[center [size10 The end isn't too far. nor too near.]]
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Drugs that completely extinguish your sex drive.
In exchange, you get to cut out the bleeding that is the curse of your sex. That womb you were born with - will it dry up? You hope so. You don't desire children, and never will.
However, this poses a problem for your relationship - after all, your partner desires intercourse.
It's been a while - but you know you can't put it off anymore.
You love him.
You love yourself.
You love the relationship.
[i It's just a body], you tell yourself. [i Get drunk or something. Half an hour isn't much to give up per week, is it?]
[i Some of the things he's said you fundamentally are against - but you love him as an individual, don't you?]
Why are you here? How are you here?
You don't know. Yet it won't change the fact that you are here.
The bird willingly in her cage. Having the best of both worlds.
Are you happy?
Dreams. Fantasy. Escapism.
[i Run run run run run run run run run]
-Crying for Rain, Minami.
So tired. Today a thousand weights hang on this body - yet the spirit screams to carry on, you haven't climbed out of hell to succumb to depression. Chains, willingly bound - yet you reap the benefits of this binding, don't you honey?
It was easy to say you would leave at the first sign of dissonance, when you were free and unshackled. [i Why does she stay when things are so bad between them?]
No one likes to be alone. Everyone is deathly afraid of - heck, not death - but of wandering the world solo.
Maybe I could cut off my tubes and get off the drugs.
Will that stop the periods though?
[i Time to save up for that operation. Maybe it will save your relationship.]
Facebook. Your online footprint. My active reminder of who I know - who I used to know.
I haven't spoken to that one in a while.
I barely know this one, unlikely to ever see them again in the future.
Oh, that's my ex.
Oh, that's a shit friend who stopped making an effort 5 years ago.
Oh, these are a bunch of primary school friends.
Hold onto her memory.
They say she’s a control freak.
But they don’t understand what she’s been through. They don’t understand her need to control every aspect of her life, to note everything down, to keep a well-maintained diary.
A plan is a sense of order, a sense of the ordinary process of things, of normality and routine. They dont understand.
It’s to keep her from spiralling into uncertainty. It’s to keep the insanity at bay.
Everything must be just planned, down to the last minute.
I do not fear death. I fear losing the ones I love. I fear abandonment.
I fear dying alone.
Sometimes I feel strong, like I've got it all figured out, as if everything is going right for me. And then there are times like these, when I feel as if I'm alone on the surface of the moon.
[i It's not about the diamonds or cars, the branded names that mean nothing. Aren't you tired of the over-indulgence?]
There is a freedom to this erasure.
I haven't got time for drugs.
I haven't got time to get smashed every weekend.
I haven't got time to relax.
I haven't got time to not get my shit together.
I haven't got time to be a hot mess .
I haven't got time to tidy.
I haven't got time to breathe.
I haven't got time - every week flies by, Friday is always just around the corner, and the weekends melt like cotton candy on tongue. I don't know where they go. I don't know what I do.
I do know I'm flying through a hundred books this year, at least.
I feel like every moment is lived, yet time disappears and I don't [b feel] every moment. It's like a dream. Suddenly you're at the front of the house, suddenly you're on the train, suddenly you're at work, suddenly you're at home, suddenly it's Monday, suddenly it's Thursday.
Where are my days in between?
Where was September and August? July spent in Europe feels like a dream. I find myself needing pictures to document - to remember. Like evidence. Proof that I was really there.
Tempted to change my username today.
People change names for one reason: to start over with a clean slate.
Sometimes that's how I feel in life. I can admit it here.
I'm always in two minds - like I have two spirits living inside of me, wanting entirely different things.
Security. [i Freedom.]
Love. [i Independence.]
Stable life. [i Adventure].
Material things. Job. Friends. [i Escape. Dreams. Peace.]
[size9 I cannot leave the life I have willingly shackled myself to. I've thrown the key away after all. [i You [b did] pick the castle and happily ever after, my dear.]]
[size9 Chin up. Life isn't too bad.]
[size8 Can I just say though, I'm in denial.]
Got in touch with my school friend whom I had left on bad terms. We made up. Truly happy I got the chance to mend the bridge.
Life goes on. I feel happy - got good friends, great husband, loving cat, budding career path. I am very lucky and blessed to have made it here.
I never thought I'd say that I love my life.
How did I come to this mindset? It's a mix of 'death can happen anytime, to anyone, at any age', and 'what have you got to lose?', and 'what if this is the only life you have, what if there is no after, shouldn't you be living your best life?'.
All of these things motivate me. I don't want a life filled with regrets, anger, pointless drama and arguments. I can't say that we can exclude sadness, because sadness comes with happiness/joy - nothing is permanent, our attachment to things/people brings sadness when we lose them. I'm working on that attachment thing.
Reading old blog posts.
Looking at old pictures.
Bringing 2010 to the present with me.
Knowing I made several mistakes. Understanding that falling in love wasn't one of them. Hoping that she is okay, somewhere out there, that she has gotten stronger and lives a better life - despite me.
Here's to living another year. Carpe diem.
I don't fear death, but I am always - have always been - aware of its presence in the air around me. That is why I wish to live before I die. We never know what the future holds. We can't sit back and let misdirected content wrap us in its sleepy comfort.
[center Live. Now.]
My imagination running rampant - my hands itch to write again. To carve stories out of my mind. But I don’t know if I have the time. I know that I am well out of practice.
My one passion is travel.
To know the world is so huge - to be one dot amongst billions, trillions. There is a comfort in this cradling.
It is because nature doesn't care, it doesn't feel, doesn't complicate-
It just is.
It exists in all its wonders with no apologies - fierce, sublime, breath-taking in all its glory.
It would not speak to me in a language that I would understand, it would not judge me, it would not spite me, it would not single me out to hurt me. It doesn't care if I'm ugly, awkward, unsuccessful, depressed - it doesn't give two shits and that's what I love about being surrounded by it.
A warm summer afternoon - spent inside.
Thinking - no, reminiscing.
Send in the clowns.
An endless, immobile, still warmth coming from my windows. My cat, silently wandering, inquisitive mind - no worries come to her.
How can one feel heavy and weighted down in this beautiful summer afternoon?
And yet I do.
Feel like I'm slowly turning to stone, concrete statue - soon, I will lose all feeling.
One pod through space, endless space. Silent space.
No more searching, just drifting.
As I'm getting flabbier, I sing Kelly Clarkson's [i I'm a Whole Lotta Woman]. Gotta feel badass while I gain them tyres round my belly .
I blame this ever cloudy and rainy British weather. Yes, it's true. It's always raining. Except for a brief dream in summer where we complain about the heat and humidity, cuz its never hot enough in Britain to even consider installing ceiling fans.
My mother-in-law said she likes girls with a bit of meat (compliment?). Well honey, when you got genes like mine - you need constant heat to keep a girl like me looking flawlessly thin. Ahem ahem. Forever will I be green with envy at Western women's legs - tall, thin, glossy, flawless . Ah, just listen to me get superficial and giving a shit about appearances.
I mean, you could be anything and everything. Catfish. Fear of commitment. [i Strong] fear of commitment. Trauma from past relationships. Self-hate, depression. Lack of self-worth. It's not that you lack self-esteem, but you just don't see yourself worthy of love - and I've had a hard time being in a relationship with a guy like that. Sucked the soul out of me - and after a while I got tired too. I mean, I will often and probably always think of you. Whatever the image of 'you' I imagine you to be.
I want a life lived, life worth living, life in pursuit of happiness.
Not once in all the times we've spoken, have you expressed such a desire.
Or perhaps I've forgotten. But how can I forget.
Speaking of memory - I have a thing where I forget things..I'm bad at remembering shit. People show me photos and I don't remember being 'there'. People tell me things that happen and I don't remember experiencing them. People tell me things I've said or things they've said to me, and I don't fucking remember any of it. I don't know what it is. I'm afraid. Is it my brain shrinking due to stress, depression and all this cocktail of fucked-up feelings inside me?
There isn't a particular part of my life specifically that I'm forgetting. It's spread sporadically across my history - from childhood to teens to adulthood. Maybe it has something to do with the lack of Vitamin D - less sun, less exercise, less brain flexing its muscles?
"Will you still love me when I forget everything?" I said to him.
Will there come a time when I cannot differentiate between what's real and what's not? At least I haven't started 'remembering' things that aren't real. I just forget things. Like how much you hurt me. But not how I've let go. And not how I still wish for your happiness. Even if you catfished me. Heh.
[i [size10 You're not the only one who's tired, love.]]
Someday in the future, when this site finally closes down
Will be the day the story of you and me turns its last page
The day the leaves fall and all becomes quiet.
Are you alive, are you okay - or at least, carrying on?
I hope so.
I know now that looking won't give me answers.
I don't have enough words.
You'll always have a part of me.
Bit like a phantom limb. I reach for this every now and then.
ES, you've seen and heard so much.
Avoidant and Anxious personalities. Mix these two together and you have a recipe for disaster. That's what we were, really.
I'm still anxious but I've become more secure over the years. I've fallen in love over and over again. There was too much dark in my reality growing up - I had my head in the clouds at times looking for an escape. Then reality would bring me down, and I wanted to die. I wanted to be free. I wanted to live. I have bad days and good days. I wonder if it's my short temper, all this balled up anger - that's saved me. That's pushed me to move.
I am not content. No one knows for sure how long we've got, whether we'll come back again. Most likely we've all just got one shot at life - one lifespan to experience the entire world. And I don't want to waste it. So I'm moving forward, inhaling it all when I can. Sometimes I still get depressed, huddle in my bed, cry and cry and want to die, feeling like I've lost all hope. These moods come and go. Today I want to run, a ball of restless energy sits in my belly. I want to spread my wings and I want to move, I want to dance and awe people. Our bodies are so amazing.
But I wonder if you're still running away. If you're still uprooting yourself whenever someone gets too close, if you're still pulling yourself away and shutting down communication. I wonder if you still exist, and I wonder if you'll ever let yourself love.
All posts are either in parody or to be taken as literature. This is a roleplay site. Sexual content is forbidden.