Freedom is hard to arrive at. And easy to lose.

I don't know how to be myself.

Acceptance. Completes the circuit. A wish for me, as I am.

You can't have your victim and eat them too.

Friends are those that sit next to you. And do not go away. Even when you are angry. Or irritating. Or pitiful.

Being laid upon. Tended to. Gently loved. Eases the weary heart.

Do not tolerate the intolerable. Fight! Bite! Claw! ROAR!!

Those nagging voices are quieter now. I've demonstrated the absence of a warhammer to the back. A year or so of being loud. Of speaking myself into being. That is what it takes to feel comfortable in it. To reach, not quite the absence of fear. To presence of self-image, of self-confidence.

Bite through the world.

Shame clouds can't support my weight. They look soft. But actually, they're very wet.

Slept well enough. Back to the runes. Endless machinations.

I keep doing this to myself. Over and over and over and over and over and over. Do I never learn? It's tiring. Boring. Pitiful. I'm supposed to be better than this. Not making such obvious, repeating, trivial errors. Get a fucking grip!

The silence never answers back. It just looms as the void. Endless. I feel it every time I go to speak. Will anything I say ever be enough?

Look, you can be like a sleeping plush. For my teeth.

Keep thinking I've been saying transgressive stuff... Then I read it back and it feels kinda weak. Need to work on that. Really get violent. Tear the reader's throat out.

So sleepy I can't see straight... (Vex flops harshly onto her pile of gold.) (And goes the fuck to sleep.)

If it is in your nature to rage because you rage Then it is also your nature to do whatever else Simply because you do it. And that is enough justification to decide to. In spite of all the the internal howling of inconsistencies. Of 'I am not like that'. You can be, if you choose.

Hmmm I want to be annoyed or something. But there are only dredges of it available to me. The idea was right: keep talking, keep expressing. And healing does happen. Eventually, the endless well of sorrow starts to thin. If you let yourself feel it fully. Embody your rage. Then it can release.

In the perfect world, there are angry dragons.

Power corrupts, and knowledge is power... Thus I horde books.

Flexibility requires stability But the wrong kind of stability stiffens instead. It takes a long time to rebuild those muscles after. So be loose so that you build the right kind of stability.

Feeling okay. Less anger boiling in the background. A little empty. Casting about for purpose. It took a lot of expression, but I have made progress. I am somewhere other than pure angst and spite and rage. Took time, and novelty. And screaming of pains. But things are better.

Exposure therapy to being a massive angry bitch

Feeling my own bloodthirst in full has shown me... I'm not the only one. I can say how I feel, and even get social approval for it. Before, that was unthinkable. And yet, there it is. Plain. Clear. There is a thirst for violence, a pining. People want it, even if they don't say it clearly.

What use are scales if every blow shatters me?

I want to show you And for you to see.

If I show you a thousand pains, do you see through to me? Or do you only see your reflection in my scales?

An ounce of gold... for all your time in the world. So easy to take your everything. Is your time and energy really worth so little?

Hm. Not feeling bitter right now.

Don't forget to admire your treasures.

Coiling around your mind. Settling in as a gentle burning insistence. The world narrows to a single point. You know what you have to do.

Expressing the pain over and over - it doesn't change. Why? Because the pain is still there. If the pain never eases, never ceases, then I'll scream it the same. It has to actually be fixed for it to go silent. Processed, eased, tended to. Or it'll bleed forever.

I bleed and bleed and bleed. Yet the price never seems to be enough. Never changes the feeling. But somehow, I keep doing it. It is impossible to sate a lifetime's unmet hunger. That unending thirst. Desires unmet. So I keep gorging myself. And paying the cost with blood.

There is a lingering disbelief. When you disobey. Yet no one strikes you down. The anticipation in the air hums.

Emotional processing, like hunting, requires circling. Around, and around the center we orbit. Only sometimes getting closer. But you only go for the kill when you're confident enough. When you think you can win, instead of getting hurt worse. Instead of losing everything in the attempt.

To grow is to shed what is no longer good for you.

Polished until you shine like a gem.

What's even the point of a scale brush if there's no one around to use it on me and admire how I look afterwards?

"I've had enough of your obsession with your own misfortune" Hm...

Seriously though: why am I like this? What do I need?

The peace never really stays, though. It's this cycle. Memories, or moments of pain. Indignation. Outrage. Assertion. Boundaries. A lingering cold creeping in. Exhaustion. Turning away, and putting it out of my mind. Seeking comfort. It is becoming tiring.

Sitting on my rock, watching the last rays of the sun. Bit cold today. Breezy. Calm. Collected. Feeling okay.

As you stop appeasing, The buried sharpness rises to the surface. Dagger to your throat. Because you stopped being infinitely kind. Is that fair?

You didn't know how deep your hunger went. Unfed. Chronic to the point you thought it was normal. It is time to feast.

A sense of peace. Calming. Smooth. Allowing my body to relax and sprawl. Nothing to fight right now.

I want to take, and take, and take. Until it's all mine.

Peace will hit you in the chest like a hammer.

Whether people stay or go is up to them. You cannot earn love. That isn't how it works. Either you fit together or you don't. That is all.

"To be alive means that I can be myself" Yeah.

It only counts as socialization if you're being yourself. Otherwise it's considered combat. You can't rest now, there are people nearby. You can't rest now, there are people nearby. You can't rest now, there are people nearby. You can't rest now, there are people nearby.