WRITING ༺𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓴𝓼.༻

༄ピタゴラス

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as the role play gradually progresses I tend to become moderately aggressive since I have more of a feel for it, and I will throw ideas at you 24/7 be warned lmao
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roamed around, fell in love, broke my leg, got stuck...what the fuck?

-tyler, the creator.
 

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as the role play gradually progresses I tend to become moderately aggressive since I have more of a feel for it, and I will throw ideas at you 24/7 be warned lmao
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1578740823572.gif

new thread. the other thread was beyond cluttered—a fucking understatement of a train wreck. welcome.​

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༄ピタゴラス

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as the role play gradually progresses I tend to become moderately aggressive since I have more of a feel for it, and I will throw ideas at you 24/7 be warned lmao
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smile.
12 january 2020.

lately, i’ve been wondering if i’m a nuisance to society—a pest, rather. because that’s how i’m treated; the bane of everyone’s existence. not being bothersome is an obsession—one odd hyperfixation that i can’t seem to rid, one that’s always remained since middle school.

don’t get me started on the question, “how are you doing?”—i tense, quite taken aback by the fact that they want to engage in a serious conversation. i only reply with, “good. how are you? how is everything?”, with a happy tone. nothing more, unless i’m forced to speak more about my uneventful day. i don’t want to. i don’t want to be a nuisance, and slip up and say something that may sound out of the ordinary.

i listen to them, and really i’m happy for them that their day was going well, and if not, i tell them that they can always come to me if they need something, or if they just want to talk about something. “holding onto everything is destructive and unhealthy, it’s hard on yourself and you deserve better, it’s a major part of self care!” i tell them. hypocritical.

the conversation ends. at this point, i’m holding onto everything, attempting to tighten my loosening seams with everything threatening to spill. but i don’t allow them to stray far. hypocritical.

don’t get me started on the question, “are you okay?”—i tense once more, but this time, a lump forms in my throat, and i find it harder to swallow. to breathe. it takes me a few moments to answer, because my heart is palpitating, and i’m still holding on.

no. no, i’m not. i wish i could tell you why i’m not. i wish i could, i really do. but i can’t—because i’ll be a nuisance, you have better things to do than to try and console me. i’ll probably cry, and i’m actually trying not to—the situation will become awkward, and i don’t want you to feel embarrassed. i don’t want to ruin your day, i don’t want to drag you down with me to this awfully dark place. you don’t deserve to be here. i know you don’t want to be lied to, and i’m sorry. but i can’t. i want to, but i’m not going to for the sake of your own wellbeing. i don’t think you’re weak—i’m just afraid that you won’t want to talk to me again, and i don’t want you to feel forced to say something about the situation. i don’t want you to feel overwhelmed. i don’t want you to think i’m trying to throw a pity party. i don’t want you to think i’m not being serious. i don’t want you to think i’m over-exaggerating or trying to be “deep”. i just want to be heard, somehow, somewhere, listened to without my sanity and validity being judged and questioned endlessly...whether i’m actually being “serious”. i don’t want to feel invalidated more than i already am. i’m sorry.

i then get a proper grasp of my emotions.

yeah, i’m okay. why?” i ask.

i manage to suppress my thoughts.

i smile. (:​
 

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as the role play gradually progresses I tend to become moderately aggressive since I have more of a feel for it, and I will throw ideas at you 24/7 be warned lmao
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ill.
13 january 2020.

i’m exhausted.

i went to sleep at one, and i woke up at the devil’s hour.

i’ve been awake since then.

it’s hard to breathe.

i’m wheezing and coughing. despite the amount of deep breathes i’ve attempted to take, i feel as though i’ve just ran a mile. yawning hurts my chest.

my heart is in pain. my shoulder blade is also in pain. i can’t tell if i’m about to have another episode, but i still can’t catch my breath. my nose feels clogged. my body is in pain. breathing hurts. living hurts.

“you’re a bit young to be this sickly”. it’s something they always say—i’ve become used to not being taken seriously. it’s okay.

maybe i’ll pull myself out of bed, take some medication and go about my day. my stomach is also in pain, i can’t remember the last time i’ve eaten due to my nonexistent appetite, but now i’m hungry.

i’ve decided that i’ll just lie here.

i’m tired.​
 

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as the role play gradually progresses I tend to become moderately aggressive since I have more of a feel for it, and I will throw ideas at you 24/7 be warned lmao
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how about, shove your fingers in my mouth? and, once i’m done, suckling, wrap your hand around my throat—or, both of them, perhaps. but please don’t kill me, i don’t wanna go like that. i just wanna feel alive. tell me that i’m breathing. tell me that i’m actually living.

treat me roughly, throw me around a lil, i like that. pull my hair and tug me closer—that’s right, you can’t do that, because i shaved all of it off. well, slap me a lil, try and get my brown skin to show a lil red. she’s already still pretty with and without some natural blush. tell me that i’m actually living, again. i like that.

pin both of my arms above my head, as i’m bound at the wrist by your hand. don’t give me what i want, especially if i decide to become a bit bratty. i’ll probably begin to shed tears, especially when you kiss my neck and grind yourself against me, fondling endlessly with my breasts—not because i’m upset, or hurting, or feeling entirely dysphoric, but because the feeling of wanting so intensely makes me feel alive.

show no mercy.

don’t be nice.

make me feel alive.

tell me that i’m breathing.

tell me that i’m living.

i like that.
 

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as the role play gradually progresses I tend to become moderately aggressive since I have more of a feel for it, and I will throw ideas at you 24/7 be warned lmao
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furry , historical , yeah no

kinda over it.
14 january 2020.
12:25 A.M.

one of those nights where i can’t sleep again—will there ever be a night where i can sleep? where i feel loved? where i don’t feel lied to, betrayed?

no.​
 

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as the role play gradually progresses I tend to become moderately aggressive since I have more of a feel for it, and I will throw ideas at you 24/7 be warned lmao
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furry , historical , yeah no


my brain is exploding it won’t stop
14 january 2020.
2:13 P.M.

the flowers were talking to me in the garden today. i don’t remember what i said back to them, but they said i was lying. they smell good and wonderful. i smell good. my shirt has bleach stains in it and i didn’t notice. such a pretty shirt still. now i need to take a shower​
 

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as the role play gradually progresses I tend to become moderately aggressive since I have more of a feel for it, and I will throw ideas at you 24/7 be warned lmao
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furry , historical , yeah no


my head hurts and he has spoken to me
2:34 P.M.
14 january 2020

i don’t want to look behind the curtain because there are people talking amongst the static it feels like a football stadium and multiple news broadcast and high pitched noises!!!!!!!! is it tinnitus????????are they behind the shower curtain? should i knock? my feet are very cold and i wanna take a walk somehwrre. theyre numb i am sleepy i want to talk to a friend​
 

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as the role play gradually progresses I tend to become moderately aggressive since I have more of a feel for it, and I will throw ideas at you 24/7 be warned lmao
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furry , historical , yeah no

i don’t know.
15 january 2020.

i‘m in the midst a really bad psychotic episode—the first day always hits me the hardest. but, waiting it out is my only option. i don’t feel good. i’m terrified. i can’t comfortably look at anything that gives off a reflection, because there’s always going to be someone behind me, on the ceiling, somewhere in the reflection that i can’t avoid. i know it’s a visual hallucination, but paranoia is at its all time high. i know, i know it sounds like bullshit because, “how are they looking at their phone screen as they type this?”.

completely buried under my sheets so that there’s absolutely no light, that’s how.

there’s a full body mirror sitting right outside of my door—i avoid that, too. i stare at my counters when i’m brushing my teeth, nowhere else. driving is damn near impossible and hazardous whenever i get like this, so i decide to walk.

i seem to have certain dreams during times like these, and in general—everyone i’ve met or currently know, huddled around me, chanting that i’m worth nothing and that i’m not liked. i keep track of my dreams to see if there’s a pattern, and this particular dream is a reoccurring one.

if i’m being honest, i’ve never felt more alone.

i’ll grin and bear it.​
 

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as the role play gradually progresses I tend to become moderately aggressive since I have more of a feel for it, and I will throw ideas at you 24/7 be warned lmao
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calm down.
10:51 P.M.
15 january 2020.

i drunk three cups of coffee to keep myself awake, and now i’m jittery. the shadow people are back, and they’re staring at me in every corner. i can see their red eyes. go away, stop distracting me, i’m trying to be productive.​
 

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as the role play gradually progresses I tend to become moderately aggressive since I have more of a feel for it, and I will throw ideas at you 24/7 be warned lmao
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furry , historical , yeah no

restless.
4:55 A.M.
17 january 2020.

it’s not unusual that i don’t awaken at the devil’s hour. i did it again, today, and i couldn’t go back to sleep...which is also fairly surprising—actually, it’s really not. it’s not surprising. i’m exhausted. i suddenly feel the urgent need to clean my entire room, despite the fact that i just cleaned it yesterday, and it’s almost five in the morning. i’m unnerved, and i feel unclean. i need to take a shower.​
 

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as the role play gradually progresses I tend to become moderately aggressive since I have more of a feel for it, and I will throw ideas at you 24/7 be warned lmao
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D192B3AE-B5FC-44CF-8B18-24FDFD1A5D0C.jpeg


i wonder why.​
 

༄ピタゴラス

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as the role play gradually progresses I tend to become moderately aggressive since I have more of a feel for it, and I will throw ideas at you 24/7 be warned lmao
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furry , historical , yeah no

heart
17 january 2020.

sometimes, i wonder where everyone went. is it me? am i doing something wrong? am i doing everything wrong? that’s what it seems like, all the time, every time. it bothers me to the point where my stomach begins to ache—not with hunger, but with need, to know what i’ve done and if i was even the reason in beginning. maybe i just overthink everything. maybe i don’t overthink everything, and maybe i am to blame. i don’t know, because i’m never told, but the latter most definitely seems reasonable. maybe it’s because i’m a pisces.

i’m carrying the weight of the heavens on my shoulders, and satan mocks me—the angels mock me as well, even they aren’t on my side. god himself chuckles. i chuckle. i’m so very exhausted, there is nowhere to turn, but i still don’t allow my knees to buckle despite the weight of the heavens. i haven’t collapsed, but there is no one. my unconcerned therapist takes my money and skedaddles away with a grin. dead end. zero points. 0点さ.​
 

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i can’t sleep.
20 january 2020.
2:51 A.M.

i’m buried under my sheets, and i’m extremely sweaty and feverish. my throat is dry, and i left my hydro on the kitchen counter. but, i can’t get it.

there’s someone, or something, scratching on the outside of my door...another auditory hallucination that i’ve become accustomed to. but, i have a difficult time distinguishing between reality, and the figments of my imagination. i doubt myself consistently, and therefore, i won’t leave the room. what if there is something inside of my home, scratching at my door, and it’s waiting for me to fall into its trap? the possibility of that is incredibly low, but...i still convince myself that it’s a possibility.

as i type this, i’m beginning to hear bells jingle in the distance. the dissonance terrifies me.

there’s a low rumbling noise. and the scratching. and the jingling of bells. and the scratching. and the bells. and the rumbling. my thoughts are crowded. so very crowded. i’m so tired. exhausted. i am in desperate need of proper rest. my eyes are aching. give me a break. i’ll beg on my knees, to every god and entity in existence.

every hallucination i experience is immediately amplified by one hundred as soon as the sun goes down. i’ll drown them out with music. and as long as i’m hidden beneath the covers, i can’t see them, either. the sun rises at 6:50 A.M. today, and when it does all will be at least somewhat better. i’ll make it through. i’ll make it work.

the sunrise makes me feel joyous and happy. it’s the one thing i always look forward to, temporarily placing an end to the nightmares that occur within the real world.​
 

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as the role play gradually progresses I tend to become moderately aggressive since I have more of a feel for it, and I will throw ideas at you 24/7 be warned lmao
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furry , historical , yeah no

scrambled.
22 january 2020.

my eyes are dry, red, aching badly. blinking hurts. my jaw is swollen. when will the medication kick in? soon. my mouth tastes like iron. my nose is stuffy.

classes started yesterday, and i’m already stressed, but at least my professors seem kind. i’ve chosen to take them online—it’s more convenient, and i’d like to not embarrass myself within the real world.

my birthday’s in two months, perhaps i’ll spend it alone. i won’t feel any older, or younger. maybe i’ll forget that it’s my birthday on the day of my birthday. maybe that’ll be a nice thing. vanilla cake and booze, maybe.

i often find myself clenching both fists or one of my fists, whenever i’m occupied with something—a an unhealthy defense mechanism for holding onto everything. if i’m being honest, i’m...down, and alone. been down for the past few months. a lot’s happened. still currently happening. things that i don’t want to talk about, even with the closest of friends...or whatever i’m seen as to anyone. i only talk to my journal. the many hobbies i’ve taken pleasure in—motivation lost. i get nothing done, except for soaking my pillow with my tears.

my eyes are stinging.

my expensive art supplies are sitting in my closet, waiting for me to use them—but i won’t. my mind isn’t there. my violin is sitting in its case, the strings are probably out of tune. i haven’t touched it in two years. the case is collecting dust. clothes are scattered about my room, i don’t feel like picking them up.

i’m trying, and i don’t know why. even though i’m moving slowly, i’m trying.

somewhere within my heart, there’s still a part of me that thinks that i have a purpose for some reason, and i keep moving. slowly. i don’t know why. i couldn’t tell myself, or anyone else. i don’t know.​