LavĂnia
plalace
- Feb 19, 2024
- 161
A lot has been happening.
I've seen old friends again, who I never wanted to contact. I always tried not to see them, to erase that connection so I could have peace on my own. After breaking up with my ex, and wanting to isolate myself for good, this got worse. But this week, I talked to them and went out with them. It was nice, empty, expected, and cool.
I started talking to these people again, unearthing memories of something I'm no longer. Seeing comparisons of something I'm not now.
My mother found out that I smoke, she found out that I had some sex toys. I bought them when I was trying to figure this out, before I had my first time and hated anything related to it, because I was disgusted. It's been in my bag for a year. The cigarette... is cigarette. It was a silly mistake, I left my lighter in my pants.
The feeling of these things happening, small disappointments, walls falling, and emptiness swirling. I could only accept them, could I do something else?
I found out that my ex blocked me, on one of the apps. Shock, anger, turmoil. The greatest regret I felt during the separation was the realization that I was nothing to him, that I was not loved. I believed that we ended on good terms, and that there was even a chance of friendship, but it didn't continue because I wanted to distance myself. But he blocked me, the intention is not only mine, he doesn't want it either.
There are many things, small kingdoms crumbling. I even thought about saying that I wasn't well, confessing to my mother. I just have to lift my shirt, show the bunch of scraps that I transformed. Off the top of my head, I can count 43 large, purple cuts along my body. Not to mention the burns. I made some with a match in my hand, making sure that only I could see them.
Things are coming, the waves. Bitterness, regret, a feeling of escape. And I am at rest, there is no panic, there is no energy. Is this acceptance? Laziness? Trust? I feel that not even death can take this opaque feeling away from me anymore, why would I die? What good would it do? An end to the agony? She is splitting herself, kissing me in little drops of resentment. I am becoming inconsequential, without dreams, without desires, without impetus, and without the will to escape. The end.
I've seen old friends again, who I never wanted to contact. I always tried not to see them, to erase that connection so I could have peace on my own. After breaking up with my ex, and wanting to isolate myself for good, this got worse. But this week, I talked to them and went out with them. It was nice, empty, expected, and cool.
I started talking to these people again, unearthing memories of something I'm no longer. Seeing comparisons of something I'm not now.
My mother found out that I smoke, she found out that I had some sex toys. I bought them when I was trying to figure this out, before I had my first time and hated anything related to it, because I was disgusted. It's been in my bag for a year. The cigarette... is cigarette. It was a silly mistake, I left my lighter in my pants.
The feeling of these things happening, small disappointments, walls falling, and emptiness swirling. I could only accept them, could I do something else?
I found out that my ex blocked me, on one of the apps. Shock, anger, turmoil. The greatest regret I felt during the separation was the realization that I was nothing to him, that I was not loved. I believed that we ended on good terms, and that there was even a chance of friendship, but it didn't continue because I wanted to distance myself. But he blocked me, the intention is not only mine, he doesn't want it either.
There are many things, small kingdoms crumbling. I even thought about saying that I wasn't well, confessing to my mother. I just have to lift my shirt, show the bunch of scraps that I transformed. Off the top of my head, I can count 43 large, purple cuts along my body. Not to mention the burns. I made some with a match in my hand, making sure that only I could see them.
Things are coming, the waves. Bitterness, regret, a feeling of escape. And I am at rest, there is no panic, there is no energy. Is this acceptance? Laziness? Trust? I feel that not even death can take this opaque feeling away from me anymore, why would I die? What good would it do? An end to the agony? She is splitting herself, kissing me in little drops of resentment. I am becoming inconsequential, without dreams, without desires, without impetus, and without the will to escape. The end.
