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tja7701
2 4,088 M Seeking Light 4
PathStep 1 Compassion hearts704 Forum posts4 Forum upvotes11 Current upvotes11 Age GroupAdult Last activeSeptember, 2025 Member sinceDecember 20, 2024
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I drew/wrote this today.... don't know what to think or feel about it
Arts & Crafts / by tja7701
Last post
 March 15th, 2025
...See more It all started with the word 'significance' and then ended in this... all this was my thoughts and feelings just vomited onto the paper... am I crazy? I've never made anything like this before and I'm scared... should I be scared? Is this normal? What do people think of it? looking for words of honesty or encouragement... (drawn by hand then scanned into phone)
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Resignation (new poem, tw, SH)
Poetry / by tja7701
Last post
 February 20th, 2025
...See more Resignation (TW for self injury and poor MH) the intrusive thoughts won again a blade made its way into my hands demanding to be maliciously used and i resigned  but not in the way i usually would where normally I'd cut without a care feverishly attacking my own  body as if it wasn't mine, today i was calm and calculated but still hurting and now it stings but the guilt stings more my 'clean streak' broken like the top layer of my skin it happened again and I don't know what to do i'm ashamed of myself  but that's nothing new © J 2025
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therapy is painful (TW for self injury, hopelessness and general poor mental health
Poetry / by tja7701
Last post
 February 14th, 2025
...See more therapy is painful (trigger warning, contains themes of self injury, hopelessness and poor mental health) salt aggressively thrown into my wounds weekly, to the point of them bleeding over again, my mind fighting with burning desire to make fresh cuts. have YOU ever felt that heat? of guilt and shame combined with the pain of wanting to shed your own skin, but not succumbing to the thoughts because people will stare, concerned eyes burn holes in your limbs that almost hurt more than the blade that you open yourself up with. i never meant for this to happen, don't even remember where it began. i'm swallowed by these things they call emotions, to the point of outer silence and inner screaming. i put my walls up quicker than i can ask for help, and reject the ink they print on tree remnants that feign my recovery. agreeing to sit in a pure white room, avoiding eye contact with a woman paid to care, still feels like a mistake. but then again, i don't want to feel this way anymore. © TJA 2024
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