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[your-regina]

[your-regina]

For the past several months I have been out of work, after some terrible life events in which my whole life kind of fell apart.

My Dad died, my 10 year relationship ended, I had to pack up all my stuff and move from one end of the country to another twice. It's been rough.

I've been feeling a lot of guilt being unemployed and living off savings, and feeling that dread that comes with watching those funds get smaller and smaller with no income to restore them, while I try to pick myself up and put some kind of life back together.

At the same time, I was starting to feel more and more imposter syndrome about my ADHD because I was managing to get into some good habits. Cooking proper meals. Staying on top of the dishes and laundry. Getting the bins and recycling out for collection on the right days at the right time. Picking up some of my craft projects and even learning some new ones. I started regular driving lessons. Started doing some DIY in my new living space to fix it up.

I finally felt ready to dust off my CV and try to get a job again. And I got one. Yay! Or so I thought.

I only started this week, and I am already so tired. It's taken everything I have to make sure I got up and ready in time. That I had clean and suitable clothes to wear each day. To get groceries and make myself food each day. The dishes piled up again. The house is a mess. So much food has gone bad that I had to throw out. The crafts I started last week are sitting half done next to me and I don't know if I have it in me to pick it up again. I forgot to update important documents and had to cancel my theory test, and postponed my driving lessons.

I feel like I can do one or the other, but not both. A full time job earning money, or a full time job keeping a household running and living my life. No matter what I'm always going to feel like I am spinning plates, running from task to task to try and keep up until the plates come crashing down. I won't know which plate I forgot until I have to pick up the pieces.

I'm so tired.

[your-regina]

Is my poison sweet enough?

Hi there again. I never forgot to tell you about the latest turn of events. We briefly talked about grief and quite possibly liking girls, but it all came eerily real when I spoke about it to the cause of a lot of my problems: Candy.

You see, in my latest letter I told you some very awful things about her, such as me wanting to befriend her and become so impactful in her life that losing me would be very painful. At some point I wondered if it all went south the moment I caught feelings with her.

It's just that she was my first on so many things! I really crave sitting down and talking while drawing and listening to music. It was such a cathartic experience for me. Even that day, when I felt like the world was ending, she held me in such a warm embrace that I briefly thought I would love to stay like that forever.

We both know we can't be together like that, for a number of reasons. It is completely one sided, and I never really intended to let my feelings out when we met.

This time, I texted her like nothing had ever happened and said that I wanted to see her. She said I could go to her house, but she asked me to meet her next week, and for some odd reason I really wanted it to be right now. She took about 3 days to respond, while I usually answered in a matter of seconds. I was so mad at her, but I still wanted to face her, and not necessarily to clarify or discuss any of the awful thing she made me feel.

We only bought two shorts and coke and then went to a quieter place to talk while we share one esquite. I don't know how I felt, but now that I'm writting I think I was drunk on pure ecstasy to see her. She was even cuter than how I remembered her.

I started by talking about how I felt like one person had completely engulfed my life, that somehow that experience made me realize that I most likely like girls exclusively. She didn't seem all that surprised, we made some jokes and laughed it off while I hoped my foundation was hiding my creeping blush.

After we were done with my simple story, she began to tell me about something really serious. She was sexually assaulted as a kid, and lived with her abuser for several years in which she told me she was always afraid. She lost her dad and couldn't even mourn her loss because she had to be always guarding her own back. But the worst part is that about 2 weeks ago she learnt that her assaulter had abused two of her nieces, aged 7 and 8 years old. It was such a shocking story I didn't know what I was supposed to say.

She said her mom was still dating Candy's abuser, and showed no signs of remorse. I was so disgusted I couldn't really speak, so I simply shit talked her mother and the disgusting man who did those horrible things. She told me, very maturely, that she wanted to go to therapy and try to heal that wound, because she wanted to be well to show her nieces that it was possible to live a good life despite having gone through such trauma.

If you learn something like this, any petty drama becomes quite trivial, doesn't it? So I briefly forgot that I was supposed to become a beacon of light for her, and I told her that I didn't believe in therapy, and that she was too smart to go to any therapist. She didn't agree with me but I thought that surely that would remain forever in the back of her mind. Is that poisonous?

She didn't look like she hated me at all, but I could feel something like a wave setting us appart. I learnt, at that moment, that is totally possible to enjoy the company of someone you hate with, perhaps, too much passion.

Fer also stopped talking to me, like I did something severe enough to guarantee my permanent erasure of the group I created myself. Isn't it infuriating? Without me they wouldn't know each other, but they still have the priviledge of excluding me completely, despite knowing full well how much I was struggling.

They do read my posts where I almost beg for help of any kind. I remember so vividly the way I wept misserably for hours thinking about how lonely I was now, with no familiar faces to turn to. Again, Candy didn't know about the awful situation regarding her nieces at that point in time, but she still chose not to talk to me. Like I was merely an annoyance, something that would bring darkness and pain to her already difficult existence. I understand, to a certain extent, but I would be so willing to carry her heavy load if she said she needed it. But she never told me anything, I was a ghost, trapped in a past, in another dimension.

She wrote me such a beatiful letter for my 21th birthday, and then for the 22th she totally forgot about it. I always remember their birthdays, they're so special now that we are in our twenties, we're quickly running out of youth. It hurt so much, even though it is such a simply thinking.

What now? Movin' on, but how? Uh, somethin' put my feelings in the lost and found Now I'm stuck forever Tell me where to go Can I have my heart back? 

I resented her the most and mourned her loss like she had been struck by a double decker truck. I can only imagine the kind of things they said about me in the new group they opened for sure.

I don't know why I remember clearly how one day we were all playing together. It was a group of four, of course, but they only matched their characters to be a trio, jumping around and saying that they were a group of three like I, the person who got them to play, wasn't even there.

Then christmas arrived and Candy simply stopped responding, only coming back when I had been silent for a long time as well. I experienced one of the most nerve wracking experiences when I did my test to get my college degree, and everyone on the group wished me good luck, except her.

She has so many drawings I did for her, completely for free. And to this day, even though she draws as well, I continue to have absolutely zero drawings from her. It drives me nuts.

But seeing her in person somehow cures the pain for a while. I remember I'm not there to complain, but to be brighter than the sun, since that's what she seems to be looking for. It's not that I don't have the words; as you may know, one of the things I do as a hobby is imagining her and fer coming back to me.

God, how I wish to receive an apology! The primitive way I cried can't compare to whatever I did to them. Sometimes I read our conversations to try to divise where i messed up.

Hell, do i know that i'm a difficult person. But I still had that last remaining hope of someone finding something valuable in me. I thought, for a fragment of a second, that that someone could one. Maybe that's what's I called love so many years later, despite it's clear deviation from the normal, actual meaning of it. If there is any that is.

I don't know what else is there to say. We went out one day, that's for sure, but even if those two hours meant climbing up the Everest for me, maybe for such an adventurous soul like Candy it just felt like jumping over a puddle. I still loathe her so much, despite the laughs, despide the one sided sense of wonder.

She asked to meet me the next day, and as soon as I grasped the idea but my heart and my brain worked in unprecedented unison to conjure up a vivid image of what that would (for sure, no doubt about it) have been like.

She cowardly cancelled some hours latter, and the crystal castle glittered over my eyes. I thought it would have caused far less damage if she had outright said that she didn't want to see me ever again.

The same thing goes for the first time she went absolutely radio silent, when it came about me only, that time last december. It is something I shouldn't have ever forgiven; but you know I need her way more than she needs me. She latter said she stopped talking to "us" because she was going through a rough time. I couldn't help but wonder if I should feel sorry, or if I should perhaps ask myself if her rough time was, in fact, any rougher than mine. I don't think I was even big enough in the clutches of her brain to consider me an important person to warn about her oncoming disappearence.

Then, after she learnt about the extent of my non so pleasant aspects of my many and varied mental illnesses she did little more than quietly fade into the backround and feign amnesia. I was so mad. Why does it bark at anyone else but me? Esterile, useless.

Now fast forward to the day my beloved kitten died. He caught parvo seemingly out of nowhere. My family, allegedly, saw him puking on friday, they took him to the vet on saturday, and by sunday dawn he was gone. Put down, if you ask me.

I just took all the benzodiazepines i could find and kind of hoped for the best. I wanted to discuss with myself the best couse of action. I simply blocked everyone. I don't want to sleep, but I guess I could use some rest.

Today I communicated my suicidal ideation to my family and they all called me a coward and unproffesional on top of that. Proffessional people don't dress colofur, don't wear weird hairdoes, don't forget what the boss just said, all of those things, they made sure I knew.

My aunt famously denied me the chance to see my cat one last time, and if I survive today I'll make sure I fuck her over and demand the rest of my inheritence. Damn rat.

I cherished that kitten like a supernatural being.

[your-regina]

Casta Diva

De mi cuerpo descompuesto crecerán flores

Y yo estaré en ellas

Eso es eternidad

A hurricane arrived at my city today. It's possibly the first one I've been conscious enough to experience, as well as the first one that happened after I moved out of my childhood house. You see, I was pretty confident at first, what is there to fear? My roommates certainly weren't looking very fearful, if anything they seemed almost excited.

As the hours went by, I kept getting more and more restless. It was early in the morning when the rain started pouring outside, as the unknowing birds routinely chirped. The wind was whistling like a young man at work, stopping and resuming af if he'd forgotten a tune. I had an upset stomach, I was feeling cold and hot at the same time, I kept getting up to pee every now and then even though I hadn't drank anything in many many hours. I fell asleep and just dreamed of getting caught outside in the middle of the road as a ferocious storm devastated everything around me and threatened to lift me off the ground. I dreamt of getting back home in the middle of the hurricane and getting installed next to an open window that let all the wind and rain in.

As soon as I woke up I felt so disturbed that I ended up calling home to get picked up as my mom had previously suggested. I texted my roommates as I was leaving the house trying to mask it as a family matter that had nothing to do with my fears. I said "my family came to pick me up" and one of the said, in what I consider a rather rude and incriminating tone "did they come or did you call them?".

Do you know what happened next? I was stuck here for the remainder of the hurricane, although it was not even a fraction of the destructive power we were warned about. It wasn't even as strong as many of the storms I've seen this year, so I felt like destiny had played a dirty trick. I'm still stuck here, by the way.

You know how recent it all is, don't you? It's barely been 6 weeks since I left, but I feel like a ghost haunting a house from my past life. It feels foreign, odd, itchy all over, sticky and moldy, all the things that I wouldn't want to feel all at once. Even my former room shows such serious signs of decay, as if indeed no one had been there in ages. Everything's dusty and full of ashes where my sister spends her days getting lost in all sorts of addictions. My mom says she can't find her place in this world. I'd like to tell her that I can't do it either.

Everywhere I go feels equally wrong, it's as if I was out of places to run to. Maybe I am.

Today I was watching a video about grief, and a lot of it seemed to ring a bell.

They said that grief comes along with it an unstoppable loss of the self, depending on the closeness you had with someone (or something). They say we can think of it as a venn diagram where the closer you are with someone the more the two circles overlap, with the overlapping part being the part of yourself that you share with that person.

Once you lose someone you were very close to, you inevitably lose the part that you both shared, thus causing you to feel like, along with that person, you also lost yourself. If I'm not with you, what am I? Even if you hated someone, losing them is still impactful for this very reason. Then grief is not a linear process, nor is it a five step recipe as it is commonly accepted. It's more of a back and forth, in which you just constantly try to mend the part of you that was ripped from you as you do your everyday routine.

Grief has been one of my main interests this year, and there's only one reason someone would be feel attracted to such a topic. This year I feel like I've been trapped with a chain of constant loss, from losing my routine, to losing the people I saw everyday for the past few years, to losing about all of my friends, then losing my family as I moved out of my house. It's just been so hard to comprehend why do I feel so empty and lost. It feels like I'm no one, like I'm not even the alien I used to be. I'm half a ghost.

Where once there was oddity there is nothing at all now. I wish I go back to the way I was even one year ago. It feels so clean and yet it feels like a tape recording with missing parts. The one who walked through those halls is still walking through them now, as she ripped herself away from me to continue her wandering in the comfortable past.

I want to stuff myself with cotton. Puppeteer this body into the corner of the world where it belongs.

You make me shine

In the darkest nights

Please come down from the sky

I want to caress your hair

If I could hold you I would no longer fear death

Because no one has made me feel

Like you did, my love

And every night you watch over me

How can I ever forgive you? You occupy my thoughts like a raging tsunami, with the violence of the ocean flooding and obliterating everything in it's wake. If I had a second chance at life, I wish I could defend myself better. How did you get away with so much? I want to speak my mind, impose, crush. I want to step on your toes this time around, I want you spit in your mouth. Maybe it all crumbled because I fell in love, or whatever this weak heart is capable of. You can't handle a person like me. I would exchange my soul for a kind word, I would spit my heart out in your palm if only you showed some interest in me.

Do you know something kind of pathetic? That day I went to see you was the first time I shaved my whole body. I was wondering what you wanted from me at that point. I was wearing what I thought was a very sexy outfit, my plaid mini skirt, a short crop top, pink platforms. I didn't know what I wanted, but now I guess I just wanted to do whatever you wanted. I don't fantasize, not like that, but at that time I was thinking you held a totally different set of feelings for me. I remember when I was changing in front of you and you saw my breast you looked away like you'd spotted a demon. Once you said you didn't think I was incapable of love, but instead I had been so deeply wounded that I had become romantically crippled. I gathered so many thoughts from the past, and maybe that's why I felt like our shared existence meant something completely different for you. I could never say it in the past, and I can't say it now, but at least I know how I felt.

When you came around so cheerful about having met the love of your life - a man, to add salt to the wound - I secretly felt my fantasy world shattering. That was the first loss.

You dated so many men and women, but I'm sure you never recognized just how crazy I had become. You talked about it freely, flaunting it like your flag, because it never even crossed your mind that I held such impossible hopes for the future.

You became the blue print with which I analyzed my world, I wanted to melt and get molded into something you could love more profoundly, but I was the elephant chained to the ground.

I wanted to have the freedom to be seen as an option, but nothing works like that. I orbit around you like a moon. Do you think the moon ever wanted to kiss the earth she so earnestly stares at?

Are you ever curious about my feelings? When it comes to me, I'm autistic and I have borderline personality disorder. I'm hard to love, hard in so many levels. My world is 4 meters long, 3 meters wide, 2 meters tall. Your world is either here or Saturn; sometimes I felt like you'd fly up to the sky like a balloon filled with helium.

Whereas your existence fills me to the brim, I know I am like a drop sitting in your chest and rolling off as you walk to the bus stop.

Whereas losing you means losing my spinal cord, to you losing me is like losing a strand of hair as you get ready for work.

Well, what if I don't want things to be like that? What if I want you to be the one who's up at 3:38 AM drowning in uncertainty? I so want you to need me like I need you. I want to carve a space to sit inside you, scoop out a chunk of your brain to replace it with my decaying art. I want to spit worms straight into your head, to keep you up at night wondering what you did wrong? I want to disappear just like that.

I won't ever give you a chance, bury yourself in my ashes, you have scorched my world, and it's not fair if you just walk out unscathed.

Why do I give valuable time to people who don't care if I live or die?

You don't understand the kind of world I inhabit. I remember when I told you I was bullied for liking certain things, you said the boys in your class loved you for liking that same thing. What were you thinking then? Where you thinking that then problem was just me? Because that's what you made me think.

I've mourned your loss three times over. But it's not enough, I want to mourn one last time, just to keep you mourning for the rest of your life.

[your-regina]

Today, the man who has been bothering me at work did something strange again. I can't describe it any other way because, for me, it's merely an annoyance, something that embarrasses me for reasons I still can't articulate. You see, I've always placed some value on my appearance, but never with the intention of attracting this kind of attention.

Today, Arturo told me that he could deliver my computer to him for configuration, but the idea made him so angry that he refused to configure it until I went myself. As usual, I had to swallow my pride and surrender to the inevitability of the circumstances. When I went to talk to him, his attitude immediately changed. He offered to buy the ethernet adapter I needed to start working and he was rather nice if we ignore everything that went down previously. So far he's given me two chocolates and a note saying that I'm very pretty. You see, I really do like chocolate, so I just ate it, ignoring whatever harm it could pose. As for the note, I just kept it in my diary as proof of what had happened. Also, I really do like being called pretty, who doesn't want to be called pretty?

I have absolutely no good feeling for this creep, but this event just made me realize just how much I've had to forgo all sense of pride. I don't have a cell of shame in me at this point. The things I've had to do to survive far surpass what I would have considered acceptable in the past. I now wonder how far I would take this whole ordeal if the things developed in a bad way. What else do I have to lose? I've lost my mind already, and only the body remains.

You know how much it hurts, but what is a girl like me to do in a situation like this?

When the creep had me in his claws I just did what I do best. I'm a pro at smiling at this point, I never look bored or bothered in the slightest. You're the king, you rule, you decree; I'm but a joker who entertains you, treats you like you're the only person left in the world. As such, I just showed a lot of interest in what he was telling me, although everything was pretty obvious to me. Before I left I made sure to compliment his pens. In reality, I do love the kind of pens he was using, and talking about it came out pretty easily to me. He showed me a particularly cool pen and my interest was genuine. I'm not stupid, I know I look like a helpless kid, and I'm poisonous enough to utilize every bit of that feature to my advantage,

What do you want me to do? I have to eat, pay for my freedom.

I've had to steal, lie, beg. I'm limping through this forsaken world, I cover myself with a rag in the snow. There's nothing inside, just dead dreams.

The ego has been consumed by the flames. Ego in the fire, isn't that right?

My life is not that bad. I've survived just fine, I guess. Gasping, but somehow still alive. I eat whatever I want, which is merely chips, cookies, coffee, and magic brownies. I know I am prone to developing addictions, for instance, I still long for my beloved benzos, but I have to be careful with my resources.

Candy once told me that I could probably survive with just $4,000 a month. Somehow it seems true. I've always been poor, where's the big difference?

I'm a tall child. I occupy the swings at the park at night. I sing when no one is here to witness how embarassing my skills are. Everything I value is mediocre at best.

I don't value this person, I lack any love for this body. It's ready to get used. It doesn't love, doesn´t long, doesn't move on its own. I nearly drown with my vomit everyday. Do you understand me?

I remember so many instances of seemingly falling in love with pretty girls. I remember I desperately wanted to see and be seen by the pretty girls, with their cute hairstyles, awesome style, sweet perfume. I didn't even know it, never even considered it anything special, just the way I am. Men just give me the chills; it is so hard to be a girl who doesn't like men.

At the end of the day, I'm alone. It's me and reality. Can we talk about this later?

[your-regina]

I can't wait to be back home

I want to be back home, hear the now melodious cacophony of chaos. I want to leave my job, and do so for a long time, just relishing that feeling of freedom I haven't tasted yet. Why am I not allowed to slack off a little bit? I've always been lawful and hard working, but nothing has come out of it

[your-regina]

Throw it in the fire

Ego in the fire

I've got love for desire

I've got pain for desire

But when I'm winning I'm a flyer

Soprano in the choir

I've got a love for desire

It gets higher and higher

[your-regina]

mantra when you fuck up is "i'm in my early 20s it's literally not a big deal"

[your-regina]

I wanna eat the world with french fries

Do you know that feeling of never being just ok? Like it's too cold to not wear a jacket but too hot to wear it, like something stuck on your teeth, an itch you can't scratch. The feeling of simply being unwell.

What's bothering you now?

I want to scratch it till it bleeds. I want to bleed out and make them drink it. I want to chase. I want to haunt. I want to be loved like I have loved.

Why is it that I must drown in my ego every single time? Why can't I ever rise from the bottom of this endless sorrow? Why does it always lead back to the same blue infinity?

I can be so much more. I can be the ghost behind your mirror, the shadows you'll fear as much as you lacked any love for me. I'm a drowned one, ashes in your naked eye.

I saw infinity in this abyss I've owned for so long, but you failed to see more than darkness in it. I placed the last of my light in you but it was quickly swallowed, like you're the end of the world, like you're the real void I always feared.

Now I feel heart sucked into a black hole, tender and seasoned with the salt of your sea of lies. I don't think you ever meant it, but you've swallowed the last of me as a snack. I now lack my humanity; you've rendered me soulless like a discarded doll, only moving when you're not looking.

I feel like I'm stuffed with herbs, my individuality turned into your midnight dessert, my eyes your appetizer, my lungs a side dish. My blood has boiled and caramelized. I don't even need it, just take it home, I'm so full.

I also want to take myself home, freeze whatever's left, collect your crumbs to try to piece me back together. Would you mind spitting back some of me?

I shiver when I think about what I have made of this weak will. I'd come back as a pile of bones if you so much as muttered my name, you'd have this mess of a heart to suckle. I hate how much I have forgiven and continue to forgive in my dreams. I don't ever dream of the future, but I sure dream of you, of sharing this hell with someone else, even better if it's you.

You see, this is all I know. If I've lost you I could very well lose my spine as well, I could very well have my head turned into a mushroom.

I can almost smell the stench of the dumpster you've dropped this corpse I call me. You grimace as you drop me in, never to be seen again, no more than a discarded side dish.

I'm no more than a bump on the road, an apple that went bad in your backpack and you just need to get rid of it. In any case, in any at all, I'm just destined to be cast aside. You just jump over me, clean the stain I've left on your life like a moldy leftover.

I was hooked and fished out of a badly contaminated ocean, cleaned properly for consumption. Now I'm past my expiration date, am I not? This was the end from the beginning, I know them by heart. And this heart is giving out. It can only stand so many endings.

[your-regina]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

[your-regina]

My heart feels so cold.

Will my limbs twitch like they did the other day?

I don't think I'll ever overcome what emanates from this soul. We're sewn together. These wishes have taken root so deep within

[your-regina]

Maybe hell is all I'll ever know

Hi there, it's been a week since I wrote the last page. You see, in times of turbulence things can change vastly from one day to another. As you may remember, one day I was hiding at my friend's house, the next day I was already home, then I was making plans to leave and suddenly I'm being bombarded with several reasons to stay.

Have you heard of the three signs rule? It basically says that whenever you're doing something you should only let up to 3 inconveniences stop you before taking the hint from the universe and giving up.

I personally believe everyone would fall into a loophole of not doing anything if they stuck that strongly to such a rule, but once you hear it it's certainly a bit hard ignore it.

Should we count the inconveniences that have gotten in my way?

I first brought this up to my aunt on march 29th, and it's currently april 6th and I'm still here for a few reasons.

First of all, I've always been quite shy, and asking someone to stay at their precious home is, quite frankly, something that makes me too anxious to say it as quickly as I should have.

Secondly, as soon as I told my aunt what the psychologist asked me to say, it was quite clear to me that she wasn't very happy to have me there, even if she said it was ok. She said herself, just some days ago, that "a dead body and a guest can only last three days before stinking". I don't forget things too easily and I have a very strong intuition, so I know when people are having issues with me right off the bat. I think my aunt is still mourning the loss of her spouse, and moreover she's enjoying the house all to herself. I try to reassure her that I won't stay forever and it's just more of a transition period more than anything, but I'm not sure what she's thinking. Maybe she's too nice to tell me that I can't stay, but I'm going to take this shaky 'yes' for the time being.

Anyway, the third thing that is making me hesitate is how annoying my mother is getting, just crying all day about this decision as if I wasn't talking about leaving this year for the past 4 years of my life. I guess she expected me to somehow forget my entire life's purpose. In any case, I'm just trying to get enough money to move out and finally start living the life I want, so I can't live on my own right now. But I certainly plan on doing so one day, hopefully sooner than later.

My mom says I had a psychotic break because I abused my meds too much, but I think there has to be something else to it, nothing is ever that simple, is it? I've thought that maybe I wasn't ready to feel life on my skin, too tender to handle it still. You know? I'm starting to feel a bit sleepy for the first time in days. I don't think I've slept for longer than 6 hours these days.

Still, tomorrow I'll go make some of my last purchases. I had hoped to turn this into a safe haven but nothing around me will ever feel safe. Is it really that hard to own something?

It seems to me that I always have to lose some part of me in exchange for the freedom I long for so much. I'm currently living in the dogs' room. Their space is so much bigger than mine too. The room doesn't have a door and the place I was given to sleep is a hammock which bumps into the corner of a desk every now and then. The place my aunt originally gave me was an extremely hard cot with no sheets to make it even the littlest bit more bearable. Maybe this is a soft but clear way of telling me to piss off. If I go, I'll just take a weight off her shoulders. I have something new and cute. I'll stay home and do what I'm told. Stop fighting back, it's all useless, there's no way out.

Maybe I'll just stay here forever, maybe I can make good money off the store if I handle it better. Maybe.

There's no peace in this world, no such thing as freedom or justice. It's all a dream, nothing is where it should be.

The earth is evil. We don't need to grieve for it. Nobody will miss it.

My eyelids feel cold

3 Clonazepam

3 Pregabalin

1 Risperidone

It hurts so much to admit it, but maybe I can only escape temporarily like this. Let me take care of the things that hurt me the most. I'll make a dream out of that place, I'll make it shine like the moon so I can go out with a bang, I'll bring heaven with me when I leave.

[your-regina]

You're growing tired of me

You love me so hard and I still can't sleep

You're growing tired of me

And all the things I don't talk about

[your-regina]

I don't want to share anything with you.

You see, sometimes I fantasize about the things I'd say to you if I thought there was any point at all anymore. But that's what's wrong, there's no point. Maybe it was like this from the beginning, but I couldn't see it.

This is the fierce last stand of all I am.

Please keep me in mind.

Everytime you speak I get this surge of emotions, impossible to explain. Have you ever begged anyone to like you? Have you ever done so in your sleep, quietly in your bed at night, regurgitating it like an old prayer until the sun comes up? I have.

I have some news over here.

Love is a doing word. You don't have it if you can't show it. I can't begin to imagine what I look like through your tired eyes. A bump on the road, an ant's nest in your backyard, something you'd rather avoid.

It's fine, I guess. I, sadly, can't help but wonder what it would feel like to lose me. To me the thought feels cold and mildly sweet, kind of like icy jello after a summer pool party. It soothes my worries but clogs my throat and scorches my heart. To you, what does it feel like? Perhaps it just feels like a sunday morning in which you just have a lot of laundry to do.

[your-regina]

Pat McGrath Makeup for Maison Margiela by John Galliano SS24

[your-regina]

baby, the stars shine bright ss22

[your-regina]

Carnival of Souls (1962) dir. Herk Harvey