trigger warning: self-harm, panic attack
my hands shake as they are held like hammers the shaking self-hatred poised above my skin because i only feel good when i’m empty of the emotions and i know no other way to get them out but this. and the words keep sort of echoing through my head, and it’s all too much to talk about and i hate the way you do your makeup just for the sake of appearances. because it’s always about appearances. which kinda makes me wanna cut my face off but please don’t tell anyone about it. because i feel like a crime, and i don’t wanna be put in jail if i’m reported. and i don’t wanna be a mess, but i feel like i am a little bit so someone remold my skull. i want to tell the voice in my head and your voice in my head and your body sliding into mine and becoming all i have ever been that i’m in control. but other people are surrounding me and all the noises. all the noises. all the noises. god, they scare me. god, they scare me. i’m a child, trapped alone in a room trying to understand the pile of feelings surrounding me. but mostly i fall apart, trying to crush the feelings with a hammer into a thousand tiny tiny tiny parts. a thousand parts, that will crumble to pieces and shatter themselves on the ground and then i’ll drown in an ocean of cortisol and adrenaline, self-administered pumping through my veins. my hands shake. the neuron networks in my brain shatter but they don’t pull themselves together again. and just pull yourself. just pull yourself. just pull yourself together. just stitch your broken thoughts into a quilt and make art. there should be a way of expressing this other than slamming the feelings out all over again. there should be a way of making people get it without hurting myself. there should be a way of feeling safe inside my head without surrounding my thoughts in barbed wire and leaving bruises on my thighs but… i haven’t found it yet.
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