what do i do if all i fantasize about is vomiting blood?
trigger warning: blood, vomit, abuse, panic attacks, medication, psychiatry, self-harm
every minute i daydream of vomiting coagulated blood as i cry in absolute pain. every response that i can think of in face of the emotions that plague me is unapologetically exhibitionist.
this one time, i started screaming in public about how i wouldn't face my responsabilities. my wish is to pretend i can stop functioning so maybe someone will stop me against my will. i have fantasies of causing a scene so bad that revolutionaries call the police on me. ultimately, i want to make people doubt if female hysteria was more than just a myth. i have this belief that if i yell enough i will be deemed too unsafe to be around and i will have to spend the rest of my life between visits to the doctor and under total state control at all times.
this other time i was ugly crying about how i couldn't keep moving forward anymore. i fell to my knees and crumpled up like my stomach was in inimaginable pain. all of these fantasies end up with me on the ground and all i do is fantasize about vomiting blood on concrete or carpet, whichever looks ugliest. this time a group of people circled around me and i saw people recording with their phones.
i am taken away once again, because nobody wants to deal with this mess. “you've killed me”, i said. “you have no idea of what you have done to me”, i was at the other side of the phone call involuntarily institutionalized, and i was put on the same medication that i had called the greatest evil of psychiatry just a few months ago at a bar with them.
my wildest fantasies are those in which control is forcefully taken away from me. it keeps me going through best when i imagine the boot stepping on me more. i dream of a world where nobody understands me and i am a monkey at the zoo. my self-destruction becomes pure entertainment to the bystander, who watches me explode, amused.
another time, i felt that time stopped and i kept on vomiting on my lap forever. i felt the blood become first a puddle, then a sea. this time i wanted to drown myself at a public beach, or to walk away in the very early morning into a forest. i always wanted everyone around me to be bitter about my loss, i wanted there to be pain, i wanted it to mean something.
but always, there must be someone watching, there must be someone to ridicule myself in front of. every time i only scream when i know i am watched and i carefully act out this performance for the entire world to watch, this internationally broadcasted immolation.
these dreams are what keep me moving. somehow it feels liberating to know there could be a reality in which i am not my own problem anymore, yet ironically it is the most oppressing. i have come to seen as desirable a future in which my agency is taken from me. when i am feeling miserable about my body i fantasize of vomiting over myself just after i wake up to make myself someone else's problem.
what do i do if all i fantasize about is vomiting blood? i wonder if repeatedly watching myself lose my personhood to prescribed medication or lose my dignity to being ridiculed in public counts as a form of mental self-harm. i don't care about the answer. i just need to keep moving.