Half-told Anecdotes

is this how undoing progress feels like? subtle unraveling loose ends frayed at the edges the way you pick things apart slowly like it’s any better than ripping them wide open is this how you unlearn yourself? how you stood up without crutches how you stopped crying when you realised no one would come should you forget that too? is this how you spiral right back to where you were? should you dig your heels in when the abyss is so inviting? is this how it will always feel like? like i’m thirteen again and so, so, so desperate to be loved like you’re fifteen and never here never want to be like we’re seventeen and unresolved and it’s all my fault (can i stop feeling like that? is there a way to numb everything after the high?)

these are my jars now help me put them away hide them in plain sight bury them deep set up a sign hope everyone will heed your warning hope everyone will keep away

i’m not going crazy there are no voices in my head only the buzzing of bees it’s anticipation it’s the high before the crash i can’t be going crazy i’m much too restrained i never scream i only ever murmur when the static cracks like a whip lashing at my psyche you can’t drive me crazy white torture won’t work on me caked blood and shattered eardrums but i still hear you i don’t need to be crazy i am your worst omen incarnate i offer you no deliverance i am nothing but a herald and this is your decree

it doesn't come as a shock to know that even when you hurt me it's still accidental maybe it's the lack of intent that causes the most damage

after the fifth breakdown in my first semester of college the boot up screen in my mind asks if i want to enter safe mode the ‘no’ was grayed out for the next five minutes i lay in bed and read the description: “basic features will be supported” (no one will find out the malware behind the model) technicians say i’ve been running corrupted for 12 years now that i can only live with lag for so long that i filled myself with horrible memories and self-loathing and pain viruses on purpose that the only one to blame was the user i press enter and shut down i wake up to find they’ve cleaned up the residual baggage that some people were left uninstalled safe mode has different administrators different rules different objectives the main purpose is no longer color-coded schedules and thinking so hard you barely have any RAM left and pushing yourself to the limit to your capacity the goal is to outlive your usefulness to cut corners outrun the inevitable disposal replacement obsolescence i wish it didn’t work so well

I still do

i have stretch marks from the girl that played me like taffy bite marks from friends who spat me out like chewing gum missing filling from all the grief that ate its way out no longer caring whose sweet tooth i cannot appease whose craving i cannot meet maybe now i am a jawbreaker hard like marble more layers than you'll ever know the type of candy that just can't bear to be consumed

Hey ho, get it too, friend!

I don’t think anyone understands how dangerous this attachment is.

this isn’t a suicide note but some days most days i sure as hell hope it was because there is no temporary problem no false sense of beauty no pretense i don’t think i’ll ever try to kill myself although some days most days it’s all i think about how easy it would be to slip into nothingness to be scattered to be oblivious to pain to not feel irreversibly broken to not feel anything at all maybe the only thing keeping me alive is the crippling realization that the part I play is nothing more than background and no one notices missing scenery

we were an open dialogue composed of all the wrong words clinging onto the right sentiments and that was the first time i couldn’t say “two out of three isn’t so bad” because maybe it would’ve been better if we got nothing right nothing right at all

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