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Spaced out, Dissociative Literature.

So hey. Flowermay here.

I have pretty suckish mental health.

I dissociate a lot. and write when I dissociate to remember the feelings. and I wanted to share some of that here.

Enjoy my ramblings!
1 month ago. Jul 4, 2020, 1:38 AM


"the water is like an oil slick, sucking in my sentiment and feelings. Hopefully gliding them to you. Wherever you are.

It’s like life -so chaotic yet so calm. Drifting in every direction, not consciously knowing where it’s going, but still always going where it needs to, never stopping, never pausing.


It’s not always translucent, it can be murky, or dark, but when it’s opaque, it’s the most beautiful thing, and everything is so clear. You can see everything, even things that aren’t pretty."

1 month ago. Jun 26, 2020, 12:33 AM


"I feel like I’m drowning. Inside the lava of my own life.
My god it’s so toxic. But I’ve gotten used to the boiling acid of it’s anti-karmas and unfairness.
-or, at least I tell myself I have.

My mind is much like a tightrope. Treading so carefully so I don’t fall off into the void of depression and nothingness that’s constantly there. Constantly trying to lure me to it.
I’m wobbling on it. Constantly wobbling. Everyday is another step, a shaky step, of which movement by movement, I wonder if that’s the day ill fall into a dystopia of blackness. Loss. Emptiness.
In a way, I already feel like I’m falling and I’m clutched onto the tightrope, with both hands desperately trying to grasp on, trying to save what I can of myself, that hasn’t already fallen victim to the darkness. That scary, black hole of nothing.
My heart, meanwhile, feels like a bobo doll. Constantly being attacked and beaten. Completely unable to fightback, and simply defenceless, alas so susceptible to attack and damage.
Every time it rises with it’s own weight helping it, but as it gets attacked with more and more force over time, it struggles to come back, becoming even more damaged with each attack. And all my soul and consciousness can do is watch on as it ever so slowly, but beautifully, becomes weaker. One day. One day I fear it will eventually break. Completely.
Someone did once tell me you could die of a broken heart, and with every strike unto my heart, I feel it shatter a little more every day. I wonder what being heartless feels like, as I am scared, I may be looking forward to this too much. Being able to not to feel, care or empathise. The ability to feel numb from everything. Something I’ve dreamt about far too often.

Speaking of dreams; what are dreams? As all I seem to get are bitter-sweet nightmares. Kind of like when you’re expecting a candy apple at a party and they give you a chocolate onion. I sleep, envisioning the things I want and need most in this life, and then the onion comes. Waking up. The confusion as the medical chemicals leave my brain. Realising none of my visions are real. That I’m stuck in the same revolving turbine of living nightmare, mental and emotional tiredness, and my life as a whole.

Help me. Please save me from myself."