shell

CW: suicide, self loathing

when I have to grieve and process something icky and gross, like tar and pus, my body collapses and I find myself moving through life on autopilot.

everything hurts. everything sucks. everything scares me.

I know I really just need to break down and cry. But I can’t. I don’t feel safe. If I start to cry how can I stop?

Im trying to shake this deadening, decomposing,, rotten corpse of despair rising inside me. The longest relationship I ever have had is with my own self loathing.

And here it is, taking me head on.

The suicide attempts. The internalized hatred. The inescapability. The desperation.

The punitive, retaliatory consequences of being myself.

It doesn’t help firecrackers keep going off.

I’m disfigured. Only half human. Half a body. The rest of me is a pile of cremated childhood half wishes and anxiety.

How can someone hate themselves so much, believe that they are hated so much, at such a young age, that they attempt to kill themself?

Well it happened to me.

Je suis suicide

 

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