nosebleedclub:

1. Experimentation
2. Neighbor
3. How long does it last
4. Cottage
5. Old growth

i. experimentation

take a scalpel to my veins / with clinical precision / clinical fascination / how deep must i sink to dig it all out / how deep does it rest / lurking / writhing / roots sunk into my heart / lungs / how deep are the gouges left by its claws / step by step hollow the channels / pause and assess / if the vein is gone then will it leave too / if the core is hollow will it wither too

ii. neighbor

The thing that used to live in my veins lives in my home now. It goes to bed beside me, pours itself coffee as I settle at the counter, reads a book while I finish my work. The relief I once harbored, having expelled the writhing mass from my veins, dissipated long ago. Though I expelled the mass it still writhes. It resents me for taking from it its home to build one of my own. So it writhes, and it eats my cereal, and it reminds me again and again and again and again and again that I will never be rid of it. 

iii. how long does it last

too long / i’ve already forgotten it / forgiven it / forever / a moment, a moment, a moment 

iv. cottage

There are nights where the only way I can sleep is cradled in its limbs, its heaviness draped over me with all the surety of a weighted blanket. These are the nights where the inhabitants of my being give up on tending to me: let the fire burn itself to ash; let cobwebs hang in curtains from the rafters; let fragment after derelict fragment crumble as the rot eats its way out. Let this faltering edifice collapse under its own weight, offering its decaying bones as the last vestiges of safe harbor to an ecosystem that turned its back. To surrender is a familiar comfort, though a small one. To surrender is all I’ve ever known. 

v. old growth

tell me a story / there are none to tell / tell me a memory / you know them all / tell me the truth / i don’t make a habit of telling truths / tell me the truth / you would fare better commanding the sky to kneel at your feet / tell me the truth / there was never another outcome there was never a reality prepared for you alone there was only you daring to spread your wings and me clipping the feathers because flight isn’t for people as broken as you whose bones are too brittle to hollow out whose vertigo would knock you out of the sky whose feeble cries would garner you pity in place of the respect you seek you who is too naive to know your own limitations and me who wants only to keep you safe / tell me the truth / there’s no such thing as a happy ending / then tell me a lie / there’s no such thing as a happy ending

the-mad-medievalist:

gotta love the fact that of the two lives of St Radegund, the one written by a nun is all about her good work for the community and the one written by a monk is torture porn. 

this is from the Vita Radegundis of the nun Baudonivia:

(that attitude. i’d literally let radegund drive her horse over me.)

and this is from her Life by Fortunatus, who clearly had a problem (proceed with caution: very violent self-harm)

      “I’m fine Cas.” Alex sighed, shaking his head. All of his thoughts were fuzzy and his hands were shaking, but he was fine. It wasn’t a big deal, this wasn’t the first time he’d collapsed out of nowhere. It’d a little over a year ago. It really scared him back then, but now… now it felt sort of normal. Alex let Cas lead him back into the library, glad to find a quiet space in the world as they sat down, the other handing him a water bottle. “Thanks.” He wondered if Casper was serious when he offered to listen to him if he needed to talk, but at the same time, he didn’t have much to say. “I’m not taking very good care of myself, am I?” Alex asked, taking slow sips. He wasn’t really interested in the water and it showed.

      Alex wasn’t avoiding food, he didn’t have any issue with it! He just wasn’t hungry anymore. He was tired. But if he could push himself a little farther, was that really such a bad thing? Cutting was a disaster, this was the only show of strength he really had. The boy sighed, making short circles over the bottle with his finger. He knew. Showing ribs, the cold, drops in blood pressure- It was getting harder and harder to cut. It was driving him insane. No matter how deep he tired to go, they bled like dull, shallow cuts. Seeping lifelessly. It killed him inside! He was too weak to ruin himself properly! He was too weak to do anything!

      If he was serious about this, if he was for real, he wouldn’t have been on the floor begging for attention! He would have been able to go a little deeper! “I don’t know.” This wasn’t going well. He was finished talking. There wasn’t anything left to say. It was all just… there. “Thanks for the water.” Alex said, downing the bottle and walking away.

      He threw up the water over a trashcan less than five minutes later, the ringing in his ears getting so loud it wouldn’t have mattered if Casper was talking or not. Alex sighed. He didn’t feel good… He was so tired.

anyone else use i am sober to track how often they self harm and not actually to track how long they stayed clean?

I did it. I still want to die but I did this so that’s something

so exactly 2 ppl have ever commented on my (very obvious) scars at work;; this one guy named Ray who sent me like a 4 paragraph text telling me he noticed them & was there to talk if ever needed him which was so incredibly sweet???? just like wow what a good person it made me wanna cry
& then the other day this new girl who ive been training wasjust like “omg what happened to ur arm?????” im like…………. (o u o ) oh nothing they’re just scars hahahahah
ugH its so awkward idk what im supposed to say to that like girl im not gonna jump into my long history of mental illness & selff harm in the middle of this fast food restaurant fjdlksajfldsk 

.•° .·:·. Runa ✧ Dangerous Love .·:·. °•.

.•° .·:·. Runa ✧ Dangerous Love .·:·. °•.

.•° .·:·. Runa ✧ Dangerous Love .·:·. °•.

Source:
Ajin: Demi-Human | 亜人

by Gamon Sakurai

I told myself this before I had pulled the blinds down, leaving the room drenched in an artificial darkness. I sat on the cold, half-tiled floor of our bathroom. They were words I would repeat over and over in an attempt to make them stick. Felix tried to help. After all, he was the one who instilled the theory of halves in me. He sat, slumped, back pushed against the door I had hastily locked when I tore into the bathroom.

L'ÉPHÉMÈRE REVIEW:  ISSUE VII: CREPÚSCULO Where anything and everything can happen.

Click here to read CICATRIX; short story written by Madeleine Dawn and published by  L'ÉPHÉMÈRE REVIEW. 

I have a billion allergies, even more intolerances, textural issues, and even more issues with food. And to make it worse? I have an ED. Eating is a minefield and I just want a break so bad, but I can’t because if I’m not hyperaware I’ll die, but when I am hyperaware it worsens the ED and is extremely exhausting. For once I’d like to see ableds actually think about the consequences of their actions for disabled ppl when it comes to food and food service and “free food” at meetings and events

dangan-writer:

yo-kiyooo:

block@kiddo-love

block@kiddo-love

block@kiddo-love

block@kiddo-love

block@kiddo-love

block@kiddo-love

For info on why:

They heavily encourage children to interact, claiming to be a “safe space”, while stating that they are 22 and pro-ship. They also openly believe children can consent to sexual acts.

Please stay safe, Block and report if you can, I dont want anyone to get hurt in any way.

Counsel

The truth is the hardest pill in the world to swallow,

but tonight, I make the effort.

I drink from the glass on the table whilst he brands it self-harm.

Says it’s the way

my subconscious mind deals

with the torment of all the ages past and present.

I think of my earlier years, the teenager

who sat in the dark weeping,

tallying every sun as it set on her poor flesh ten, twenty, thirty-fold.

I hug my arms close, feel my spine tense, my neck stiffen. I agree quietly,

nod my head solemnly, suppose he is right - no, hate

that he’s right -

I stare past his face, fix my gaze on an incense stained

spot on the wall a foot above the table,

two away from the frame of the door.

I cannot make eye contact when I next speak.

The silence hangs, a veil between us, whilst

I open my mouth, carefully.

I say,

“It’s my most virtuous sin. My love for almost everyone and everything that isn’t me.”

“Everything else comes first; if someone asks me for help, I want to help.”

“If someone needs me to do something, I want to do it.”

“I want to be the best I can for everyone else. To make their lives easier.”

“I am the supply to every demand, because I like feeling like I’m useful for something.”

“I like feeling like I fulfil a purpose.”

“I suppose it gets to the point where there’s just…”

“There’s just nothing left.”

Fruits of your Craft: 30 Day Challenge

2. What’s the biggest error or mistake that you feel you’ve made when working magick?

When I was 12 I was trying to be Christian, although retrospectively I had a very pagan way of doing that. I wanted to repent and become a better person, so I lit a candle and cut myself to give my blood as an offering and proof of the sincerity of my atonement.

That was a major error as it was rooted heavily in obsessive thoughts and mental illness. The best thing to come out of that is that when I did turn to the pagan gods I had the memory of that experience to guide me away from blood magic. For me, blood magic is too close to my struggles with self-harm and is not a magic I can engage with healthily. So, I learned from that error, but it was pretty significant. My first act of ritual and offering was rooted in illness. It’s not something I think I’ve spoke of before, and it’s definitely something I am uncomfortable with.

Unfortunately I’ll be gone indefinitely. I have had a massive deterioration in my mental health. I’ve started self harming again and I can’t sleep. When I finally get a couple hours of sleep, I have nightmares. Suicidal thoughts have started to become more frequent and I find myself questioning if I’ll go through with them.

I feel so alone. I feel like I’m drowning.

I’m only saying this here, because I’ll eventually be back. I know I will. I always am. But until then, I won’t be making any posts, aesthetic or otherwise.

Thank you all for your love and support over the last 2 years. This has really helped me through some rough periods, and it makes me happy to know that I’ve been able to bring some joy to you.

Take care of yourselves

Lately my depression has become so heavy. It feels like a tank sitting on my chest. I’m creeping up on day 5 that I haven’t been able to get out of bed or put on real clothes. Thoughts of suicide and self harm intrude on every spare moment of my existence

How long is it going to be until it isn’t just a thought anymore?

TW // self harm !!

I’ve never had such intense urges to slice myself apart as I’m having today, I just want to tear my arms open and it almost feels like a compulsive need

ALT

Hc that marcia scratches at her hands + wrists when she’s Feeling Bad Emotions because same :/

Contrary to popular belief,
fingernails don’t actually continue to grow after you die.
Contrary to popular belief, I still think about you every day
and part of me hopes you come back so I can
remember what it’s like to hate the thought
of loving someone.

At what point in the “talking stage” do you tell the person
you met on tinder that you have already
pictured the next five years of your life in their arms;
is it before or after you tell them that you think they’re
making a drastic mistake by having you in their life?
My therapist tells me that he’s impressed by my progress,
but he doesn’t know that I still long to slice open my arms
and see if there really is lead where my blood is supposed to be,
or that the reason I haven’t made any long term goals,
is because I wake up every day not entirely convinced
that I will make it to tomorrow.

I can’t help but wonder what will come of us;
what will happen when you see me in person
for the first time and I have to watch the lights
in your eyes die out as you see me outside
of the posed pictures on Instagram—
when you see me the same way I see me.
I am scared that you will leave,
but I am more so scared that you won’t.

Today, my mother went to the hospital, again,
because sometimes the voices are too loud for her to ignore—
I wonder if any of them sound like me.
My therapist and I talk about my suicidal thoughts;
he smiles, says that they’re passive; I smile back,
and don’t say,
how can you passively yearn for
something with your entire being?

The phrases “falling in” and “falling out” of
love have always perplexed me, because
what is falling if you jump headfirst;
what is falling when the trapped door is jammed shut?

I want to believe that one day I will know how to tell you everything;
I want to believe that one day, you will finally want to listen.

Contrary to popular belief,
I am not entirely sure that I want to get better,
because who I am without this sadness;
what if she isn’t worth saving?

1/30 by (DS)

While I’m thinking about it, here’s a little (completely unedited) taste of that Watch Your Step Fanfic oneshot. Dedicated to @charnelhouse I love you. I’m so nervous haha. 

18+ - Explicit

Just like Charnie’s story, this is going to be super dark. And at some points this oneshot is really personal to me and I needed to vent a bit, so I’m just going to bring out a trigger warning that a mention of sexual assault will be in the oneshot. There will not be anything explicit, just a sentence where it is heavily heavily implied as well as self-harm(again, no description or anything just implied). So read at your own risk. This will be rated as explicit due to the content, so no minors, all of you please stay away from this specific oneshot because I know I have some following me. This is based off of the story, so of course Faire is not going to be the exact same as how *my idol* Charnie writes her. 

“What the fuck am I doing? You- you all, you all kidnapped me and I’m- I’m fucking- oh my god. What the fuck am I doing?” She whispered. 

They knew it was coming, her moment of realization. Her panic, they knew shit would hit the ceiling, and they still weren’t prepared for it. 

“Breathe, honey.” Will whispered, rubbing his thumb on her cheek, she retaliated violently, slapping his hand away.

“Please don’t, please don’t touch me, I- please.” she crawled against the wall. She hadn’t pleaded like this since her first day, when she’d talked to Pope in his office after trying to break out. “Please let me go, please. I can’t- I can’t do this. What the fuck have I done?” she muttered, her head between her knees. 

The boys shared a similar look of confusion, no idea what to do. Any option they had would not work with her while she was in this state. 

“It’s okay Faire, you’re safe, you’re good, you’ve done nothing wrong, Zara.” 

She kept her face shoved in between her knees, mumbling nonsense, rocking her body back and forth.

Madam Pomfrey: Your blood pressure is still too high.

Snape: Ok. What if I cut myself? Just to let some of the blood out.

Are scars suppose to be comforting ? Because every time I look at my arms and trace the light bumpy skin that doesn’t fit the rest, I have this odd sensation that I will get trough whatever I am going trough and that I will be okay. And it’s weird because people might think that those scars are ugly (yes I can see why) but to me they resemble hope in an ironic way. We made it this far haven’t we ?

“Our scars are different. Yours are earned. Proof that you fought and you won.”

“So are yours. You fought your demons and survived.”

as someone who came into this assuming amber heard was in the wrong (based on only knowing the snippets and memes i saw on social media), i get it. i get jumping immediately to depp’s side to finally make the case that men suffer too. that’s an issue that has long been over-looked, sure, and this seems like the perfect opportunity to prove it. but… i’m not so sure.

the reason this is happening right here, right now, with this case, is because amber heard is an easy target. it’s easy to make her the sacrifice thrown to the fire to prove that women care about men being abused too — because she is the first major metoo victim that does not in any way follow the “perfect victim” archetype. she clearly has said and done bad things, sure. and it definitely is true, men can be abused as well, and abuse is not committed solely by women. but jumping on this case as your excuse to show that you believe that to be true is incredibly fucked up. these are real people and a real relationship, and this is a real woman you’re vilifying to prove your righteousness despite all the evidence to contrary. amber has done many shitty things, sure, but i spent hours going into the weeds of everything and, despite coming in leaning towards depp (!!!!!! i really was originally!!!), i’m now deeply appalled at social media’s response to heard and this trial in general. this is not the “believe men!” moment you think it is. do not take that genuinely good and important cause and stain it by making johnny depp its mascot. this case is not the time we’ve all been waiting for to show how important it is to support men too. it is a brutal smear campaign against a victim of abuse and in ten years, all of you will be talking about how awful it was that everyone fell for it at the time.

i genuinely believe that it is not possible to believe depp is an innocent party if you spend a lot of time reading through the evidence and doing actual research rather than bandwagoning. it was an abusive relationship through and through, and both were horrible to each other. but — depp was the aggressor and heard’s abuse was reactionary. both experienced suffering and trauma, but the fact remains: depp had the power in that relationship in every conceivable way. he says as much — in one tape, he curses and screams at her for daring to ‘pretend to be authoritative’ to him and says that she can’t do that, she knows she can’t do that, and the recording ends on him yelling “you don’t exist!” just look at his texts to his friends — innocent good husbands who do not hate their wife or do horrible shit usually do not call their wife a waste of a cum guzzler and fantasize about drowning and burning her then fucking her to make sure she’s dead. there’s a recording of him where he, after threatening to cut amber w a knife, tries to force her to cut him as she, through tears, begs him not to hurt himself. now, i know many men who have suffered from depression. none of them have ever tried to force a knife into their partner’s hands and begged the partner to cut them, then called their partner a “pussy” for refusing to do so. that is not typical depressed behavior and should not be excused as such, especially because it stigmatizes mental illness even more and makes it harder for others struggling with depression. he admitted to headbutting her in the forehead, said in recordings ‘i didn’t even get physical THIS TIME’ and shit like that, made constant references to ‘the monster’ that came out of him whenever he drank/did drugs, etc etc etc. and note that these are INCITING actions. heard hitting depp in response to his attacking her is a REACTIONARY one.

so please please PLEASE stop making excuses for men so you can get your Good Feminist card and prove you’re not like those other Bad Feminists Who Shouldnt Be Taken Seriously, that you’re a GOOD woman, and therefore you shouldn’t be lumped in with the stereotype because YOU, you’re not a typical crazy woman — you’re logical and rational and you care about men. but the thing is, saying depp is innocent is not logical or rational. you are virtue signaling too, yall. that’s what all of this is. i know because i used to do the exact same thing!! all the time!!! so please learn some self-awareness and look at the facts and evidence in front of you, look at it through a lens of power dynamics and domestic abuse, look at it seriously, take both testimonies seriously, and do not form your opinions from memes on tiktok or two sentence tweets or even this post. if you feel compelled to have a strong opinion on this (despite this being a domestic violence issue between two rich white strangers that have nothing to do with you — although i do get it, clearly i’m guilty of it too), then please, please base it in the reality of these people’s relationship and not because you want it to be the symbol of a movement or because you saw people saying shit on social media.

davincsoo:

The fact that there is captured recordings of Johnny attempting SH, showing signs of depression and mental break episodes, using alcohol and substances as a coping mechanism, and the most common symptom of depression - lashing out, and it’s being used to damage him in this trial….

This just goes to show you how society treats people suffering from depression, especially men. It’s all “he is so aggressive and angry and violent,” rather than “I wonder why he is acting this way and should we look into it more?”

the number of men whose abuse and violence have been chalked up to them being poor wounded souls etc is astronomical. yes, we need to care about men’s mental health, but we do not need to perpetuate the classic tactic of taking violent men and using their poor wittle troubledness as justification or excuse for their actions. yes, he wanted to self-harm. do you know why i know this? because there’s a recording of him where he, after threatening to cut amber w a knife, tries to force her to cut him as she, through tears, begs him not to hurt himself. now, i know many men who have suffered from depression. none of them have ever tried to force a knife into their partner’s hands and begged the partner to cut them, then called their partner a “pussy” for refusing to do so. that is not typical depressed behavior and should not be excused as such. that is a deeply traumatic situation to put heard in, and saying “he was depressed” as the reasoning for his behavior maligns people with depression everywhere, turning them into violent monsters with no control over their actions. stop perpetuating the narrative that people suffering from depression are incapable of self-control, empathy, and human decency. it allows people to get away with horrible things and simultaneously puts even greater stigma on mental illness than there already is. i don’t want people to be afraid that i will hurt them because i’m depressed. being depressed has never made me hurt anyone. correlation is not causation.

it’s easy to make amber heard the sacrifice thrown to the fire to prove that women care about men being abused too, and it’s easy because she is the first major metoo victim that does not in any way follow the “perfect victim” archetype. she clearly has said and done bad things, sure. and it definitely is true, men can be abused as well, and abuse is not committed solely by women. but jumping on this case as your excuse to show that you believe that to be true is incredibly fucked up. these are real people and a real relationship, and this is a real woman you’re vilifying to prove your righteousness despite all the evidence to contrary. amber has done many shitty things, sure, but i spent hours going into the weeds of everything and, despite coming in leaning towards depp (!!!!!! i really was originally!!!), i’m now deeply appalled at social media’s response to heard and this trial in general. while the mental health of men does matter, and does matter a lot, it does not justify or excuse the suffering they inflict on those around them. and from depp’s texts to third party members to witness testimonies to photo evidence to video and voice recordings, it is very clear that he has inflicted a LOT of suffering, and his mental health is besides the point. and also, this is not a case about his morality or happiness. this is a trial in which depp sued heard for defamation. his mental health has nothing to do with the facts of whether he did or did not abuse her. this is not the “believe men!” moment you think it is. do not take that genuinely good and important cause and stain it by making johnny depp its mascot. this case is not the time we’ve all been waiting for to show how important it is to support men too. it is a brutal smear campaign against a victim of abuse and in ten years, all of you will be talking about how awful it was that everyone fell for it at the time.

so stop making excuses for men so you can get your Good Feminist card and prove you’re not like those other Bad Feminists Who Shouldnt Be Taken Seriously, that you’re a GOOD woman, and therefore you shouldn’t be lumped in with the stereotype because YOU, you’re not a typical crazy woman — you’re logical and rational and you care about men. but the thing is, saying depp is innocent is not logical or rational. you are virtue signaling too, yall. that’s what all of this is.

TW: v3nt, m3nti0ns 0f $uicid3, s3lf-h4t3r3d, m3nti0ns 0f S3*u4l 4bu$3

It’s getting worse day by day.

I’m staring to feel the need of cuts, craving the sight of my own blood as a punishment. The things that helped me before, are not working anymore.

I often catch myself degrading my whole being, like as I am an outsider. The memories he made me suffer through are not fading at all, as the doctor has said they will.

Everything is useless. I’m staring to think If It’s worth staying alive or not at all. This is not the usual kind of post, this is much longer and deeper this time.

I’m counting the days I should stay alive but my pen is getting useless day by day. My body feels like It’s rotting with every breath I take and every movement gets me closer to the edge.

His hands made wounds that will never heal, but get nastier and nastier everytime I see them. I wish I never wore a skirt. Especially not that day.

I’m begging for the world to end me in any way. Give me the sweet release of this lie, this false reality. I don’t want to live like this no more.

I’m waiting for the lovely day of my death, the freedom from this suffering. Heaven or Hell doesn’t exist. Hell surely don’t. There’s no worse place than Earth itself.

The sour taste the pills, lefr on my tounge never faided since that day.

I wish I never decided to look that way.

I wish I never decided to go out that day.

I wish He didn’t call me sweetheart.

I wish He died.

My first act of self-harm did not involve a knife, or pills, or anything we normally associate with self-injury. My first act of self-harm was pulling my first all-nighter. You see, between my abusive home life, and my own suicidal thoughts, I never thought I would live to see 22. But I wanted to.

So I found a way to relieve the pressure, and overachieving became my drug of choice. In high school I swam varsity all four years, while also dancing, and maintaining As, and taking multiple AP classes, and working, and volunteering, and organizing community events. It was not abnormal for me to go 2 or even 3 days without sleep, and I was routinely sleeping an average of four hours a night (on the nights I did sleep). All that took a toll on my bod, and I found out that feeling is addictive.

Being sleep deprived all the time was a bit like being drunk all the time. There is a giddiness to it: a sense of separation from the body, and the fearlessness that accompanies that feeling. It dulls the senses too. What is pressure to someone who can’t feel anymore?

But the best thing about overachieving at all cost is that not only does no one question it, you are actually congratulated and celebrated for it. And what I find fascinating, in a terrible and morbid sort of way, is that most of the high achieving women of colour I know have engaged in this sort of behaviour. Because we know things are stacked against us, and screwing up is not a luxury we can afford. The ability to make mistakes is a privilege we were not born with. We lived with the notion that we were always one misstep away from becoming a statistic, from becoming one of “those” girls. So instead of popping pills or cutting, we chose perfectionism.

It still came at a cost though. It cost us our mental and physical health, and our ability to grow and heal. We need to recognize that this is a coping mechanism. And while it may have helped us survive a certain period of our lives, it is not behaviour that will truly allow us to live.

It took me years to realize what I was doing, that I was building this wall of achievements and awards around me to protect myself with. I was trying to collect things no one could take away from me in a time when my autonomy, safety, and just general ability to be were subject to the whims of others. So now I am very serious about sleep. I make sure I get at least six hours a night and the only all-nighters I pull are for Harry Potter marathons with my friends.

I am trying out this new thing where I pay attention to my needs, and actually take care of myself.