milo-onigiri

[milo-onigiri]

Odd (tw. Self harm)

Why?

Why do I even want it?

Why do I crave it?

Nothings happened that justifies this.

But it’s this unexplainable urge.

The urge to slit my skin.

To feel that sweet release of that sting.

The sting that comes with it.

The relief that I feel watching the red flow out.

That high feeling of knowing I can still feel.

Knowing that I’m not completely broken.

The disgusting smell of burning hair that I chase like a high.

Seeing the skin tighten just like I feel.

Smelling the burning flesh that I know is mine.

A small reminder that I’m actually there.

A way to escape my head.

Silence the silence within my head.

Sometimes I just wish the relief was permanent.

[milo-onigiri]

Family

Why does it hurt so much.

I should be happy for her.

Happy that she finally has someone to look for in the crowd.

Happy that she has someone there for her.

But all I feel is anger.

Jealousy.

But not in the way you think.

Not in the I wish I had that someone to look for in a crowd.

Because I do.

Not in the I wish I had someone there for me.

Because I do.

But in a way that hurts far worse than that.

In a way that causes the jealousy to fester inside me until I can’t hold it anymore.

The hot coals of jealousy burning my hands.

All because I’m just waiting to throw them.

All because I need to throw them.

The pit of jealousy that’s been slowly eating the flesh off my bones.

The jealousy that’s been causing me to want to rip my own body apart.

Just so that he can care.

Just so that my own brother will care.

All because I’ve been pleading with him for years.

Years I’ve been trying to get him to come see me preform.

But every time he has an excuse.

‘I’m too busy that night.’

‘I don’t enjoy that kind of event.’

‘I can’t sit there for hours.’

All things I’ve heard far too often.

Yet the moment she’s there everything changes.

He willingly came to something that he ‘didn’t’ enjoy.

All because she was there.

I didn’t even ask this year because I knew what the answer was going to be.

But when I saw him in the crowd.

You would think I would be happy.

He finally came to one of my events.

But no, no no no no no no no!

All I felt was a bitter hot rage.

Why?

Why?

Why!

Why! Why! Why!

Why did she get to have him come to this.

Why did she get the satisfaction of knowing he’d be there.

Why her, his girlfriend.

And not me, his brother.

But can I even blame him?

I wouldn’t think I was worth watching either.

[milo-onigiri]

Tearing

(Tw: a little bit of gore)

It’s stupid really.

How one small action can ruin me.

To others it’s part of getting ready for the day.

Or even getting ready for a show.

But for me it’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

It’s funny how I can do everything else.

Eyeliner,

Eyeshadow,

Foundation,

Concealer,

Contour,

Highlighter,

But the moment I put on blush everything falls apart.

Seeing my face with that stupid red hint.

Staring at myself in the mirror wishing,

Praying.

I could tear my face off.

And from there I spiral.

Then I can suddenly hear my voice in my head.

I can hear that stupid high pitch.

And it makes me want to claw open my throat and pull my vocal cords out and squeeze.

Then it feels like binding isn’t really doing shit.

Being able to feel that constant pressure of the wrap around my chest.

It’s just a reminder that I have them.

Just a reminder of how much I wish I could carve them out of my body.

Tear them off and put them through a meet grinder.

Watch as I bleed out from my own hands.

Then as if it can’t get any worse.

She has to call me a she and a girl.

Making me fall so much deeper into a spiral.

The deep urge to claw my flesh off my body until the only thing left is my bones.

Until I’m completely unrecognizable.

Then maybe.

Just maybe.

I’ll finally be a guy.

Hell who am I kidding.

She’ll never see me as a guy.

No one will ever see me as a guy.

I’ll never even see myself as a real guy.

So maybe it would all be better if I could tear my body apart.

[milo-onigiri]

Love?

It’s hurts.

I didn’t know that the feelings would hurt more than my lungs.

If it was just my lungs filling with flowers I could have dealt with it.

But it’s not.

It’s the pain of knowing.

Knowing that neither of them felt the same.

That neither of them wanted me.

When it was him it hurt the most.

The beautiful green petals that first appeared in my lungs hurt.

But knowing that even after I thought everything was going well.

I thought he was it.

Only to cough up the petals of something beautiful.

It felt like the world itself was mocking me.

Just that small reminder every time my chest hurt.

Every time it felt heavy.

Was because of the stupid pretty petals filling my lungs.

Was because I was unlovable.

Slowly the green petals became a beautiful flower.

A flower that devoured my lungs because it was easier.

Because if they didn’t know I was hurting they wouldn’t be hurting.

Then it was her.

She helped the green petals.

They were still there.

They always will be.

But she was helping.

And that made me hope and brake.

Allowing her in.

What a foolish thing to do.

It was great.

I finally found someone who liked me for me.

There was nothing else to it.

Then there wasn’t just green petals but also purple.

And that hurt even more.

You’d think I was used to it.

Used to the feeling of the petals slowing growing and taking over my lungs.

I thought I was too.

But I wasn’t.

It hurt more this time.

Seeing the beautiful mix of green and purple petals everywhere.

My bed.

My floor.

The sink.

The toilet.

Everywhere.

And it hurt so much more.

Knowing that I was unlovable.

Knowing that no matter what I wasn’t good enough.

I couldn’t be loved.

And it was all my fault.

Now I sit alone in a room covered in flowers.

Beautiful

Green

And

Purple

Flowers.

All of my own making.

[milo-onigiri]

Can we stop tagging things that are gender neutral reader as male and female reader it gets annoying when trying to filter through stuff. Please and thank you.