i admit that im wrong about going unnoticed, that everyone around me is just so blinded by their own lives that mine is put on the backburner. maybe it just took some triggering, toxic commentary from peripheral friends to finally push me off the edge, the courage to confront my qualms and manifest my own reality. like mount vesuvius, i finally blew the fuck up, at those who ive felt wronged by in the past, the present; at innocent bystanders that stand witness to my breakdown (via text).

as they say (cliche as fuck, i know) – a few bad apples can ruin the whole batch.

i dont hate my friends (at least not my core group). i dont think i ever can. yes, i still have qualms regarding certain people but maybe this is the sign ive been looking for, the affirmation i needed all along. maybe i just wanted to put my pain on display, tattooed on my forehead for all to see (and feel pity for, we all love some self-pity).

what i say fucking matters. and maybe it just took for me no longer giving a shit, saying the words ive held in my heart, spilled out like word vomit onto my site – my safe space – to realize that.

i dont need to be a people pleaser; i used to have my voice. i just need to find it again.

there was a palpable shift, and theres validation in knowing im not the only one who felt it, recognized it. ive been detached from the world (for quite some time now).

its not all in my head.

and i didnt used to be like this – at least not the version of me that i didnt not like. today, my friend had pointed out how i used to be loud; i was bold, unafraid to speak my mind. but at some point, i lost myself – i lost my voice, my personality, everything that ive fucking prided myself in.

and one day, the thoughts inside my head became too much to tolerate, too much loss, tragedy, and the added layer of isolation – i just crumbled.

i stopped letting people in, even those who have helped me during my darkest days (everyone except my twin, of course – she knows everything there is to know about me).

i stopped talking, letting the dark emotions engulf me, selective mutism, my vow of silence or whatever. in a way, ive stopped trying, overwhelmed by the anxiety of the world and how it orbits, the people that spin with it as i stand completely still.

i tell stories of the days when my life had shine and allure – stories of the degenerates i had surrounded myself with (the fucked up and amusement), twisted tinder dates that had shaped me into who i am, someone who was definitely entertaining and fun, but also toxic. nothing is meant to last forever, not them and not me – but at least the stories will, and they are mine to keep.

im still lost – just a shell of who i used to be, letting my personality fade away with every word unspoken, every thought or negative comment festering in my brain, making it rot away.

but once, i was one one who spun the thread into gold, and one day, ill be that person again. and the stories i create – theyll be unmatched, a spectacle thatll have its own personality and voice too.

GFY, fleur