#2157

my heart is a tar pit full of asphyxiated predators long rotted to bone, i’ve got the skulls of canis dirus and the fangs of smilodon clogged in my chest, their hungry ghosts wailing in my head, and sometimes i want to crack open my ribs and let all that black goo spill out, a viscous waterfall of prehistoric sludge, and other times i want to sink down inside it and let it fill me up entirely so i too can decay and dissolve and have my skeleton put on display to frighten young children

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#2156

these days my anxiety and depression come with a free side order of paranoia, your friends secretly hate you, your coworkers talk about how much of an antisocial freak you are!, which i guess makes it a good deal, buy two get one free, but really i’m already too full of crazy to eat even one more bite, i’m just stuffed, maybe i can get the rest in a to-go bag to have later when i start feeling good about myself again

#2110

Depression is a weak little thing you must swaddle and croon to, and a good mother knows which songs work best to soothe it to sleep in the late, late night. During the day you balance it on your hip, a heavy weight that requires one of your arms be always burdened and the other overtaxed with juggling everything else. Yet if you put the thing down, it cries; if you try to leave it with someone else for a while, it cries; if your attention wanders too far or for too long, it cries. It cries and cries and cries and there is only so much you can do before you surrender to tears as well. Your body birthed this thing, though, and you can never be free – you just learn tricks along the way to entertain it for another hour or another day, anything to keep it from dragging you down a little bit longer. Yet there is always tomorrow.

#2108

this thing happens when i travel where my mind loses its grasp of past and future and i feel like ive only ever been in this shitty airport, i wasn’t even born ive just always existed in this stretch of fluorescent lights and fast food restaurants and people who can’t be bothered to recycle their plastic water bottles, thanks for contributing to the death of our planet, and the longer im in this stasis the more it feels like im dead and this is purgatory or maybe ive gone crazy, who knows, is there even an outside world? im starting to doubt it, maybe im in a closed loop and if i get too suspicious of my reality the people all around will start to notice me and realize I’m an intruder and mob me to protect the fragile structure, im trying to make an inception reference if you can’t tell, but everything i write these days is just awful, truly awful, and anyway what i was trying to get at is that when i travel im always just like a little tiny bit on the edge of hysteria and that’s why i freak out when some small inconvenience happens, security tells me to take out my tablet or my headphones get stolen, really i just like totally fucking lose it cause what if im stuck here forever waiting for a plane that will never come, we apologize for the inconvenience, another hour, another minute, and i can’t go anywhere without lugging all my baggage with me and if that’s not a real hilarious metaphor for my whole fucking life then i dunno what to tell you, after all im just trying to take up space and pretend im a writer when what i really am is full of shit (both literally and metaphorically)

#2105

Where are you?

A small, pale light moving in the darkness, a plane flying at night in dense fog or heavy cloud. A search plane, perhaps, or an aircraft far from its intended course. Far from civilization.

Where are you?

Long line of the dark tops of evergreen trees, framed against a darker night sky.

Where are you?

A satellite, or some similar distant light, moving forward in its unchanging orbit.

Where are you?

A flickering light, brighter than the candles, to the left and beyond the darkness. Flames? Fire? No, a distraction. A trick. Not real. Focus.

Where. Are. You?

A woman’s face, chin dark as if tattooed. Snow? Sedna?

Where are you?

Alaska?

Where are you?

Dyatlov Pass?

Where are you?
Are you lost?
Are you trapped?
Are you hiding?

A ring of evergreen trees, a clearing or the edge of a forest, seen from below as if by someone laying on the ground. Dark on dark, waiting forest, heavy sky, untouched wilderness.

I will find you regardless. I. Will. Find. You.

Darkness. Silence. Nothing.

Where are you?
Where. Are. You?
WHERE ARE YOU?

Exhaustion.

#2104

someone’s tarot cards say the Moon’s fucking shit up for me and it’s like GOD, i know, right?? tell me something i don’t know, like how much longer i gotta wait out this silent treatment, like if i’m going crazy or just always was, like what do i do what do i do what do i fucking do, and someone else is complaining the Devil won’t leave them alone and I want to say tell that fucker to come talk to me then, he won’t return my calls but i don’t because there are some things you just don’t acknowledge and i am full of them, they are apparently all i am, what a surprise

#2101

Look, if I need to I will become a monster as well. Maybe you don’t think I have it in me, but I do; I can become the ancient thing in the forest, the dead thing in the well, the pretty thing in the house. Little girls are born with a seed of darkness in them, don’t you know, because the world’s so against us from the beginning – or maybe that’s just me, tainted from the start and assuming everyone’s that way. Either way, I’ve learned from the best how to be jealous and possessive and crazy so you really ought not to make this a competition, darling, not with this witch bitch. You taught me how to weaponize love, so why are you surprised to find me armed to the teeth and ready for war?