He could know
He could tear out the knot and tangles that we sew
He could go
He could block me eternally, still I glow
Even when faint, to him, my light will show
So I flow
© Delia Ross. 2020
Welp. Can’t get him to block my existence (yet). I can attack him under my pen, under my full name, under my social media accounts, under my email, on my blog, through poetry, he’s got the ultimate ghosting Poker Face, I’ve thrown jabs, gut-wrenching flaming bombs of blame, spat on his name (actually I don’t think I’ve done that, I actually wrote him a poem with his name as an acronym in the title and as a line in the poem, which was hard to do, because I’m madly in fucking love with him and was stupid enough to tell him on his goddamn fucking social media in private message like a fucking roaring lunatic).
It went like this. ‘Hi. I’m suicidal and might die. I wrote this for you. Just thought you should know in case I die’. I don’t think it went down very well. Do you reckon that’s how Edgar Allan Poe delivered his poems to the love of his life (who was his blood cousin but we can’t all be perfects). Welp.
Did I mention I’m not like other girls? I’m rather quirky, weird, and odd. I bite strangers on random; girls, boys, whenever the mood strikes, on a neck or wrist, with such delicate precision and precise pain, that all have been shocked by it, but always moved in a positive way, because it was a weirdly pleasurable experience for them. “You bit me”. “Ee, I kind of did, didn’t I? Oops sorry”. But, none of them have ever felt violated in any way and probably still recall on the experience (though I won’t know, because I don’t even know who they were/ are). I just do it at random. I haven’t really been biting people lately though. But the urges are there. I literally bite people’s girlfriends and boyfriends, but I do it in a non-sexual way, it’s hard to explain it. I do it as a greeting and then I disappear. Sometimes I stick around and chat for a minute or two because my presence will be requested. When I let people see my weirdness they’re impressed. Sometimes I use my brain to blow people’s minds in other ways. But very few are allowed around the real me. I can only say I have psychic abilities and ways to exchange energy and there are people out there who literally think I’m an actual angel who fell. I’ve done meditation sessions and I can know someone’s sign within 5 minutes of meeting them, it blows their mind, “but how” they beg to know”! I tell them I studied astrology intensely when I was 15 “but how” they’d ask! Well, with me mind. Third eye.
Men would have literally burned me at the stake or drowned me with stone tied around my ankle or some other heinous crime as a witch in the 1800s had I been around!
I’m a super sensitive creature and I don’t do well around a lot of people. Or maybe people at all. I like people I do. Sometimes. 👀
My skin and eyes are sensitive to light because I’m part vampyre.
And my skin is sensitive to certain metals because I have Lycan blood in me (I howl at the Moon and bite people on random beware).
Yes, people are scared of me. Boo.
I am a goth queen. I just look really fucking poor because I’m a proper Nosferatu. But I’m going to try to step up my Nosferatu image as soon as the Jeep is paid off and I can start buying black clothing again. I want to start a classy nude cosplay on my Patreon. Just had someone ask me to get on the OnlyFans (and I might reconsider it cuz I was on it for like 5 minutes but I wasn’t aware there was a fucking shadowban going on). I’ve also been tweeking my circle, and unfortunately my crazy ass has actually blocked patrons, so I’m literally kicking people out my life, because I’m suicidal and out-of-control apparently! Woo hoo rubber room y’all (I will escape. I escaped the facility in Alabama on more than one occassion and they had to change all their fucking rules because of me. I was 16 and on suicide watch half the time I was there but left the leader. I left the leader even though I escaped the building several fucking times and was on suicide watch. I AM SPECIAL. LIKE MY MIND IS STUPID POWERFUL YO.
I would just like to point out that I am not against sex work, I am against guys abusing the female population and I think sometimes my message might get lost in between my crazy ass behavior (I act out when I’m suicidal online because I feel very close to how Michael Hutchence did before he fucking tore up his body dying by suicide. Sometimes I want to take a razor blade and just go fucking crazy on myself so like I’m fucking unhinged right now, I know). THAT’S WHY I’M DISABLED. IT’S CALLED DEPRESSION. I WANT TO DIE. At least that’s what my thoughts keep telling me to do, which makes me cry about it, because it’s a really scary thing to think about and I don’t actually want to wind up like Michael Hutchence so I wind up attacking people online cuz I’m waiting for my knight to come save me I guess. It’s definitely not “in hospital care”, I don’t even know how they can call it fucking care, it’s fucking insanity. You go to the hospital, you say, “hi I’m thinking about killing myself and need some help” so they take your clothes from you and they take your phone from you, you can’t have anything that brings you pleasure, you can’t have any books, you can’t have any music, but you can have a Bible and big Pharma!!!!! I’m acting out. Sure. Because I don’t want to wind up like Chris Cornell, who was notifying his wife in the middle of his suicide act, via an app, which turned their bedroom lights on and off, and he did this after a sold-out show in a hotel room!!! I don’t want to wind up like my other heroes like Kurt Cobain or my best friend who died by suicide and every day it’s a battle to not fucking die!!!!
I’m not pretending to be depressed or suicidal. I’m a war veteran and I am being completely transparent about what I’m going through currently because I might die by this disease that I’ve essentially been battling my whole life but gets worse with every breath.
I don’t know what I would do if he blocked me back, I think I would actually fucking die. I’m a horrible person. I probably should die.
I don’t think I’m actually that horrible but some of my fucking actions are and make me really remorseful because I’m not a narcissist.
Every time I hurt him I just hurt me more.
But it’s a lesson I can’t learn because I keep hurting us.
I think maybe he should just fuck me. I think if I got laid half my problems would dissolve in an instance because I have like three years of writing this dude poetry and being insanely fucking madly in love with him and sometimes I’m a star collapsing under my own weight. Or he’s a black hole tugging me. Or I’m the black hole stealing his light. Or maybe we belong together.
Or maybe our love story is similar to that of dracul Vladimir Tepes. I’m trying not to dive off the tower like Mina did. Or, after he spends millenia looking for me, I have to end his misery only to be kept with my own (and still without him, tho the love won’t die). I fell in love with him, God won’t allow me not to love him, I was born loving him. This I know.
Edgar Allan Poe died without his love too. 😭
As soon as Johnny Cash lost his wife, he lost his battle to cancer. He gave up the good fight. 😭
I don’t want to live without him but I keep pushing him away! 😭
*the chances of dying in the street increased*
So on some days I’m ready to retire and on other days I’m ready to open up my nude Patreon tier. On some days, I want to die and on other days I’m living life.
Stay tuned. I’m bound to fall again. And again.
I need you. 😭