nepenathe

[nepenathe]

[nepenathe]

Morbidity 

I spend a generous amount of time trying to convince myself that I am worthy of taking up space in a world that often feels haunted by the weight of its own fragility—a world where life and death coexist in an uneasy balance, and where the awareness of mortality looms like a shadow. Morbidity is not just the fascination with death; it is the inescapable reminder that everything—myself included—is fleeting, that the space I occupy today might vanish tomorrow.

In this space, morbidity is an uncomfortable companion. It whispers truths I try to ignore, truths about the impermanence of the world, of relationships, of my own existence. It is the quiet realization that the spaces we carve out for ourselves—our homes, our identities, our legacies—are as fragile as the lives we lead. This thought is neither comforting nor terrifying; it simply is.

There is a peculiar intimacy in morbidity, a closeness to the realities we are often too busy to confront. It invites me to question why I strive so hard to prove my worth when everything I achieve will one day crumble into dust. What is the purpose of taking up space in a world that is, at its core, bound by decay? Why wrestle with self-doubt when existence itself is inherently temporary?

And yet, morbidity is not just an abstract meditation on death. It is visceral. It is felt in the aching exhaustion of a body that reminds me of its limits, in the fleeting moments where I glimpse my own vulnerability. It is present in the news of a distant tragedy that ripples through my thoughts, or in the quiet grief that follows the loss of someone I loved but will never see again.

Morbidity has a way of reframing the everyday. The simplest acts—breathing, walking, speaking—suddenly feel monumental, each one defying the inevitable conclusion that lies ahead. This tension between life and its end is both unsettling and profound. It makes me hyper-aware of the fragility of my existence and the space I occupy, as though the very act of living is a rebellion against the void.

Yet, there is an odd beauty in this morbidity. It strips away the trivial and magnifies what matters. It forces me to confront the rawness of life and death, to see my place in the world not as a permanent fixture but as a brief, flickering presence. This realization, while heavy, carries a certain liberation. If life is transient, then so too are the doubts and fears that weigh me down. If space is fleeting, then I might as well take it unapologetically while I have the chance.

Morbidity does not ask me to fear the end; it asks me to respect it. It urges me to see the impermanence of my existence as a call to live fully, to embrace the fragility of life without being paralyzed by it. The inevitability of decay does not diminish the value of the present—it sharpens it, rendering each moment vivid, each breath sacred.

So, I continue to wrestle with these thoughts, convincing myself that I am worthy of the space I occupy, even in a world that will one day erase all traces of my being. Morbidity is not my enemy but my teacher, reminding me that the weight of existence is not in its permanence but in its fleeting, fragile beauty.

-By me

[nepenathe]

And when the last tear fell

the taste of salt on my lips the cooled tracks burning my cheeks

the sky open up for me she spewed the tears that I no longer had left to cry breaking my chest open with deep desolated groans of thunder

the strikes of forked light splitting me open leaving me bare

the wind howling and raging in tandem with the hollow swooning ache… throbbing inside of me

I sat there with her in that moment and felt all that I could have of you… because no matter how much it hurt it’s was the last thing you left me with… the last time I would get to feel your touch the pain the only reminder of the love… so I will cradle the pain like your arms cradled me

-by me

[nepenathe]

― Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human

[nepenathe]

I fight for the person she is… I don’t have the strength or the courage to be her all the time… but I think that version of me… her… she’s why I keep going what I’m fighting for…

[nepenathe]

The poets like to say that “it is better to have loved, than to not have loved at all”

But if they had ever felt the way that I feel now

They would know that is simply not true

No measure of time with love is worth this desolation

By- me

[nepenathe]

AND HER FINGERS ICHED IN AID OF HER MINDS DISTRACTION

[nepenathe]

late night thoughts

there's this guy, and he's great, he's sweet, he's kind, he's funny, he listens, he's everything the books and the movies said he would be

but I'm not her,

I'm not what they promised he would have,

but I try,

I try to be great, sweet, funny,kind, to listen

but I'm stuck, I'm stuck in the same fitting shoes the others forced and glued me into

I get lost, flustered, frazzled and confused... I'm fragile... never moving forward but always looping back

I try and I try to be something he deserves, to not suffocate him with my oppressive energy, thoughts, feelings

to be her

but who is she... how can I possibly try to emulate somebody that I am so grossly separated from...a girl who I will never get the pleasure of knowing

I'm supposed to want more for myself, I'm supposed to want better... and that's him...

the more, the better

but is it so wrong to want that for him, is it so wrong for me to try and stop the hands that tainted me from tainting him

like somehow I will spread the corrosion with just a touch

but it dose not matter i am not a primary thought..

unworthy of commitment

and thats okay something i have always known... but a singular tiny sliter of my self holds onto the hope that i might just be enough for him to change his mind

it dosnt have to be forever... im not looking for his hand...

just once... just maybe... i would like to be enough to be wanted even for a little while

-me

[nepenathe]

[nepenathe]

A singular prefix

It is almost impossible to stop the spiral once it begins

Down and Down and Down

Until I'm surrounded

Surrounded by the blinding happy that I'm supposed to be

Surrounded by the screaming rage of my past

Surrounded by the constant negative feedback looping

On and On and On

Unintelligent

Unworthy

Unliked

Unneeded

Undeserving

Unnecessary

Unimportant

Un and Un and Un and Un

Until

I have been diminished to a singular prefix of belittlement

by- me

[nepenathe]

Unknown/Nth - by Hozier

Song interpretation ~ a conversation between my current self & my future self… who has found peace.

Current vs Future

You know the distance never made a difference to me

I swam a lake of fire, I'd have walked across the floor of any sea

Ignored the vastness between all that can be seen

And all that we believe

So I thought you were like an angel to me

Funny how true colours shine in darkness and in secrecy

If there were scarlet flags, they washed down in the mind of me

Where a blinding light shone on you every night

And either side of my sleep

Where you were held frozen like an angel to me

It ain't the being alone

It ain't the empty home, baby

You know I'm good on my own

Sha la la, baby

You know, it's more the being unknown

So much of the living, love, is the being unknown

You called me angel for the first time

My heart leapt from me

You smile now, I can see its pieces still stuck in your teeth

And what's left of it, I listen to it tick

Every tedious beat going unknown as any angel to me

Do you know, I could break beneath the weight

Of the goodness, love, I still carry for you

That I'd walk so far just to take

The injury of finally knowing you

It ain't the being alone

It ain't the empty home, baby

You know I'm good on my own

Sha la la, baby

You know, it's more the being unknown

And there are some people, love, who are better unknown

-me

Sometimes I think about her, what dose she look like, what dose she do in her free time, what makes her laugh now… it’s almost impossible for me to imagine… so I can’t even call her a figment… but if I do finally get to meet her I will be so thankful for me…

[nepenathe]

A journal entry

I am destroying myself so that other people can’t, it’s the worst kind of control but it’s the only form I know…

Some one said,

“Every time she starts to get better. She lets herself fall back down again… because she finds comfort in her mental illness”- unknown

It scared me how much I believed that to be true. It’s like hating every part of the illness that is depression, but fearing what you might be without it.

You know this numbness, you appreciate it’s predictability… because it’s all you can remember knowing.

So a small subconscious part of you lets it keep its grip… the trepidation of life without it outweighs the fear of being like this forever.

Sometimes it’s easier to just stop fighting.

At least you know how to cope with living this way.

- me

[nepenathe]

I will spend the rest of my life… however long that may be, exhausting every tool and trinket available at my fingertips to keep my mind quiet.. drawing, reading, writing, playing instruments… anything and everything to keep my head at bay… to try and ward off the corrosion that each thought causes…

[nepenathe]

how exactly am i suppose to cope after reading

“he hears Jude creep into the room, as soft and slow as something beaten, a dog perhaps, some unloved creature who lives only to be abused” ?

how am i suppose to not think about it for the rest of my life?

[nepenathe]

[nepenathe]

"And in that moment, I swear we were infinite"- Charlie- The Perks of Being a Wallflower

[nepenathe]

How it feels trying to explain the way my mind works

-by me