imgoingthroughacrisesbutiwrite - Tumblr blog

[imgoingthroughacrisesbutiwrite]

she was used to getting complements

and oh how lovely they made her feel

at school, she was confident

her voice the loudest in the room

her laughs echoing

people admired her from afar

but at home, it was all different

like a switch just went off in her mind

all the complements from before vanish

she thinks about every little thing that happened

hating her loud personality

her jokes

her aggressiveness

her body

her hair

it was like she didn't like anything anymore, just hatred

the sharp razor blade traces her arm

blood oozed out of each cut

she enjoyed the pain that cam with it the next day

the soreness

flinching when it brushes against anything

it was her little secret

the secret that was almost revealed too many time

[imgoingthroughacrisesbutiwrite]

my gender struggle.

I am afab, assigned female at birth. and honestly, I don't know how to feel about that. I don't like it, but don't dislike it. whenever the topic of gender identity pops up, I feel myself being lost. I love being a women. I love getting pretty and doing my hair. I love looking at myself in the mirror in a dress. I love giggling with other women. I love the attention I might receive for being a women. but the other side of me wishes to deeply I was born a man. at first, I thought it was because they get to do so much that I wont be able to purely because of my gender. its unfair really, that I don't get to live out my teenage years the way a boy my age would. why does my younger brother have more freedom than I do? as a women, I cant do so many things, so with all that to the table, I thought me wanting to be a man was only for their privilege. and while I do think that they get to have a better life, women don't wish to be men for that reason. I find myself so jealous of men, of my brother, because I want to be one. I want a flat chest. I want short hair. I want to be ‘one of the boys’. as silly as that is, I want to be treated as a male by other males. but that does not erase my feelings for being a women,. if there was a way I could be both, and none at the same time I would do it in a heartbeat. maybe the privileges men get over women is what drives me to hating being a women sometimes. maybe if they were equal id be glad to be a women. I'm not sure, I never am. but what I'm sure of is that I wish to be both. I'm not non binary either. since I am afab, and been using she/her all my life, it feels wrong to use something else. but I know that if I was born a man then id be glad to be one, unlike me being a women. maybe I'm not cis gendered. I remember crying to my mother about my gender at the age if 7. I would sob, telling her I hated her for making me a girl. I would tell her that I wanted to be a boy, that its not fair. I would say, I AM a boy. my family is very religious, and we come from an extremely homophobic and transphobic culture and religion. no one took me seriously, since the very next day I would get into a pretty dress and have my long beautiful hair into a lovely hairstyle. I was a girl. but I was a boy too. 

I am both, I think. its still very odd and new to me, and I don't think ill ever truly figure it out. to others I will always be a women, and its weird to say the least. I'm just so confused, that's all.

[imgoingthroughacrisesbutiwrite]

my view on self harm

this is a passage I've written when I was deep into my self harm addiction. as I write this now, I've been clean for months. I still always feel the urge, as I'm sure many others do, but I have managed to distract myself. I want to share what I've written back then. 

I’m a happy person. I’m always happy. In fact, ever since I started wearing my gloves and long sleeves I’ve been the happiest. When the topic of self-harm is brought up, everyone’s faces become dim like some monster clouded their vision. It’s always such a sensitive topic that is looked down upon. ‘It’s for the crazy the unsafe, the mentally unwell!!’ But I beg to differ. I have to admit the first time I brought a blade to my wrists was out of pure despair. But now it feels like all sorts of things. Each cut on my body tells a story of their own. The deepest are out of joy, excitement. It’s a wonderful thing I have full control of. No one can stop me, it’s my own body, my own decision. As wearing a long glove became a part of my routine, I’ve been more optimistic. No matter the filthy reputation it may have, it well, saved my life.

as much as I would like to say I've changed, that my body shouldn't be used for intentional harm, I don't think I've had much of a change. I do still believe that I was extremely happy back then. but this whole passage is triggering to read again, especially after putting in so much work and going through so much to get clean, as I have scars that I don't think will ever fade. its hard to think that I went through all that thinking and feeling so great. I was truly isolated, and its so sad that no one helped at all. my father knows about everything, well everything he can know from the surface. he always thought that I'm doing this for attention, since I acted so fine all the time. he knows me as an over emotional, but very happy person, and believed that it was all an attempt to gain attention from others. he couldn't be more wrong. its such a pain that even the ones closest to me thought like this, since I never showed off any of my scars, but rather hid them away in fear of words like that. my best friend, who I would also like to add I was and still am in love with, has seen some of my scars in class when I was scratching at them. she did nothing at all. its not her fault and I know that but it still hurts in a way. my teacher also caught me peeling the skin around my fresh scar and thought it was an amazing idea to make fun of me in front of the whole class. laughing that I was trying to kill myself. it wasn't and never be funny for a teacher to ridicule a student, especially a 13 year old. I am turning 15 this year. I've come a long way, that was filled with many many shitty moments regarding my self harm and people finding out or becoming suspicious, but I am proud to say that today was the first day ever were I didn't cover them at all, in front of my family at that. I didn't wear the awful glove or anything. I'm so proud of myself, and hope I could go out in public without them or even school when the time comes. this was more of a rant than i thought it would be, but I am glad I can speak here anonymously. 

[imgoingthroughacrisesbutiwrite]

‼️None of the art is mine‼️