opheliaoveragain
Eating Disordered Junkie
- Jun 2, 2024
- 1,400
I honestly feel like I'm losing my mind. No, not in psychosis sort of way. Like I see my mouth moving and saying things to people day to day but all I can picture is my dead body. All I can think of is how lucky my close homies here are, that they are at peace. Meanwhile I'm in a knotted mess that I try to separate myself from, it only works sometimes. All of this while starving myself. I had 250 cals. & I hate myself. I hate my empathy. I wish I could cut it like a cord, feeling nothing for anyone, and finally be at peace. I just want to leave.
Here's this bit of madness though:
"
rabid like a dog,
every scorching summer day,
has me itching for a fight,
falling face first onto pavement—
whatever it takes to remove me
from state of being, of static, of stasis.
I make myself sick with my own lies.
just another unreliable narrator,
there's nothing to see here.
Crawling deeper inside myself
while the days and nights blur together
like a rift in space time, a paradox where I must have met myself
How else am I to account for this feeling?
like a fractal of a fractal, a loop with
no beginning or end, but an endless road
composed of tar black heroin holes and
rips in my own version of space time.
There's no phone signal when you're buried alive, even if there was, the person on the other end isn't real and you were talking to yourself the whole time.
There's nothing I can do
that hasn't already been done.
Growing up with enough guns
to shoot up every school in the DC area
Yet the wrong creak on the wrong stair sends me into a tailspin of fear.
Even the walls themselves cry out,
We destroy just to destroy further.
I feel myself layered on top of moments
of time, different dimensions, I can see all the version of myself, laid dead in a shallow grave,
the current version of me is a vulture picking the skin from the bones of my former selves.
Summers heat, we fuss and fight
like children, our ears to the ground for signs of a hurricane. Given the circumstances, the fact that a natural disaster was my high school mascot is more than a distasteful laugh.
I remember the time we got the truck stuck,
trying to pull our senior prank. Somehow, your fathers diesel truck and chains as heavy as me weren't loud enough to wake the demon I shared roof with.
I haven't had to die to stay gone yet
but make no mistake, my plot armor is gone.
The story was always about me, until it wasn't.
Until you took that away, with your harmful ways, like nine inch nails being driven into my coffin.
You built up the narrative that if I come back,
I lose. I refuse to let you pick at the remains of my soul, when I myself barely escaped.
But if these walls start closing in without any control, you can put money on my not making it out alive.
Some think that Exiting is cowardly and selfish,
The selfish ones are those who prolong our suffering, with no regard for the damage that cause.
If they faced it, they would wish for death too.
We wouldn't be pushed underground, begging each other for the perfect route to non being.
How we beg complete strangers to help us leave this place. Compared to everything that was drilled into us as kids regarding Stranger Danger—this is a brand new landscape.
Begging for a way out, from sea to sea, the desire to stop the ride does not discriminate and this very fact is constantly disregarded. "
————
Love you all.
Here's this bit of madness though:
"
rabid like a dog,
every scorching summer day,
has me itching for a fight,
falling face first onto pavement—
whatever it takes to remove me
from state of being, of static, of stasis.
I make myself sick with my own lies.
just another unreliable narrator,
there's nothing to see here.
Crawling deeper inside myself
while the days and nights blur together
like a rift in space time, a paradox where I must have met myself
How else am I to account for this feeling?
like a fractal of a fractal, a loop with
no beginning or end, but an endless road
composed of tar black heroin holes and
rips in my own version of space time.
There's no phone signal when you're buried alive, even if there was, the person on the other end isn't real and you were talking to yourself the whole time.
There's nothing I can do
that hasn't already been done.
Growing up with enough guns
to shoot up every school in the DC area
Yet the wrong creak on the wrong stair sends me into a tailspin of fear.
Even the walls themselves cry out,
We destroy just to destroy further.
I feel myself layered on top of moments
of time, different dimensions, I can see all the version of myself, laid dead in a shallow grave,
the current version of me is a vulture picking the skin from the bones of my former selves.
Summers heat, we fuss and fight
like children, our ears to the ground for signs of a hurricane. Given the circumstances, the fact that a natural disaster was my high school mascot is more than a distasteful laugh.
I remember the time we got the truck stuck,
trying to pull our senior prank. Somehow, your fathers diesel truck and chains as heavy as me weren't loud enough to wake the demon I shared roof with.
I haven't had to die to stay gone yet
but make no mistake, my plot armor is gone.
The story was always about me, until it wasn't.
Until you took that away, with your harmful ways, like nine inch nails being driven into my coffin.
You built up the narrative that if I come back,
I lose. I refuse to let you pick at the remains of my soul, when I myself barely escaped.
But if these walls start closing in without any control, you can put money on my not making it out alive.
Some think that Exiting is cowardly and selfish,
The selfish ones are those who prolong our suffering, with no regard for the damage that cause.
If they faced it, they would wish for death too.
We wouldn't be pushed underground, begging each other for the perfect route to non being.
How we beg complete strangers to help us leave this place. Compared to everything that was drilled into us as kids regarding Stranger Danger—this is a brand new landscape.
Begging for a way out, from sea to sea, the desire to stop the ride does not discriminate and this very fact is constantly disregarded. "
————
Love you all.
