A niche gay ship from some anime has some of the most devastating pieces of literature on AO3 that I will ever read in my life. I don't know, it's so strange isn't it? I meant not to get deep but us as humans and the emotions we are capable of feeling.
Past few days I've just got nothing in my mind, not a single thought. I'm not unfamiliar with this feeling but I can't exactly name what causes this either, other than the fact that when everything is normal I can't fucking get away from this feeling of impending doom. My days blur together and nights are circular. As if it takes effort to feel something, even that is a hassle because I'm such a goody two shoes right? My morals and principles; it's funny to think that I thought it's something I should be proud of, thinking I'm better than the others.
I thought I would keep telling myself that over and over until it became the truth. But whenever I think I've got it all figured out some new revelation just fucks it all up again. It's exhausting to feel and to know but it's not any better to be unaware of it either. There's no point in trying to make a saint out of myself when all I've ever been on the inside is filth. I know it, something in me always has, no matter how much I blame it on my father's hands around my neck. It passes down, you can't escape it, you can't erase the filth of the blood you're made from.
Even nihilism is a fucking commitment and I cannot be bothered. I can't even stick with the narrative that "there is no point of anything, this life is only a distraction from the ultimate death". Because I know our lives are really not so significant but the memories we create are something larger than death. Yes there's no point in anything, but that doesn't stop me from feeling the blues of the skies and seas. Like what the fuck do you even label this as? Existentialism? Everything I do feels performative; I can't even cry without feeling ashamed to do so.
Guilt is such a strange thing.
Why does it silence my own pain? The suffering of those far away makes my grief feel like a luxury, fucking unearned, unwarranted. What do you do when the comfort of your present life overshadows the humiliation of your past? Like a stray cat that won't leave, no matter how much you shout, my shame is a walking person. It sits with me at supper every night.
And the ones who endured the same suffering, why do they look at me as if I've lost my mind? This guilt, this full plate, chokes me when I dare to weep. I don't know which version of me is real anymore. Am I the one who starved or the one who eats?
How does a person feel nothing and everything at the same time? What do I do with all these thoughts and emotions? I don't get those people who just cut themselves when something is overwhelming. Yeah, now I will have a lingering sting under my clothes but that does nothing to soothe my aching ribs. Actually, I guess I do understand their intention behind it, it's something devine even, sometimes I wish I could dig my fingers into my chest and open my heart from inside out..