I already died

[woofwag]

I avoid myself. I avoid all my feelings and bury it in games and doomscrolling and videos. I miss what I used to be. I miss getting drenched in the rain as I swept a soccer ball out of someone's feet. I miss boating to tiny islands in secrets corners of the lake, and catching salamanders by the tail and pretending for just a moment that they were our pets. I miss how my blood used to feel... I miss how I could feel it pumping through every part of body. Now it pools into my feet, all swollen and purple and disgusting. I am disgusting. All the smiles of my childhood, every giggle and story I ever wrote, they're buried in all the shit I experienced. Just how I already am a eulogy, living out the "happy" me that people think I am to spare them the pain of a miserable last few moments. The fact that my abusers were in a lot of my "good" memories doesn't erase them, but it makes them hurt a hell of a lot more than feeling the holes in my memory where the true torture lies. But I'm glad I was able to remember what happened to me, because it gives me more reason to die. That little boy with the bouncy beach-blonde hair and unparalleled confidence was a farce. Just how I am, and always will be. The true me lies with the maggots.

 

[badatparties]

I hate how there's so much life, wonder, and magic in us as children, only to be slowly destroyed by the world.

 

[SoLowHollow48]

This doesn't have a rant/vent tag to it so I'm assuming that this is your last message to us. Rest in peace, pal. I'm sorry for all the shit that you needed to go through by yourself. People truly pull away when you've become "useless" to them and only love you when you fit their narrative. I hope that you get to play ball in the rain again and befriend those salamanders you've caught.

 

[sweetdrowning]

I feel this in my core. I miss childhood more than anything.

 

[woofwag]

This doesn't have a rant/vent tag to it so I'm assuming that this is your last message to us. Rest in peace, pal. I'm sorry for all the shit that you needed to go through by yourself. People truly pull away when you've become "useless" to them and only love you when you fit their narrative. I hope that you get to play ball in the rain again and befriend those salamanders you've caught.

Ah it is not, although I wish this were a goodbye letter. I meant becoming a eulogy as more like, "I am so miserable and have prepared so much that I am already my own eulogy." When I do pass, I hope I can experience the same peace I found in those little moments in my childhood. At least some replication of it. I can't regain the naivety of those moments, even in my brief "happy" moments now.