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new blog post
Not much new here in the creative area. I've posted a few more older things, as you may have seen, but nothing recent. I seem to have misplaced my muse.
But if you're curious, there's a few new blog posts over at cloudurchin.wordpress.com. Mostly just disjointed ramblings fueled by insomnia and crap depression meds, but whatever.
Semi-comfortably Numb
Putting in a short blurb for my personal blog.
cloudurchin.wordpress.com
I intended it to be pretty random, but so far it's just been emotional word vomit. But reasons.
If anyone is interested in the ramblings of a woman who has bpd with ptsd, clicky clicky. If not then go about your business.
O_O
OMFG.
So the other night, I had a horrible fucking dream. I am only able to throw out random phrases here but: Possessed by a demon. The feel of snapping someone's neck with my bare, though demonic strengthened hands. Marching in marching band... wtf, I was NEVER in band. I was one of the band mana- nope. not going there. My dead friend Crystal was there. She often is and I don't know why. Maybe because I have a lot of internal guilt about some kid issues and she represents it because she's forever young? Idk. Oh and there was this immigrant kid who was like... waaaay too young and she was pregnant. And it was awful. AWFUL.
So I haven't sle
Devious Journal Entry
I have lost the ability to write.
I start to. I have a dream, and it's so amazing and beautiful and I think, "That would be a great story. I want to write it so I can relive it." But then I become fully awake and depression crashes down and I remember Kid is dead and her muse was a lie and I just want to stop existing. Not kill myself. That would require activity. That would require movement. I just want to not exist.
I have never felt hurt like this before. It's never-ending, never relieved. It's like my heart has been ripped to pieces. My soul shriveled and black and dead.
Everything I believed turned out to be a lie. I tied up so much o
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