness angers me. How could he be better than me?

I cannot stand it.

I whisper quiet tragedies to him, hoping to dim his light so I may be left alone in the cloying darkness once more. Clawing at his cracks until they shatter him anew.

There is a man in the mirror, a half of a whole. He does not understand he needs to break this mirror. He needs to accept himself. He needs to accept the other.