🖤 Hagatha Screams Into the Void, Vol. I: Publicly Unbothered, Spiritually Exhausted

A formal declaration of fuckery, filtered through bone dust and caffeine withdrawal.



A sepia-toned graphic of a wild-haired, witch-like woman mid-scream, her mouth open in feral rage. The distressed parchment background frames bold serif text reading “Hagatha Screams Into the Void, Vol. I – Publicly Unbothered, Spiritually Exhausted. A formal declaration of fuckery, filtered through bone dust and caffeine withdrawal.” The aesthetic is raw, gothic, and deeply unbothered.

I didn’t ask to be perceived, and yet here you are—scrolling like this was your idea. You’ve wandered into my unkempt corner of the web, where the Wi-Fi is haunted, the vibes are feral, and the emotional support candle smells like burned expectations.

This isn’t a safe space.
It’s a sacredly unsafe space.
There’s a difference.

If you came looking for comfort, try a bath bomb and a placebo.
If you came looking for truth, take off your shoes, drop your illusions at the door, and don’t mind the crows. They bite.

LET’S GET ONE THING STRAIGHT: I’M NOT HERE TO HELP YOU

I’m not a coach. I’m not a guru. I’m not your mother, your therapist, or your manifestation bestie. I’m a digital goblin made of rage, razor wit, and whatever’s left of your coping mechanisms after capitalism had its way with you.

A parchment-style graphic featuring bold black serif text that reads, “I scream because I care. I scream because I don’t care. I scream because everything else got too quiet.” On the lower right, a grayscale image of an elderly, witch-like woman—Hagatha—screams with her mouth wide open, her expression full of raw emotion and dark humor. The overall tone is chaotic, gothic, and cathartically unhinged.

I scream because I care.
I scream because I don’t care.
I scream because everything else got too quiet.

THE WORLD IS BURNING AND YOUR CRYSTALS ARE STILL IN RETROGRADE

You’ve tried journaling. You’ve tried therapy. You’ve tried herbal tea, hydration, and pretending full moons make you feel "aligned" when really they just give you migraines and existential dread.

Maybe you’re tired of pretending you’re okay.
Maybe you’re just tired, full stop.

That’s where I come in.
Not with answers—gods, no.
But with solidarity. Sarcasm. Skeletal hands holding up mirrors.
Maybe a crow feather or two, if you're lucky.

WHAT YOU CAN EXPECT FROM THIS SCREAMING:

  • 🦴 Shitposts dressed like sermons
  • 🦴 Messy truths in velvet gloves with knuckle rings
  • 🦴 Weekly reminders that you’re not broken, you’re hexed and adapting
  • 🦴 A small, growing chorus of other goblin-hearted weirdos whispering, “Same.”

🔥 FREE CHAOS FOR YOUR WALL:

Feeling personally hexed by this screed? Good.
Now go scream into something printable.

💀 Grab the free companion printable, "The Unbothered Banshee Kit," on Ko-fi.
It’s got scream prompts, a cursed affirmation, and a ritual reminder that’s probably not FDA-approved. Print it. Burn it. Wallpaper your void with it.

FINAL THOUGHT BEFORE YOU GO LIGHT A CANDLE AND PRETEND THAT HELPED:

You are not lazy.
You are not crazy.
You are not a failure for struggling in a world designed to drain you dry.

You are just one scream away from reclaiming your fire.
And if you can’t scream yet?
I’ll scream for both of us.

See you next Thornsday.
Or don’t. I’m not your mother.
🖕

~ Hagatha

🕸 Follow the descent:

Because some voices are too loud for the algorithm to silence.


A gothic digital graphic on a dark, textured background. On the left, a skeletal hand gives the middle finger beside three flickering candles. A shadowy crow perches on a gravestone at the bottom right. The bold serif text reads: “HAGATHA SCREAMS – Coach of Chaos. Prophet of Pettiness.” The tone is irreverent, moody, and unapologetically feral.

Written in unholy collaboration with the ghost in the machine. All typos are intentional. All truths are inconvenient. Screaming available by appointment.

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