journal fragments #5

I exist without my permission & at the same time I don't exist at all. I have so many selves & that doesn't make me big, I beg to differ: I'm small, I'm small, so small & ineffective. I have the intensity of a hazy sky but I'm nothing but a blur. I'm pure fog. I might not even be that real.

Anxiety release

Poeple keep asking me why do I clean my room so often and why do I organise it so neatly. The truth that no one knows, nor thought about, is that I organise my room hoping that some day I'll be able to organise my life just as well.


Even knowing I won't.

Age 13 - "Things were fine, then I woke up." 

 Age 15 - "Things were awful even in my sleep." 

Age 18 - "I no longer sleep, afraid of nightmares."

Ribcage

I've been scared for so long.
I've been scarred for so long.
I am scared to the point I can no longer hold my pen without dropping it due to my shaking hands and shivering body. I can hear my own heart severely pounding - rather than beating - against my ribcage. It wants to find its own way out of my slightly withered body, among the crimson pulsing vein, ready to clog the sink and the tiniest fragments of myself.

Delicio-me em minha dor assim como alguém agoniza incessavelmente com o terror de uma veia recém aberta.

Even the water I just drank went half way down painfully and it seems to be stuck there, longing to get out of my being, making me feel nauseous. I am boiling inside myself and all I want is to vomit the water and the life out of me.