Apocatips for the Apocalypse

Parts of this account have been fictionalized due to the author's lack of knowledge of certain intimate details.  SU/MH trigs, graphic, etc. Untitled For C Once upon a time, there was a little girl who loved everyone. She grew up running barefoot on the grass, lifting her face up to the sun and climbing trees to get closer to that glorious blue sky. If her mother was going to squish a bug, the girl caught it and set it free, because she believed even the smallest life is worth something. She was good, and all the world loved her back. As she got older, little fires began to spark inside her. She was passionate about animals, especially her dogs. She began drawing, painting, taking photographs. She traveled to Thailand and Haiti to work in orphanages and share her love of art. She decided to become a teacher. After a while, the young woman got married and moved back home to stay with her mother after her parents' divorce. She got a job teaching art.  IN the su

Legit my only wish is not to die alone.  But, unsurprisingly, it's difficult to find someone who will watch you kill yourself.  All I want is for someone to hold my hand while I go.  I know I can't do that to anyone.  It just seems so unfair.  Everyone else gets to die surrounded by their friends and family.  If it was any organ besides my brain that was killing me, I wouldn't have to do it alone.  But since it is in my brain, because they can't see it, because they don't feel it, they won't let me go.  They still think it is my choice.  What they don't understand is I don't decide why, or how, or to get better.  The only thing I have control over is when, and doing it now would be kinder for everyone.  You let your dog go when he's sick.  Why don't you understand that it's cruel to make me stay, too?

I am so, so sick of this.  I am at the limits of medical intervention and I am at the limit of what I am able to do for myself.  I feel like everyone I love is slowly peeling themselves away from me, and with good reason.  I am the kind of toxic that fills lungs with sludge, a fungus that seeps through the walls and refuses to die.  I cannot bear this supreme loneliness.  I cannot stay confined to this body that is so useless and this mind that offers no escape.  All of the good things that were once within me have been worn away by the endless, constant drip of madness, and I am at the point of surrender.  I am told that fighting shows strength, but it seems to me it is now just willful ignorance; denial of what will inevitably come.  I would rather lie still and die quickly.  The Beast has won.  Let it do to me what it must; I welcome slaughter as a peaceful martyr, rather than a rebel with bloody fists.  I do not even ask for dignity.  Just bury me quickly once night falls, and spar

Don’t tell me “I love you” until you can answer, “How much?” and please for the love of God do not say “I love you to the moon and back” or “from the bottom of my heart” or “this much, because a circle never ends”. I don’t want to be loved metaphorically. Because when you say “I love you to the moon and back” you’re really saying your love stretches 477,000 miles, which is a long-ass drive and I gave up on being an astronaut in third grade. The average human heart is only five inches long so getting to the bottom of it isn’t very impressive. And I’ve always thought that circles do end, because after all they have to start somewhere, and I demand more love than can fit within the circumference of your fingers. I need to know if you’ll still love me after you’ve picked my cruel words like gravel out of your skin.  When my anger has left your cheeks red and smarting will you draw me back to you after they’ve cooled. Will you stay with me through

CW: Dissociation, sexual assault, suicide, self-harm Dissociative Identity Disorder  (DID), formerly known as Multiple Personality Disorder, is a disease that most people are most familiar with as the basis for an insanity plea in approximately every crime TV show that has ever been aired in the history of time.  In these depictions, the mild-mannered defendant commits a crime, which they don't remember because it happened while they were waltzing around as their own evil twin...or, in one particularly bizarre episode of Psych, where a man's mtf trans alter was murdering his therapists and "haunting" his own home, because he didn't know she existed.  God, I miss that show. Sadly, however, everything you have ever learned from pop culture is completely and totally inaccurate. The truth about DID is that it's actually so misunderstood that mental health professionals are divided on whether it exists at all.  It is currently included in the DSM-5 (i

There's a saying that often gets written on crafts and cards in the nanny groups on Facebook: "You may hold my hand for a while, but you will hold my heart forever."  That may sound sweet, but it's painfully true, and it hurts like a sonofabitch. As a nanny, you know that every position ends, but some transitions are more painful than others.  The best outcome you can hope for is that the kids get older and the parents simply don't need you anymore.  Then they give you good references, say you can come by any time, and you keep in touch enough to see your kiddos grow up happy and healthy.  Worst-case scenario would be something like, say, you're a live-in nanny for a stay-at-home mom who also happens to be an addict who emotionally abuses and manipulates you, and after taking it for a year you give your two weeks notice in a professional manner, get convinced to stay longer because you love the children, request that your boss not take your only battery-o