I am awake and that’s what I am afraid of. I can’t be alone with my own thoughts, before thinking of the person I have become. I don’t allow myself to be open, I seal my notions away inside this bloated excuse of a body. I don’t reach out like I use to. I isolate myself from all of the people that I care for and for what ? To not let them close? A arms length. Why do I do this to myself? I am afraid of myself. I’m afraid of the face in the mirror. I’m captured underneath in a dark lonely place where sound just echoes around my ribcage. No one hears my muffled voice, I’m just screaming into the void.
Sometimes Being Witty isn’t all that Clever.
thanks? I’m trying to figure out how to reply to this and am kinda rewriting this several times - I am aware of a lot of the very not ok things she’s done (including some that aren’t listed on YFIP) but I adhere to the notion that it’s possible to be a fan of problematic things by consuming media critically and not being blindly defensive of it, which is something that I try my best to do
if you’d like to have a conversation about specifics relating to amanda palmer’s behaviour or whatnot, we can talk off anon. also, if you’d like me to explicitly tag anything I reblog that’s related to her (for w/e reason), that can be arranged too (and you can stay on anon if you’d like to ask for that).
I love that it’s a “gentle reminder”.
ah the world the world