u-keep-me-alive - Tumblr blog

[u-keep-me-alive]

this post made me into the person i am today

“average person eats 3 spiders a year” factoid actualy just statistical error. average person eats 0 spiders per year. Spiders Georg, who lives in cave & eats over 10,000 each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted

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i'm barely on tumblr anymore so everytime i come on here and see my timeline it's like a slap in the face. dean winchester meets angsty book quotes meets sherlock meets even agstier song lyrics meets old warped tour content. it's like being stuck in the 2010d. god i'm old.

edit: there's awards now????

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i love my therapist but i hate being in therapy. 10 minutes before my appointment, i'm in a meeting with my boss - we discuss my artistic choices; my boss recommends i artistically choose less. 10 minutes after therapy, i wash my hair and think about everything that was said, and then i have to switch it off, like a lamp, and go back to work again.

i was on a walk the other day and someone had the perfect combination of his cologne and whatever-else. it was almost exactly his scent. i fucking hate that. after all these years, i remember that? i tell my therapist - i feel like a fucking wolf. try telling a middle-aged blonde lady. oh i scented him on the air. i'm 30, and i'm having a panic attack over something that would be a plotline in the omegaverse.

what they don't tell you about mental illness is that if you are lucky enough to survive it into adulthood; it becomes a weird slice of your life. because you do, eventually, have to build a life. i realized in a panic somewhere around 22 - oh. i don't know what i'm fucking doing, because i always assumed i'd just go ahead and die. i didn't die, and i'm grateful for that, and i'm very happy about that choice. but it does mean that i am an adult in an apartment, living with my conditions side-by-side like. oh, that's my roommate, adhd. ignore the glass, bytheway, that's ocd.

so you pick your stupid life up by the scruff of the neck and you're, like glad for it (so much laughter and light and friends you would have never thought possible, when you were in the worst of it). but it feels so strange to be dancing around these odd little microcosms, these patchwork moments of your symptoms. if you have a panic attack at night, you still need to wake up and walk the dog in the morning. if your depression is making everything boring, well, you don't have any sick days left, and a job's not really supposed to be that exciting anyway. your ocd tears out each individual leg hair, and then, an hour later, you sigh, patch up the bloody bits, and go get dinner with friends. and the life is kitten-quiet, mewling and pathetic, but it's also like - it's yours, so you're fond of it.

and it's like - you're real. so you still enjoy pushing the shopping cart really fast and then riding on the back of it down an empty aisle. and you're not, like, so sick anymore that when you accidentally drop a mug you burst into tears (except for the days you do that. which are bad). and no, you're not allowed around certain items anymore. oops! but you've learned to be good about brushing your teeth most days of the week. and yeah sometimes in the middle of the day you have a little freak-out about how fucking unfair it all is, how fucking hard, how other people can just do this without having to fucking hurt the whole time. and then you sigh and force yourself to sit down and fucking journal about it so you can tell the nice middle-aged blonde woman yeah i had a hard day but i practiced grounding. you still sometimes want to burst out of your own skin, but you force yourself to eat kind-of healthy and to take your vitamins. you let yourself chop off all your hair in the sink in a dramatic poetry of control and relief - and you also have developed good hobbies that help you move your body more frequently. you feel helplessly behind, lost in the shuffle - but you also practice gratitude, taking stock of what you have garnered. because you're trying. even if you're never gonna be normal, you have something... close enough.

and the little kitten of your life, this mangy, starlit tigercub, this thing you expected to rot so young: in your arms, it turns itself over, belly-up. exposing this new soft part, all the organs and guts. like it's saying i trust you now. you won't give me up.

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“Inside, / A terrible silence / As though everything had died”

— May Sarton, from Letters from Maine: New Poems; “Shell” 

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i'll take the glory and the pain.

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Silas Denver Melvin, from Grit: Poems; “Twenty”

[Text ID: “you’re so polite with your sadness. you don’t want to ruin this for anyone. you’re good at that.”]

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Emil Cioran, The Trouble With Being Born

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I thought I was getting better. How stupid of me

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I thought, “I want to die. I want to die more than ever before. There’s no chance now of a recovery. No matter what sort of thing I do, no matter what I do, it’s sure to be a failure, just a final coating applied to my shame. That dream of going on bicycles to see a waterfall framed in summer leaves—it was not for the likes of me. All that can happen now is that one foul, humiliating sin will be piled on another, and my sufferings will become only the more acute. I want to die. I must die. Living itself is the source of sin."

–Osamu Dazai

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i'm such a shitty person. i'm horrible. i feel so disgusted by myself. i don't deserve good things yet people who do have it so much harder than me. i'm ungrateful and terrible. i delude myself into thinking i'm a nice person but i'm really not. i don't deserve anything. i wanna scratch and scream and cry and hurt myself. and i'm selfish for it. i'm disgusting.

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— Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

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how is it that something so little, so insignificant can make me feel so shitty from one second to the next? i know me feeling this way is childish and stupid but i can't help it. i know i'm loved but why do i feel like i'm being abandoned over and over again? i love too much and i feel like i don't get the same amount back, like all my efforts are in vain. but is me feeling this way invalidating the other person's feelings? life is so hard. i think i really am better off alone. but i'm so scared of being on my own.

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