🥀🐇

“ dear rabbit. ”

my name is rose, but bunny is also acceptable. i’m 21, and i use she/her.

no real dni aside from zoos and paedos. ableists will be made a laughing stock. everyone else is fine, but i’ll still block anyone i don’t like for any reason.

before interacting with my blog, please exercise caution; this is a safe space for me (and others) to dump unhinged, obsessive, and potentially triggering thoughts without regard. for your own safety, do not follow me if you are a minor.

additionally, i am prone to intense psychotic and paranoid episodes, so i may frequently disappear for extended periods of time. do remember that this is a vent blog above all else and i have no obligation to do jack shit for anyone.

you’ll have to pry information about my personal interests from my cold, dead hands.

i want to see you again, but the idea of you looking at me makes me want to throw up. i want to ask what you’re up to these days, but the thought of you hearing my voice makes me feel like i’m burning alive.

i was going through our old messages today, reminiscing on the days before everything fell apart.

you were so horrible to me those last few days. more so than usual, that is. you were always a little cruel. i used to like that about you.

…to be honest, i still do. you’re a tough one to please. i took so much pride in being your favourite back then because of it.

i wish i knew what you think of me now. so that at least, if you do hate me, i won’t keep writhing here wishing it could all somehow go back to the way it was.

you should hate me. i should hate you, and sometimes i do. other days i wonder if we would have gotten along better today than we ever did back then.

i’ve changed. i want to know if you have too.

you were wrong, by the way; we’re actually more alike than you must have been comfortable with. frankly, i’m the one who should be more disturbed by that.

i don’t even want you to owe me anything. i should have been given a real apology for what you did, but i’ve come to accept that i’ll never get one.

i wish we could have just one more conversation. we’ve still got some interests in common, if i’m not mistaken.

but at the same time, i know that wouldn’t end well. i’m fucking terrified of you and what you can do. you still have my address, don’t you? i doubt you got rid of it. just in case, right?

and, you know, they told me i was your favourite person at some point. every time i think about that, i miss you again. hours spent talking to you about anything and everything under the sun because for once you actually wanted to. and i loved you. you could barely stand me most days, and i loved you like a dog. i hate you so much for that and it’s the only thing that wasn’t your fault.

some days i become paranoid that you’re watching me and i spiral and i hate you more than i hate myself, other days i crave that closeness again and would do almost anything just to have your attention for one more day.

i know i love you and yet i am hesitant to say the words loud enough. you are good for me and i want to keep you and i fear the thought of losing you enough that i try not to think of it at all. so why do i feel the itch to run when i think of myself as yours, or you as mine?

i knew what love was at some point. it’s been obsessive and self-destructing, it’s been soft and gentle and kind, it’s been a hollow sensation in the pit of my stomach that makes me want to throw up my own heart. what i know to be love is all-consuming and as scalding as it is beautiful.

i don’t know how to tell when i’m in love anymore, because all i know of it is consumption; you eat a part of me, i eat a part of you. we leave behind bite marks and missing chunks when we leave. so what do i do when the care and affection i feel for someone is absent of these core principles? i love you, but i wont let you bite me. i love you, but i wouldn’t kill on your command. i love you, but sometimes that scares me away. i can’t stand you leaving, but i don’t want you to stay either. i care about you enough to think you’d be better off with anyone else, and i’m lonely enough to latch onto you like a parasite.

i don’t like thinking about the future. i can’t picture myself spending the rest of my life with you, but the implication that you wouldn’t be with me anymore is somehow just as upsetting.

i am afraid of putting on the collar. i am afraid of being leashed. i am afraid of being a loyal dog to the wrong master.