Just in case

i keep it there, just in case – my eating disorder. Even when I’m happy. Because disappointment and loss are facts of life so they’re bound to happen. Only, I don’t bounce back like normal people do. I die, more and more.

So it’s always there – just in case – to catch me and break my fall.

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i exist, alone, within myself

i seriously cannot get out of myself

i purge

and purge

and purge

and purge

and purge

and purge

and purge

and purge

it’s the only way that comes even remotely close to existing outside of myself


“We keep coming back to this meaning that I lack.”

My body is shaking and my heart is going so fast that it feels like one continuous, violent beat.

If I could just turn down the volume, slow my thoughts, I wouldn’t be half as anxious as I feel right now.

But the what-if’s have made their way into the dimensions of my mind and they bounce from wall to wall in an attempt to find their way back out.

Bounce… Echo,
Bounce… Echo –
they don’t want to be there any more than I want them there. I can hear it in their scream.

And with each breath I breed another parasitic thought, living off whatever little self-esteem I’ve left.

It’s impossible to believe in yourself when you don’t believe in yourself. I see no in-between.

Surely I am, or I’m not.
And I’m not.
And I’m not.
And I’m not.

And it’s black or it’s white, or it’s black or it’s white, and that’s all that it can be.


I would never make it through

Can you tell me…
No, I don’t have the words.

… Then can you draw it for me?
No.

And then I realise that it’s probably not so much that I can’t, but sadly that I’m not willing to. It would be really hard, but I’m sure that if I just tried a little harder, I could find a way to say what I needed to say. 

But it hurts way too much to think about, and God knows that I never actually allow myself to fully feel it. Expressing myself is confrontational like that – it forces you to think and feel in ways that I fear would literally KILL ME.  

Why not?
Because it will kill me, which sounds funny, right? considering all of the suicidal ideation, you’d think I’d be okay with that… but you see, it’s not the death that I’m afraid of. It’s the suffering leading up to the death that terrifies me. It feels so bad right now that I couldn’t begin to imagine it feeling any worse. But it would feel worse – a hell of lot worse – if I were to talk or draw it for you. And then I’d be left for way too long to try to fight everything, alone. I would never make it through.


Dear Dad, Part III: I love you, I hate you

Fuck you, I hate you.

No! I’m so sorry. I don’t mean that. I love you and thank you.

Wait… for fucking what? Absolutely nothing.

Goddamnit! I don’t know what I’m trying to say to you. I guess you’ve fucked me up real good.

With love and hate,
Withering Tulip


“Because you finally understand the movement of a hand waving you goodbye.”

I’m so terrified of being alone when I’m alone
And then I’m so terrified of being loved when I’m loved.
I’m always needing exactly what isn’t,
Scared of what I do have and scared of what I don’t have precisely the same amount.

Sometimes I panic that I’m never going to find the connections that I feel I need to have with people in my life. And I’m human so I do need them. It’s not that no one is around because they are. It’s not that there isn’t opportunity to connect with them because there is.

It’s that I don’t.

And that’s not because I don’t want to because I do. It’s because I’m scared; scared of the connection within the connecting.

So, people do
but I don’t,
and so the process is like watching sand slip through my fingertips over and over again.

I have it…
I had it…
It’s gone.

Then scared of the loneliness within the aloneness, it repeats like a song stuck on replay.


Dear Dad, Part II: If I Could Go Back In Time

If I could go back in time knowing what I know now, I would know exactly how much of a fuck you are. I would know that there isn’t a single thing in this world that I could do that would make the slightest bit of difference to you, so I wouldn’t waste my time “trying to be good to avoid,” or “doing what I can to lessen the extent” of agony that you seem to enjoy inflicting. I wouldn’t listen to a single word of bullshit that comes from your ugly soul – none of what you say would effect me or influence me and my life in any way whatsoever. I would listen to every other good person that I have around me and believe that they have my best interest at heart, contrary to what you brainwashed me into believing. I would let them influence who I become because who I become is not a game to them like it is to you; their love for me is unconditional and yours is hopelessly impossible. I wouldn’t do what you say because you simply cannot be pleased, and the consequence remain the same whether I obey you or not. I would obviously still cop the consequence, but my identity would be intact; you wouldn’t shatter me. I would be me, injured, but me nonetheless. Fear would not cause me to leave or lose myself because I would trust that the people around me are strong enough to carry me through, and I would welcome them and let them in to do just that. I wouldn’t push them away due to feelings of guilt that I’m betraying you. No, I wouldn’t get stuck in that cycle of yours because I would see right through you and your manipulation.

If I could go back in time knowing what I know now, I would know exactly how much you destroy people. I wouldn’t let you do that to the people who I so dearly love and care about. I wouldn’t silently watch you tear people apart and destroy their entire being like you so naturally do. I wouldn’t ever doubt that this is so utterly evil of you. I wouldn’t ever doubt the esteem I hold for the people you do this to. I would stand in and I would stand up to you at all costs; we all would. We would all join together to fight you off – for ourselves and each other – and then we would get as far away as possible from you. I would be sure to make that happen too, and I wouldn’t feel sorry for you in the process of doing so (there’s that cycle again). My pity for you wouldn’t stop me this time. I wouldn’t consider your feelings at the expense of our own because contrary to your belief (and you really do seem to be convinced of it), you are not God to whom we must sacrifice ourselves to, you are not the King to which we must all bow down to, you are not the sun to which we must revolve around. You are only an insignificant man who WANTS to be God, who WANTS to be King, who WANTS to be the sun, but will actually never [not even mentioning your incapabilities to] be anything other than a greedy, power-control hungry parasite, so out of control of yourself that you will resort to scummy behaviours out of desperation to fulfil yourself.

If I could go back in time…
If only I could.

But I can’t actually go back in time and what’s done is done. I can only take from it what I can, and what I take is the lesson I learnt from you – of what not to be and do. And with so much anger and sadness and grief, my own expectation of compassion for others from me isn’t often easy to live up to. Sometimes it all rears its ugly head in the form of anger expressed in uncalled-for ways towards people who don’t deserve to be treated in such a way (snappy, short, impatient, passive-agressive). Some would say my reactions and emotions are nothing out of the ordinary and to not worry about it, but it’s bigger than it appears from the outside – I feel it brewing inside me. I know that if I’m not careful and constantly aware, that losing control and becoming a monster (like you) will be a fate that I would have only signed myself up for, much like you did. I need to constantly be aware. I’m choosing not to follow in your footsteps. I will not become the Monster that you are.

Until next time,
Withering Tulip