[Etch]

Welcome to the Wasteland

: ̗̀➛What you'll find here: mostly random rambles amd vents. Sfw but anything that needs a tw/cw will have one and will be warned for swearing, if any.

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: ̗̀➛About Me

|Call me Etch | he/they/void/crow/other neos |

|Bodily 22|

| Autistic | Adhd | Queer | Questioning system |

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: ̗̀➛DNI if: nsfw, k1nk, ddlg, ablg (and other variants), homophobic, transphobic, sexist, racist, fatphobic, xenophobic, ableist (and other variants), MAPS, SH, pro-ana, anti recovery, anti agere/agedre/petre/petdre, etc, you will be immediately blocked.

This is a safe and judgment free zone for everyone, any form of hate will not be accepted.

Most people I've ever interacted with are long gone.

There's more fingers on one hand than how many people who talk to me currently. None of them care the way I need them too.

I am sick. I disabled. I am traumatized. I am struggling.

I have used my childhood to try and make myself lovable and acceptable to people.

I have used my youth to try and prevent the issues that I saw in my future.

I have used my adult years desperately trying to get help and begging for people to listen to me as my health declines and I feel my body continue to fail me.

I have worked my entire life to try and fix everything that's wrong with me, everything that other people have done to me.

Why is it that even now that when I have nothing left to give, fucking nothing, am I still the bad guy?

I could have been such a great person. I could have been so happy. I wanted to do so much.

Why?

Why wasn't I allowed that?

Why am I not allowed to be happy?

Why am I not allowed to be comfortable in my own fucking body?

Why am I not allowed to have a safe home?

Why am I not allowed to have people in my life who don't fucking make me feel like shit?

Why am I not allowed to be tired even now?

Why?

I realize that the reason I struggle to connect to myself and to regain who I was in terms of healing, is because I still feel like "who I was" is still within the body as their own person but it's not who I am so I can't be them. Even trying to get back into the hobbies they did before, it feels invasive like I'm intruding on smth they liked, what they did. And while the body might hold the memory to pull off the hobby, I feel nothing for it because it's not my thing.

No, because you're not the one who was there when I was dealing my ED.

No, because you're not the one was there when I was praying to a God I didn't believe in to "please fix my family. Make us happy so then they would love me" or when it changed to "why?"

No, because you're not the one who was there when I was staying up night after night, crying my eyes out until I completely shut down and went numb.

No, because you're not the one who was there when I had to suppressed parts of me to be better liked

No, because you're not the one who was there when multiple times I could have ended it all and almost did.

No, because you're not the one who was there to help me mourn.

No, because you're not the one who was there when everything fell apart.

No, because you're not the one who was ever there for me.

I was. Me.

I understand what you went through and the issues you have but that doesn't mean I deserved that too.

I understand what you went through and the issues you have but that doesn't mean I deserved that too.

I understand what you went through and the issues you have but that doesn't mean I deserved that too.

I understand what you went through and the issues you have but that doesn't mean I deserved that too.

I understand what you went through and the issues you have but that doesn't mean I deserved that too.

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