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I wanna meet the gnarled, twisted bits of you.
I've been dealing with my depression by personifying it (like in "a conversation"). I'm kinda obsessed with the idea of making something more "alive," giving it more power almost, to make it easier to deal with. If you were to give them character or a face or a body, what would your mental illness/troubles/dark emotions be like? How would you interact with them? What would they do on a day-to-day basis? Written however you like, no limitations. Please tag me @wabisabi.
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doubtful_hope
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Old Habits

I don’t like wearing make up. Sometimes I dress like a man. I don’t seek validation or try to be pretty anymore. I know I’m beautiful and that my value extends far beyond that.

But sometimes...

I don’t know that. I just act like I do until it feels real again, but sometimes I really don’t know.

Sometimes I remembered my lessons from when I was twelve.

No one wants to fuck a feminist.

No one wants to fuck a girl who isn’t pretty.

No one wants to fuck a smart girl.

No one wants to fuck a girl with an attitude.

No one wants to fuck a girl who hides her body.

And if no one wants to fuck you, girl, then you’re worthless.

Put on a push up bra, put on some make up, show some cleavage, but not too much. Don’t act like a slut, but be the slut you are supposed to be. You’re garbage because you’re a slut. Your only purpose is to be a slut. If you weren’t a slut, then you might as well be dead. Now shut up and dance for me, girl.

...

These lessons are hard to forget when they’re ingrained in you from childhood by grown men. Men who were proved right everywhere I looked.

I worked hard to free myself from that. I don’t believe them anymore, but sometimes when my partner and I haven’t had sex in a while, I panic and briefly wonder if I should dance or die.

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