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Self Loathing - Blog Posts
how awful do you think cecil felt when kain disappeared in mist? after accidentally annihilating an entire village, the guilt was already flooding in, let alone when he realized he personally dealt with rydia's mother. then the one person he had in the moment to rely on slides away in an earthquake that he definitely also could blame himself for (this is the most anxiety ridden man i've ever seen. he most definitely blames himself for that.) and is left with rydia, whom he dutifully takes care of, even though she hates him with all her guts (at the time).
imagine the self loathing, thinking that he condemned someone he loved to a death between stone and ash, thinking he could have prevented all of it if he'd simply had the guts to tell the king of baron "no". or investigated the ring he'd been instructed to deliver further. or anything else. but he didn't have time to dwell on it, because he needed to protect rydia, and that was his fault too.
Felt in a whole entire flipping dimension 💀
tags: Anyone who wants to join!
I was going through Pinterest and found this. As I am a sucker for online quizzes here y'all go 😂.
@panic-at-the-gender @zoopazoo
Tagging people I think may be interested. 😂 I really don't know a lot of people here though
there's an uncut scene where after danse finds out he's a synth he goes and vents on his twitter
First Time
This moment when you start having sex for the first time, but you are so afraid and scared and don’t know what to do and feel bad about the boy who is trying to loosen you up and calm you down.
And then you fall asleep and later be afraid of showing that you are awake in the middle of the night.
And then you suddenly realize you’re probably really gay and demisexual (like you have been questioning) and now you just want to run out of his house and disappear but cant because his parents are awake and he is a light sleeper and he is actually one of your best friends and you would feel bad about just running away but also feel guilty for leaving him with blue balls.
I hate myself rn for this so much. Where is my confidence gone? Ah yeah right it always has been a fake mask, I forgot.
Do i need to add more??
Destination: Self loathing
It's easy to lose yourself in isolation. With no one to keep you company but the weight of all you've done and the proof of it in front of you as a constant reminder as you look in the mirror. But everything must go back to normal, or as normal as possible as you gather yourself to face the day. You may be screaming on the inside, but on the outside, you have to be alive and not grimace as you smile. I read somewhere, that if you smile, or make any kind of facial expression for 10 minutes or so, you'll become happy, or become sad. I don't know if I believe that or not, I don't want to try, but I do know that you'll become anything if you will it enough. It's easy to hide, it's easy to mask yourself, it's each to blend in if that's what you want to do, and it's okay. There's no written law that says, "War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength." Unless, this is George Orwell's 1984, and if it is, we should all kill ourselves. Destination: Self loathing, but maybe with a few sunny days ahead. Self isolation isn't always fun.
"Why do you reject love" he asked. "I can't bring myself to accept love because I don't even know how to love myself gently. To be loved... I feel I must first be flawless in the mirror, in the mind, in a room full of strangers, in the quiet corners of my soul. How can I be someone's dream girl if I never feel good enough?" Silence lingered, heavy and unresolved.
—A lady and her quill, Notes to a boy I now resent
Arielle Twist, from Disintegrate/Dissociate; “Mother/Creator”
[Text: “Mother, / I don’t know if I can do this / can I process / can I forget / can I be whole / can I be holy / I know / I can’t breathe / with these broken ribs”]
Just a reminder to all the people self sabotaging themselves
Growing up is actually all about realizing people don’t inherently dislike you and it’s a bit odd to assume they do
Love can be mastered. Days as they surpass each other love can grow where it never was. Though, the art of loving yourself is surely a hard seed to plant, grow or finally harvest.
You have been numb and dumb,
isn’t it time you said something for yourself ?
It might matter mate
It might be a change for us but mostly a
spark to take you there were you image.
Some bloomed in the same loneliness
that mutilated others.
"Please, hurry leave me, I cant breathe, please dont say you love me!" - First Love/Late Spring
A Crack In My Self Loathing
I accidentally just fell in love with myself
It was a crack in my self loathing that will soon be mended
It was the messy hair
That was still messy despite the ponytail
Despite my favorite hat containing it
It was my blue eyes
Looking at me
In my baggy hand-me-down shirt
That makes me feel
Comfortable
It was knowing that I had clay all over me
A mess
But that's exactly what I am
And I know its a flaw
But sometimes
It's the one style I know how to rock
Part mess and part artist
I wasn't trying to love myself in this moment
It just happened
When I looked in the mirror
Because I was about to brush my teeth for the night
I'm pretty.
That's what they tell me. People like me, they like my face. They say I'm beautiful. But it is as they say: beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Those are not my eyes.
For when I see myself, I see a horrendous amalgamation. I stare into my reflection and I see the rot of a hateful person. I always wonder how people can see beauty in that face. The fat in my cheeks, the uncanniness of my face, the creepiness of my big eyes, my oily nose, my big chapped lips, my cheeks filled with imperfection. I don't have awful break outs, I don't have awful acne.
I can say I'm thankful for that.
But sometimes, there would be a too red spot in my cheek, or a red dot accompanied by two others. Sometimes my pores look too big. My lips, chapped and dry and ugly as I am on the inside.
They say I'm pretty.
I say thank you, but I don't see it.
I know what lies beneath that deceptive beauty that I cannot see. What lies underneath is hideous, repugnant person whose heart is filled with hatred that it drips out of every pore on her skin, rotting her teeth, wrinkling her skin, greying her hair. Her hatred so abundant that it fats her up.
She's ugly.
I'm ugly.
Why can no one see that?
The ugliness she harbors, why can no see that!?
Pretty? Is this what beauty is? The cruel, violent, angry thoughts that floods her mind constantly until she hallows herself out with how deep she buries her hatred and her anger and her emotions; she buries it so deeply that she digs the hole to the other side of her and it drips out for the entire world to see.
I can't see that "pretty" that they speak of. How can they say I'm pretty? When I lash out, when I speak with vitriol lining my every word, when I stare with swirling storms of vexation. What is pretty in my ugliness? What is beautiful about my hatred?
How can they see beauty in me, when all I see is every single negative thing to exist in the world in every piece of me?
They don't know me.
They are so blind as to who I am, to what I am, that they can see my being in rose. And I wish they will never take off those glasses. I cannot bear for them to see what lies beyond the rose hue of their view.
I'm pretty, they say.
It makes my skin crawl with disgust, my mind cloud with disbelief, yet it warms my heart, makes my stomach giddy. I am giddy. I am disgusted. I am an amalgamation of contrast, of duality. I smile, say thank you. While the monster that is my reflection stares at me, a constant reminder that I am an imposter of beauty.
I'm pretty, they say.
And I pray,
That in their eyes, it stays that way.