I like serial killers because they excel at things I can’t do.
Lying. Hurting others instead of themselves. Exerting their will. Doing things. Being cold.
I’m sure I could think of more if I tried.
They’re my complete opposite and I’m envious.
Oh. A Tarot reading is really hard when I don’t remember what all the cards mean.
Solved that problem.
Also, according to this reading, I should really be trying to find a nice page of pentacles to pour my cup all over. (Cups didn’t come up in this reading, but there’s no denying I’m a page/knight of cups)
Pour my cup all over? That’s dirty as hell.
I’m having a conversation with myself in a text post.
I need something to change in my life. Something. Just one thing. I can do the rest of the work myself, I just need one good thing.
I’m not tagging this one, but, to my last post… it happened again. Which is so much worse, because this person clearly didn’t even look at the post that prompted them to send me a copy pasted mass letter.
You know the last thing that’s going to make me feel better when I’m falling apart? A copy pasted generic ask sent by a total stranger calling me ‘beautiful’ and telling me to stay strong and that they love me. Reminding me that nobody actually says these things to me all the while proving my worth is about two clicks and ctrl+V is really not going to fix anything.
I need to remember to stop tagging my bad posts. This has happened a few times. This one gets tagged because I need to yell at you all.
(oh hey, anxiety attack kicked in now.)
I think I dig a new low. Every day. Each little rise, each little escape leads to twice the fall. Twice the pain. I’m running out of safety nets. I’m running out of try. I need to get better or get gone. Now.