Profile
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| User: | depthcontrol (12883095) ★ Perfect Instability ★
The very last depth-control |
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| Name: | depthcontrol | |||||
| Website: | Canvas. | |||||
| LJ Talk: |
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| Bio: | ★ 「 profile: it's just d e p t h c o n t r o l 」 ★  Age: 17 BMI: 16.5 Sex: F Diagnose: AS Music: Jrock Obsession: Writing Silence, you think, will make you strong But silence, I say, will prove you wrong. ★ __________________________________ The arms in which she lay were cold. The words she was told were old. Yet breaking free was too much; there was a fragile comfort in that hold of steel, there was an understanding that didn’t exist in anything else she had ever found. She was in love. Was it right? Was it wrong? Did it matter, did she care? The presence she sought was the rise and fall, the light and the night and it was the most bitterly sweet poison she’d ever touched, ever felt, ever submerged herself into. She felt alone, this young girl, she felt unloved, this soul, this faltering presence in the world. There were lies and betrayal and misunderstanding and hurt and pain and loss of hope. There were people but never company. There was a shoulder to cry on but never a heart that cared, never a soul that didn’t, eventually, leave. Didn’t, eventually, let go. Not one stayed but this one hand reached out for her. This one thing holding onto her, not letting her fall. This concentrated poison which made lips sacred and made her see how her world could, finally, find a platform. A reason to go on. These cold arms that held her in life told her what to do, how to be, what things to say and what to think of, instructed her on how to take control of a life she’d never felt was truly hers. And it was so much easier, she said, to hold onto to this. It was so much easier, she claimed, when she was in control. It was so much easier, she thought, to die trying to reach a tangible nothing. Instead of a dream of something. - The Hold of Nothing © 2oo8 __________________________________ Start of the day; She gets her rituals out of the way Approaching the mirror with so much fright To study her body, so unearthly light She strips; Clothes falling like a whisper from dry lips In the ice cold bathroom, see the scale; Time to see if she’s a whale Tick of a clock; Her stomach feels like a rock The mounting alarm at the smell of food; It’s a sure way to destroy her mood Now she’s walking; It’s the road where the voices are talking Making her go farther, faster To get away from disaster She doesn’t want it; The life of a failure, she needs change Constant cheating of death, it just seems more appealing Than their offered healing As a youngster, she was taught One fault is a failure to those that accept naught It was perfection or never; So this… is her forever. | |||||
| Memories:: | 38 entries | |||||
| Interests: | 37: aerobics, anorexia nervosa, art, asperger syndrome, autism, autocannibalism, autophagy, ballet, body dysmorphic disorder, bulimia nervosa, cannibalism, control, cooking, criminology, david mitchell, disorders, ednos, english, exercise, gackt, gothic metal, health, jrock, languages, literature, macabre, marilyn manson, music, pervasive developmental disorders, psychology, recovery, reita, self-cannibalism, self-scarification, the gazette, vitamin pills, writing | |||||
| Schools: | None listed | |||||
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| Account type: | Basic Account | |||||
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