Stop Begging Someone To Do Things For You That Another Person Would Do With No Hesitation.

Yknow, my highest weight was 118lb. I was 7th grade.

My lowest was 87lb, with my mother shoving down diet pills because she was too fat and we had to "support her through trying times".

I spent alot of my childhood pushing my body to its limits. I have torn muscles and broken bones without flinching, pushing past the pains. I was "invincible". "Invincible" meant that I wouldn't die. That I would get out of the hellhole my mother called "our home".

Its been almost 4 years since I last lived with my mother. 4 years of watching the scales. 4 years experiencing the passage of time. Surprisingly, it was forgiving. It was soft, gentle, a lovers kiss after a rough day. A father's hug after a heartbreak. A comfort. True comfort.

I've gained weight, I've lost weight, I've gained some of it back. I lost the majority of my muscle, I gained a bit of it, and now it's actively shedding.

And as i sit here, full from the Thanksgiving feast. I've realized one thing.

My body is how it should be. All things get better.

And man my girlfriend makes bombastic banana pudding pie.

Why is art so difficult? Art block shouldn't be real, we are all made by skillful hands and minds anyways. This isn't fair 😔

Ykw in my hiatus ive written so much crap and I lowkey just wanna spampost it all because... im going to be honest here I miss my soulmate and I want him back

There's mold on these bones,

Vines encircling the limbs.

Flowers are blossoming all around, and yet none get to us.

Mushrooms lay in their absence, creating a crown.

Movement is hollow.

It rains, no drops reaching my lips:

For they fell off when the worms ate them.

Exhaust and wings flapping around entice my numb senses.

I stand for I can't sit. Everything identifiable has rotten off of me, including ligaments and skin.

No one can tell me she's going to come back.

Wind gushes through, yet still unwavered.

A water stream nearby makes barely a noise, too shallow.

Passersby are never the same, blank faces to never be recognized after; home lays within their town.

Begging to go back to what once was,

All I can do is listen to the nearby churches hymns.

I have so much to say,

warn people so then they would avoid the agony I endured.

If only corpses could roam.

Anguish.

Vicious. Demeaning. Sweet. Dotty. Antonyms that, to the average person, are simply words. The reflection of every mirror of who you are speaks to me differently. To say we suffered equal amounts is laughable. You spent your nights crying. You spent your nights in fury, pensive. I held you when allowed to, waited when you left. Soaked in every insult, every complaint. I drank the poison poured for me, to forget my miserable existence. I used devices that my parents put out on me, smoke filling my lungs and spilling through my eyes. Refusal to breathe, not as if you'd let me up anyways. I suffered in silence as your screams of betrayal echoed the halls. You displayed every knife on a wall of shame, I had to hide the fact I was bleeding. Are you aware that you dug this mess?

Several months I held you. Waiting for the truth, waiting for you to tell me the truth. Your sheer refusal, you're adamant on your innocence when everything you've touched has been tainted. You've damaged everything good that has come close to you, clawing at salvation. Praying to a God you mocked me for believing in. I prayed for my freedom, I prayed for the truth. I prayed that I wouldn't die by your hands. You have mocked my existence, and yet whispers of your crimes still linger these walls. Are you aware that those you consider close to you, don't hold you as close as you hold them?

I turn a blind eye to those you are currently hurting, guilty conscious keeping me up at night. You're in a similar boat, I can tell. You are falling apart. I waited several months quietly, waiting for you to tell me the truth. To confide in me as you said you would. You never did. You never threw a ball for me to swing at, and then call me a bad batter. All I wanted was to cater to your beck and call. Myself destroyed, it wouldn't have mattered because you'd be happy. Why was what I did for you something that made you happiest this year?

Where were you when I was soaking the carpet with salty veins of water? Where were you when I begged for the mercy of a higher being, for a listening ear? You can sit there and say I didn't do much for you, and yet the marks of your nails of desperation scar my thighs and back. I showed my all to you, revenge and forgiveness. Forget and cleanslates. Nothing was enough for you. An overwhelming need to be a king that you aren't. The chambers of your terrifying childhood never let you out, blinded by the fear instilled by the ones you were supposed to trust. Why must you mock every person I care for? Are you infuriated that they are loyal to me, with no one in your own corner?

I'm sorry they let you down. You have no reason to pray on the younger beings we are destined to protect, with the excuse of "I went through it too", however. May whatever being controls this sad life leads you to some sort of saving grace, for I can not help you. May it have mercy on your soul. You disgust me. I used to beg for some sort of solace. Now, I'm going to lead with justice. Are you ready?

Great soup even

When two characters are dancing around their very obvious feelings for one another. And it’s the night before the big fight. Either of them could very well die. They both know this. One confesses their feelings, the one who’s usually so quiet, so pent up because this love isn’t something they think they deserve. And the other is overjoyed, ready to catch up on years spent pining hopefully from the sidelines. And then the battle happens. The confessor nearly dies. It comes to light they only confessed because they fully intended to die and didn’t want their lover to not know how they really felt. So now they have to navigate this aftermath. How do you deal with knowing your lover loves you, but not enough to live for you? Good soup….

Do you ever wonder how many people have had a crush on you and never told you.

so can we start hunting down white liberals now or what

CRK shippers these past few updates be like:

I'll talk about Hollyberry's avoidance and alcoholism later. The update made me emotional, so let me have this to cope rn

Update: By popular demand, I have added "Hot stuff" and Shadow Mik X Eternal Sugar