Tw: Depression - Blog Posts

What do I and the corn from thanksgiving dinner have in common??

Being on the back burner of ppl minds. 😁😁😁😁😁

I’m going through one of those depressive times and I was wondering if I posted any comics about my ocs and made a fancomic of diabolik lovers on here and on another website say like; Tapas… if anyone hypothetically… would anyone really care?

Would anyone really show up? If I made the best thing ever that is absolutely perfect in my eyes… would anyone really care even a single part of it? I don’t really know… I thought I would be happy just sharing my stories with others… but it’s the fact that no one really seems interested in things I think are cool, or things I’ve spent lots of time and effort on, I mean I’ve been on this site for what? Two years? Three? At this point and the ask box is still empty, and no one has really commented or said anything else other than oh yeah that’s cool! Is it something that I’m doing wrong? Are there social ques that I’m still not picking up on? Yet I still feel bad about venting about complaining about anything because I’m worried about coming across as an ungrateful entitled brat… sorry… I tend to ramble and I tend to overthink things, along with the fact that I don’t really know if I am supposed to be doing something.

Are we twins or something? I do the exact same thing every time!

Crazyheadcomics

TW Saeyoung walking in on you c//ting

~Post type: Short story~

Author’s Note: Please be safe, this story includes mentions of Self Harm, blood and possible depression.

Please do not read if any of those topics are upsetting or triggering <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You promised yourself you wouldn't do this anymore

You promised. But yet, you couldn't stop yourself. One moment you were brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed and the next you were reaching into the all too familiar tin in the back of the bathroom cabinet. You stopped yourself for a second; what would you say if anyone saw you right now? They'd probably ask you why. 

Why? You didn't know. It was just.. Something you did sometimes. You just needed the slicing pain to know you could still feel pain. Almost as if you needed to remember there wasn't just happiness in life. But no, that wasn't it. It was because you felt deep down that you didn't deserve the happiness. You took out one of the thin razor blades and placed it against your thigh, just high enough to be unnoticeable unless you were naked. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes and sliced. You hissed and went in again, slightly higher this time. Two was enough, you told yourself. You rinsed the blade and placed it back in the tin, tucking it away back in the cabinet. Just as you were grabbing a cloth to clean up the thin lines, now with beads of blood popping up and trailing down, you heard a knock at the door. "Honey, you've been in there for a while," You heard Saeyoung say through the bathroom door. "Are you getting dressed all nice just to sleep? Or did you have something else in mind?" He was teasing. "Oh, um no I-I'm okay. I'm just... Cleaning up." You stammered, trying to stop the bleeding, but the beads kept returning. "...I'm going to come in, is that okay?" He said, a serious tone in his voice. "Um, just-" You tried to say, holding the cloth under cold water, trying to wash off the blood and use the cold to stop the bleeding. You looked over at the door, noticing you forgot to lock it. Just as you were about to reach for the knob, the door slowly swung open. Guiltily, you pulled up your pajama bottoms and held the cloth behind your back. "Hi." You said, cheeks flushed and hands behind your back. You were sure you looked guilty, but you still tried to act normal. "Honey, what happened? Are you okay?" He said, cupping a warm hand against your cheek. "Um I..." You started. He kissed your forehead, and seemed to spot the cloth behind your back. "MC," He said, gently reaching for the cloth. He rarely ever called you by your name, only reserved for serious conversations. You didn't fight him, and handed it over. "What happened?" He was calm, but you could tell in his eyes that he was worried. "I... I'm sorry." Was all you could muster. You started tearing up. "I'm so sorry, Sae." "Hey. Come here." He wrapped you in a hug. You laid your head on his chest and could hear his heart drumming away in his chest while his shirt was getting more and more wet with your tears. He tossed the cloth in the sink and held you, both tightly and gently. "I'm sorry. I wasn't going to do it, but it was habit, and- And I just wasn't strong enough not to. I'm so sorry." You sobbed, grabbing the back of his shirt. He could figure it out from your ramblings what had happened. "It's okay honey, you're okay." He stroked your hair, and slightly rocked side to side, holding you close. "Do you need to be cleaned up?" "I don't know, that's what I was doing when you came in but..." You said, sniffling and trying to calm down. "Okay, hold on for a second," He bent down, and lifted you up, placing you gently on the small counter behind you. He placed a soft kiss on your lips, and tucked your hair behind your ear. "While I clean you up can we talk for a bit?" He talked quietly. "Yeah." You said, taking a deep breath. "Okay, where is it?" You wiggled your bottoms down, so he could see the- still bleeding- cuts. You turned away, ashamed at the wounds. "So," He started, grabbing the cloth and wringing it out so it was only damp. "What happened, My Love?" "I just felt a random urge and I figured I'd done it before without getting caught... I told myself just this once and then never again." You said, turning your head to look at him. He gently wiped the cuts and the blood around them. "Tell me if I'm hurting you, okay?" He said, rinsing the cloth and wiping your legs again. "Okay...” He nodded, urging you to continue.

“Anyways, I figured I needed to." You closed your eyes, not able to meet his. "You needed to? Why did you need to, baby?" "I needed to remind myself that there's more than just happiness in life." You felt ashamed to admit it, feeling your eyes filling again. "Can you look at me for a second?" He said, placing the cloth over both wounds and pressing it firmly. You opened your eyes, and tried to blink away your tears. "You're right. There are things other than happiness and love in life." He smiled, bitter-sweetly. "But that doesn't mean you have to feel all of it. I told you before and I'll say it again, I don't ever want to let you be in pain. Especially not because of me. When we first met, you told me that you wouldn't be in danger because of me. Do you remember that?" You nodded. "So, I don't want you to feel like the love that I give you needs to be evened out with pain, okay?" He kissed your cheek and wiped your tears. "Okay." He picked the cloth up off of your leg and grabbed bandages from the cabinet. You spotted the tin at the same time he did. You looked away in shame. You heard the rattling of the tin and the small bandage box. You looked back at him, his hands holding only the bandage box. He carefully unwrapped a few and gently placed hem on your leg. You noticed his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, as he always does when he's focusing. After he placed the bandages, he lightly fluttered  kisses around your wounds. When he placed the box back in the cabinet you noticed the tin was gone, but you didn't see where he'd moved it to. He helped you pull your bottoms back up and wriggle off the counter. "Are you feeling better?" He said, lifting you in his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. Nuzzling your head in the crook of his neck, you nodded. "Good." He carried you back to your shared room and placed you carefully on the bed. "I'll be right back, okay?" He said, kissing your forehead and stepping away from the bed. You almost asked him what he was going to do or begged him to stay next to you. But you were too tired to press, and you figured you knew what he was doing anyway from the way his pocket rattled. You could just wait for him with your eyes shut. After a few minutes, you stirred back awake to feel the bed dip. "Sorry to wake you up." He said softly. You just turned to face him and nuzzled in closer. "S'Okay." You hummed. "I love..Sae.." You said, drifting back to sleep. "I love you too, Honey."

I just wish I was stronger.

i desperately want to be happy. i can feel the ache for it deep within my bones where purest part of my soul screams for it. like without it i will die.

sometimes i think i have it. i let myself get comfortable with the carefree air i carry with me and the laughter that fills my lungs are heart. i feel complete as if i have everything i could ever want and question what it was like to feel alone and hopeless.

and then all of a sudden something slips.

and it is like i have awoken from a wonderful dream to only be thrust back into a cold reality. every interaction i have is made through a sheet of glass, voices muffled and touches separated. and the screaming is back.

i know i will one again be back within the warm realm of belonging where joy seems to reside. but this cycle exhausts me to my core and makes me question if i will ever be permitted to stay bathed in happiness and light.

Alright I know I've already done a few but another Dazai hc

WARNING: This post talks about depression. I am in no way an expert or professional, and everything is based off of my own experience and research. If you relate to this, please seek professional help.

Ok so the headcanon in short is that Dazais depression caused him to 'lose' his sense of taste.

Quick explanation before moving on BUT a more accurate way to say it is that I don't think he can really perceive taste. It's kind of complicated and hard to explain but it's basically like when you eat something, you can't really tell someone what the food tastes like despite knowing that it does have a taste. It's something, but you don't know what, and no matter how familiar you are with food, you can't identify it. Sometimes you can, but only when it's super strong, and when the depression is unaddressed, it can worsen into not even getting strong flavors over time. It's important to note that you can remember what things tasted like. So, you could eat an apple before you lost your taste perception, then eat it again afterwards and remember that the apple tasted or is supposed to taste sweet. You can't tell that that apple specifically is sweet, but you can tell that the apple is supposed to be sweet in the form a phantom sensation or even just a though of 'Oh this is supposed to be sweet' way.

Going back to Dazai specifically, I think that, despite him getting better in the ADA, this perception worsened over time. Mainly because dude never actually deals with his depression. I can't really say when I think it would have started, but I'm leaning towards not long after or before he joined the PM. Mainly because he could still taste Odas spicy curry and alcohol. With that in mind, he can probably lie easily when asked to try or eat something, because he can remember what certain foods tasted like, and he's smart enough to give a general guess if he never tasted that dish but can tell some of the ingredients. Also because of this, I imagine that he likes canned crab because it has a nice texture to him. He can't taste, so whether or not he likes a food is more based on how it feels in his mouth. The canned crab is probably cheap and has a proper texture, making it still at least a little enjoyable for him to eat since he still can have some sensation in his mouth. At the same time, he likes whiskey or just alcohol in general because he can remember what it tastes like from back in the pm where they were strong enough for him to taste. Also I imagine that makes Dazai kind of picky on his food? Like if it has a weird or no texture, he won't like it. Same thing if it has a funny or bad scent.

Listen. Listen to me, okay? Your head is lying to you. You think of the future and no matter what you see it’s a void, there’s nothing, it's grey, and really not different from where you are now but I need you to know it’s a lie. I don’t know why, okay? I don’t know why your head insists on taking the life out of every idea and vision like it’s a conscious effort to destroy you but it. is not. Real. You move and no matter how you move, if you move things change. Even if you have no plans of changing anything, next year will be different. It’s a guarantee. So if you make ANY effort to change it into the direction you WANT it to go

universes will collide.

Having depression and autism plus hyper fixations is crazy cause whaddya mean I was sobbing uncontrollably unable to leave my bed this morning but now I’m jumping around and squealing with joy cause I read a cool comic book???

That was me three hours ago, I wish I got stuck in traffic or got really lost and needed GPS. Work sucks, especially when you have to fake smile at everyone who enters. But the customer is always right.

You know, sometimes when life shows you your new job is close to a town your family lives in, take a chance and drive down that road. Take a moment to reflect and remember how life was back then compared to now. And if you want, play your tunes or the radio. Follow the road until you get to a point or where you need to go. There's no shame in driving down those familiar roads.

And if you can't drive yet or unable to, walk down the sidewalks and do the same thing in your neighborhood. You'll get the same feeling. How time has passed on and yet, you know the way to church or a relatives house. No shame in it.

Some old poems of mine (6):

TW: depression

Life:

What belongs to me but is not my own?

My life apparently.

Decisions are never mine

for fear of those always present eyes

glaring at me in disapproval.

My future is someone else's too.

Years go by too fast

leaving me behind

hiding behind a smile when my only certainty is death.

(Sometimes I long for the numbness).

My body and health

my mind

are dictated by others.

I wish I could take control,

but I would never use it

as well as these strangers believe they do.

Some old poems of mine (5):

TW: depression

Dreams:

To get away from this house.

To be myself

and get away from these shackles

that drag me down.

To be happy and love myself.

But the thing about dreams

is that they're impossible to accomplish,

and few ever succeed.

Some old poems of mine (4):

TW: depression, mental & emotional abuse

Mornings:

What I dread the most about mornings,

is waking up.

Waking up to a new day of pain,

of anguish,

of a never-ending cycle

that tears me apart.

Waking up to a family

that isn't family,

and being beaten

until I wish it would all end.

The worst part about mornings,

is having to stop dreaming.

TW: poor mental health, self-harm

Help Me:

Can you help me feel comfortable in my skin and keep the demons from getting in?

Can you help me silence the voices when I'm going deaf from all the noises?

Can you help me keep my hands away from my itch though all I want to do is tear my skin off when I scritch?

Can you help me steady my breathing if the choking air gets too seizing?

Can you help me save myself from drowning in my negativity before your place in my life starts uncrowning?

Might be part of something larger.

TW: depression, self-harm, suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, blood

Red. Red was a beautiful color. It wasn't her favorite color but there was something enchanting about it. The way it flowed down her arm into the sink, taking her pain and memories with it. She couldn't tear her eyes away even if those people were screaming at her. Red. Down her arm. Red. Down the sink. Red red red. Down the drain. It was the only time she felt okay. Though she had to do it often since the feelings didn't last long. The relief, the comfort she felt in her skin for once, how she finally loved herself in those moments, it was all too short. She needed more red. Enough to last longer. To last the rest of her life. It was the only way she'd ever be okay.

friends for my tears

Tears, my greatest acquaintance

Left to dry on my balcony

I hope they mix with the guilt spilled on the railing

And that my tears find solace in the stress that stains the windows

And mingle with the blood crusted on the stairs

So that maybe, in some way, 

Some part of me is joined with something. 

Even if it is another part of my own self.