3mo ago

Where I Belong

I'm so angry. I can't feel anything other than anger and depression. Either I'm dreading my existence with agony, or I'm furiously wanting to smash my head into a wall in pure sheer rage.

What even is the point of suicide? Like, what's the end goal here? Damned if you live, damned if you die.

Where would I even start? The chronic pain? The anger? The abuse? The trauma? The stress? The absolute disgust of trying to hold it all together while the entirety of the world seems to be suffering either less or worse than you.

I hate my life, I hate life, I hate all lives, I'm usually not one to hate, but I've just, I've just grown to learn hate.

This, this here, this little lemmy box, seems to be the only place where I belong, where I can let out some of the gore-y horrendous shit that I want to do to myself.

Gore

A lot of images seem to pop up through my mind, I imagine myself lying down, and I imagine another self with an axe, and I would smash my head beyond recognition that such an organ belonged to an organism.

I wanna cry through every pore and hole in my body. I want to rid myself of all the nasty fluids that are the "essence of life".

Gore

And here is something I wrote on September of 2025 "Tear my vocal chords apart, hold them out high, against the madness of the world. "YOU SEE THIS" I will try to shout, gurgling blood, desperately trying to breathe. "THIS IS ME" I say while shaking the mass of flesh in my hands, now nothing but a nameless goo, because I've crushed it with my own hands, I've crushed it so hard, that my nails started to pierce into the palm of my hand. Blood, blood everywhere, blood doesn't matter anymore, I am soaked in blood, more blood wouldn't change a thing.

I want to drive some far away place, behind a dam, a clearing, a field, somewhere very very remote. And I want to scream, howl, screech, until my voice gives up, until blood starts spewing out of my mouth."

Gore

Look at your fingers, you see those lines that segment your fingers? I want to cut my fingers, using those lines as a guide. I want to slowly cut out my limbs, starting from the right hand, to the wrist, the elbow, the arm, the shoulder. Then start all over from the left. Then my feet to the legs. Until I am nothing but a torso with a head, and then I'd wish for my neck to be sliced.

I seem to have no empathy for myself, I have, of course, thought about suicide a lot, I can't talk about this, no one seems to care and even if they did, I can't possibly tell them about this, and hurt them. That's assuming I can find someone who will listen, and even if I did, they can't listen to me 24/7.

Misery! It's what I have for breakfast, for lunch, and for dinner! Because I can't get the fuck up, I am depressed and chronically ill, and both of these fuckers like to feed each other off like a disgusting mukbang. I can barely get up to the bathroom, on many days I have to hold the piss in my kidneys to the point where they'd grow numb because of all the holding in.

I am so fucking tired. and I CAN'T FUCKING KILL MYSELF Because here we fucking are, I have no accessible method to kill myself, and dear god if you suggest a method down below I'll tear your fucking eye balls out. I am done, I don't want to live, I don't want to die, I don't want to take another fucking breath anymore. Breathing is hard, it's fucking difficult, it hurts, both physically, and fucking mentally.

PS: Hah. After wanting to add the content warnings for this, I hesitated before adding self-harm.

Suicide, Gore

I have never done self-harm, but I won't lie and say that I haven't contemplated it, that I haven't stared at a knife longingly, almost as longingly as a bird in a cage looking out the window. Very cheeky I know, but I can't describe the mesmerizing stare that I get when I'm staring at blood or fire. Oh fire, oh I would love to self-immolate my fucking self. And the knife, well I want to see my blood running down this fuck waste of a body. This body that has endured so much, and keeps enduring. With a mind that wishes for it to snap and fucking break.

I won't die. If I decided to, I will make it a fucking spectacle.

People seem to rush when self-harm is mentioned, suicide and gore seem to be your every day content warnings, but it's only when self-harm is included, that somehow things start to hurt. That's from my own experience anyway.

And thank you, have a nice day.

PS: I almost harmed myself! Yay! Boo fucking hoo. Here, have fun reading this

Self-Harm, and Begging Yourself

I almost attempted self harm today. I cried. I begged myself to stop, and I cried, I tried to stop myself, saying "please don't, please, please, please don't. I beg you, I beg of you, please don't. please don't do it, please don't" after variations of this for minutes, I managed to put the razor down.