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stumbling on the razor’s edge
my mental health has, amusingly, gotten worse since the hiatus, so I give up. if you read this blog, there’s going to be discussion about sad stuff and venting about nonsense that doesn’t really matter at the end of the day, because I am trapped in a highly toxic, borderline abusive living situation, and there is literally no way out. my mind is imploding and my body is decaying. this blog is going to be garbage whining. don’t read it.
in other news…meds should be free. also, Trump is a muhfuhin’ weird fascist racist shitehawk, but that’s redundant.
yesterday I rescued a tiny possum baby that was being attacked by a crow. poor little thing’s tail was torn up and bloody, but otherwise, she seemed very healthy — bright eyed, alert, not too amused about having to be temporarily in a box while we transported her to the local vet (they take in injured wildlife for free, and send them up to Australia Zoo to rehab). once she’s all healed up, she’ll be released back into this area — possibly back on our property? not sure, but they want her back in her original home when she’s better, which I love. maybe one day I’ll see her again and know her by her tail scars. that would be so cute.
I was a little worried the vet would tell us “uh, no, we don’t do wildlife” or ask for money (I literally have none — it’s only through the generosity of my chosen family that I can afford my effing meds), but I was determined to just bite the bullet, Google my ass off, and look after the little one myself, if so. no questions asked.
she was so tiny and adorable. I cannot stand human babies, and the whole “come over for newborn cuddles!” thing just strikes me as infinitely boring, but baby animals? I turn into a complete and utter mama bear and I will protect this little thing with my entire life. while I had that little one cuddled up to my chest and curled up in my hand, I could have taken on a whole pack of lions. it’s such a weird rush of feeling — dopamine and adrenaline, maybe? oxytocin? unsure.
but yeah. that’s about the only worthy thing that happened over the hiatus that I’m allowed to talk about publicly. everything else is…not happy. have a nice dragon as an apology. also the Manics’ new single, because Nicky Wire is, and forever will be, my ideal man.
take me to Imladris.
I’m tired of trauma. I’m tired of it existing and I’m tired of having to deal with it. I wish it would just fall through me like rain and dry off and not mean anything. I’m tired of crying and I’m tired of PTSD spirals and I’m tired of adrenaline nausea and I’m tired of second-guessing the actions I take to keep myself as safe and sane as I’ll ever get — I’m tired, I’m tired, I’m tired of it all. I’m tired of fake-ass people on the internet and people who can’t be bothered reading a simple list of rules and people with the general attention span of a TikTok video. I’m just.
Why am I here? Why is everything like this? I try so fucking hard to change it and I just end up with scraped knuckles and wounds and I can’t anymore. I don’t want to. If it doesn’t get any better than this, then I don’t want to keep going with it. I’m fucking tired.
ow
I don’t know what my body is doing in regards to nerves right now, but it feels eerily like someone shoved me through a meat grinder with the intent to make burger patties, changed their mind at the last minute, and then sheepishly attempted to mulch me back into a semi-human shape.
In another life, I was probably a bestselling bizarro splatterpunk writer.
I’ve been sleeping all day and I feel like I’m going to pass out again. Life is fantastic and sparkly.
I never tried to reach
I sent a letter to my ex, apologising.
(Not the rapist, and definitely not the Pink Bitch. Not ever. I’m a pushover, but never that much of one. I’m more likely to join the Family First Party than I am to ever contact either of those two nuclear waste pits.)
I don’t know if they’ll get it, because I don’t think they check the address I sent it to anymore — and I don’t know what their current one could possibly be. I don’t know where they are, or what they’re doing, or anything. But I couldn’t just…not. I had to at least spit the words out into the Wired somewhere.
I don’t still have feelings for them, I don’t want to be with them, I wouldn’t say no to talking to them once again if they wanted, but if they didn’t, my world wouldn’t fall apart, and I would understand wholly. I just wanted to let them know that I feel bad about…well, as Phildel puts it, for the times I behaved like a switchblade / for the blame when I should have just forgave.
There is someone else I love. It’s not about chasing them. It’s about making amends, even weakly or uselessly. With my health being what it is, I just want something to be…right. Or as right as possible.
I don’t know. My head’s full of cotton wool at the moment, and I can’t think straight, but.
Everything is, everything was, everything is all, everything will be.
make it hit different.
fumbling towards passing out
unintentional all-nighters are the actual worst all-nighters.
orrrrr maybe nerve pain has just made me…neurotic, bwahah. (that’s both a pun and not remotely a pun at the same time. I win the whole world.)
let me guess…yoga and meditation?
This is happening to me and I hate it. I wish I could somehow turn it off, but not even gabapentin does much for it. Just…wait it out, I guess.
how to break a curse 101
Not around much due to health problems, unsurprisingly.
(Add., the next day, noting the date: not a joke. Also, ugh, lost my layout. What a nitwit.)
“…take my hand, we’ll be able to fly…”
Pain is a bitch. Pain makes you hate everyone and everything, and I hate that, too. Full circle. Fuck pain, especially neuro-pain. Real entry about nothing at all when I don’t feel like crying. Woke up with this flawless piece in my head, so that’s Song of the Day, just in case I don’t write any further today.
The only thing that I don’t hate is music. And friends. Yup.