addicted to clon
addicted to nicotine
addicted to flexeril
addicted to you
addicted to self harm
addicted to restricting
addicted to being intoxicated

when my brain wanders
i’m reminded of pain
all the meds can’t cure it
but they make me more sane

  when i look in the mirror
  and feel nothing
  when i realize i have sad eyes
  tears forming start to sting

    when i count the scars on my body
   shocked and reserved
   i manage to not mind them
   and miss the hurt

     physical pain is euphoric
     reminding me i’m just a human
     cutting brings me breath
     like when i got the wind knocked out of me
  
         this is the cycle i need to break
         i can’t keep feeling pain
         though it’s a familiar friend
         i need to vanquish faith

           i feel the only way to do that
           is to leave this world
           a blip fluke of a human
           just.. forgotten dust

              not dissimilar to the dust in the pills
              keeping me here
              momma give me strength
              i need to feel you near

so i’m now 24 yrs old
most of my life consists of work, but i’ve been calling in more ever since July 4th of last year, when i had a miscarriage. that experience changed me in a lot of ways, and unfortunately caused me to call in or take off a day. i’ve never been like that, i’ve always been very reliable, never called in. idk i guess the miscarriage made me mature more in a way. i don’t feel completely the same. but i’ve already committed to never being late (always early) to work, and not calling in for the rest of the year. so there should be no other issue there. but i feel like maybe i should get some sort of degree in a field there will always be a job. maybe become certified in my current occupation. or start over with something like becoming a dental hygienist, or embalming or pet training or maybe something simple like a barista haha..idk what to do.
but i guess the main goal now is to get into shape for the beach in july, i’m soooo excited/nervous. the only time i’ve been to the beach and have seen the ocean was when i was suuuuper young like 5 yrs old, maybe. so i hardly remember it, so this is the first time i’ll visit the ocean in my adult life, um yes. excited. it’s a superficial goal to get beach body ready, but i’ll look good which will make me feel confident to just forcus on socializing and relaxing. beach stuff, i guess? yes :) also i need to make appointments for my jaw (TMJ) bone loss, deviated septum, and restricted airway, and a dental appointment, and a knee specialist. i desperately need a hair cut, but i also want to dye it. i’m seriously thinking ashy light silvery gray. idk if that’ll look good but that’s what i’m thinking!! except i wouldn’t be surprised if i default to black or red out of stress in trying the unknown. i also want layers in my hair, or long side bangs. i want to get all of my family members presents this year. i want to get in a mf hot tub at some point. i want to rock climb. i want my eyebrows microbladed and possibly some freckles..... and eyelash extensions. i want to finally read those threee books i have. i want to finish this letter about mormonism. i want to completely stop self harming. or at least go longer than 6 months without it. i want to possibly do boxing, it would be very good for me.
so those are my own personal goals, and i could get it all done soooo quick but my anxiety really gets in the way. i just don’t like going outside and people looking at me. it’s lame and stress-inducing. idk i just want to find out what’s going on with my body, it hurts all over especially my face from my jaw.
there has been a slight shift in how i perceive this world and my life. i’m pretty much banking on reincarnation because i fuuuuucked up a lot already.

i’ve made it to 24 momma,

the door in my old room. the one with light blue sky and clouds painted over every inch of the walls. the two window sills in my room, with the dirt from when i’d go in and out of them. my ceiling from which i hung wind chimes. my bunk bed that had alllllll my stuffed animals on the top bunk. with a book called the anybodies (my favorite as a kid) to read on the top bunk with the fan on. anyway,
the door in my old room. i wasn’t allowed to close it, so i almost never did. but when i did, it was so I could write and draw on the white backside. my teenage poetry. pure, ****** poetry.
well i wonder if it’s all still there.
nostalgia is a slow, everlasting-like ******. a guaranteed good feeling. because i feel just enough sorrow that it’s the really good feeling pain because also, i’m happy as if i’m happy crying. if that makes sense
“i know it well” blood bank
momma, i miss you. i feel you. i only wish to ever be enough, and to be a good person.
even the best of us aren’t perfect hm?
my old door was cool. i miss some of those times. i feel like thinking about the lyric “hearts are broken every day.” has been messing with me lately. heartbreak (don’t judge me aight) reminds me that i am human. heartbreak makes me feel mortal in a way few things can. so what is the point of my life when i already know such heartbreak, it’s impacted me a lot, but it is simultaneously an every single day, multiple times per second occurrence. very common. very common **** my ****. that **** hurts in a good way you feel me?