Cauliflour
I'm the doodler, I make terrible doodles.
- Mar 24, 2025
- 782
I'm a freak. I can't relate to anybody. Even on the suicide forum, I still feel like an outsider.
I wish the person of my dreams will turn up soon. Someone that I can talk about my deepest thoughts and feelings to and not be treated like an idiot for. Somebody that I can trust with my darkest secrets. It's getting too painful to hide everyday, I need someone to love me and accept my self harm tendencies without getting mad at me and making me feel like a disappointment.
I can't think of lust without pain anymore. I can't think of emotions without pain anymore. Any chances of a normal relationship are fucked because of that. I need someone of a sadistic nature to truly feel loved. Problem is, someone like that is probably toxic aswell. I've come to accept that I'm a ticking time bomb for getting my idiot ass raped. It''s gonna happen eventually if I keep up trying to look for a girlfriend. I have no experience in dating, I'm autistic and I'm a masochist: the holy trinity of prime victim material. There's only 2 kinds of people in this world aside from me: people who are disturbed of my actions, and people who want to encourage my actions, and I really don't want to meet the latter.
That's the problem with masochism: it's basically impossible to talk about because there's a very specific image people think of when you bring up BDSM, and I'm not like that. I'd say I'm worse actually like latex and bondage is one thing, and wanting someone to beat the shit out of you until you say "that's enough ;)" is another. How can you explain to a normal person that you think having bruises inflicted by your partner willingly, according to your specific guidelines for that night, is a good thing? Oh and humiliation, can't forget that. I am not like that at all but considering the type of women I'm attracted to are borderline domestic abusers, it's guaranteed to have that line crossed someday. I can understand the word "stop" easy peasy, however I'm not the one who wants to do the action so that's meaningless. Brings me a lot of anxiety.
Even just normal sex stuff I think will cause issues cause I have god awful emotion management so when I think about that kind of stuff, I also imagine needing to hit myself or something as a way to manage such a strong emotion that I'm not fit to handle. I just hope I don't turn into an incel or really obsessive, although there's a chance that may happen. Autism really does make things so much harder in this regard, and I wish somebody just sat me down when I was 13, and taught me proper lesbian relationship stuff (and also just relationship stuff in general but mostly the former). I had to learn from queer friends in secondary school and the internet, which is not the best source. It's too late for me to ask now though, I'm too old to be asking my parents about basic relationship dynamics, and my parents are straight and neurotypical anyway so I doubt their advice would transfer that well. It's also too late because there's no way in hell I'm admitting to my parents some of the shit I fantasise about. Like I said, I've had multiple daydreams about laying on the floor and getting kicked the shit out of (in pre-approved areas because getting a broken nose is no fun), I'm not exaggerating (and I've had much worse thoughts, if you've ever seen my posts about ideal suicides).
When it came to pastoral support regarding my autism, they were all looking in the wrong direction. They never really recognised my alixithmya and my lack of emotional regulation because I was supposedly very smart and to them it looked like neurodivergency was a blessing to me. Also I don't melt down and most of my traits aren't too obvious just by looking at me so they probably just didn't realise. I certainly didn't, I didn't have the words for it for years. So when they see the physical manifestation of that on my wrist, they just don't get it. They don't understand why and how somebody can want to hurt themselves. They can't feel the greige that is my emotional state and how the addiction of self harm combats that. They think it's anxiety, or stress or whatever they want to come up with. And for most of my life, I didn't have the knowlege of what my mental state is like due to how disconnected I am from it so I didn't have the words to express it (that and I'm a mix of uncommon shit that doesn't turn up on those articles often).
It was actually this website that really helped me discover the depths of my mental health (you can see it in how I talk about self harm in my earlier posts), something I'm very grateful for as media relating to self harm is total dogshit and treats a serious condition like a silly little phase for edgy teenagers, even if it's trying to be helpful. I've been doing this for years, this isn't a phase, this is just how my brain is wired now. I'm addicted and I find great satisfaction in my work and I want to make it worse and worse. I want someone else to contribute to my collection of scars to my blueprint. I want to be able to talk about my mental health without being treated like a dissapointment that should be shuffled into a therapist's office. I hate therapy, they're just like those people in my life but worse because they won't let me leave unless I give an answer to a question that I can't answer.
I want a pretty woman to get rid of the noise in my brain and make me feel loved.
I'm so lonely.
Nobody relates to me, not even suicidal people.
But I can't say that I'm lonely out loud because there's plenty of people around me that I just don't talk to.
Doesn't matter that conversations between normal people feel like theres miles inbetween us, having to put up a facade of sorts so I don't slip up.
I think I have depression, but I don't want to jump to conclusions because depression is a serious mental disorder. Unfortunately, I don't fit the bill for a typical depressed person either, something I'm used to by now. I don't want to go ask a therapist because I don't think anyone can truly understand how I think, not even myself. Typical depression cures like walking outside, eating healthy etc don't mean anything to me because fundamentally I'm broken. I'm broken with no cure because I've let myself grow like this. I can't stop cutting because after 2 weeks I lose all motivation and just want to rot in my bed. To fix me fully is to rip out my brain from my body and stomp on it until it stops producing electricity. The thought of antidepressents freaks me out because I'd suddenly have all these emotions forced onto me and I don't think I could handle it. All it took for me to attempt suicide a year and a half ago was 5 mochas and a speech that's designed to make you think about your future. Ever since then I've realised just how fragile my mental state actually is, and how much noise is lurking in the background, supressed by tiredness and distractions.
I really like how my scars look. I put a lot of thought and effort into their placement and apperance. I make sure the patches are in specific orders so when they heal, they look coherent with the older scars around them. To me they're like tattoos, but I can't show them to anyone because they'd be horrified. The last time my parents saw my scars, they were only a few on the right wrist. Now they take up the entire top side of both my forearms and I want to go past the elbow and cover the whole arm with them (I don't go under the arm because it stings too much, there's important veins and nerves there and also they're less noticable with a lot of poses), but I don't want to rush it as over time the addiction makes it so I need a certain amount of cuts and blood to feel satisfied, so it'll be healthier to let the escalation do it itself so I don't escalate too fast and end up rotting in a mental hospital too early. To me, showing my scars is like taking off my bra and showing breasts, due to how long I've had to think about covering my arms to cover scars. I very much like to keep to myself when it comes to sexuality (ironic considering some of the shit I've said above, but it's impossible to talk about my self harm without bringing up masochism sooo...) so I like wearing covering clothes, the more layers, the more comfy. I'm most comfortable when wearing a collared shirt with 2 layers on top of it, jeans and fingerless gloves. All you can see skin wise is my face, neck and fingers (although I have swoopy hair so a good third of my face is obscured anyway) and I really like the idea of only people I deem trustworthy actually seeing that kind of stuff but I can't help but think most people would be horrified if I showed them my scars like I was flashing tits. If I don't show them though then it'll be more awkward later down the line like they're pretty obviously always fresh in some capacity.
I'm gonna stop talking now, before I say something really personal and regret it.
Images seem to be working for me again. It attached itself with the file name and then I clicked it, did the "image can't be requested" thing when I tried to view it fully and then I pressed the download button, it went to that file page thing where you're supposed to right click to save it to your computer (i didn't cause i don't need 2 of these shitty doodles on my hard drive lol) and then when I went back to this page, the image was there in all it's glory.
I wish the person of my dreams will turn up soon. Someone that I can talk about my deepest thoughts and feelings to and not be treated like an idiot for. Somebody that I can trust with my darkest secrets. It's getting too painful to hide everyday, I need someone to love me and accept my self harm tendencies without getting mad at me and making me feel like a disappointment.
I can't think of lust without pain anymore. I can't think of emotions without pain anymore. Any chances of a normal relationship are fucked because of that. I need someone of a sadistic nature to truly feel loved. Problem is, someone like that is probably toxic aswell. I've come to accept that I'm a ticking time bomb for getting my idiot ass raped. It''s gonna happen eventually if I keep up trying to look for a girlfriend. I have no experience in dating, I'm autistic and I'm a masochist: the holy trinity of prime victim material. There's only 2 kinds of people in this world aside from me: people who are disturbed of my actions, and people who want to encourage my actions, and I really don't want to meet the latter.
That's the problem with masochism: it's basically impossible to talk about because there's a very specific image people think of when you bring up BDSM, and I'm not like that. I'd say I'm worse actually like latex and bondage is one thing, and wanting someone to beat the shit out of you until you say "that's enough ;)" is another. How can you explain to a normal person that you think having bruises inflicted by your partner willingly, according to your specific guidelines for that night, is a good thing? Oh and humiliation, can't forget that. I am not like that at all but considering the type of women I'm attracted to are borderline domestic abusers, it's guaranteed to have that line crossed someday. I can understand the word "stop" easy peasy, however I'm not the one who wants to do the action so that's meaningless. Brings me a lot of anxiety.
Even just normal sex stuff I think will cause issues cause I have god awful emotion management so when I think about that kind of stuff, I also imagine needing to hit myself or something as a way to manage such a strong emotion that I'm not fit to handle. I just hope I don't turn into an incel or really obsessive, although there's a chance that may happen. Autism really does make things so much harder in this regard, and I wish somebody just sat me down when I was 13, and taught me proper lesbian relationship stuff (and also just relationship stuff in general but mostly the former). I had to learn from queer friends in secondary school and the internet, which is not the best source. It's too late for me to ask now though, I'm too old to be asking my parents about basic relationship dynamics, and my parents are straight and neurotypical anyway so I doubt their advice would transfer that well. It's also too late because there's no way in hell I'm admitting to my parents some of the shit I fantasise about. Like I said, I've had multiple daydreams about laying on the floor and getting kicked the shit out of (in pre-approved areas because getting a broken nose is no fun), I'm not exaggerating (and I've had much worse thoughts, if you've ever seen my posts about ideal suicides).
When it came to pastoral support regarding my autism, they were all looking in the wrong direction. They never really recognised my alixithmya and my lack of emotional regulation because I was supposedly very smart and to them it looked like neurodivergency was a blessing to me. Also I don't melt down and most of my traits aren't too obvious just by looking at me so they probably just didn't realise. I certainly didn't, I didn't have the words for it for years. So when they see the physical manifestation of that on my wrist, they just don't get it. They don't understand why and how somebody can want to hurt themselves. They can't feel the greige that is my emotional state and how the addiction of self harm combats that. They think it's anxiety, or stress or whatever they want to come up with. And for most of my life, I didn't have the knowlege of what my mental state is like due to how disconnected I am from it so I didn't have the words to express it (that and I'm a mix of uncommon shit that doesn't turn up on those articles often).
It was actually this website that really helped me discover the depths of my mental health (you can see it in how I talk about self harm in my earlier posts), something I'm very grateful for as media relating to self harm is total dogshit and treats a serious condition like a silly little phase for edgy teenagers, even if it's trying to be helpful. I've been doing this for years, this isn't a phase, this is just how my brain is wired now. I'm addicted and I find great satisfaction in my work and I want to make it worse and worse. I want someone else to contribute to my collection of scars to my blueprint. I want to be able to talk about my mental health without being treated like a dissapointment that should be shuffled into a therapist's office. I hate therapy, they're just like those people in my life but worse because they won't let me leave unless I give an answer to a question that I can't answer.
I want a pretty woman to get rid of the noise in my brain and make me feel loved.
I'm so lonely.
Nobody relates to me, not even suicidal people.
But I can't say that I'm lonely out loud because there's plenty of people around me that I just don't talk to.
Doesn't matter that conversations between normal people feel like theres miles inbetween us, having to put up a facade of sorts so I don't slip up.
I think I have depression, but I don't want to jump to conclusions because depression is a serious mental disorder. Unfortunately, I don't fit the bill for a typical depressed person either, something I'm used to by now. I don't want to go ask a therapist because I don't think anyone can truly understand how I think, not even myself. Typical depression cures like walking outside, eating healthy etc don't mean anything to me because fundamentally I'm broken. I'm broken with no cure because I've let myself grow like this. I can't stop cutting because after 2 weeks I lose all motivation and just want to rot in my bed. To fix me fully is to rip out my brain from my body and stomp on it until it stops producing electricity. The thought of antidepressents freaks me out because I'd suddenly have all these emotions forced onto me and I don't think I could handle it. All it took for me to attempt suicide a year and a half ago was 5 mochas and a speech that's designed to make you think about your future. Ever since then I've realised just how fragile my mental state actually is, and how much noise is lurking in the background, supressed by tiredness and distractions.
I really like how my scars look. I put a lot of thought and effort into their placement and apperance. I make sure the patches are in specific orders so when they heal, they look coherent with the older scars around them. To me they're like tattoos, but I can't show them to anyone because they'd be horrified. The last time my parents saw my scars, they were only a few on the right wrist. Now they take up the entire top side of both my forearms and I want to go past the elbow and cover the whole arm with them (I don't go under the arm because it stings too much, there's important veins and nerves there and also they're less noticable with a lot of poses), but I don't want to rush it as over time the addiction makes it so I need a certain amount of cuts and blood to feel satisfied, so it'll be healthier to let the escalation do it itself so I don't escalate too fast and end up rotting in a mental hospital too early. To me, showing my scars is like taking off my bra and showing breasts, due to how long I've had to think about covering my arms to cover scars. I very much like to keep to myself when it comes to sexuality (ironic considering some of the shit I've said above, but it's impossible to talk about my self harm without bringing up masochism sooo...) so I like wearing covering clothes, the more layers, the more comfy. I'm most comfortable when wearing a collared shirt with 2 layers on top of it, jeans and fingerless gloves. All you can see skin wise is my face, neck and fingers (although I have swoopy hair so a good third of my face is obscured anyway) and I really like the idea of only people I deem trustworthy actually seeing that kind of stuff but I can't help but think most people would be horrified if I showed them my scars like I was flashing tits. If I don't show them though then it'll be more awkward later down the line like they're pretty obviously always fresh in some capacity.
I'm gonna stop talking now, before I say something really personal and regret it.
Images seem to be working for me again. It attached itself with the file name and then I clicked it, did the "image can't be requested" thing when I tried to view it fully and then I pressed the download button, it went to that file page thing where you're supposed to right click to save it to your computer (i didn't cause i don't need 2 of these shitty doodles on my hard drive lol) and then when I went back to this page, the image was there in all it's glory.
That can't be easy, the lonely feeling like you can't even relate with anyone here about such issues (and there are few, if any, other places on the internet like here), and I'm sure that's an understatement. I hope at the very least that typing out all your thoughts was cathartic in some small way, even if temporarily.
![[gbd8]](/data/avatars/s/128/128737.jpg?1782441831){kind=avatar}
