I was listening to the Tao de Ching this morning, cleaning the house, making it ready for wiping and scrubbing and mopping.

I am grieving, and my mind has been a frenzied mess of itself, just spinning.

And now... I am on the phone, crying silently over a fucking DAYDREAM, as my boyfriend hollers at his friends on Xbox Live.

Why... do I have to go crazy every month?

Every fucking month, legitimate instability. The seasons of life and the seasons of my uterus are colliding and I am this fucking losing it.

I’m trying so hard to not let my sensitivity get the better of me but I’m depressed as it is, and hormonal.

And private. Too private when it comes to the people who love me, so that I could easily be in this place and no one knows. I can’t even spell it out anonymously.

I’m here. I am not my thoughts. My thoughts aren’t rational... I’m being sensitive, I’m spinning out... and all the other shit I have to tell myself repeatedly when I’m here in my cycle, trying not to get lost in it.

Trying to explain away the scratches across my face because “I did it in my sleep” is more alarming than some lie.

Drawing up light to fight the monthly dementors, and the other dementors.

Trying not to be absent or intense with people

Trying to strike a balance I can hardly fucking see, knowing it’s only getting foggier.

Idfk what I’m even still doing writing this.

Blood when I wipe

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