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Continúa22m
Última publicación dom, nov 22, 2020
A collection of little free writing, poetic like works of mine. Some are addressed to real people in my life. Almost the story of my life. Makes this more interesting. Welcome to my head, where a young woman struggles to find herself in a world tearing her apart. All the good and the bad.
I do have the diagnosis of Ankylosing Spondylitis (with POTS, NCS, Fibromyalgia, IBS and others) and BPD (Borderline). Some writings indirectly reference these. If you want to learn more about any of them, Google it.
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ankylosing
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Someone New ✓
"There comes a point where you no longer care if there's a light at the end of the tunnel or not. You're just sick of the tunnel." - Who I am doesn't matter. How I got here doesn't matter. What matters now is I'm getting help, right? That's what they tell me here. They tell me that the road to recovery feels like a terrible butt fuck, but the fact that you're on the path to begin with, is all that matters. So as I sit in this circle of fuck ups, I realize just how different I am from them. I didn't attempt suicide because my mother was a crack addict who didn't want me. My father wasn't abusive. I didn't have a sibling die in a car accident. I was never really bullied either. I attempted suicide because, for the first time in years, I thought I had found something that could make me feel again... and after not feeling much at all for far too long, perhaps I went a bit overboardConcluida
I'm still here
This is where my heart lives. This is what consumes the inside of my skull and bones. My life, my thoughts. Instead of stuffing it in the only crevices that give me light, I will just toss it here. On the ground. Where I'm standing. Because I'm still here. And I hope to stay. ~journal entries from June & July of 2018~Concluida
Excerpts of A Chaotic Mind
Welcome to the inner workings of my mind. The thoughts and emotions I battle and the imaginary scenarios I dream up sometimes. Think of this is as my own public diary. . I will warn there are some themes surrounding mental health, self harming thoughts and actions, and talk of traumatising events. Please check tags for trigger warnings.Concluida
We Are More Than The Doctor's Paper
A book about Mental Illness. Includes information and a story. I suggest you read to learn more. All characters are fake and the story line is fake that I thought of out of my own mind. Please do not read if easily triggered. I am writing to inform and not to hurt others. Please do don't steal my story line.Concluida
TOXIC REWIND
"We were never meant to last... but we couldn't stay away." They met in high school-young, reckless, and hopelessly in love. When it all fell apart, they thought that was the end. But some love stories refuse to stay buried. When they find their way back to each other, it isn't the fairytale they once dreamed of. Love turns toxic, passion turns destructive, and together, they become the worst versions of themselves. How far will they go before they finally break for good? Or is this the kind of love that never really dies, no matter how much it burns?Concluida
Tumor Love
Sometimes life don't go the way we planned. Sometimes we end up feeling so low, and alone. Like we're in a dark hole with no one around us, but then suddenly there's a light at the end of the tunnel. And I guess what I'm trying to say is.. You're my light, the one who helped me through the worst time in my life - And for that, I am thankful. I'm thankful that I met you, but I also hate you. I hate what you did to me, because you made me fall in love.. And then my world fell apart once again. [WARNING!! Contains mature themes, and languageConcluida
Her Breaking Point
He had rules for a reason, or thats what he said. I did something wrong I got punished. I spoke out of turn, I got punished. I looked at him or ate without permission, I got punished. Haven thats what they named me funny isn't it? Ironic really. They named me Haven because my mom would say I was her 'Safe Haven'. What a pile of shit that was. She left willingly, she didn't depart because of some tragic accident. My father didn't kill her. She left because she was a coward who didn't want kids. As soon as my older brother went to college she left. I knew she hated me. I was the product of her love with another man. A constant reminder that her life didn't work out the way it was planned. He who ever he was is a phantom in its own. A deep rooted fantasy never going to come true. My brother left, my mother left, my grandma ignored, and my father broke. They let me give up hope on escaping and then decided to play hero. But I haven't forgotten everything I went through. Guilt consumes my brother but I don't care, you don't get to leave and then buy a reprieve of trying to save someone who has been dead for years. Besides lets just be honest I reached my breaking point long ago.Concluida
The Diary of Me
I have marked this story as "completed" but I don't know if it will ever actual be complete. This is my journal, my secrets, my thoughts. This is The Diary of Me.Concluida
"There comes a point where you no longer care if there's a light at the end of the tunnel or not. You're just sick of the tunnel." - Who I am doesn't matter. How I got here doesn't matter. What matters now is I'm getting help, right? That's what they tell me here. They tell me that the road to recovery feels like a terrible butt fuck, but the fact that you're on the path to begin with, is all that matters. So as I sit in this circle of fuck ups, I realize just how different I am from them. I didn't attempt suicide because my mother was a crack addict who didn't want me. My father wasn't abusive. I didn't have a sibling die in a car accident. I was never really bullied either. I attempted suicide because, for the first time in years, I thought I had found something that could make me feel again... and after not feeling much at all for far too long, perhaps I went a bit overboard
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