I used to feel safe writing here but I can’t bring myself to do it anymore. It feels wrong. The freedom has gone. 100s of started posts, none published. My mind keeps wandering away, searching for something, my authenticity perhaps? I think it’s given up on me. Fair enough too. I’m only capable of authentic ramblings when I’m anonymous and too many people who know me have been here.
I desperately want to confess my many sins but can’t bring myself to do it. I’ll have to keep my mask on for now because I’m locked in a jail of my own creation. I ruined this blog the way I ruin everything.
Depression is setting in again, the sky darkens around me and as one winter ends, another begins.
The way out is probably sobriety.
Hi, my name is Fuckface and I’m an addict, not of the traditional substances perhaps, but an addict none the less. Sobriety though, is of little interest really. I fell off the eating disorder wagon and just watched as it lumbered off into the sunset without me. I have no intention or running after it and I don’t even particularly care that it’s gone.
I can’t remember if I was ever happier in recovery. Too busy to notice. I like my dirty little secrets, I like the power to control something that belongs solely to me, to have something that belongs solely to me. Well, Me and the voices in my head.
Maybe we’ll be ready to do the work one day. Meanwhile I’m just going to exercise my right as an adult to my own autonomy and the fact nobody can stop me from self destructing if I so choose.
They say the stars look brighter from the bottom of a well, guess I can at least look forward to the view from rock bottom.
I’m so sorry things are a struggle like this for you. Personally, for what it’s worth I like to hear from you and when I read what you say it makes sense – is it the way you write or the subject matter? Can’t tell, maybe it’s both, but I think if you wanted to post half written posts then I’d read them! They might make more sense than you think. But I hope that journaling still brings some sort of release, though can relate to feeling as though your privacy is lost, as that is my current situation too. Hope things pick up very soon 🤗♥️
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oh dear, what can the matter be? Colours of Madness are stuck on the lavatory. They’ve been there since a week last Saturday. Nobody knew yous were there.
*a childhood song about what I never worked out other than not having the toilet paper to wipe ya bum*
Yous, are offering a public service hon and I am appalled Yous aren’t renumerated accordingly, according to me, of course, and yep, I am proud to be biased because my life is most definitely better with Yous lot in it, keep writing, please 💜
Oh I laughed when I read this. My mum used to sing that song randomly when I was young… I never questioned the lyrics, although perhaps I should have 🤔
tell tale tit,
yer mammy canny knit,
yer grannies in the dust bin,
Hi, to Yous all but especially Ezzy and little Isobella who I hope is laughing too, my favourite was…
we’re off, we’re off, we’re off in a motor car, 60 cops are after us and we don’t know where we are….
I have been a bit lost of late too so I’m glad yous are writing again….