" Her mind, her heart. "

" This is her freedom wall. "
It'll contain mentions and interpretations of s/h and suicide.It'll mention perceptions and delusions of identity and detachment from reality.

• <3

• The Mind
• The Heart
• The Vessel

• Her Mind

The MindHi, my name is... apparently who I am. I don't have a definite idea of who I am, who I should be. All I know is that unfortunately, I see myself as a program. A walking vessel with instructions to follow, and sets of reactions for a spectrum of stimuli.I talk to myself, and the reason I'm exposing myself through this platform is because, I want people to know. My mind said I want to warn people that this is me, this is the "me" I perceive. This is a vent. This is supposedly the comfort I seek for a price of humiliation or hate, I don't expect others to think much of what I've written here. For this is just the result of so much bottling up.I crave for reason and understanding. I require a justified answer for everything. Yet I myself, believe in the false, because it is the comfort and "truth" that I sought.This little piece of writing I decided to share, will go into deep detail of what I think of, my fascination of humanity and the mind. Moreover, unsaid thoughts that I couldn't share.I see those who are curious of my carrd's content have found this little token of shame and exposure.I just genuinely need awareness, that this is what you'll be dealing with. If you're ever interested in creating a bond of "friendship" with I, a word I haven't quite understood.

IdentityI've completely lost my sense of self. I feel like a vessel, someone else is in control. I'm the puppet, with strings attached.I know who I am, and at the same time I'm clueless. I am aware of what I'm doing yet at the same time, I think I wasn't. I have an idea of why but ironically ask the same question.Why am I this way, or why is this.. life, this body, this soul, the way that it is? Am I me? Am I somebody? am I who I really am? The thought of it all tears me apart, I think and KNOW I'm losing myself. I'm losing my sense of identity, the sense of security that I truly and legitimately am who I am.I find it interesting to think of the mind as the actual individual, we are but beings that required a vessel in order to "live", operate.. and interact with the world.I often feel like I'm in autopilot. If I force myself to act as someone else I'm not, I lose a grip of reality. Everything becomes blurry and there I am, out of control. The confidence, the ego, it isn't mine but I know it is because I did it, I AM it. But everything is blurry and I feel so detached, I witness everything but the idea of being a different version of myself convinces my mind that I am not who I am at the moment. I lose it all, and I sink.

OverthinkingI lose a part of me everytime I think. A simple piece of information I can turn into a novel. A small hint of movement I can turn into a performance.I want to foresee the next things that will happen. I want to know that I am able to prepare myself for every scenario possible. I find the idea of thoughts consuming me, quite.. interesting in a way.I feel bounded. I feel caged. I feel the need to know.The mind demands I feed it information. It needs knowledge. It has the urge to become all knowing. It seeks purpose in a world of torment and suffering. Yet I fail to meet such demand for I have limits and I am but a human soul.Look at me and I'll conclude you hate me.
Stare at me and I'll conclude you despise me.Despite positive signs, I discard them and I don't know why. The mind thinks and it feels.. it assumed it knows but it doesn't.

Perfectionism.Why'd you yell.
Why'd you scream at me.
It's a simple mistake but why such a long lecture?
I don't understand why you make it such a big deal.
Simply breaking a cup can affect my future?
Simply sitting un-"ladylike" can affect my relationships?
Simply.. being myself can cause me harm?
Well I think I do now that I'm suicidal.I don't understand.
I don't know why.
I fear the smallest mistakes.
I create back-up plans for back-up plans.
I want to foresee every outcome and make sure there's a solution ready.I can't have room for mistakes. I don't have room for your screams , your lectures, your insults anymore.

Imaginary.I have friends. Imaginary friends. In fact, they're still with me! I can see them in my dreams, they're there. Always there. They're my friends! I can trust them with anything, they help me with things. They protect me. They save me. They love me.I don't remember when I had them, but ever since I can remember.. I always had them I guess! I see them when I sleep. I see them everytime! Everywhere! My imagination is so cool. They enjoy living in my head, I give them the best things too... why am I this way though.But, they're better than, people. They're not human though. The first thing I remembered when I was young was that they used to be a talking puppy. Then, they turned into a girl. A teen. She was cool, she had all those things "teenagers" wore.And then.. they turned into an angel! In fact, angels. To be specific. They've become more than one. It's funny. It's.. silly.They're my guardians. They saved me when no one else did. No one else tried. No one cared. But they did.It's so fucking embarrassing. I'm too old for these but anyway.. they're comforting.Hey! I even talk to them sometimes. They respond of course, as this small whispering voice.I don't know what's wrong with me. Probably everything is.

• Her Heart

ParentsYou seek reasons as to why I am this way. Yet you invalidate my reason and choose to stay ignorant. Insistent of words that you perceive to be true. It is correct that you bear wisdom I don't have, but there are things you just haven't touched yet, and you automatically assumed you touched it first because I stayed quiet.You refuse to understand because you think you've already understood me. What more do I need to prove to you? Despite the obvious signs, you assumed I was in the wrong because you are ignorant of what they meant.You shut us out and assume we will learn if you instill fear and anger to us, when in return it scarred us. You left scars that no longer heal, scars that have already been seen by many.I have been told to seek help but how could I when you undo what's been done. You undo the stitches that people did for me and you worsened the wounds that's been bleeding endlessly since the day you cut us. I've been told I'm shattered but you tell me I'm not and that I'm only blindly believing what others say because it feeds my supposed "hunger for attention", when in reality..I'm not. I am not. I am out here reaching out but you locked me up to keep me grounded, "Down to earth" , you say. You force me to view a brighter side when there is none. NONE, I SAY.You think you know better, you do, but not everytime. You think you know me, you do, but not what's inside. You know what's going on, but you can't admit you are wrong. You wonder where I got such behavior, remember you are my figure, my role-model. You CHOSE to stay ignorant because it comforts you, it's the blindfold that covers your eyes from the truth so you feel better. You're gaslighting this family, and yourselves. I'm tired but you never gave me the rest I needed. There is a difference between knowing what's best for us and knowing the best for us.Know better, be the home I thought you were. Be the parents I saw you were.Your pretention of discipline is biased. I am aware of the changes in the law, the mistake of taking the advantage of physical punishment was all because you felt safe, you felt comfortable without the CPP during my time. You barely discipline the new generation. You DO NOT ADMIT IT. YOU CANNOT DENY THAT.You BLATANTLY NEGLECT IT. You think we should adjust, but it SHOULD BE YOU, you could've started sooner. Admitting your mistake isn't going to take you anywhere if only you talk to us. You complain about closed communication when you yourselves have done it.Stop making yourselves the victim. Playing the "responsible adult", protecting us from any "truth" isn't protecting. I am aware you are struggling, WE ARE TOO but your actions showed us hypocrisy. Thus we became the exact versions of you, that's all on you.

EmotionsEmotions are fascinating.The feeling of joy, is blissful, I jump around and smile brightly. Oh but, pure joy comes from the ones I've beloved. Mostly, I smile when unnecessary, I laugh when in pain, it terrifies me. I am aware I get yelled at, whenever I laugh when crying, I am never taken seriously since I'm seen as a person who perceives problems as a joke due to the misalignment of my emotions.I cry when I am angry, I stutter and choke. It is very disturbing, I fear the feeling of being choked from anxiety but not the blade of false satisfaction nor the poison of comfort. Simply, to say, I cry when I'm angry this mistaken for inferiority. Reminder that once I snap, the anger within me that I've exposed is serious. Yet, due to once again, misalignment, I am not taken seriously, but instead I'm pitied.My emotions contradict so well, I'm unfamiliar of what they're supposedly for. I become curious of the true definitions due to these misalignments. I become ignorant of certain feelings and unaware of them. I know not how to cope, nor to resolve, since I've lost control of these strong feelings.I feel fear whenever I'm confident, I show sorrows in wrath, joy in tears and pain in bliss.I don't understand how I'm feeling this way.

Dear.Why do you hate me? I've done everything for you. everything. "You're older than him, why are you scared?",Why am I scared. Exactly.Why am I scared. Exactly.Why am I scared. Exactly.Why am I scared. Exactly.Why am I scared. Exactly.Why am I scared. Exactly.Why am I scared. Exactly.Why am I scared. Exactly.Why am I scared. Exactly.Why am I scared. Exactly.Why am I scared. Exactly.Why am I scared. Exactly.Exactly.Why. I mean, IT'S FUNNY HAHAHAHAHAHA. I'm so weak. Stupid. I'm sorry, dear. I'm sorry. I'm not the best. I didn't let you kill me. Didn't I give you chances? Didn't I? YOU COULD'VE BEEN HAPPY! EVERYONE WOULD'VE BEEN HAPPY! YOU HATE ME! HATE ME MORE. HATE ME. HATE ME. KILL ME. I DO NOT GIVE A FUCK. LIKE THE WAY YOU DON'T GIVE A FUCK WITH MY APOLOGIES. MY DESPERATION. MY FUCKING HUMILITY.I DO NOT CARE.... I'm sorry. I wasn't the best. I wasn't nice enough. I wasn't perfect. I wasn't. I just wasn't. Why wasn't I. why couldn't I.. I'm a shame.I fear you. I'm terrified of you. Please don't hurt me. Don't hurt me again. I didn't like it. I'm sorry. I didn't like it. I don't want you to do it again. Please stop. Stop threatening me. I'm scared of you. I'm scared. I'm so scared of you. I don't like your screams. Be it your anger on others or your anger on me. I don't like it. I'm scared. I'm scared.I want to die do you'll be happy. Just please be happy. Please be happy.Please be happy.Please be happy.Please be happy.Please be happy.Please be happy.Please be happy.Please be happy.Please be happy.Please be happy.Please be happy.Please be happy.Please be happy.Please be happy. I don't want you angry. Dear.

• Her

Me.I see the embodiment of precarity. I often find myself stupid when it comes to focus. I have the tendency to drift away, to.. go quiet.. drowned in thoughts.I fear ruin and I'm aware my past could tear me apart. I have the urge to kill myself.But.. I don't want to die. I just have to hurt myself enough for people to understand.I sound so.. unstable, right? Funny.I don't really know how I'm supposed to ask for help. I know I need it but despite the numerous times I'm reassured. I trust not a single word. But, I'm supposed to. I should. But something tells me I won't. I have to, I need to. Why can't I?I'm becoming unfamiliar with everything. Ignorance is consuming me.The sweet taste of fallacies comes from a blade. The bitter sweet comfort of false perceptions come from poison.I fear it's scent. I fear my image. I fear my ability to harm myself.I don't want to hurt others through inflicting scars on myself. I don't understand how it works but it does.I'm so hard to fix, the pieces of myself cut others. It's irreparable.Why can't I heal. I don't want to cry anymore. I don't want to bleed anymore. I'm sick of the idea I understand. I can't remember. I can't know? I can't..I don't want to make anyone cry. I don't want anyone to worry. I don't want anyone to be angry with me.I fear hate and I hate fear.

MemoryThey're telling me things that I used to be but I don't believe I am. How can they remember so much that I can't. How do they know so much when I don't.I need to remember everything. I want to remember everything. But I can't seem to do that. I can't do that.I want to know why, I want to know when. I need every single memory with me. I need to understand who I am, why I am.I want to know how I used to be happy. For all I remember are the flames that burnt me. The knives that killed me. I fear you. I fear her. I fear him. I fear them. I fear me.These memories are shards I need to collect, despite it hurting me I NEED to collect it all so I can see my own image. Who am I? Why am I?How did I come to be.

My BodyMy temple. My vessel.It was broken. It was hurt. I feel so shattered and I don't want anyone to touch me or they'll get hurt. I don't want them to touch me or I'll break more.It does things.. things I don't do sometimes like.. cutting. Fighting. It walks, it speaks. It speaks for itself! It stutters. It cries.My vision blurry, I can see myself. I can see me doing things I don't normally do. Like confidence! That's odd. I'm odd.Apparently the thought of suicide makes me sleepy. It doesn't want me to hurt it anymore. It'd rather sleep than go through tears.I don't want to eat. The thought of food possibly choking me makes me anxious. I don't like how it reminds me of anxiety. I don't like how I hate it.It can't take it anymore. The mind makes it do things, things that hurt really bad.I can still smell the scent of sweet poison in my throat. It felt like a temporary sensation of freedom.