Weepingmentalityreview - ,

opiate

a muted addiction with tragedy tailing it.

there's just something about being in the purgatory between love and hate. it's defacing me and what i stood for, yet i find myself wanting to grovel. in all means desperate, could you forgive me for upsetting you? there's no guilt nor shame, yet; my fingers still tremble when i see your name. i hate you like a vice. you are nothing more than a parasite, yet i can't get enough of how you shape me into an addict.

promise to never keep me sober, and i promise we won't ever part. i know you have nowhere else to run to. walk with me instead. nobody gives a damn about you and your tender heart as much as i do.

Bizarre-Seeking: thoughts from an irl situation.

CW: talk of irl blood / gore.

I have seen, smelled, and touched just too much blood and gore recently. Of my own, no less. And I didn't even lift a finger to cause it.

But on a nicer note, it gave me ideas for bizarre-seeking options. For one, keeping a piece of flesh in a vial, or some other souvenir from what was a painful, unpleasant time and turn it into something pleasingly sadistic... or surprisingly pure.

You go through something that has you suffering, "just get me away from the pain." But then a yandere comes in, and maybe from another perspective it seems as if they're downplaying your trauma, disrespecting it, and only acting out to further your distress when they make art out of it.

However, their intentions are surprisingly angelic. They turn what was a source of pain into art that they're enamored with, because they're enamored with you. They love you through thick and thin, and you could be bleeding out with blood clots running down your legs and they'd never, ever be disgusted. Your own writhing being is of such high value to them. Even while your brain is too busy firing off signals, screaming for peace, there's someone who appreciates you and is on the sidelines giving you their utmost support and admiration, that by the time it's over you'll realize you weren't ever alone.

It's a kind of purity that transcends any insecurities. It's beyond any societal standards that could get in the way.

It's simply seeing you the way that you are, and that's beautiful.

I'm done.

Through the Window (Arthur Wasse, 1926)

Seraphine Saintclair, “Elysium’s Rhapsody”