Guilt

Guilt. Guilt guilt guilt.

That’s all this is, right? Guilt for being me, guilt for liking this or that, guilt for not being me, guilt for being here, guilt for not leaving, guilt for leaving where I came from, guilt for existing. Guilt for not existing enough. Guilt for caring about people too much or too little, the wrong way, guilt for liking what makes me me, guilt for liking things I enjoy, guilt for smoking cigarettes and guilt for the cuts in my arm and my thigh

I’m really just made of guilt now I think and I don’t know how to handle it and I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t want to talk about it with you because goddamn will that make me guilty and my fucking god do I hate myself and do I want a cigarette and my god do I just want to be anywhere but here thinking anything but this and being anyone but me

I wish I didn’t ever let this happen I wish I didnt have to think about it I wish I didn’t have a goddamn dick I wish everything went back to normal

why do I hate myself so much why is this so hard why am I so guilty why  why why

Why does everyone hate me that’s what it all comes back to right? Everyone in the damn system hates me

-Hiro

We’re going to smoke too many cigarettes today…

We tossed and turned all night (haven’t slept the past two really), and woke up around 10 to go back to bed, having only gotten maybe four hours by then. Got stuckk in a nightmare after that. I can’t really remember it. It was probably one of the remembering nightmares with how bad it shook us up. The brain remembers more of our abuse than we give it credit for hm?

All in all though I slept a fitful twelve hours, woke up groggy, and haven’t been able to pick reality out of unreality since. None of our usual tricks to save us from dissociation are helping us get anywhere, and all I really want is for everything to be real just for a second.

Our life took a dramatic but all in all understated turn when we got the job. Something was stable. Something we almost enjoyed doing gave us some sort of structure to do it in, right? Working where we work isn’t hard, and even in the moments where it’s stressful or anxious, it’s not bad.

So why are we displaying all the signs of a large life shift within the system? The daily alters either dying off/integrating or switching roles, the system feeling that way that it seems to feel before a split.

“Rose” the name keeps echoing around in my head and I really don’t want that to mean what I think it does. I was content being the sole new guy to deal with our “new life”. I like being the new guy. Means attention. Means that someone will always treat me like they should be helping me figure out where to go or how to do things. It means help and I like that because things like today aren’t what I’m used to.

I’m used to candy and people and smiling and that anxious feeling you get walking into your job every morning. I deal with business. Not feeling like everything I know is a lie and everything in the world is fake.

We’re going to smoke too many cigarettes today.

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∇T∇∇

Total aside but…

Happy Valentine’s Day

I’m so tired I feel like I’m learning to swim behind my eyeballs. Probably gonna drown sometime today. We’re working at 11AM and probably won’t be out til 10PM. Candy holidays, amirght?

Deathborn spent like 6 hours last night making a base in Don’t Starve for M to come home to. Pretty sweet but also meant we were up til 3AM on a work night.

But anyway, enough whining, happy Valentine’s Day.

To Our Partners—

Apologies for the understated birthday celebrations. We’re still swimming in this mess of depression and dissociation and it sprung up on us. We love you more than anything. Desperately, madly, after almost three years. We don’t intend to stop, either. You’re the stars in our lives. You’re everything you’ve ever meant to us and you mean more to us every day. Can you see how far we’ve come, loves? Can you see how long iin the making this has been? And soon it’ll all be worth it. We’ll be together. Full time. No obstruction. We can’t wait. The thought fills us with fluttering. We get excited just thinking about you coming out here to get inked after our birthday. We get so excited just thinking about being with you. We love you.

To The Bloggers Here on WordPress—

Thank you for mostly not being absolute dicks. You’ve done a really ace job at it for the most part. Only a few of you actively spread misinformation on the regular and we’re good enough at avoiding. The rest of you seem lovely. It seems most of you have spouses and families and definitely don’t need a stranger on the internet mentioning you for half a second in a post, so I hope your spouses and families treat you exceptionally well this Valentine’s. I hope you get at least a moment to curl into your partner’s arms and feel at home today.

To Our New Friends—

Here’s looking at you Oliver, Romulus. Yep. You. You two have been amazing. I can’t say anyone expected to become so enamored with you so quickly but I’m glad we did because you’ve been the sweetest friends we’ve had consistent contact with in a while. It’s  crazy how much we missed that. My god was playing video games with you last night fun. My god do I hope we do it again. I hope you two have an amazing Valentine’s and actually get around to figuring out what kind of partnership you two are gonna have. I don’t want to see you two lose each other or anything like it. Plus, as cute as Oliver is blushing, I’m sure he could use a break from crushing so hard his heart is probably gonna explode any day now.

To Everyone Else—

I feel like in general I’m nicer than to say “go die in a hole” so let’s go with “I hope you end up in a ditch with someone you care about today”. Nah, okay, that’s way too mean. I just hope everyone else has an amazing day with people who love them.

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∇T∇∇

Turn your back for a second

Let Pete and the newbie have half a second and they get unbalanced enough to Let our mood slip.
The gran is being horrible about trans shit as always and we’re so so tired and I don’t know why weret crying why won’t the depression leave us the fuck alone?
I don’t want to die but some part of my gut does.  And it’s disgusting and I’m tired and I just want it to be over

♥Ink♥

Sweet Jesus

We found gainful (and frequent! as opposed to the catering gig) employment! At a candy store.

Everything aches, holy hell does everything ache. Lugging around 30+ lb boxes of candy and stocking shelves is harder than you’d think, but it’s an incredibly fun job. The vague psuedosplit whose been fronting to work there ended up stocking gobstoppers on the top shelf while the Gobstopper scene in Willy Wonka played right above him. He was really pleased about it.

There was also a jawbreaker fiasco.

Seriously considering sleeping now though. Haha. We’ll probably be back to real posts tomorrow or Sunday, since Valentine’s is a big candy holiday (duh!)

♥Ink♥

Harder than it seems

I don’t know why it’s so hard and delicate for us to talk about it. Talk about any of it. Even the things that happened well after we were already plural and fucked up beyond believe. I don’t know why it’s so delicate. Delicate delicate delicate. We’re a joke.

I don’t think anyone realizes how much a big deal it is for us to actually be actively trying to talk about it and talk about everything and be open about these things and everyone just takes it for fucking granted and it’s not a fucking big deal to them and that hurts. I feel like I’m agesliding down and I don’t even ageslide down.

That’s

I just want to go home.

I don’t think anyone realizes how hard this is. Or how gently you have to treat us if you want us to talk. How careful and and precise you have to be and how you have to actually listen because we’re sure as hell not saying it again.

Three years in and they still don’t know most of the things that have happened and tthey still don’t know all the horrible things that have happened while we’ve been together that they haven’t even asked about and

I just wish they were better at listening I wish everyone was more careful with us I wish everyone could understand without us telling them because our voice is so shaky and we just don’t have the courage to talk anymore

but we’re tryingg. So so hard.

Because getting it out is supposed to make everything inside better. I just

I just wish we could do it right

Reg

An Artist’s Depiction of Misery

Burning Them Down To Make Sure They Hit The Ground

I’m made of all the distorted facts you threw away or you threw my way. I’m a stained glass menagerie of everything you hate. I wasn’t born, I was made. Manufactured from parts, petroleum byproduct, Chinese labor. Don’t tell me I’m special when I’m not. We were born to burn bridges and you built a castle with the same energy I put into filling my mold. People always liked you better hiding behind the stone. You’re a fortress, but you were the one who made me the Alcatraz of broken hearts and missing memories. I’m three parts insanity and one part barely holding on. You’re losing me and you should be glad. I don’t fall like I used to, there are too many seconds before I hit the ground and too long to worry about the decisions I make when I hit it running.

I’ll take my heart on in a cage match if that’s what it takes for the crowd to stop cheering. I wouldn’t be fighting for your hand, just for an escape route. I’m sick in the way that kills you. It’s in my veins and in my DNA.