Venting I miss him so much, I need him

[Lavínia]

Body is a mechanism, an access card to walk in virtues. A succinct permission of limited freedom. My body, a mass that clings and holds onto me, heavy, it...
My body, a lascivious parasite fertilizing my bones. It eats clots...
My body, walking symbols at room temperature...
It is a reflection, yes. Conclusive proof, a living remnant that the mind existed. Agony has a color, it is pink. Anxiety has a color, it is red. Relief has a color, it is white. Satisfaction has a color, but I don't know this one. Draw a picture for each pain, I hate drawing. I hate, I hate, I hate.
A vision beyond reality, my injured bones. My flesh so marked. Patchwork. Sewing.
- What did you do so much, my dear? Explain, quote gently. I need to feed myself by listening to your madness. Listening to your feelings, so raw! Yes, still white from lack of cooking! No details, just expression, no facades, just cold anticipation. My beautiful garden, prematurely dead, die once more for me. Romantic and poetic evasion. Explain what you did.
Cut. Cuts. More cuts. Burns, with knives and matches. Pins, colorful and cute. Scratches, only on the epidermis. Scratching, skin melting under the nails, confused fingerprints. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Punches. Memories. Bites.
Small list, so small.

I wish you were here. I lost the right to die but I feel like my time is running out. I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't. can't can't can't can't

 

[ItsAllSoTiresome]

I miss my ex too, Valentine's Day has been unbearable the past couple of years, the nostalgia of the fading memories of the time we spent together.

 

[Languish]

By any chance do you suffer from being schizoid? I have seen your posts here and there, they are.. sporadic. Poetic. Disjointed. Beautiful words, an echo in resonance, but messy. I hope you take no offense. I am just curious as to how your mind is and why it is the way it is.

 

[Lavínia]

By any chance do you suffer from being schizoid? I have seen your posts here and there, they are.. sporadic. Poetic. Disjointed. Beautiful words, an echo in resonance, but messy. I hope you take no offense. I am just curious as to how your mind is and why it is the way it is.

I don't know much about schizoid, but I was diagnosed with mild autism last year, where I live it's no longer called Asperger's.
I try to think straight, raw, but things get mixed up and there are so many things in one. It's ignorance not to take everything in, it's convenient. Poetry and writing transform simple things into a show, comical because it's so ridiculous, but I feel like it's something that exists, and not thinking about it or paying attention to it is agonizing. My ex left me, it's sad. Fact, quick and simple. But there's also what this generates, how my expression has changed, what it means to the world as a whole in the chain of symbols, after all the existence of what I see is pure perception, something exists as it exists, I interpret, by the way I see it, I can only feel what my feeling is. The scars, the importance of other people's thoughts, judgment, the behavior I need to decide, I do need to decide, the different moods and how I can't be cohesive, this cacophony is such a big and noisy agony but it's mine, it's something mine, all of this has expression. My ex had autism to a much greater degree, but he didn't think as much, it became automatic. but I need to think

 

[J&L383]

Your writing is amazing. (If I was a better writer I could come up with a better adjective). I don't read much, I lose focus, but your words draw me in.

I miss my ex, too. And I always will.