RIP KUUA.
I hate you for killing him. I swear… I’ll find a way to influence karma’s strike, as my own hand is bound.
My rat was murdered. His frozen body is in my freezer. I threatened to behead Kuua with a machete and preserve his head in a mason jar of formaldehyde (which I’m fully able of doing)… but my friend prevented me from doing so. I also threatened to leave his body strewn across my stepfather’s bed, but my mother also shares it so that wouldn’t quite work…
My poor love was poisoned… I wouldn’t be surprised if the pain pills my step father planted around my room were the weapon of choice. Found bloated and eyes bulging.
If I hadn’t been hardened by having to hold my beloved rat whom I’ve raised from a baby to a grizzly ol’ lovebug as I suffocated his decrepit body in soft blankets and ziplock bags… If I hadn’t felt his paw reaching for me, heard his painful gasps of air, felt his last trembles of life…
If the sanctity of my home wasn’t threatened by my own step father…
Among a mountain of other things….
It would have been more than rigor mortis to have made me fall back. The calm that swallowed me held me down. I felt nothing. I was in a state of psychosis, I believe… I felt fine. I had work to do. I wasn’t going to let him win a round. I wasn’t going to buckle down again.
if I couldn’t run to someone for help, i’d have probably drowned in this void…
To be as an individual. To be self-sufficient. To live out my dreams as an artist… possibly an art therapist, but let’s face it… I don’t want to have to chain myself to a desk. I would always help anyone who asks for it, always give them the best form of advice my experience allows. I am much of these, but I strive for all to be attained.
I have so much to contribute to now, I feel. My dissociation was a nerve pinched under the knotted spine that was my life. It was going nowhere and I was in a downward spiral to the void, snared in an existential vacuum, or at least the fear of it. I don’t want this to be a place to advertise, so I won’t link any of this together.
This blog remains for the same purpose as it always did… to allow the silenced tension a place to scream and cry and whine and be relieved, for this world does not take pity on my weakened, tired soul. No, it cracks whips upon my back and sneers at my dirtied knees.
I must cover myself in silks and rouge my cheeks and lips with blood and stinging skin. I will pass as living and push on forth, drawing my energy from roots buried deep in paints, sleepless nights, and brightly lit screens. I will be busy and my mind given a constant bone to chew.
Let us hope it keeps the monster busy.
You don’t have to respond to this, but I suggest you go to a vitamin store (preferably vitamin shoppe because they carry their own name brand) and pick up “5-HTP with B6” which is 5-Hydroxytryptophan (an amino acid) it does absolute wonders. I guarantee you’ll feel better if you take it. I only started taking it last night, popped one capsule right before bed and I feel awesome, completely un-disassociated. keep your head up, there’s things that can help out there.
I definitely will look for this particular kind of vitamin. I know that B-vitamins help, as more energy is always a good thing with my experience with dissociation.
I also MUST include the fact that taking a single tab of acid (it is equivalent to 1/2 the dosage because it was weak), left me feeling undissociated ever since, and marijuana leaves a film that feels a bit like dissociation after smoking.
I keep feeling the aspects of him that grew into parts of me surge out… smiles tugging the corners of my lips when creeping in shadow silently as I can, when leaping and pushing myself to land as quiet as a step. He is so much more than just an ex-lover. He is my inspiration, my mentor… I nearly worshiped him. Still… My reasons for breaking up with him stand tall, for he wasn’t just my mentor or inspiration… he was my boyfriend and I couldn’t take the stress or pain from it anymore…
Being as I am now, I prefer this. If he changed… if he proved to me that he truly treasures and values me… that I am not a fool for loving and giving myself to him, I’d rather that.
It’s merely growing pains.
I miss him and it hurts… I need to stay strong. I must always be strong. It is no different… it is scarcely any different… but I want his touch… I want to feel him and see his eyes seeing me… to hold his hand and feel his warmth… I lost him before ever truly having him, though. I never really had him, but zeus do I love him…
I want him to come back and want me… I want him to seek me out and pull me close to him and ask me not to shut the door… ask me to come back… pull me to his lips and eat my soul whole so I may live within him.
reblogged from sanguinaryhunters source: thoughts-that-pass-me-by
To see Neil Gaiman’s name makes me really sad… because I know who is the reason I know of him…and I miss him terribly… but I missed him before, too, so what’s the difference…
submitted by dissociativefaces
