destructivestill

[destructivestill]

my brain is full by now, really

do you ever get those feelings that soak through you so thoroughly that you just can't shake them? too much. too fucking much.

I want to lean into the thought of being loved and cared for but my chest feels cold and I feel so fucking alone. am I just dramatic? for the love of the gods, someone please hold my hand.

this feeling hasn't hit me in over a year now. I forgot what it was like. every inch of me craves physical affection and all I can reach out and grab is blankets and lumpy, uncomfortable pillows. it's a hopeless feeling, one I don't even remember how I managed to escape last time.

last time I felt this way, I was a completely different person. but despite how I've changed, this has still stuck. heavy, overwhelming, like a pool behind my eyes that just keeps getting filled with oil and chemicals and sand. The water level rises and my eyes droop lower and lower and I understand that I am completely alone again. Not logically, no- and logically I should understand. I have people who love me and care about me, at least one person who would care if I died. that's more than I had back then, back when this feeling swallowed my existence, when I lived in it for months under the pretence of 'as long as my partner was happy'.

it's unreasonable, yet here I am, back in this pool. water and sand and oil fill my brain and flood my lungs and I sink so easily, I don't have the energy to fight it. I call out of work and I pull my blanket over my head and cry because there's no one there to touch me and hug me and tell me it's okay. not today. maybe there will be tomorrow, or the next, and I can only hold onto that as hope for this feeling to fall away.

It's been so long since I've wanted so badly to drown but I don't think I have the energy to fight it anymore. my soul is soaked in kerosene and I'm going to burn wether I like it or not.

[destructivestill]

why did you have to stick to me like this?

im a recycled bottle and you're this glue I can't get off, no matter how much I scrape and burn and scrub. Annoying, this proof that I've been used, that I am a damaged product. Who wants to plant something in a jar with the wrapper still on it?

I remember the smell of your jacket. It barely fit me and I didn't care at all. I thought that maybe it meant you loved me, that maybe it was a sign of care in the sea of loneliness and longing I was washed away in at any point without you and I hate you for making me consider you some kind of bouy. You created the ocean, you drowned me, you swept me up and let me get washed away- watched, and coddled and soothed me every time I found my grip back on your anchored safety. Fake, manipulative safety.

How dare you still sit in my mind? How dare you stick to me?

You have no right to my thoughts and my feelings but oh gods, I want you to know them. I think about if you even think about me and how you made me feel. I want to hurt you like that, but any attempt to try makes me feel kind. I don't want to be kind. You make me want to be raging.

Give me my goddamned shit back.

Its not yours, never was.

It was for the person who loved me, who treasured me, tokens of honesty. Symbols of hope that you missed me as much as I missed you while you were fucking other people. The ones you said you wouldn't go back to. The ones you said not to worry about. I want my fucking hoodie back.

Where do you keep all that fucking audacity?

The audacity to recommend me diet pills when I open up to you? The audacity to tell me you love me and leave me as soon as you think you might have to actually fulfill all those promises you made? The house and kids? the love?

I watched you treat me like shit and cried myself to sleep while you were out with your friends. I blamed myself, and you knew that didn't you?

Were you counting on it?

I can't remember you keeping a single promise.

I cannot describe how fully I hate you. How completely I despise you. And yet I loved you so fully, with so much of myself, that it still hasn't completely shaken loose.

Sometimes I think of killing you. And I understand a little part of why people who have been treated shitty will treat others shitty. I absorbed so much of your disgusting personality that I can't get it out in any other way. Just through the desire to punch you square in the jaw and force you to fucking listen to a single word I say for once in your fucking life.

I hope everyone leaves you.

I hope everyone is better off without you.

They deserve it, and so do you.

I hope Caleb said no when you proposed to him.

I hope your new boyfriend realizes you're using him.

I hope someone finally fucking tells you that you're awful at sex.

I hope one day you apologise to me and I can tell you how much I don't and never will forgive you.

And I fucking hope you understand what that means. To be the one person I can never, ever forgive.

You're a bad fucking person, and you need to live with that shit.

[destructivestill]

There it is. Right when i tip over the edge.

I don't know how to feel a normal way. Im angry, I'm scared, I'm fight and flight but I just calmly apologise. I don't think I've ever felt worse.

It's on me, of course it is.

How can I breathe right now? my chest is full of tar. Im the tar pit.

What the fuck is happening to me?

Maybe it will always be my fault. Maybe I will never improve in a way that matters to others. Maybe I will never be good enough and I will always be the useless incompetent motherfucker the ive always been. I just want to be praised. Im told every time I fuck up and every time I'm bad but when do I get to know when I'm good? Am I ever good? Will any good I do be worthy of being told?

The simple conclusion is that I'm a stupid selfish bitch and when I wake up in the morning, it will be against not only my will, but the will of everyone around me.

Gods, I don't want to wake up in the morning. I don't think I've ever begged to not wake up again, and here I am.

Holy fuck I need a therapist.

[destructivestill]

I live in fight or flight.

Every corner, every text. How could they respond? will it be immediate resentment? My back and shoulders tense for an anger, a wrath, that never comes down on me. They remain tensed. They've been tensed since the conversion therapist asked me why I'd ever want to change my body.

Are there really deeper meanings to all these visceral reactions?

Can I blame this on my upbringing? on my parents? or is this just me? A scared, cornered, pathetic man, tail between my legs and ready to bite any hand that tries to feed me. Would it be so bad if they hurt me? wouldn't I deserve it?

It's exhausting, either way. A simple goodnight text and the catastrophic thinking begins.

Flight; He'll leave me. He hates me. Resents me. He's going to leave- am I supposed to leave? he's unhappy, am I happy? Have I ever been happy? Have I?

Fight; He can't get mad at you for this, argue. It's not your fault, blame someone else, make it their fault. Add each thing to that list of tiny little things you cry about and try to burn and toss away but you can't because it's stuck there, the toxic little seed in your brain that wants to throw it all back in everyone's faces. Don't forgive, don't forget.

I don't like either part. I don't like this existence. How can I get rid of it? Is it simply part of my nature? is that who I am? Will I spend the rest of my life like this? exhausted, running, fighting, no matter what someone says or does to love and support me? When do I get to rest? when I collapse?

[destructivestill]

Sometimes being mentally ill is being upset over small things you know don't matter.

I overthink everything. I can't read tone. My partner said he was going to bed and my first thoughts weren't that I hope he sleeps well or has good dreams, they were about how he hates me, doesn't want to spend time with me, wants to get away from me. That isn't the case, and I know that, but knowing it and feeling it can get so disconnected in my brain and I know, he's tired, he took his meds, it's his bedtime. But I feel, he hates me, he's tired of me, he's mad or upset with me, he's annoyed with me, he's going to leave me.

It's frustrating. I want to be good, so bad. I want to feel good. When do I get that? Is it ever going to happen? Do I ever get to feel comfortable and stable?

If I talk to him about it in the morning, will he be mad at me then? what it talking about my feelings and emotions only causes the exact problems I was terrified were already there?

But will keeping it bottled up make me bitter? will it make me push him away harder? will it hurt us both more?

I'm trying to be good. I want to be good. I want to be good in the most desperate, debilitating way. I want to be good. good. why can't I be? why do I always have to ruin shit?

[destructivestill]

I want to be a force of destruction, I want to take everything down. But self destruction is my only ability, and the people I feel the need to get back at, to hurt in some deep, desperate revenge, live on without me. I want them to hate me, I need them to wish they'd never met me. But they move on, and I simmer. Boil. I could let go, but the rage is too warm. The rage keeps me running when all other fuel is lost. I want to hurt them, just like they hurt me, and I will not press this glorious red self-destruct button until I have. Until they've learned; not to fuck with someone like they did me, not to hurt someone like they did me, to take no as an answer, to care about people and not what they can do for you, to give back to those you claim to love yet sap fucking everything from. They will feel every little cresting wave of pain and hurt and ache that I did, and then I will let go. Only then.

[destructivestill]

I am viscerally unhappy

[destructivestill]

There's a feeling I can't describe.

I want to call it longing, but it feels so desperate; maybe yearning.

It's hunger, a hole so deep rooted in my core that I can't even fathom filling it.

There's a feeling I can't describe.

It's overwhelming, but at the same time, gives none. Takes, lets me have nothing.

Maybe if I take my meds, it'll go away. But it won't. It never has.

I want to hold him and kiss him and I want to push him so far away that he forgets me. I want to show him my love and fall gracefully from a rooftop. I want to hold his hand and trust him and let him hold me, and I want to scream and yell until he leaves for good. The hole will take him from me, the feeling will not let me have him.

How can I protect him if he loves me?

I can't describe it, not really. I've tried, and here I am, nowhere closer. I feel so much and nothing at all. The hole has taken it all. The pit swallows it all.

And how can I disagree?

How can I fight it?

Do I deserve the things I desire, if the pit takes it away?

Do I deserve him, his love, if I know the pit will eat him, piece by piece? He stays, no matter how difficult I make it, and it's a kindness of love, so genuine and sweet it makes me ache.

I love him, and so will the pit.

[destructivestill]

Hello, and welcome. I'm Icarus, and I write stuff sometimes. Stuff about feelings, vents, experiences, all the fun stuff.

My pronouns are: he/him

My age is: 19

Favorite show: Noragami

Aesthetic: Alt-punk, dark academia

feel free to message me any questions or if you wanna be friends (18+)