lilypad7773

[lilypad7773]

“would you say you’re in love with him?”

as we cross the pitch black sidewalk

i stare down at these boots that aren’t mine and mumble “yes. very much so.”

-i love him. and i don’t want to say goodbye.

[lilypad7773]

aug. 19 2023

idk how to tell my therapist that i think about dying everyday lately. that nothing seems to be working no matter what i do, i always fail. i’m tired of trying. i’ve been clean for so long but relapsing seems so easy, i’m scared i’ll slip up. idk how to explain this emptiness that eats me from the inside out and this absolute desperation to be anything else anyone else than who i am. nothing feels right and nobody feels welcoming. i’m alone and i’m struggling. and nobody is helping. i just want it all to end. i want it all to end.

[lilypad7773]

aug. 10 2023

my mother doesn’t understand my autism.

doesn’t understand when i suddenly throw a tantrum because i’m overstimulated. wonders why her perfectly grown adult offspring is punching herself in the head.

my family doesn’t understand my autism.

cant accept the idea of having anything more than “ADHD” as a disabled kid in their family. claims the tests can’t be right, there’s nothing wrong with me.

my mother doesn’t understand my anger.

she could throw five tantrums but if i throw one it’s suddenly intolerable.

i broke a little too many hangers today showing her that my anger, needs to be understood. i don’t sacrifice everything, including my feelings, to be looked down upon.

my mother doesn’t understand my anger.

even when it’s a wretched mirror of her. i wonder if she looks at me and wonders if that is what she looks like when she is angry. if that is what her rage feels like.

even after 20 years of fighting tooth and nail. i have never once blamed my mother. i never once blamed her for staying in this godforsaken house, or staying with this stupid man. never once blamed her for taking a loan that could’ve gotten us out of here to help this stupid man stay in this house. never once blamed her for the fact that i couldn’t go to college. that i work 11 hours every single day watching other people’s kids, washing other people’s dishes, cleaning other people’s things. i do what she complains about doing every single day. but never once have i blamed her. never blamed her that i pay the bills now. that i come home and do the same thing i do at work.

but it’s not enough. still not enough.

i wonder, if i killed myself. how would i do it?

who would be at my funeral? where would they hold it? and what would they do with my ashes? i hope they wouldn’t keep my body. i’d make sure to die in a way that they couldn’t. i hear the bustle of street life outside and wonder what it would be like to stand in the middle. in the middle of a car accident as the car flies through the air. there’s been an uptick in vehicular deaths lately, maybe i can make it one more.

i am tired. when does the war end?

when do i stop feeling like i am standing at the precipice, so ready to jump?

and do i fly? or fall to my death?