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OCD and things

Kicking myself because I've been slipping into some older OCD behaviours again, and I've been fine for so long...just one or two slip ups though, it's not the end of the world, right?

I'm in this horrible state of agitated boredom over nothing. I think stress might have to do with it but I don't even know anymore. Maybe it's just me being me.

I'd be kidding myself if I didn't say I'm doing absolutely terrible mentally, but I don't know how to tell anyone and even if I did, what would they do?

I'm just stuck.

If I didn't have my music I don't know where I'd be.

This is how I disappear...

I wish you didn't have to disappear at this very moment when everything around me is spiraling downwards once again, chances are, this whole thing is a part of it.
I miss you. I think about you. Please don't forget that.
Flight xx


Endings to things - good and bad - are inevitable. I guess it's a glass half-full vs half-empty thing. They happen.
I just hate when you know a good thing will come to an end eventually in the future, but then it suddenly gets snatched away before you expected.
It sucks. I hate this so much.
It might not even be the end but I'd be stupid to think things are going to be as they used to be from now on.


I can't be on this website as often now. My mom has revoked most of my internet privileges.

Here's why.

She found every scar on my wrist on Saturday. I spent yesterday in the hospital for a psychological evaluation.

Everything I love is gone now. She took my music. She took the internet. She took my best friends.

Sorry, Beni. Sorry, Z. Sorry everyone else. I'll talk to all of you soon, I promise.

Until then, my comments may be scarce, only now and then.

I can't stop crying, and I'm terrified for the future.

Sorry in advance.

I'll be back soon.

Eternally, xoPP

My Own Personal Fail-safe

Fail-safe just reminds me of Gerard's letter tbh...

Anyway, a more personal blog post.

There was a point in my life (around a year ago maybe, it blurs) where I didn't exactly want to exist anymore.

I did, but I didn't.

Which makes no sense at all, but what I mean is that every night I would lie there and my brain would seemingly automatically start thinking of all the ways I could end my life. Not fun. And I couldn't seem to stop myself. Did I really want to die?