meu ódio por eu mesma:

um dia ele é uma abelha na mão do urso e no outro dia ele é o urso

a baixa autoestima é uma merda para si mesmo e para a convivência com os outros.

não consigo me sentir confortável com a ideia de alguém gostando de mim de um jeito físico/amoroso.

é um drama desnecessário e irritante

desgastante e inútil

e continua aumentando cada dia mais

mais um ano e você continua piorando

deplorável

eu não gosto de mim!

essa é a verdade.

tudo o que eu faço sempre me sinto culpada

se acerto não consigo me dar os créditos e me sentir feliz por algum feito meu

(me pergunto se já me senti feliz de verdade nesses últimos anos)

se eu erro a culpa vem tão grande que chega a sufocar (literalmente)

até nos pensamentos é algo ruim

se não estou me depreciando e sendo tão uma puta de uma pessimista

estou presa nesses devaneios idiotas

meus atos, os pensamentos, o que visto

tudo isso é desprezado por eu mesma

pq não mudo?

pq quando tento mudar sempre acabo voltando a me odiar?

não importa o quanto eu tente me entender

quanto mais eu tento colocar os pensamentos no lugar e me fazer raciocinar em algo bom em mim

mais eu me odeio.

as decisões do passado (pq eu fui tão burra?)

as decisões do presente (pq estou insistindo nisso?)

as decisões do futuro (sei que vou fazer algo de errado e exagerar na raiva)

o que sinto

o que deixo de sentir

o que falo

o que deixo de falar

como penso

o que fiz

pq eu fiz?

pq ainda estou levantando para o trabalho que não planejei ter?

pq ainda estou indo para a faculdade que não planejei cursar?

pq ainda estou vivendo a vida que não planejei ficar para ver?

pq ainda não tive coragem de ir?

todas essas merdas de vezes que tentei colocar a cabeça no lugar e pensar numa saída melhor e só acabei vendo o quanto eu não quero ficar aqui não foram o suficiente para me fazer acordar dessa monótona “esperança” incubada de que em algum momento vou ficar bem?

esse último mês eu estou tentando não pensar em toda essa merda na minha mente.

estou tentando apenas ir um dia de cada vez.

estou tentando não precisar escrever nesta merda como se isso me fizesse sentir melhor e não apenas mais inútil.

estou fora das redes sociais, tentando prestar atenção ao meu redor e torcendo para que os momentos de pensamentos ruins não sejam tão longos e eu consiga ficar o maior tempo possível no automático.

tentando apenas fazer as obrigações

e não me sentir culpada quando não tenho mais o que fazer e apenas preciso gastar um tempo atoa com a pessoa que mais me odeia nesse mundo: eu mesma.

estou tentando respirar sem todo esse drama na porra da minha mente.

tentando fingir que sou uma pessoa normal e não essa porra esquisita que gasta a sua noite escrevendo o quanto se odeia em vez de ser uma jovem normal

tentando lidar com todo esse maldito drama desnecessário e ilusório.

eu sei que não é verdade totalmente essa merda não é tão grande, mas na minha mente é.

não consigo me sentir bem estando feliz.

tenho culpa por me sentir bem.

tentando respirar longe de mim mesma.

e me sentir mal só me faz me odiar mais

é um ciclo vicioso.

decadente, ingrata, inútil, esquisita, dramática, burra, tão babaca e falsa.

porra e eu nem sei pq me importo se eu também não quero estar aqui.

foi tanto eu que já estou exausta de mim de novo e eu nem consegui tentar gostar de mim.

I just realized something. I don’t trust anyone. Not a single person. There has never been a time that I remember that I did not immediately think someone had an ulterior motive with me since my ex and broke up 6 years ago. 

I don’t trust anyone. And I also live in the past. And I am also self depricating and infuriatingly, unabashedly, helplessly critical of my every thought, move, breath. I immediately dissociate when I think of these truths about myself; they become so large in my chest that I must pull myself out of my own body and escape.

For 6 years I’ve been taking the easy way out. Curling away from the hurting spot like burning paper. I’d rather walk through my life in a fog of ignorance than face my demons and try to fix them. 

What he did to me. What my dad did to me, what my mom did to me, and what my sister did to me are things that I wallow in, past ghosts that haunt me. I’m holding on to the lowest points in my life - the cheating, the lying, the condescension, the walls, the codependence, the alcoholism, the judgement, the yelling, the screaming, the ignoring, the silence. I realize that every action, reaction, step forward and back has been because of these experiences and I don’t want that to be true anymore. I don’t want to shy from trust or stay stuck and rooted to ghost towns. I don’t want my inner voice to be the worst critic of me. I don’t want to feel alone and desperate, yelling into a void space. 

I want to change this so badly. I’ve diagnosed my problems but I have no idea how to even begin repairing the damage, the muscle of depression, anxiety and neuroticism is too well trained; years of practice, strong. 

I want to change. 

Just once I want to know what it feels like to be society’s definition of “beautiful” ..

Being a woman is weird but I wouldn’t want to be anything else.

Every so often my emotions go a little wonky. I cried a little today. Had some really low self esteem. Longing for a certain kind of attention and validation.

It helps to be surrounded by people who do LOVE you. Who do care about you IMMENSELY. They WANT to help; youre not a burden to them. Your happiness is their happiness.

I don’t know what kicks off acne flare ups and bouts of self doubt. They’ve been popping up together recently and at the least, it’s inconvenient and annoying :/

Even having some lovely me time today didn’t quite let off the stress that it needed to. Ah well!!

Stupid Emotions, 2019

Shhhh, dont say that stuff to me

Why, you ask

I think before i give you a response

I think of how warm your words make me

I think of how honest you could possibly be when you tell me i look beautiful

I think of what could have motivated you to say something i only dreamed id hear out loud

And when i take in that the only two people in the room are you and me

And that i could be the reason you tell me you feel safe

Or loved or that you belong here or that you never want to leave

I get scared thinking i did that

Because i know i could also undo that

I could mess it up and you decide to leave

And while my thoughts were racing, i made sure to keep my face hidden from yours

During that silence you move next to me in bed

And your arms around me are enough of a response for both of us

I turn my head into the pillow so the tears that fell become buried evidence of my fears

J. T.

I think what I hate the most is just the feeling of being broken. Not like the pain of breaking something, but more… “incomplete.” Everything positive just feels dulled. Happiness is dampened by the errant sadness, love is crippled by the constant second thoughts. I can be with someone who I love unconditionally and still feel like a fucking robot because I know what feelings should be there and they’re just absent. I want the full spectrum of emotions, not just the bad ones.

can’t believe life peaked for me when an alleged Shatner/Kirk lookalike anonymously offered to hug me through the internet

no, that checks out… what I actually can’t believe is that I turned them down because I have no self worth

just.

first time in a year that I’ve had… I’m not sure, either the courage or the sheer stupidity to actually read a comment on one of my stories, and it’s a diatribe about how badly and negatively I portrayed Kirk (aka my literal favorite Trek character ever), asking if I hate him or Shatner because I wasted so many words on being rude to/about him, and not-so-subtly accusing me of fatphobia/fat shaming/ageism.

if all of my ao3 and tumblr materials ever disappear, just… don’t be surprised.

You are enough

If anyone is struggling with anxiety, depression, low self esteem, a disease or any social issue, know that my blog is open if you want to talk about it because you shouldn’t be left alone in your pain, everyone deserves to talk about their feelings. If you don’t want to talk about it to your surroundings, it may be easier to express yourself to someone that don’t know you but won’t judge you.

I’m going to post in a little while the experience with my disease :)

There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.

Mariah B.

haro-whumps:

gingerly-writing:

“It will be much worse if the heroes get hold of you”, the villain said softly. “You have to learn to use your healing powers on yourself. If you can’t block your pain signals, you won’t survive an interrogation.” Their gloved hand moved to their sidekick’s next unbroken finger and began to apply pressure. “So try again. Three, two, one-”

In truth, this had always been an inevitablility.

“You’re awake,” the hero said, with something of a soft tone, something of a pitying one. Sealseam looked up at them, feeling the ache underneath his eyes, the tired stress in both hollows of his jaw.

Heartstar was different, here, than they were in a fight. Their color palate stayed much the same, a dusty gold that didn’t shimmer unless it caught the sun, deep browns that matched their eyes and night-dark blues for accents. Their long, dirty-gold hair was down, free hanging, and with their cape exchanged for a floor-trailing shawl they looked like some mix between a Lord of the Rings character and some Catholic saint immortalized in stain glass. They lacked the stony pragmatism they showed on the street. The ice cold, statuesque tension in their jaw and eyes and mathematical deeds.

“I’m awake,” Sealseam agreed, keeping his tone dead, already trying to squirrel himself away in that distant place within his mind, the one where all sensations were muted and the pain didn’t beat as hard, the one his boss, Heartstar’s nemesis, had helped him build.

“How’s your head?” Heartstar asked, extending their hand—the very hand Sealseam had witnessed weilding a lance the last time he’d been conscious—to gently caress the side of his skull. Sealseam bore it. Didn’t flinch away. He knew there was worse to come.

He didn’t answer.

“We know your identity,” Heartstar stated, though it didn’t feel quite as much like a threat as it should have. “Mine has always been public, as I never bothered with masks,” they continued, with something of a self-depricating chuckle. “We haven’t made yours known, though. My team is the only group that knows you’re here, aside from Splitter.” Even just hearing his boss’s villain title was enough to make him flinch. Heartstar paused at that, then sat in the modest chair next to the bed Sealseam was strapped to. It seemed too small for them, like their aura took up more space than the chair could possibly hope to support.

“We need a little information from you, alright?” Sealseam braced. Here it comes. He’d prepared for it, at least. Splitter had trained him for this, broken his bones, he’d reset them and healed them over and over, he’d be able to take it, he could withstand it all. “I promise you won’t be hurt, and if you speak willing my team has the kind of sway necessary to grant you amnesty. Will you?”

Sealseam grit his teeth, worked his jaw, then forced himself to spit on Heartstar’s stupid, golden robes. They blinked, not seeming at all angered or put off, just a little surprised, then huffed out a sigh through their nose. Like they’d expected this, but were disappointed anyway.

“You know,” they said, taking a tissue from the side table and cleaning the spit, “my face has always been public, but my main power has never been disclosed. Can you guess as to what it is?”

Sealseam felt cold dread pooling in his gut, the momentary rush from spitting now chilled down to his bones. He knew Heartstar had super strength, a certain degree of invulnerability or at least toughness that let them withstand things that would break a normal human, and could fly for short distances. Common side-powers that many of the supernatural had. But Sealseam had not ever caught even a whiff of what Heartstar’s true power could be.

“Something so evil-sounding your reputation would never recover from it, if word got out?”

Heartstar laughed, though it was a pained sound. “You’re not far off, actually.”

Thoughts of electrocution, burning, suffocation, bleeding, all forms of torment ricocheted through Sealseam’s head. He could heal himself, he could withstand it, he’d practiced, Splitter had taught him.

“Meanwhile your powers are so naturally suited for healing, yet you’re a villain’s doctor.” They sounded… almost sad.

“Looks like we’ve both made our choices,” Sealseam grit, wishing he sounded more defiant than he felt.

“I suppose we have.” It was coming, it was coming, he could heal himself but in the meantime it was going to hurt. “Hey,” Heartstar said, tone so achingly gentle it made his breath catch, “look at me.”

Gentle fingers tilted his chin, and he found his eyes drawn to their face without really thinking. His eyes met their brown ones, and

The whole

World

Tilted.

Sealseam blinked, breath caught in his chest, and then he let out a deep sigh, smiling. Oh. Oh! Heartstar, they—! Oh, they were, well they were everything! Why had he ever opposed them? Now he could see, now he understood much better, Heartstar was the greatest person in all this universe. In all the multiverse! Heartstar was better than anyone, better than Sealseam’s own life, better than a god! They were the only thing that mattered, the only thing that had ever mattered, every single event in history had just been a cosmic foundation building up to the exact events it would take to create Heartstar.

They pressed their lips to Sealseam’s forehead, and even Atlas shuddered.

“Heartstar,” he breathed, the restraints on his wrists catching him, preventing him from reaching out and touching Heartstar, his everything, his compass’s point.

“There you go,” Heartstar said, and they were sad, intolerably sad, staring at him with such exquisite sadness Sealseam would kill himself if it meant ridding them of the thing that would bother them so. “Will you please answer my questions now?”

“Of course!” Sealseam said urgently. He’d been such a foolish waste of breath, before, to deny them anything. “Anything, anything you want, my very life, I’d give it, if it was for you.”

“Thank you, but not that, please,” they said, the skin around their eyes tightening even further. “Just the information; I want you alive and unharmed, okay? I don’t want bad things to happen to you.”

Sealseam nodded, agreeing practically before the words were out of their mouth. Anything they wanted, he would do. This was beyond love, this was beyond even devotion, Sealseam knew from now on every breath of the rest of his life would only be taken if it was in service to Heartstar.

“Aw, shit, you had to enthrall him?” Heartstar’s own sidekick, Greensilver, said as she entered the room, notebook in hand.

“Unfortunately,” Heartstar said, “Let’s just get the information and add him with the rest, alright?”

“You’re the boss,” she said casually, shrugging and adjusting her oval glasses.

“Yes,” Heartstar said heavily, “I know.”

@haro-whumps, i am already in love with heartstar (what a badass name!!) i really felt their struggle and anguish with their “villainous” power and their struggle to do the right thing here - obviously mind-control is more ethical than torture to get information but I still felt how much they struggled with this. 

they just seem like a conflicted, gentle person and I feel for them honestly (cause I sense that they live in a world where people are separated into Good and Bad categories of powers and I am here for it)

I need to know everything about heartstar’s hopefully extremely angsty backstory immediately

and also!!! poor stoic sealseam…his bracing for torture, his own determination to do his mentor proud…and all to fail so immediately cause he could never win here. agh, thats incredible, we love a dutiful servant!

please add me to the taglist!!