Feeling Like Diane From Bojack Horseman When She Got Medicated And Lost Her Ability To Write The Gritty

this study has me all sorts of fucked up. i feel super shitty for a lot of my behavior and my just entire being right now. i’ve always been told since i was younger that i was this unfeeling manipulative monster, what if it’s true? what if all the doctors are lying or just don’t know enough to tell me that i’m horrible? how i endanger people, act shitty, am just wholly the demon my father said i was?

how do you cope? how do you just move on from that self reflection that you possibly aren’t the way close people say you are? how do i know what is real? who to trust?

i need to talk to dez but i don’t even know what i would say-

holding back tears in the parking lot of the community college because my mom called to tell me that my sister told college recruiters i was her hero.

taking the years of abuse for her wasn’t for nothing :’)

3.22.23 - quantified damage.

[in no way do i condone ANY stigma that pwNPD are inherently abusers. us cluster b’s gotta stick together. this is simply a post documenting my literature and growth into the recovery process from my own personal childhood traumas. THIS BLOG WILL ALWAYS BE A SAFE SPACE FOR THOSE WITH NPD! ONE ABUSER IN A COMMUNITY OF PEOPLE DOES NOT MAKE THE ENTIRE COMMUNITY BAD PEOPLE!]

if Lord Apollon allowed song alone to heal, florence + the machine would have me considered sane

sad sad girl, smoking to lana all on her lonesome

i say this shit and literally a day later am doing not very well at all. god i hate the constant shifts and mood swings

it’s 5am and i’m listening to the birds chirping, i hear my breath, and the soft indie music that always is coming from my phone. i note that there is pink in the sunrise this morning and that i do not dread the day ahead of me like i have for my entire life.

the work is noticeable sometimes, proper therapy and medication pays off.

4.20.23 - Guardian Angel. (excerpt) I find it sad now, how life was so bad that I needed him. I find it sad, how I can sit here and ache. How I miss him as if he were real. How I can grieve over having to now endure my hardships alone.

i just want to be pretty. i want to be good and sweet. i hate being this way. i hate myself. i hate the world for turning me into this monster. i hate it all.