#* redacted being having been intensely lonely myself

[redwayfarers]

And when nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you do whatever you want, what do you call it?

Freedom or loneliness?

[naranjapetrificada]

I came to this hellsite to talk about gay pirates and my therapist, and my next therapy session is still a few days out.

The problem is that I still need to finish processing In Favor With Their Stars, and it only raises even more questions about things that engaging with the show and its fanworks have prompted discussions with my therapist about recently. Why I didn't think to avoid fiction guaranteed to raise existential questions in the middle of a prolonged moment of IRL existential turmoil is beyond me, but here we are.

(it's not beyond me, I seem to have an unconscious drive to test the limits of my emotional regulation and resilience that makes it incredibly difficult to avoid looking into an abyss, even knowing the second half of that Nietzsche quote.)

It's remarkable (and appropriate) that this fic has received the kind of attention and discussion that it has, but that has left me feeling like so many others in the AO3 comments: what could I possibly say that hasn't been said dozens of times? I guess the only "unique" things I can offer on it is the Therapy Stuff it brings up. Also profuse apologies to my therapist that yes, we do once again have to talk about fanfiction that wrecked me, why it managed to unlock things that nothing else in my 3[redacted digit] years of life ever had, and what questions it's left me wrestling with.

Namely:

Why does the question of Stede's personhood makes me feel compelled to try to resolve an ethical debate that people who have spent their entire careers studying AI and consciousness and self-concept and science fiction will never agree on?

Also related to compulsion: what is that drive to engage with devastating media like wiggling a loose tooth?

Why do I assume I'm being judgemental just for asking myself if Ed's "happy ending" could actually be read as incredibly, distressingly lonely in some ways depending on how one feels about the origins and nature of Stede's consciousness?

How will Stede survive without the very of-biological-origins Ed? Will he want to? Should I actually write that fic I had an idea for that would wrestle with that question?

Why in the world is so much of my experience in this fandom wrapped up in grief? I can't seem to shut up about it.

How do you decide if the strong feelings art provokes in you are something you need to unpack or are just part of the experience? Especially as someone whose response to beauty is to cry with the same intensity as when she's crying over actual emotions?

Anyway thanks @mxmollusca for the emotionally fraught questions I can't stop mulling over right now and for the profound beauty of the story that provoked them. I may not be able to distinguish between potential reasons it all made me cry but I'm still so thankful for the chance to shed those unidentifiable tears regardless.

And thanks to everyone else out there making OFMD stuff too. I've never been part of any other fandom with this level of skill and creativity, nor with so many creators doing so much good work. If there's something in the water it must be the source material.

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

It’s not necessarily my sense of mortality I’ve been hit with. But like the fact I’m an adult.

I’m fully an adult. I don’t get my teen years back. I don’t have a job. I’m on the DSP. I don’t do anything with myself. I don’t do anything “adult”. I’m not writing, I’m not creating, I’m not achieving. I don’t connect to those around me. I’m not building those relations with anyone. I’m single. I’m ageing while reaching no milestones.

I think to help myself cope with that I’ve CLUNG so heavily onto the fact that I look young for my age. Like maybe they will cancel each other out a bit. I feel good when I answer the door and the person who answers it goes “oh, um, are your mum or dad home?” I feel good when people find out about my age and then go “you don’t look it at all! You have such a baby face!”

But that is so small and fleeting. Time is catching up to me in every aspect of the word.

Yesterday the first woman at the bookstore asked if I was a University student.

At the second store one of the women asked me if I had any children / if I worked in a library.

But those are things I don’t have.

I don’t have a degree. I don’t have a partner or children. I don’t have a job. I’m just floating here. With absolutely NOTHING to tie me to the modern concepts of community or humanity.

The only thing that I felt like gave me some semblance of time to catch up is slipping through my fingers so quickly.

[REDACTED]

And I have nothing to show for it. Nothing gained. I’ve hardly even read or done anything this year.

Is this where I’m going to be at 40? Alone , no job, greying hair, no skills, on the DSP ? Is this just my life?

And the thing I hate the most is I’ll complain but there isn’t really much I feel like I can do about it. I don’t want to sound like im a spoilt or entitled person but I’ve been in therapy for so long. I don’t think my mental illnesses are changing anytime soon. And they are too intense to work. They affect every aspect of my life.

Is this it. Is this all I have. The ever march into age with no one besides me, no accomplishments , no love, heavily mentally ill until it ends?

If this is going to be life why should I have to stick around for all those years to see it stay the same. Why can’t I keep the ONE thing I have and die young so I don’t have to see that lonely older future.

But because of those around me and how it will affect them I feel like I’m not allowed to. I’m stuck here on Earth externally changing while internally staying the same.

Sleeping the days away because I don’t have anything to live for. While simultaneously genuinely fearing how quickly everything is moving while I stay stagnant.

And I just don’t know what to do about it

Being out in a coma or dying it just sleeping forever seems like the only way out of this hell

[tylerwritez]

Tuesday, june 22 2021

I've noticed I'm getting "the shiverys" or "the twitchy" a lot today. Like every time I FEEL something I take a moment to violently tic.... every time I think about certain things I tic.... good things, bad things, things from an hour ago and things from years ago. Tic, tic, tic.

Also, I have... some stuff to explain. Its really no big deal, but you know me: I'll freak out about it anyway. Basically I dissed my friend (rightfully so) around the time that we had just met cos they did something that threw me off.

He saw it in my phone... NOW. it's not RELEVANT anymore and I've since redacted that criticism...and now I gotta explain it to him anwyays. Oh well. I'm good at this stuff. I can get myself outta any situation. I dont even know why I'm talking like this tho... it's not a "Situation" it's just smthn I gotta explain rq.

Oh, today's song recommendation is Spirit Crusher by Death. I'm a huge Death fan...

Also! I gotta study... for my replacement exam. How stressful. Its about photosynthesis, but like, it's not simple. We went DEEP inside those fucking leaves.

One sec, lemme hook up my IV tube

Not an ACTUAL IV tube... just my headphones. But since I'm so #emo, it might as well be a fucking IV tube with the way that I cant live without it.

Its 3:08 and I'm walking home now. I was upset last night but me and Star have made up now lol... it was thAt easy. I'm so defective, making shit hard when it doesnt need to be.

It's so hot out damn. Idk. I had school today, so I had Bio class... I ACTUALLY PAID ATTENTION for once. I had lunch with Star and her friend group, and I honestly kinda feel like they're MY friends now too, even just a little bit.

Actually, I used to rant about feeling lonely like all the time but now I have so many friends it's crazy they all keep inviting me places and it's like people WANT ME AROUND... idk. It makes me happy.

Today I gotta ask if tommroow after school I can go to Bee's house to watch Supernatural (famous homoerotic ghost show)

I should also add songs to Erin's spotify playlist for our picnic saturday which I still need permission to go to.

I gotta ask for Wednesday after school to watch Insidious with Jay  which is apparently really good

Also hes the friend that I gotta explain stuff to... the DrAmA... the ThEaTrE....

Update my dad said yes to hanging out with Bee but first I'm gonna miss school to fix my broken brackets on my braces

Also turns out the house I THOUGHT we were moving into has substantial damage from shifting so... we aRENT moving there.

In case you didn't know, shifting is when like the house that's been built literally SHIFTS like it moves around.

Anwyays Jay just texted me... I'm gonna change into shorts since it's hot, set up my study area,.... and respond to him.

The time is 3:22 p.m.

Wish me. Luck.

Luck is plentiful! As it so often is in my risky, risky life.

I play my cards right. It's a learnt skill.

But also there wasnt much to explain since it passed already and was tiny anywyas.

XD so I've made up with the whole goddamn world by now.

Its 6:31, we saw 1 house. Only one. Its kinda hot out but I'm gonna bike now since we just had supper. I finally finished my homework... I just have to finish one mixed media piece as my final project for art!

Friday is my replacement. On photosynthesis and cell resp. We know this. But what I didn't mention, or I dont THINK I did, is that if I finish my art project before then I have the second block FREE!!! Me, Star, and her friend

A are planning to leave for second block and maybe get mint chocolate chip ice cream!

Also I might eat her out XD

Anyways idk. I hope I can bike tonight to call Jay.

I keep accidentally using people's real names here then having to correct it... I dont know how much i care about MY identity being discovered... but to have my friends doxxed would suck.

Man I feel bad abt saying fuck star last night cos we made up....

Wait we r looking at another house? Idk I'm in the car still waiting to go home

Oh wait no now we r goin home

Its 6:39... I hope I still have time.

I went biking, called Jay. Went home. Idk, friendly conversation... we talked more tonight and I also talked to my other friend A. Jay is... I LOVE HIM?? SO MUCH??? I feel so happy. Talking to him thinking about him seeing his STUPID FUCKING FACE JESUS. his eyes alone... I could stare at his face all day probably. I want to kiss him... hOLD HIS HAND... omg... huG HIM!!! Eofjwpxjwie he's so sweet like I can't even... and I'm proabably not good enough for him like. Wtf. Hes easily a 10. And I dont rate things outta 10. How tf do I end up with HIM? Doing stuff, as friends. Like wHAT. I guess I got lucky XD. He says he loves my personality and I'm hot XD ofc I dont see it myself. But like. JESUS CHRIST he could proabably easily pull whOever. XD me?

Whatever though. As long as we r together and stuff. I LOVE HIM A LOT. he said he loved me. Every time he says that it makes me so overly happy.

Maybe I'm just sappy and stuff.... whatever. I think it would be nice to be hugged by him.

Yeah I'm cheesy.

I'm sorta tired now so maybe I'm not writing the best.

I just keep thinkinf about love. Love is a muscle of evil suggestion. But how evil can it really be? I am just a human being and that is all. Everything else is applied. I am just a human being with soemthing in my heart that pulls me all over the place. Love is this strange thing because I'm fucked up and to be able to love without that fucked up part of me, without the damage... is this complicated, hard thing to do and I can NEVER tell if I'm doing it right but I know I'm DOING IT. I know I FEEL LOVE. And soemtimes it's such an intense thing like when you go to surf on a wave at the beach with ur belly but u hit it wrong and it's so big and overwhelming it washes over you and PULLS you down to the bottom and smushes your face into the sand and YOU CANT BREATHE jesus Christ it's like that.

Or maybe I just want to experience love as it should be felt.

Obviously all of my problems surrounding this Damage could be easily fixed if I went to therapy but. there are reasons I can't.

I LOVE a lot. Too much for my own good. Enough to hurt me, get me into trouble, etc etc but also... enough to liberate me. I LOVE. I love Jay. So much. LIKE. MY BRAIN ORBITS AROUND HIM CONSTANTLY THINKING OF HIM AND PRAISING HIM AND MWUAH HE IS SO LOVELY I BOW BEFORE HIM...

I think as much as I love, a lot of the times I tend to focus even more on BEING loved.

If I am told I am loved, and shOwN I am loved... it is one of the most powerful things. Especially since I was literally emotionally neglected in childhood... yeah. I feel like I'm always trying to fill that hole.

Not EVERY feeling I have is for that reaosn but sometimes, if you tell me you love me, show me you love me, hug me,... I'll like start crying,,, that's the childhood emotional neglect kicking in. If you call me #smol and #cute and say I look young and fragile which happens more often than you'd think XD, I know I'm not supposed to like that shit, so I act like I dont....but I do. Which is PROBABLY ALSO THE CEN 🤪  like whatever lol

Anwyays I'm fucked up

You see how quickly things become complicated in my mind?

Convoluted? Is that the word?

Whatever. I OVERCOMPLICATE THINGS COS I OVERTHINK THEM BECAUSE I'm LITERALLY MENTALLY ILL IN SO MANY DIFFERENT WAYS. I'm not joking. I obviously have unresolved undiagnosed "issues"

I do Suspect things, though.

I can make a list

Maybe I shouldn't.

Maybe I will.

I shouldnt.

Whatever.

I used to hate when people brought up my self harm. I would actually panic. I still self harm but now? Now I'm fine with anyone  talking about it as long as it's not an adult who can get me into trouble/force me into therapy over it. Because really? I kinda like having it mentioned. It's kinda validating and it's like hey... people can see that I'm sick.

I dont do it so people talk to me about it though. Dont get me wrong. If I did, I'd go vertically on the arms, not for suicide but so it healed and people would ask XD.

My scars are actually VERY hidden... cos I never intended for ANYONE to see. But for those who DO see them,,,, it's nice soemtimes to have people express concern.

I dont wanna be PITIED or anything, but idk I just think to myself "wow, they're CONCERNED... about ME... they arent angry or mean... they didnt yell at me or threaten me... they respect my autonomy and privacy...

And they CARE ABOUT ME..." and it makes me cry.

That's also the CEN.

I dont know. I just like when people express genuine concern. Even if they see and then just ask if I'm okay. That's all it takes cos then I go wow.

Its validating and irs lovely because finally people care... FINALLY PEOPLE CARE. FINALLY I GET SOME EMPATHY OR SYMPATHY AND NO ANGER.

Even just having them brought up tells me its noticeable enough

My brain does this thing where it thinks nothing bad that's ever happened to me was Bad Enough for me to be upset about.

And I dont know... its nice sometimes to be told shit like "omg that looks so bad" or to see that people who do see my cuts are somewhat shocked or revolted... it's nice because I go... "hey, it was bad enough for them..."

Or to have people comment on them with concern. Just ANYTHINT WHERE PEOPLE NOTICE IT AND ARENT ASSHOLES ABOUT IT IS VALIDATING.

Because I'm not used to that...

Because CEN

I'm. The worst perosn on the fucking planet.

I should kill myself.

I suddenly actually feel so self hating I do want to kill myself... oh god.

I ruin everything. Everything. Everything. Everything. What have I done. Like. Why. Oh god.

I'm just remembering when Star said my kindness seemed like an act. And how I've been called out for seeming fake like 2 other times.

DO I SEEM FAKE???? I DONT EVER PUT ON ACTS OF KINDESS.... CONCIOUSLY? but the very idea that I could be perceived that way...

Should I like not try to be nice or some shit?

Jesus christ she hurts my feelings even now when it was a long time ago.

But I cant blame her. I can't blame anyone for how i feel except my parents because they left me with fucking. Heart nerve damage or some shit.

I'm tired and now I'm sad too. Goodnight guys.

[minveor]

the power a name held.

it’s mere a bunch of random letters thrown into a corresponding sequence which created into a word.

it’s supposed to be meaningless alphabets. his. hers. theirs. mine. yours.

well yours held a little more weight than the others. because sometimes i hear them in the back of my mind each time the radio plays pink sweat$’ 17. sometimes i hear myself calling for them in my sleepless nights, wishing for your warm hugs which seemed like a great idea to fall asleep to. sometimes i hear them in random objects i see on the streets—oh [redacted] liked those; oh remember when [redacted] spilled that coffee one time; or when [redacted] got into trouble for that.

i forget people’s names easily but i don’t understand why yours stuck. why yours is painted permanently small place somewhere in a piece of what’s left of myself.

i remember one time i catch up with a friend after being so long and far apart from each other; i saw a huge random billboard reminds me of you. unwillingly, my mouth betrayed my sanity and your name spilled out of my mouth.

i remember my friends’ laugh, letting out a “after all these years, i expected a different name from your mouth.” he says before adding, “it’s jimin. it’s always been jimin for you isn’t it?”

that time, i bitterly laughed. but i was facepalming myself. i didn’t realize i think about you much more than i should. all these time i thought i was just lonely and i missed what we used to have, not you.

i thought i just missed how perfect we were for each other. how you held me when i cried. how i wiped your tears and cuddled you close. your good morning texts. my weird selcas you always call cute with a sickening amount of heart eyes emojis. but it seemed like your name has imprinted much more deeper into my skin than i anticipated.

parts of me wants to scrape that out of my skin. the pathetic part of me are too afraid to type your name too, scared of the rumbling emotions i am able to feel at the mention of it. its your name that i still write poems about. never explicitly mentioned but always heartfully felt. i was afraid if i write yours down then i wouldn’t be able to hold myself back.

this day though i kind of want to pat myself in the back and at the same time punch myself for the years i held back. for the people i didn’t date wholly, as a piece of me still belonged to you.

i read the envelope on my hands over and over again. it’s hot. it’s suffocating. my tears are betraying me. i think i unconsciously bleed my lip for biting too hard. i tremble, and i suddenly forgot i held my breath for too long.

i watch the words that is engraved carefully, beautifully. it’s your name, written in cursive and in gold. along with other words i can’t seem to get in my head.

Park Jimin.

wedding. forever. happily ever after. invitation. wedding. wedding. wedding.

and then there was my name too. written in small black letters, stamped on the outside;

Dear Kim Taehyung, we cordially invite you to- and then it was a blur. just stream of tears.

your name is stacked prettily with another name I seem to bitterly be jealous of.

i used to dream of our names on an invitation too. with the words forever and love and probably a happily ever after somewhere on the page.

i dreamed of a wedding, a vow, beautiful flowers, people crying happily. I dreamed walking on your handsome smile, probably a little teary.

my dream did came true.

but instead of our names written in cursive gold, mine is on the invited and you’re the invitee. instead of walking down the aisle, i walk on the sidelines. instead of walking toward your handsome face, taking your hands, saying the vows i memorized the night before, i walk in on the far end seat, my hands claps cold at the sealed vow, and i finally say my congratulations.

the teasing was also present. our friends who knows our history smiled knowingly at me.

pitiful, i know.

as the night ends and i dread to go back home, i walked up to you. my hand reach out to yours for a handshake. you smile at me, thanking me for coming. i trust myself to have control, and not let your warmth burn my skin.

i pull my hands back and i keep them in my pockets. i shouldn’t long your touch like this.

then i say your name, hoping you won’t see past the eyes.

“Jimin,” i say it easy like i’m used to it, “congratulations.” i say it easy with a smile. “i’m happy for you.” i say it easy like i mean it.

“thank you.” you answer. i want to avoid to look at you, but lord knows i dont have any strength left for that. so i meet your gaze. and there it is, the pity in your ambers. i hate it. i hate that i’ve seen love in there before and i crave to see it again.

i know it’s selfish, but the question leaves my mouth anyways. “are you happy?” i sound bitter. i sound like a pathetic ex that hasn’t move on.

your gaze softens. but your smile tells otherwise. “yes, i am.” your gaze wanders, finding your significant other, watching him from afar. there’s adoration and warmth in your eyes. you used to look at me like that too. “he makes me the happiest.”

“good for you.” i say. good for him, indeed. no good for me, however.

your sigh sounds heavy. we stare at each other. silent conversation on our heads. like telepathy. we reminisce, we remember. we recall. but there is only silence, an intent look shared. tons and tons of unsaid words.

“we- we were happy too.” you say.

i hold my breath. you don’t talk like that to your ex that hasn’t got over you on your wedding, jimin. you shouldn’t. you don’t talk about the past on your wedding day. it took all of me to not do it and here you are, doing it so soo effortlessly.

“but he makes you the happiest, don’t he?” if you want to play this game, then i’ll play with you.

“yeah,” you answer, delight dancing in those pupils. “he does.”

i nod like a dumbass. “good.”

you realize how awkward the situation has turn. “uh- uhm.” you clear your throat. “i hope you find the one that’ll make you the happiest too, taehyung-ah.”

don’t call my name like that. i hate the way it rolled out of your tongue like it belong there. i hate the way i want to melt on each syllable. i hate that the simple sound crashes my stomach, making knots and knots of pain.

“yeah, i do too.” i say. and before i burst, i decide i should take my leave. “i have to go. thank you for the party, and congratulations once again.”

you hum. “okay.”

i smiled, i turn my back, and head to the wooden door. i can feel your intense look on me. do i walk out like this? something doesn’t feel right.

so i stop in my track. “jimin?” i called out after i turn my head. i call out your name, getting used to the foreign feeling of it being not mine to hold dear anymore.

“yeah?” you sound like you expected it too.

“i’m happy for you, really.” i say. fake it till you make it, maybe. or maybe just a slightest hint, to answer your wishes. you’re the one that makes me the happiest.

if i can’t be happy with you beside me, then i decide i should be happy for your happiness.

you smile, and you blink slowly. your gestures are hard to read. your facial expressions are hard to read. i’ve always had a hard time back then, to see through you. until now, apparently.

but then you nod, to my surprise. “thank you.” you answer. i assume my message is delivered well. thank you for being happy for me.

as i walk out of the venue, i exit the doors and i see the standing poster.

there’s your name on it.

and his name under yours.

mine is nowhere in sight.

mine is for me to keep. as as well as the regret and bitterness, which is also mine to keep.

park jimin, it says. engraved gold and pretty, like it’s mocking me. like it knows that somewhere deep in what’s left of my heart, there is also the same letters engraved as gold and as pretty as it is.

p

a

r

k

j

i

m

i

n,

but in pieces.

[bat-to-da-robs]

Heyo [name redacted]. I've composed a very long expose (I use the word ironically, of course 🤣) on The Trans Stuff(tm). Just to give you some background, if you want it. If this is how things are done (they don't really cover coming out in the NT social skills books, unfortunately for me. I've been floundering for the past 18 yrs).

If whatever I end up writing is too long for any feasible attention span, I respect that 🙂.

1) I grew up in a Christian household. There are a lot of things my parents are uncomfortable with when it comes to me. The autism is one of them. I came out as gay at 12, because I didn't know what being trans was. They weren't comfortable with that. They weren't comfortable with the trans bit either when that came to light when I was ~14.

I don't blame them for it, but I do carry a hell of a lot of shame around it that I might not have in different circumstances. It's one of the reasons I really struggle to come out. Even though I know your political beliefs, and was basically 100% sure you'd be chill, I still worry irrationally, you know?

2) did you know, that you're significantly more likely to be trans if you're autistic, and vice versa? I'll send you through a link to a study on that in the next text, if you're interested.

My dad was very happy when he found this out, because to him, it meant that my transness wasn't real. It was just my autism tricking me, and I was too mentally disabled to notice.

That was a tough one to work through.

Every person has masks, right? We all put on different personalities for different circumstances. Some people are just more aware of this than others.

You're autistic, I'm sure you'll get it. At least for me, the idea of being 'fully' myself, or even marginally relaxed in a social situation is laughable.

I hurt people when I was a kid, yknow? I was a know it all. I was selfish/self-absorbed. I was cruel. All without my intention!! I didn't know I was autistic! I didn't know that I was breaking social rules and upsetting people left right and center. But I was. And as such, (as overly dramatic as this sounds outside of my head, omg), I have to mask socially. Both for people to take me seriously, and to insure that I don't hurt/belittle/disregard others.

But I value this nebulous concept of 'the truth.' (I know this is an autistic trait, but sometimes I get tired of patholagising every aspect of my personality). But I'm autistic and I'm queer. And, at least in my black and white mind, that leaves me feeling like I'm 'lying' every time I mask. So I feel guilty (to differing extents) every time I interact with people.

Because I have an 'autistic' mask that I wear when I'm with my autistic friends. And, in my opinion, it's way less effort to perform that mask than some of my others. But maybe 70% of the time I'm actually performing my NT (or more NT anyway) role.

And then I'm like. Am I lying to the people I 'NT it up' for, cuz that one feels less authentic? Or am I lying to you, because that's a mask I wear less often?

And then you add the trans bit into the mix and I feel like I'm stuck always lying. And always making people uncomfortable. And always being too much.

There are a lot of people who are proud of their queer identities. I am. Ish. I like the fact that it's made me way more empathetic. It dragged me kicking and screaming out of a really intense brand of Christianity. It's introduced me to the beautiful and fascinating complexity of the human condition.

If I could change it? I'd think about it, pretty heavily, but at the end of the day, I would change it. If I could be cis/straight? In fact, even if I could possibly be allistic?

I'd do it.

God, it would make life so much easier for my family. I break their hearts like this. And that, in turn, breaks mine.

4) I'm autistic. I know first hand that autistics can have incredibly rich internal lives, can be philosophical. (Not to be overly self-aggrandizing but) Can be very intelligent.

I'm educated about autism. About what it means. About how it doesn't make me lesser, even though I may look more 'stupid' on my bad days.

And even I struggle to believe myself with these two really confronting conditions (autism and transness). I often fall into the trap of thinking I'm just stupid, or attention seeking, or fooling myself cuz I have nothing better to do.

If I, a person who is deeply educated on this topic/this intersection, often can't stomach it, what hope do random strangers have?

I've seen people react so badly to me in the past, over and over and over again. Just decide I'm too much. For them. For their kids. And they go from liking me to ghosting me.

I'm no social expert, but I'm intimately acquainted with what disgust looks like on a person's face.

Or not even disgust. Just. That they know better than me. They know I'm just confused. They know I'm just young, looking for attention.

They know I'm making a grave mistake.

I hate when I can look at one of my friends' lives, and think I can see very clearly what's wrong, but I can't tell them, because they won't listen to me.

I hate that other people feel the same way about me.

I hate the certainty I get, clawing in my gut (oof, gotta love cliches), that they're right, and I'm too stupid to actually know anything about myself.

5) I don't want to be trans. I really don't. I try so hard to be a non-confrontational person. And I've landed on what feels like one of the more contentious issues in our current times. Everyone seems to have an 'opinion' on trans people. I dunno why I put that in scare quotes. It seemed appropriate.

Life's confusing enough. And people look down on autistics and on trans people. I swear, I'd be alright with one of them. Two's too much.

6) I don't have the money to transition. I don't have the time to transition. I don't have the family approval required to transition. I don't have the self-acceptance required to transition.

I don't have the stamina to keep living in this horrible fucking shell long term. I don't have the stamina to stay in limbo, feeling like I'm perpetually waiting for my life to start, stuck in a never ending preliminary.

I'm terrified of transitioning. The idea of staying as I am terrifies me too.

I'm on antidepressants. I wonder if one day, they won't be enough to keep this all at bay.

---

Boom. Some ramblings.

So this is all the stuff that came up, when you saw my name on my door.

I'm not very good at being trans. I don't have a prepared answer to what name/ pronouns you should use with which people. I don't know how to come out. I don't know how to ask for support. I don't even know what support I want.

I'm sick, and I'm tired, and I'm lonely, and I get really fucking bored of my stupid fucking masks, but I have no idea what's underneath.

This got way more emo than I expected. Daaamn. Thought I outgrew the eyeliner and the 'you don't understand me mom!!' vibes.

I thought I'd gotten over the 'I don't know who I am and I feel like I'm constantly tricking everyone including myself' shtick years ago.

Ah well. What would early adulthood be without a little identity related angst?

And I'm actually done rambling now. Thanks for sitting through it.

[devilsknotrp]

Congratulations, Rory! You have been accepted for the role of Perry Esposito (FC: Peter Gadiot). It would be too easy to write Perry as a strict black sheep, as someone without a deep hurt, who was just some tough guy. He’s really not. And you’ve brought that out in him. There were so many elements of your application that just rang so true. Perry being gently friendly to people he meets; his diligence; his quiet resolve. Perry was never going to be an in-your-face character, but he is a subtly intense one, and you’ve managed to sharpen his edges. Your writing sample was also beautifully written and so, so sad. Thank you for bringing to light how painful heartbreak can be - and how it can linger for longer than you’d expect. This was a wonderful application. Please have a look at this page prior to sending in your account.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Rory Age: 22 Pronouns: They/Them or He/Him Timezone: CST Activity estimation: I’ll definitely be able to keep up with the requirements here. Depending on how strong my muse is (and how exhausted I am by the end of any given day) I’ll most likely be around most nights. If I had to give it a guess on a scale of 1 - 10, I’d put myself at about a 7!? Triggers: [Redacted]

IN CHARACTER: BASICS

Full name: Perry Esposito Age (DD/MM/YYY): 30 (09/07/1966) - Libra sun, Gemini rising, Pisces moon Gender: Cis Male Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: Homosexual Homoromantic Occupation: Bartender Connection to Victim: Perry was aware of their existence in the way that in a small town, everyone knows everyone, but he can’t say he was even acquainted with them. The closest he’d come to having a conversation with the woman- Linda- was nodding his head at her as they’d passed by each other in Piggly Wiggly one day, but that was the extent of their relationship. He might not have even been able to tell you their names with complete certainty, before they’d been thrown into the limelight, at least. Alibi: Perry started his shift at The Bar at 4 P.M. Faceclaim: Peter Gadiot

WRITING SAMPLE

TW for (implied) child abuse.

It took a moment for things to start sinking in: the slam of the car door, the roar of the engine, the glare of the sun reflecting off the pitiful, rusted paint job and the cloud of dust that accompanied the spinning wheels. Perry just stood there for a second, his shocked brain struggling to catch up before he was stumbling after the car, running a few steps with a hand outstretched  yelling hey, yelling for Bobby to stop, wait, come back- but it was too late. A few more seconds and he was gone entirely. The car was gone and Bobby was gone and everything was gone and Perry was left standing in the motel parking lot with the California sun kissing his skin and something foreign curling up in a newly- hollowed place in his chest.

The first day, that foreign- something was made up of panic and denial and, of course, a bone- deep sort of hurt. Bobby wouldn’t… he was mad, yeah, but he’d… alright, Perry hadn’t realized he was that mad, but surely he’d… he’d come back. Perry knew he would. He’d calm down, he’d realize what he’d done and he would come back. Perry would forgive him. Hours passed, but still, he told himself- he’d forgive Bobby when he came back. Because he was coming back, even if he was taking a while- that was what he told the motel manager, when the guy came and tried to kick him off the bench he’d curled up on for the night.

As Perry’s second day alone dawned, the panic and denial heightened and started warring. He ended up stealing something from a store so he didn’t starve, but he didn’t pay much attention to what he nicked and he didn’t notice whether it tasted nice or not. It was to keep him from starving, that was all. The sun set on that second day without any sign of his dad’s shitty car, and as the world went dark so did that fizzling spark of hope he’d been harboring in the pit of his stomach.

Bobby really had left him, and he wasn’t coming back.

Perry stuck around on that third day, though. Just in case. Watching the street Bobby’d driven away on and feeling a traitorous little leap of hope whenever there was a car anywhere near the right color, but it was for nothing. Time flew by and the grief began settling in. He was an adult and he was a man and he never cried, hadn’t since he was a child, scared and hurting and hating his father, but this? Being left to his own devices for better or worse in a strange place by the only person that had ever managed to find anything valuable in him, by the only person that had ever found anything about him to actually love- yeah, he was crying. His arms wrapped around his midsection as his body shook, a hand furiously swiping at the tears trailing down his face. He bit down on the inside of his cheek so that he wouldn’t make any noise, bit it hard enough that it bled. He’d been so dumb to think this would work, to think a piece of trash like him would get away and have a fairy tale of a life.

There were better things out there than Devil’s Knot, but they weren’t for him. They weren’t within his reach.

Perry stayed there until it was sometime between late afternoon and early evening, until he was out of tears to cry, and then he forced himself to stand. He cast a glance at that motel sign, then at the space the car- his car- had been parked at. He stared for a bit, because this, right here- these moments before he gave in and let go- this was as close as he’d ever get to a real goodbye. Part of him thought that it still just felt like a really, really bad dream, but he knew he wouldn’t be waking up.

He raised both middle fingers, flipping that empty parking space the bird as he backed away, and then he made his way to the highway and began the process of sticking his thumb up at anyone that passed until someone finally stopped.

It was time to go home, now. Time to grow up.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Here’s a Pinterest board I made for him!

HEADCANONS:

Despite the fact that Perry would consider himself a friend to one (Blanca) and close to none, he’s a friendly guy. If life had given him a kinder lot, he would have been a blatant extrovert. As it is, at his core he’s a convivial guy, and despite the fact that most everyone’s still got him written off as scum- he’s amiable enough to those who extend the same courtesy to him. He’s far beyond making much of an effort. He’ll greet the customers that come in to the bar, even make small talk if someone seems interested in pursuing it, but that’s about the extent of it. He hasn’t had a boyfriend since that disaster when he was eighteen, and he doesn’t intend to ever go down that path again. When he gets lonely enough, he’ll visit a bar a few towns over where nobody knows his name or his face. There was a time when he’d wanted a future that held more than that- hell, when he’s drunk or high enough, there are times when he can still admit to himself that he wants something more- but he’s not a kid with his head in the clouds anymore, and he’s not fooling himself. Lives like that aren’t realistic for people like him. He’s learned his lesson. He won’t be burnt twice. He likes his bbartending job well enough. It pays the bills. His apartment isn’t anything fancy, but it’s decent. That’s his life. He’s going to live in this town until the day he inevitably dies alone, and he’s accepted that.

Perry is allergic to cats and dogs and pretty much anything with fur. Not horribly so, just enough to have his sinuses uncomfortable and his eyes going red. An irritation more than anything. It hasn’t stopped him from leaving a window open for the stray cat that hangs around his apartment or from blowing a portion of his paychecks on Fancy Feast for the fleabitten mongrel. He’s definitely not a fan of coming home to find dead rats or birds strewn about his apartment, but he’s joked to Blanca that it’s the cat’s way of paying rent. It is not his cat. He’s adamant about that fact, even though it’s been a couple years now since it became his roommate of sorts.

The world has been reminding Perry of the fact that he’s an outsider from the time he was old enough to understand the words coming out of the townspeople’s mouths. Maybe even before that, really. Even if he hadn’t been an outcast, though, he would have caught on to the fact that he was different. When kids his age started developing crushes, he knew there was a wide difference between what he felt towards the girls and the way his stomach would start flipping over some of the boys. It wasn’t a welcome discovery. He was hated enough as it was and even before he began to grasp the gravity of this particular difference he knew that standing out in any way would just be another strike against him. This, though… Perry wasn’t certain the fallout from it would be something he’d survive. Even now, after having so much time to adjust to the idea, he’s not quite fully at peace with being gay. Maybe the smart thing to do would be find a girl he likes well enough and pretend, but he’s never been able to bend his rebellious streak enough to do so. He’s keeping this particular disparity to himself, but that doesn’t mean he wants to just force himself fall in line with what the world would have him doing, either.

He feels freest during those rare visits he makes to the clubs out of town. He can pretend he’s someone else for a while, living a different life. It’s too easy to lose himself in the warm touch of another. It’s too easy to drown with the crisp evening air filling his lungs and the expanseless, unfamiliar sky around him, and it is far, far too easy to think about leaving then, with the possibilities of what this world could hold trying to swarm around his head. The world is so big. There’s so much out there. Objectively, he can’t say he’s never had a home. He grew up in a home with his dirtbag father and his older brother. He has a home now, too, a carefully organized and cared for apartment, a home he’s worked hard for, but privately, Perry believes that home is more than just a place. Home is a feeling, and he thinks the strongest he’s ever experienced that feeling was when he was in a car with a boy in the seat next to them as they drove into the horizon, trees and cities and lights blurring past, not knowing exactly what their future held, only that it would be good. That was a euphoria that he’s never been able to replicate, but, he reminds himself- the agony when he’d crashed and burned hadn’t been worth the exhiliration of the days that had lead up to it. It really hadn’t.

Perry can’t say he’s surprised that the present seems to be circling around to the past. This town is a fishbowl, stagnant. He’s empathetic for the kid’s friends and families, but to tell the truth- mostly, he’s just tired and cynical. There’s a sense of foreboding weighing heavy on his chest. He doesn’t know where this will go, but he doesn’t think for a moment that it’s going to end with Brian’s disappearance. Whatever’s coming isn’t going to be pretty- he just hopes he’ll get to keep on the fringes of it all.

Perry’s wardrobe isn’t any more exciting than his apartment. He sticks to muted colors, blacks and greys and whites. Nothing remotely expensive. He’s not trying to impress anyone, but he does put a surprising amount of effort into maintaining his appearance. Perhaps it has something to do with wanting to distance himself from as many similarities to his father as he can.

He drives a beat up old truck. It’s not exactly easy on the eyes, but it gets him wherever he needs to go, and that’s all that matters.

As far as general life skills go, he’s hardly a prodigy when it comes to the kitchen, but, as in most areas of his life, he’s put a decent amount of effort into being self sufficient. He’s figured out enough to get by. He’d rather cook for himself than eat at the diner. If something needs patching up, he’s handy enough with stitches. That’s not a skill he initially learned for the sake of clothing, but it’s a useful one nonetheless.

[sharkforearm]

I really dont know how to start

I come off as, anxious, but stable, and relatively normal. A little bit weird. A little bit strange. But doing pretty alright.

I guess I'm doing alright. It doesnt feel like it. It never has.

It feels like I've always been not bad enough. I'm never the worse case. I'm always just kind of average. 20 pounds heavier than I needed for intensive eating disorder therapy. Doesnt matter that my stomach has shrunk from 9 years of starving myself to look pretty or that I can never gain more than 5 pounds give or take. Usually take.

It didnt matter that I cut myself. It wasnt deep enough to get a bed at western psych. Just go home. You'll be better there. Theyll call you a tranny here.

I have add. But it's not bad enough to get scholastic help for it. You need extra time and help with homework? Sorry, we only give help to people who need it.

Being bullied growing up as female is something I still havent completely understood, yet affects my everyday life to the point where if I see someone who looks like someone I used to go to school with I immediately start having an internal dialogue where I have an argument with them about how I'm not actually a man and my name is still [name redacted] and I'll never be a real man because theyll always remember me as [name redacted].

When I'm inside my head theres several voices going off at once telling me how I'm doing everything wrong and how no one cares and how nobody matters and you should just cut them all off and die lonely in your bathroom with blood running down your arms but

People save my life. I'm alive for the hunger of conversation and learning.