As she bathes me in white light, he cannot touch me
I am neither small enough nor large enough to defeat him
06 01 2026
I am sitting on my floor, next to the easel but not facing it | I wonder if it can make my work better | maybe these feelings will make my work better | I don't think they will | I think they just leave me here | I think to believe suffering will make a creative of me is a lie. I am not creating, I am simply sinking | There is no creation, no great genius hidden through this feeling, only more of itself | more hollowness. I feel hollow and yet so full of this thing,
it crawls through me, pausing and growing in my throat
expanding in me, in my core
I want to pull it from myself, pull it out with tweezers, puke it out
but there is nothing there.
It revolts me but it is only me
I revolt myself.
I feel submerged, I can't speak or hear clearly and as I try to reach through the muddy water my hands close around nothing but themselves. There is a fog between me and the world, and one of us cannot be real.
If we are both real, we are not existing at once, together. If the world is real I must be transient, only passing through, not quite tied to the same plane. If I am real, I am situated inside of something false.
Either way, there is a barrier, a fog, a sheet of glass,
I hold in my hand the labyrinth and inside of it, the labyrinth houses me.
06 08 2025
Different for me, nothing about it was sexual to me, but I felt seen, almost mirrored?
As if we were both trying to defeat the same thing
Title 6 jan 2025
I can't keep letting myself believe that I get to have these things, that I get to have friends and people in my life and actual relationships | Not everyone gets to have everything and I don't get to have that, and thats okay, but I can't keep pretending and hoping and letting myself believe that I can have something that isn't meant for me. The sooner I can accept it, the easier it will be in the long run.
I want it so bad, I want to see someone and have them see me back. I want friends. I want what I see everyone else have.
but wanting that only hurts me
only sets me up to fail
and i can't keep doing that to myself
I used to cry myself to sleep because I wished I was someone else. I wished I was 'normal'. I don't want to go back to that, i have to live with who I am, I can't cry dreaming that I was a different person.
The ramblings of a woman waiting to die
14:22
What is it that drives people away from me? I try too hard? Not hard enough? am I so bad? broken? annoying? boring? I don't know
1:32 06 01 26 Although I speak to no one, I feel as though I am making some pathetic cry for help I neither need nor will receive.
1:18 06 01 26 I will never resent my sister for taking her own life, that was her choice. I have always been revolted by people calling it selfish.
Robbed of choice and agency in life, there is no selfishness in choosing your end.
1:03 I won't kill myself | not anytime soon | I have my dog | I wouldn't leave him | But when my time comes, it will be my choice.
1:28 04 01 26 If I died tomorrow I wouldn't be happy with the life I've lived
I wouldn't be happy with the person I was or how little I achieved | but I think I'd find some peace in it's end
there is a peace to endings, to letting go, to when the last grain of sand slips through your fingers
4:11
I forgot to cry
26 10 2025
Back to thinking about the impact of me dying. Ollie is the only one it would really affect. Him and probably my parents. My friends would get over it, the world would move on. To the people I've known it would be an abstract loss, nothing lost by me personally, only the proximity of death that is never pleasant.
I wonder how long it would take for my body to be found. If I died in my sleep, how long until someone worried or smelt me or Ollie alerted someone, and if I didn't have Ollie, how long would it take.
Thinking about a blade going down the centre of my chest,
down to my stomach,
how hard I would need to push to draw blood and how much it would bleed
If I died, I wonder who would notice first.
It's like I want to suffer whether it's as a distraction or because I think I deserve it, I don't know. | The desire the compulsion to self-destruct | almost the alternative to trying to drown it out and feel nothing then I flip to wanting to hurt. Is it a hurt that distracts from another or a hurt that I inflict because I think I deserve it?
I blacked out. I did the pill thing again and I drank | I don't think I did anything bad
but I just feel so alone
I think sometimes it was a mistake to ever have friends | If i had always been alone I would be used to it again and it wouldn't hurt any more
but I feel their absence
I feel the loneliness and I know it isn't solitude because I didn't choose it. I didn't choose to be alone. If I choose this, it will feel different. It won't hurt hurt anymore.
14:22 08 01 26 I'm not really sure what any of this means
29 06 25 - lying completely still but inside is rocking back and forth | I feel seasick, nauseated | saliva pooling the way it does before vomiting
20:09 14 02 24 Maybe I thought I needed to die when I was younger because I saw my mother love my sister more in death than she loved either of us in life
6:07 08 01 26 Overconsumption and loneliness
03:09 07 01 26 pulsing
04 01 26 At least this way its by my own hand | its my choice
