"just Because You're Traumatised Doesn't Mean You Can Go Around And Traumatise Others " - Saturnfairycat

"👏just 👏because 👏you're 👏traumatised 👏doesn't 👏mean 👏you 👏can 👏go 👏around 👏and 👏traumatise 👏 others 👏" - saturnfairycat

Alarm Clock, chapter one

Perfection meets Perfectionist #3 | copyright to saturnfairycat

Author's Note: well, well, well. isn't it the purpose of this whole account. This is the beginning plot of the story in mind. Very dramatic. Little storyline events. Enjoy!

Chapter One

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The alarm clock tuned in for another long, painful try of annoyance. The dead weight hidden under the blanket and crinkled sheets groaned, hanging onto the dream they had as long as possible. It seemed that the alarm clock huffed a little at the sorry state of the bed. The bed, single sized, laid someone who should be getting up right about now. They have been late once already, which is something out of the ordinary for their auto-pilot life. And here they were, blocking out their alarm clock in a fetal position. Cradling their arms around their chest, protective walls bracing for impact of the cruel world. If the alarm clock had a mind of its own, it would be disappointed; but since it doesn't, their last attempt of waking the sleeping mess was changing the radio channel. There wasn't any particular reason why Etta liked the radio channel that the alarm clock was set in, 'it is better than having the chance of catching that one song playing'. Hallow and empty emotions echoed at the back of their mind, it was distant. Good. But obviously, they have forgotten that they have programmed the alarm clock into flipping through radio channels to annoy Etta into getting up.

Their song played.

"The way you text I rather dig my grave…" Etta, white as a ghost, sat upright in protest of their throbbing head. "..Because I never knew what was so cliche…" The sorrowful tune mockingly danced around their head as Etta tried to picture out their surroundings. "..About you blaming me for all the things I've done…" Eyes drawn immediately to the sudden bright light-- their phone went off the third time. 'It's probably February.' Etta groaned once more at the thought of going to work. "..Baby can't you see you're the reason why I can't breathe…" They knew they were late, and they knew that February wouldn't be pleased, either. But there is only so much you can worry about when your head is being split in two. "I love you! I love you!" Etta couldn't take anymore of that song.

Reaching out to their nightstand, they slammed their clenched fist hard on top of the pitiful alarm clock. As if the alarm clock knew it had the upper hand, it was stubborn and didn't break from the sheer force of its owner. "And my best friends are gonna cry, they don't understand what it's like…"

Etta swore slightly under their breath, half tempted in throwing the alarm clock out the window. 'Dropping from the window's height, the alarm clock could probably kill someone.' Etta rolled their eyes in the thought of getting done by using their alarm clock as a murdering weapon. "..To love someone so cold…" Etta dived down, "I think someone is caging me up again…" elbows rubbing hard onto the grey carpet, "..I wonder what phrase will trigger it…" their body positioned ready to do butterfly strokes.

"..Girl I'm sorry but I've got to go…" Desperate. Thirsty for water after days of neglect. Reaching out to the power plug like Etta's carpet was quick sand. As if the sunshine seeping through the curtains was a blazing fireball; threatening to burn them alive. "..This time I'll leave you without no note-" The alarm clock never saw it coming, how can a body of sadness move so swiftly?

'I win.'

Etta raised the power plug into the air, triumphed by their success. Warm and calming silence hugged Etta's ears, making Etta sigh out in relief and pure joy for a moment. It felt like freedom, for a long standing second.

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To be continued...

Alexithymia

Archive #27 | copyright to saturnfairycat

Author's note: poem!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but I really focused on the structure for this one, as it is one of the many ways of conveying feeling. lemme know what you think! enjoy >:D

Alexithymia

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back then I couldn't remember the last time I was happy without trying to link it back to you.

every shining moment of mine was your stage and moment.

made me think that my life was taken over by someone who never truly tried to talk to me about me and how I impact their life.

empty words, empty promises, god and I was desperate falling for it all.

to imagine someone who was great with flaws was just broken, nothing more.

the inner thoughts I had when it came to your actions makes me curl up into a ball in disgust and shame.

how does one really mess up so badly it causes that much pain?

do you even get how that even works?

that reaction alone is scary enough as it is. you seem to know everything about trauma and bad bad things,

so tell me, if you're just a collector to all of them feelings,

and I am just your keeper of your unwanted feelings.

my present and future is looking at my past in such pity it's levelled to how I feel about you.

you ruined someone who tried to help you out,

gave all their patience, love and laughs,

for something that wasn't even recycled-

just waste.

like a floating useless oxygenated suit in space.

you know, one oxygen tank isn't enough to keep going just to get the same result every time.

the kindness, and emotions, I had before the consequences of being naive,

were wasted on such premature things.

I can't look at anything the same anymore.

no more butterflies, and no more pain.

I wished I had saved that bit of extra kindness, and patience, I had for myself.

that extra bit was like the best biscuit you left just for yourself.

that was the last time I was ever selfish,

and I regret it

so

so

much.

I can't even- set boundaries without seeming like the bad guy,

who wanted space

and to be loved just the very same.

if I had treated me like how I treated you, I would've been so much better,

as a person whose been through hell and probably more even later on.

I can't even get exposure from you because you wouldn't listen,

you can't even let me get closure for me because you couldn't get the same from those who you blamed.

so I sit in my room, reminiscence at what I would've been missing if it weren't for you.

Asphyxiate

Work #2 | copyright to saturnfairycat

Author's Note: holy shit?? another "official" work??? ain't no wayyyy. Anyway, time for the debrief. Debrief: Word count: 738 Warnings: gore, sensitive content, trigger warnings, horror, death. Enjoy!

Asphyxiate

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Suffocation. 

I couldn’t breathe through all the corpses piled on top of the mighty pyramid. The irony of “mighty” is strong. I swore I could see a glimpse of light at the surface, but I knew from the lack of flesh beneath my spine that I was at rock bottom. If the plague doesn’t kill me, the pressure will. 

I’m freezing, the detached limbs hovering around me like a ritual circle didn’t help the goosebumps on my skin— or my teeth chattering. I am shaking, in a jigsaw-like position. It’s silent, but too silent. 

It allows the aftermath of the sheer pressure from above to be heard. The sudden cracks of bone and the moan of flesh being ripped apart; all because of the build up from the weight of it all… it causes ringing in the ears. It’s sickening. I will be one of those cracks soon. 

There is an eerie, hollow feeling inside this pile. Everything present is here on purpose; I am liable because it was written in stone. How I wish my bones would turn into stone. There is something directly lying on top of my forehead and it’s crushing my skull. Blood is gushing towards my brain— adrenaline is kicking in as I panic from the pain. I can’t even open my eyes, and the smell has me in a chokehold. 

It’s dark, but I am starting to see red. I can’t see, yet it feels like a thousand cold, dead fingers are grasping at my thighs. Is the flesh around me rotting, or is it my knees that have started to decay? I’m going to die. I’m actually going to die. But… I can’t. I have so much waiting on me. I finally have something to live for. I have to protect and experience… and live. 

How did I end up here? This is the borderline simulation– 

I remember the murmurs in the back of my distant mind. It feels close and yet further than the sea of stiffness on top of me. The snickering, but not from the dejected faces that surround my decrepit body. Mockery? Or was it obstinate? I recall confusion and panic— the necessity of changing face.

“I am just so tired, why am I never enough? I try so hard.” 

“I understand how you’re feeling–” 

“No, don’t even try to please me. You’re a bad liar. How could you EVER understand how I’m feeling? You’re perfect, you never had to try–”

Perfection is a dirty word, especially when it neglects the backstage input.  

Memories drown my head like I’m on a boat, casted away into never-ending sea. The rocking from left to right is vomitous, churning my stomach like a horrible stew. I am probably hallucinating, it’s all just a bad dream. It shakes me— not the cold— but the thought of being just a face. A mask designed for success. Everyone wants a different version of a product; some want pink, while others prefer red. You’re bored? Just throw it away… wait, what?

The tower looks more like a pile found in a dumpsite than anything, what it looks like from the outside must be appalling. Was I thrown away? One of those mere faces? No. I said already that I’m at rock bottom, that doesn’t make sense…

Oh. 

…I’m the first face.

The realisation makes my skull cave in. I can’t do this, this can’t be the end. Not like this, never like this. Is that how the people around me died? Did they know it was their demise? Am I the only one who has the true fate of misfortune? I need help. Anyone? I need anyone. Everyone. I can’t think, is the air getting lighter? I think I can open my eyes now, it’s brighter than before. But I can’t breathe, my chest is heaving mountains at this point. Help? HELP. PLEASESOMEONEHELPME. 

Hollow in the gaps, but solid as a whole. No one can hear no one in this pile, the dead corpse consumes the noise pollution like it was their first meal from the afterlife. Half of my consciousness is slipping, while the other half mocked me. This is it. But it can’t be. I have so many regrets, I have so many things I want to do right. I need to live my life right, this can’t be happening, I need help. I NEED HELP I NEED HELP. I nee–

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The end of August

Archive [?] | copyright to saturnfairycat

Author's note: 'But I can see us lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time 'Cause it was never mine' - Taylor Swift --- I think we hyped up the song too much, it became a reality. Anyway, this month has been CRAZY for me. So many things happened. From new people, new experiences and memories, closer connections, loss of connections, drama, pain, challenges... it has been a thrilling fall of events. --- 'Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all' - Taylor Swift

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The End of August

~~~

August.

What a hell of a ride.

My most forgetful month, turned into one of the heaviest footprints in the snow.

So many emotions, so many stains on my white dress that I will never be able to wash out.

I am losing my childhood, I'm losing the fresh feeling of being a teenager.

At the end of August, I lost parts of me that I thought I would carry till it is lost in the back of my cluttered room of a mind. I lost parts of my safety net, how do I find the courage to fall now?

I can smell the old air, clinging onto my neck in desperation. My old perfume stuck to my uniform, my bushy hair swaying in the wind. Our glances, our secret lives, our moments that I know we will never spend in person.

My heart sank when I came to the realisation. This is it. The official start of my new life. My delusion mocks my misery at keeping everything at bay. Everybody is starting to move on, but I am still stuck in moments of everyone together that never happened.

The world is a shifting sand storm, a castle that needs restructuring. You cannot start a new life without the floor crumbling down beneath your feet first, how else are you supposed to start from the bottom and make your way to the top?

But my feet is sinking into the sand, it is hard to climb out and reach for the stars from here. I can only glance up and see you glancing at me.

So many unfinished words. So many bittersweet thoughts.

I have accepted, and I do not feel regret. But I ponder about what it would have been like if I did not leap without blowing kisses goodbye. I never left like goodbye, because I never said it to your face. Always thought it would be "see you soon", but I am left hanging as your castle had already crumbled.

I'm happy for you.

But you can't see my smile from the sidelines.

I can see your face from here, though. I saw it— that glance. You're clinging onto my old perfume, you don't even want to know what my new usual smells like. You're still pondering about the promised moments, I hope you can get a reflection elsewhere…. and it isn't my face that smiles back at you.

I'm happy for you.

You are my bittersweet acceptance, the final note of a violin symphony.

I only wish I was in your end credits, not the acknowledgements.

But I am happy,

…

Really.

You are my August, the reason for an unforgettable month.

" It is lovers like us that shine in the darkness. We see light and colour, like a canvas of the brightest of skies. But when it comes to ourselves, our beauty within shines from the silence, the chaos, and the void. Because we fill it with our beauty, our love. " - saturnfairycat