a_carbon_based_life
I deserve peace
- Aug 16, 2023
- 43
Tw for sh ish related content and body horror
Howdy, I'm really new to writing so if anyone wants to point me in the right direction it'd be appreciated. For context my mother is a doctor and doesn't understand mental health issues so I've gotten in the habit of trying to describe it in terms of like, physical / bodily equivalents.?
Tw: suicidal ideation, body horror, gore, self harm ish
After hundreds of thousands of cycles around the body, the impurities picked up along the way have made the blood slick enough to cling to the walls of the aorta. The immense release of pressure that comes with every beat of the heart resonates throughout the body. Disrupting the expected pattern of tension, it leaves the body feeling winded again and again second after second. The kidneys are now jagged, angular, and malformed after years of misuse. The bloating has pushed the nerves just under the surface. I feel them as I run my hands across my skin. Tracing them with my fingers by touch alone. The ones in my hand peak through, old and frayed from the constant stimulation and frayed from the severe rationing of resources. I feel the nerves trembling and coiling against each other like a swarm of eels desperate for escape. Looking down at my cracked and peeling nails, I wonder if they're enough. I take a deep breath, feeling a rush up my spine and echoing around in my head as my heart beats, and embrace what will happen next. I drag the edge of my nail against the ridges of my nerves, focusing on my breath as the skin splits. I continue until the nail has been chipped to the point that it catches more than it cuts. I separate myself from my emotions and watch with a cold and clinical objectivity. The nerves peek out of the incisions then being to flail around, desperate for something to hold onto. I sit and watch. And watch. I study the patterns of movement, how they interact with each other, I burn the image of the worm like appendages slithering around my limbs in my mind. I choose a knot to start on and with trembling hands I get to work. I gently tug at each to determine which is the loosest and set them free one by one. Timing the tremor in my hands to their movement is vital but even with the utmost precision the nerves sticking out of my hands act as barbs, occasionally messing with my grip. As my vision starts pulsating along with my heart I know my time is running low. With the utmost care and respect, I tuck the detangled tails back under the flaps of skin they came from at whatever pace the body will still allow. Not too long later the body no longer has the reversed to keep my conscious ego active. I do not know the date or time when I come back. I slowly make my way to the kitchen, leaning on the walls for support as I do. The largest pitcher is set on the counter with a coffee strainer balanced on top and I angle my left arm towards it as I wring it out with my right. I watch as the blood goes in and opaque brown and drips trough to a slightly richer tone more red in hue. I do this over and over while trying my best to ignore the writhing of the still exposed nerves. I pour it back in one of the still open incisions from the "day" before. I imagine myself sitting within the emptiness inside my chest. As I look around I watch my quivering heart endlessly pumping with no reward. The predicable sound of its beating contrasting to the violent twisting of the rest of my organs. The constant movement pulls my focus in all directions leaving me over whelmed and disoriented. As I look around I notice the ribs. Still. Stable. Structural. As every other aspect of my mind and body writhe and change and collapse upon each other it stays the same. Regardless of everything that has happened to me they have stayed the same. Please stay stable. I repeat over and over. Please.
Howdy, I'm really new to writing so if anyone wants to point me in the right direction it'd be appreciated. For context my mother is a doctor and doesn't understand mental health issues so I've gotten in the habit of trying to describe it in terms of like, physical / bodily equivalents.?
Tw: suicidal ideation, body horror, gore, self harm ish
After hundreds of thousands of cycles around the body, the impurities picked up along the way have made the blood slick enough to cling to the walls of the aorta. The immense release of pressure that comes with every beat of the heart resonates throughout the body. Disrupting the expected pattern of tension, it leaves the body feeling winded again and again second after second. The kidneys are now jagged, angular, and malformed after years of misuse. The bloating has pushed the nerves just under the surface. I feel them as I run my hands across my skin. Tracing them with my fingers by touch alone. The ones in my hand peak through, old and frayed from the constant stimulation and frayed from the severe rationing of resources. I feel the nerves trembling and coiling against each other like a swarm of eels desperate for escape. Looking down at my cracked and peeling nails, I wonder if they're enough. I take a deep breath, feeling a rush up my spine and echoing around in my head as my heart beats, and embrace what will happen next. I drag the edge of my nail against the ridges of my nerves, focusing on my breath as the skin splits. I continue until the nail has been chipped to the point that it catches more than it cuts. I separate myself from my emotions and watch with a cold and clinical objectivity. The nerves peek out of the incisions then being to flail around, desperate for something to hold onto. I sit and watch. And watch. I study the patterns of movement, how they interact with each other, I burn the image of the worm like appendages slithering around my limbs in my mind. I choose a knot to start on and with trembling hands I get to work. I gently tug at each to determine which is the loosest and set them free one by one. Timing the tremor in my hands to their movement is vital but even with the utmost precision the nerves sticking out of my hands act as barbs, occasionally messing with my grip. As my vision starts pulsating along with my heart I know my time is running low. With the utmost care and respect, I tuck the detangled tails back under the flaps of skin they came from at whatever pace the body will still allow. Not too long later the body no longer has the reversed to keep my conscious ego active. I do not know the date or time when I come back. I slowly make my way to the kitchen, leaning on the walls for support as I do. The largest pitcher is set on the counter with a coffee strainer balanced on top and I angle my left arm towards it as I wring it out with my right. I watch as the blood goes in and opaque brown and drips trough to a slightly richer tone more red in hue. I do this over and over while trying my best to ignore the writhing of the still exposed nerves. I pour it back in one of the still open incisions from the "day" before. I imagine myself sitting within the emptiness inside my chest. As I look around I watch my quivering heart endlessly pumping with no reward. The predicable sound of its beating contrasting to the violent twisting of the rest of my organs. The constant movement pulls my focus in all directions leaving me over whelmed and disoriented. As I look around I notice the ribs. Still. Stable. Structural. As every other aspect of my mind and body writhe and change and collapse upon each other it stays the same. Regardless of everything that has happened to me they have stayed the same. Please stay stable. I repeat over and over. Please.
