TW: suicidal thoughts, disordered eating, self-harm, CSA, intrusive thoughts
i don’t know how to cook potatoes
my line between fear and attraction is finer than my line between hate and attraction and i wonder what exactly that means for my life
i struggle with feeling both happy and sad for other people
my room is so dirty i sometimes feel like i can’t breathe there is so much dust and my clothes are spread all over the floor everywhere there are piles of books and little trinkets i collect and oftentimes i just throw wrappers over the edge of my bed as if that’d make them disappear — cleaning is so hard for me i don’t let anyone in my room because it embarrasses me
it’s entirely too easy for me to fall out of love with someone to the point i’m positive i’ve never been in love and i doubt i ever will be
social media trends play a bigger part in my ongoing sexuality crisis than i’d ever admit.
i wish i could self-harm “better” so i’d feel more valid in my pain. i don’t go deep enough because it scares me and i feel like a pussy because of it.
i feel simultaneously comforted and aggravated by she/her pronouns and i suppose femininity as a whole but i’m at the point where i consider my inherent discomfort with my gender identity part of my girlhood, so i’m trying to embrace it more and it’s kind of working
i think there might be mold in my walls because i keep the windows closed too much and i’m terrified of ever moving out because the room is new and there’s a hole in the wall i’m fairly sure my dad doesn’t know about even though he caused it and if the walls are moldy it’s most likely because i didn’t open the windows enough even though he told me to oh my god
eighty-five percent of my suicidal thoughts are rooted in an urge of wanting to take revenge on whoever has wronged me last (usually my parents) (or my siblings)
i have horrible intrusive thoughts that scare me and then i can’t stop obsessing over them but they’re so awful i will never ever say them out loud because i’m scared of how other people will look at me. i’d rather suffer in silence forever and i don’t think i’ll ever trust anyone enough to share that part of me with them
some people i only keep in my life to make my life less boring so i’ll only talk to them when i need a certain type of attention. if they treat me the same way it hurts my feelings
i have photos of dasha nekrasova in my camera roll
i have this fantasy of biting my father so hard it draws blood, i want to bury my teeth into his arm and hang onto it like a rabid dog and thus far i’ve only ever told one person about this but i haven’t spoken to her in months and now i feel really bad about it
i cannot rewatch fleabag because it actively makes me want to commit suicide
sometimes my bpd makes me vaguely pro-ana. i am also kind of bulimic lol (it’s an episodic thing. i feel like i’m appropriating having an eating disorder. it feels not worth talking about because it’s another thing i’m not good enough at for it to matter.)
my daddy issues have taken on dimensions in which i can barely disclose any of my thoughts anymore because i’m seriously deranged and it worries me
the only kiss i’ve ever truly enjoyed was with a girl under a streetlight while we were straddling our bikes and rain drizzled down on us but now she likes someone else and it hurts so bad because i ruined my chances at being in a relationship with her because of my commitment issues and because i disappear when i’m feeling bad. i also don’t think she liked me as much as she claimed she did.
i might never have sex, not because i don’t want to but because i have a condition that prevents me from being able to and the only people i have ever told was that same friend i told about wanting to bite my dad and my sibling and i regret both of those times. i wish i could just have a normal body and i cannot talk to anyone about it because i’m fairly certain i have a bunch of repressed trauma but the amount of times therapists have literally laughed in my face when i told them about something makes me not want to get into that ever. i’d rather kill myself than go to a gynecologist and i mean that.
my uncle is a child rapist and i’m not allowed to acknowledge it because my my mom will get mad at me. he’s still a part of our family. i wish i didn’t know this secret.