It truely amazes me how one little thing can make or break a person's mental state.

Some people can jeourney almost through the inner most circles of Hell, only to be stronger for it.
Maybe with a few battle scars to show off.

Alternatively, another person that has had to endure a particularly traumatic event can be plagued with unhealthy mental episodes till the day they die.

It seems almost unfair when you think about it.

The mind is a fragile thing.

Ever felt like you'd never stop crying?

Have you ever thought you could actually feel your heart ripping in half?

And that your head would split in half from the pressure headache you've given yourself from crying?

It's funny how childhood memories work their way into your brain. How even when there are so many disfunctional relationships breaking down around you, you're still waiting for Prince Charming to ride in on his white stallion, so you can ride Prince Charming and live happily ever after. Like so many Fairy Tales you remember from back when boys had cooties.

Some how you meet someone who makes your heart skip a beat when their fingers brush your skin. Or a pleasant shiver run up your spine when their lips brush yours. You feel like your heart beats for them, and only them. Like you'll always love your "Prince Charming".

And for a few months you think maybe it's not too good to be true, you've found your other half, your Prince Charming. You find yourself in love, doing things you never thought you would. With this one person, you feel so at home, so safe, so loved. Your heart aches inexplicably every time you see them, their familiar features litterally pulling at your heartstrings.

The part Fairy Tales left out is how painfully your world shatters around you when you walk in on your "Prince Charming" fucking your best friend. Or maybe how it feels when he tells you he loves you so much, then realise he's messaging some random chick telling her he's falling for her. Or how about when he asks you if he can fuck some syphallitic ugly whore who looks like she came from the whomb of a wilderbeast. All this, even though you've been with him all along, silently taking this abuse, having given him everything you'd ever valued. Your body. Your virtue. Your love. Waiting for him to realise you're there, and have been all along. Waiting for him to love you how he once said he did.

All Fairy Tales tell a lie.

A little something I wrote the other day. It is NOT about me. So don't go asking if I'm alright.
Just looking at a different side of things.

Release. Sweet release. Of all tension. All hurt. All pain.
People tell me it's bad for me.
But how can something that makes me feel so good be bad for me?
I am an addict.
I know this.
But as the blood taints the pure, chilled water, the beauty of serenity washes over me.
The sting distracts me, keeps me sane.
My mind reels. On all my problems. But I have slipped into apathy.
Nothing can effect me.
For this moment, I am sane.
In an act so many would see as violent and emotionally destructive, I find my sanity.
I know I don't deserve this life I've been so generously given.
People see what I do as ungreatful.
I cut for escape. Not because I hate my life, because I'm ugly or because I want attention.
But because all I've been given I've managed to screw up so well.
This is my punishment.
My release.
My serenity.