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Last night for some reason I was thinking about this time with my first ex that I remember fondly and I feel like sharing.

Also trigger warning: self harm and rape mentions.

Story time with the Anhedonic Author.

So I’ll call my first ex T as a pseudonym, because it’s a bit tiring referring to my exes as my first ex and my second ex. So T and I had been dating for maybe a month or two, I honestly can’t remember as it’s been nearly 4 years. But at this point I’m madly in love with her. So one night T messages me on iOS messenger just profusely apologising. Naturally I wonder to myself “Why is she apologising?” I honestly can’t remember how I was feeling, probably sick with worry because of my anxiety, but also because I loved her. She’d been fighting with her bipolar, binge drinker, probably alcoholic, verbally abusive mother. I ask her what she did, but I think she was reluctant to tell me. She never did “tell” me, I think.

But she sent me a photo of the insides of her thighs, raw and red with quite a number of fresh, horizontal cuts over a small area on both legs. It was the first time she’d self harmed in a while, she told me, the first time since we’d started dating. I was her reason for not self harming anymore. She was so disappointed in herself. I remember she told me she was crying. God, all I wanted to do was hold her in that moment, and kiss her, and tell her everything would be alright. Unfortunately I couldn’t drive at the time, not having a license or car.

I can’t remember what day it was that happened, probably a Thursday because I can’t remember anything from then to what I remember next. So every Friday I’d get to go to her house after school. We went to her house, into her bedroom to hang out as we always did. I remember sitting her on the edge of her queen sized bed, and I knelt down in front of her. I think I remember her asking me what I was doing, I don’t remember if I replied. I lifted up her skirt, she wasn’t wearing any stockings that day, I spread her legs, and I moved my head between her legs to kiss the now healing scars on her thighs (they were still raw, but thin, probably made with a razor blade I’d bet). Then I told her I loved her and probably kissed her lips (her mouth lips.)

That was honestly my favourite moment with T. She was my mildly toxic ex, but I still have fond memories of us, even if she did mistreat me at critical moments in our relationship. Maybe having been more mistreated by someone new makes me feel less angry towards her for what she did. But too be fair, we were young, we made mistakes, she probably didn’t see what she did as wrong (not that it makes it okay), I’m mostly over all the mistreatment, and she had a really shitty life so her behaviour was probably a bit different to someone who had a stable upbringing and good parents from whom she could model good relationship skills (T only had her abusive mum, her dad walked out when he knocked her up because he didn’t want kids. The next closest thing she had to a dad was the piece of shit step-dad who raped her for years), I’m not holding any grudges I mean.

But yeah, I was just thinking about that time, and not to pat myself on the back too much but I felt very sweet. I miss having intimate moments like that, I miss the emotional vulnerability.

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There are very few friends that will lay down with you on empty streets in the middle of the night, without a word. No questions, no asking why, just quietly lie there with you, observing the stars, until you’re ready to get back up on your feet again and walk the last bit home, softly holding your hand as a quiet way of saying “I’m here”.
  It was a beautiful night.
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how (are you?)

i am certain that my body is dancing on the brink of sanity, verge of sobriety. my father himself laughed in the morning at my bipolarity. i am certain i am going mad.

and i think of you, my paper boy, with his paper dreams, paper realities. how are you? such a worn out question. especially during times such as these. if i could, i’d smack anyone who asks me this. how is this lockdown going, how are you holding up how are you how is everything how are you how are you holding up how how howhowhowhow

and then, i can think of nothing else, no other collection of words in no other form, that i’d like to ask you. how are you? and the words take on entirely a different and new and fresh life. all those dead and withered flowers start to bloom again. you’re like a tree, love. with so much life. so much life. how are you? how does the sun glow on your face? are your bones still creeping out of the skies of your skin in search of stories? are your eyes still gleaming with the sonorous light? does your mouth still ache to tell all those secrets hiding behind the wall of fear? are your ears still waking up to listen to the music in the air?

how are you? have the books etched themselves on your forehead more conspicuously than before? do you carry them around unfailingly like memories of a beautiful past? are you still there? how does the salt of that ocean taste? how madly do you miss your mountains? where are you? how are you? are you more broken than before? or has the water healed you a bit? did you tell your words about me? was i worthy of being told? heard by them? do they (still) hate you?




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G O D   I T S   B E E N   A   W H I L E ! !   SO!! I finally got my new computer and my new tablet to draw more stuff and IM WORKING ON A FANART/MEMORY THAT I HAVE AS VIOLETTA SOUL WEAVER!! I will speak more about this memory once i post it WHICH IM SO FUCKING EXCITED FOOOR!! ALSO I HAVE BEEN THINKING ON REACTING ANOTHER PROFILE IN SOCIAL MEDIA BUT IDK IN WHAT SOCIAL MEDIA I SHOULD DO, I have been considering Instagram AND deviantart, but I dont really know, which one would be better? <3

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