#Furii

[bluegoblinzz]

Siorc’s Grotto

Connor broke through the surface of the pool, took out his regulator and scuba mask, and took in a deep breath. He turned on his flashlight and let out a laugh of amazement as he took in the scenery of the secret hideout he had discovered. The cavern was dark and damp, full of dark colored stalactites and stalagmites. The room was narrow and the his flashlight did not light up the edge of the room, indicating he was probably in some large tunnel. And while the walls were gravely and rough, they began to smooth out the farther into the cavern he looked. 

He climbed out of the pool, took off his oxygen tank, and slowly headed deeper into the cave, pointing his flashlight left and right. As the cavern walls smoothed out, it became clearer that there were zigzagging glyphs and ornate images carved into the wall. The glyphs were completely illegible, and unlike any language he had ever seen. They spanned in long stretches from the ceiling to the floor, breaking off into different branches of zigzags. Meanwhile, the images carved into the walls were all abstract representations of fish, anemone, and other sea creatures. Connor had a big grin on his face and excitement bubbled up in his belly. He couldn’t wait to tell his buddies about this place he found… Actually: forget his buddies, he couldn’t wait to tell some anthropologist about this place and become rich off of his discovery! He wasn’t sure if that was how anthropology worked, but at the very least, he would become famous from finding that place. 

Connor pointed his flashlight forward once again and faced forward, only to flinch and stumble backward out of surprise, nearly tripping over his scuba flippers. The tunnel came to an abrupt end as a gargantuan statue blocked the path. It was some burly humanoid shark, who was sitting on its tail fin, its webbed hands resting on its knees, and its webbed feet flat against the floor. The head was angled downward slightly, as if watching its visitors intently. The eyes of the statue were some kind of blue gemstone that faintly glimmered with as Connor stared into them, wide-eyed. 

The statue’s eyes glowed, and flashed bright, two hot beams of blue energy hitting Connor in the chest. He yelled out in surprise and in pain, dropping his flashlight, which broke when it hit the floor, leaving only the blue energy to light the cavern. Every  muscle in his body burned and his arms and legs tensed up. It was only a light soreness at first, but he winced and shut his eyes, as the pain grew to a more intense ache all over. He gritted and ground his teeth as every muscle in his body twitched and throbbed. His biceps, triceps, calves, and quads all grew tight, while his pecs and abs swelled and stiffened. As this happened, there was some distant, guttural sound rumbling in the cave, and reverberating in his mind. It sounded like whispers but he couldn’t understand what they said. His entire upper body swelled into a more muscular form, causing his wetsuit to tear down the middle, and sizable holes to form in the sleeves. When he looked down he saw that his abs were now visible and flab he previously had was gone. There was a dark patch spreading across his skin like a viscous liquid. The dark patch of skin felt slippery and slimy. It was so smooth that it had a sheen that reflected the blue light. He shuddered as the dark patch spread across his torso and down his back. 

Panic coursed through him, but it was interrupted by sharp pains in both his feet, causing him to yell out once again. He dragged each of his feet across the ground to kick off his scuba flippers, and found the bridges of his feet shrinking toward his heels but each toe beginning to stretch out, new joints cracking and popping into place and bending like fingers. His two smallest toes on each foot fused together into one appendage, and the rest of his toes grew farther apart. The skin on the outside of his feet grew thicker and wider, layers of cartilage growing outward from one toe to the other, until each layer fused together into floppy webbing. The dark patches of skin that emerged on his chest now covered his feet as well. 

The grumble that Connor heard before became more louder, and more insistent, repeating over and over, pounding in his mind like a resonant drum, but the words overlapping like murmurs many murmurs in a crowd. One word, however, was repeated over and over again by many of these low voices. 

“Siorc.” 

This word began to fill his thoughts. Every grumble in his head was hard to ignore, and the pain he was feeling was less noticeable than these overlapping nonsensical phrases. 

“Siorc obey Siorc commands   follow

kneel listen Siorc demands your obedience.

obey demands Siorc Siorc

Siorc demands you follow follow kneel obey.”

As random words clashed together, two sensible sentences stood out among the chaos. A moment after each was spoken, he felt a power well up in his chest, and a manic wave of joy. When Connor’s obedience was demanded, he flashed his sharpened teeth in a grin. His thoughts went silent, and what was left was an animalistic anger, and a strong desire to obey, as if it were all he ever wanted.  But then his smile faded, and he realized his mind had faded for a moment, that he temporarily lost all sensibility. Fear welled inside of him, but not for long before the second phrase was spoken.

When he was demanded to follow, the same grin washed over his face, and his pupils expanding to completely fill his eyes in black voids. A growl escaped his throat. The animal inside was even more overpowering as he felt a need to attack, to bite, to eat, but at the same time, he only wanted to do it on Siorc’s command. Every joy and every satisfaction he once had was replaced with the joy and satisfaction of obedience. The thought of obeying a command to a tee, the thought of impressing this “Siorc,”  it excited him to no end. But then Connor rapidly shook his head, pushing away these intrusive commands. No matter how good it felt, Connor realized he needed to do everything he could to resist. 

Connor looked down at his hands the dark patches reached his finger tips. Every pore, wrinkle, groove and bump on his hand vanished as his skin became completely smooth and slippery. His finger tips extended into triangular points, but his fingers overall thickened, and grew slightly stubbier, similar webbing growing between each of his fingers. 

Then there was a strange sensation in his back, a strange twitch or tickle in some part of him that didn’t exist. It felt like a fantom limb or a new arm was growing in his back. His back muscles clenched and forced him to bend forward as the pants of his wetsuit tore. He stood up straight once again, and looked back to check what was going on, and saw a large smooth tail slowly stretching out. He yelped and out of panic, pushed on it, trying to somehow prevent it from growing further, or to push his tail back into him. The growing appendage felt squishy and smooth, and after he grabbed at it, it involuntarily waved back and forth. The feeling of horror was replaced with a strong satisfaction. He grinned and let go of his tail, now purposefully waving it left and right as it grew. He tried to resist, and tried to remind himself of the urgency of the situation, but he couldn’t stop himself from enjoying the satisfying swish as his tail went left… and right… and left… and right… and- 

His trance was broken as a sharp pain emerged in his jaw as his bones cracked. His jaw and chin stretched forward. The bridge of his nose elongated and widened while the tip of his nose grew upward, his nostrils growing farther apart. These two changes happening together caused his nose and mouth to form a triangular snout. The dark patches of skin crept up his shoulders, around his neck, and began to completely covered his face. When these patches crept up his neck, sharp pains emerged in his neck as his skin split and formed gills, which twitched as they longed for air.  His hair felt loose, and felt as if it would fall out, but it was the least of his worries at that point. He also felt a throbbing pain on the back of his head, and when he reached behind to feel it, he noticed a sizable bump on the back of his head, that bump grew somewhat pointy, and began to grow longer, a cartilaginous flap forming at the back of his head. A fin. 

As all of these changes happened to his face, the gruff voices got louder, going from whispers to growls. They became impossible to ignore, and were the only thing he could think about, the only thing he could hear, the only thing he could focus on. 

“SIORC demands your obedience

demands COMMANDS sink follow

deeper good YOU are listen deeper

you slave shark TO a shark

follow listen sleep KNEEL!” 

Connor was prepared this time, and knew that these words would enthrall him, and would put pressure on his mind and his will. Before the command was even finished, he made sure to start to push the words away, to shout “NO!” in his mind and to disobey. But it was too little resistance, and too late. His torso moved on its own, bending forward to bow down, and one of his legs lifted off the ground and bent as he went to kneel. No matter how much he tried to move his leg back it wouldn’t work, and he found he fully lost control over his body. But once he completely let one knee rest on the ground, his webbed foot flopping and smacking against the stone floor, all of the power, joy, excitement, and hunger he felt before returned. 

Connor grinned again, his pupils expanding and making his eyes completely black. He lowered his other knee to the floor, and as he did, he felt accomplished, and excited that he did what he was told, that he was a good shark. Any remaining thoughts of resistance dissolved, and all thoughts became related to obedience and devotion. His urgency to leave became a desire to remain with his god, to hear his wisdom and to be good, to follow and obey. And as his thoughts settled on these things, Connor didn’t notice his memories and his ‘self’ as Connor leaving. All memories, past ambitions, and past connections were locked away. All that mattered was Siorc. His name grew distant and unfamiliar, for he didn’t need a name: what mattered were his actions and what he did. 

The shark shut his eyes and clenched his jaw as the last of the changes took place, his face stretching forward until it elongated enough to snap into its proper shape with a satisfying pop. The remaining rough and human parts of his skin smoothed out and grew dark and grey, making him shudder. His hair had vanished and the crown of his head was now the same slippery smooth texture as the rest of his body. The human was completely gone and the shark remained, and with the changes finished, the grumbling and whispers quieted down, and tapered off, only giving one last command before they went silent. 

“Siorc commands you to obey.” 

The shark bowed his head and placed his palms on the ground, bowing out of respect, and reverence. He held the bow for a long time, silently praising his god, telling him how powerful he was, how strong he was, how beautiful he was, and how great he was through prayer. The praise came naturally in his mind, however his tail wagged, and he tapped one of his floppy webbed feet out of nervousness, or perhaps giddiness, of being in the presence of this god. As he prayed, the blue energy that emanated from the statue’s eyes slowly dimmed until it was, leaving the statue’s eyes glowing blue, and a dim blue aura surrounding the shark from excess magic.

He opened his darkened eyes and smirked, finally appreciating the power within himself as well. He wiggled his fingers and his toes, swished his tail left and right, and let out a low growl. He felt a great sense of power knowing he was unbeatable, knowing he was the top of the food chain, and it felt great to know he could breathe underwater, and that he could go anywhere underwater without worrying about the danger. The shark had forgotten that he couldn’t do this before, and simply thought he had a newfound appreciation for this. 

The shark had a sense of what Siorc wanted him to do in that moment, so he bowed for his god once more, before standing up, and turning away. He ran and dove into the water, a rush of adrenaline overcoming him. Water filled his gills and he felt at home. He swished his tail from side to side and paddled forward with his arms, jetting through the water. He sniffed the air and immediately sensed where his prey was, and turned, jetting toward it. It didn’t stand a chance for his speed and his strength. He took a large bite, and let the creature bleed. He wanted to eat, to satisfy his hunger and his ferocity, but it wasn’t for him. When the creature was in distress, he grabbed it with his humanoid hands, and snapped its neck. Already, satisfaction welled up inside of him, knowing he was good and that Siorc would regard him as a good servant. 

With his game in under his arm, the shark swam back to the grotto, before climbing out of the water,  treading toward the statue, and placing the dead seal at its feet. He knelt before his god once more, but couldn’t help but to look up with a bashful smile. Oh, how powerful, how beautiful Siorc was. Oh, how much he looked up to the god. He showed reverence to the god, but he also felt a genuine love for him, like how a dog looks up to their owner. He wanted so badly to impress Siorc, to make him content. He had obeyed Siorc and gotten him this offering he asked for, meaning he had been good… right?

His smile faded once there was no response from the statue, no magic indicating he did well or didn’t do well, and no sign of the presence of Siorc. What happened? What did he want? Why didn’t Siorc respond to him? Panic welled up inside of him as he realized he couldn’t obey, and that he couldn’t make his god happy in that moment, that there was no one there to follow. He knelt down and pressed his palms against the ground once again, bowing, and praying… waiting for his god to return. 

A hum filled the cavern. The shark opened his eyes to see the statue’s eyes glowing once more. A stream of blue light shot from the statues eyes and hit the dead seal. The blue glow surrounding the seal became brighter and brighter until the seal was no longer visible inside. The stream of light immediately broke and all the blue light was gone… and so was the seal. In its place was a large pristine conch shell. He grinned, realizing he had did well, and that he had done the right thing. However, the urge to follow, to obey, … it all came rushing back to him, and he felt the presence of Siorc once more.

He picked up the conch and held it to the side of his head. He grinned when he heard the voices on the other side. 

“They say when you listen to a conch you can hear the ocean.” It was a female voice. 

“That’s a load of baloney,” an exasperated man grunted. 

“No really! Listen! It’s really cool!” 

There was a pause and the shark knew what he had to do. He took the conch away from his head, and held the opening up to his snout. 

Through his teeth, he grumbled, “Siorc demands your obedience.” 

[trevlad-sounds]

Invisible Club 34

09.10.2024

Intro 00:00 Binaural Space–Fractured Beyond Repair 01:17 The Qualitons–Lil’ Bonch 05:57 Receptor Modulator–The oldest model 10:12 Natureboy Flako–Numero Cien 17:33 Scanner–Beginning of an Unknown Century 20:03 Sean Ono Lennon, Devon Hoff, Yuka Honda, Michael Leonhart, João Nogueira, Mauro Refosco, Ches Smith, Johnny Mathar-Starwater 25:30 Cate Brooks–Void Patterns 32:57 Bit Cloudy–Coronation Crack 35:40 Floating Points–Vocoder [Club Mix] 38:46 Pulsliebhaber–Galerina Marginata 46:14 Matt Berry–I Cannot Speak 50:00 Neil Cowley Trio–Adam Alphabet 52:34 Prairiewolf–The Meander 55:48 Cory Wong–Sell By Date 59:29 Furii–Ilk 1:03:58 Hayden Pedigo–Some Kind of Shepherd – Live 1:07:46 Outro 1:12:52

[cosmicsponge2004]

Yo! Puyo Tumblr, you got any input on this?

Not the Haley/Fizzy thing I mean, did FuriousTH get cancelled for their shut? I just realized I recognize the artist's SFW stuff and I can't find anything on them being cancelled. Ironically, The only Puyo cancelation I can find is of HaleyHalcyon/TheFizzyNator (either friend or alias of Val's Voice Vault idk and idc) who messaged me about the old post (likely cause it was a screenshot on their reddit

I gotta know the detais

[catominor]

guy from when i was looking at portraits....

[catoswound]

✒️!!

[carmelorazepam]

8.01.2025.

Pierwszy post po długiej przerwie. Niestety na nowym koncie, gdyż swój telefon roztrzaskałam w akcie zwierzęcej furii, a więc hasło do poprzedniego przepadło.

Ale powoli. Bo co się właściwie działo? Całkiem sporo. Japońska policja zatrzymała mojego męża za kradzież, której dopuściła się jego niestabilnie psychiczna matka. Nie wiem, co to stare pudło sobie myślało, wrzucając dla zabawy jakiś pieprzony kosmetyk do torby mojego męża. Niemniej - japońska policja jest surowa równie, co ich tradycyjna kuchnia. Nie działa tam prawo domniemanej niewinności, a więc mój mąż oraz cholerna teściowa trafili do aresztu.

Czytelnik mojego posta może sobie tylko wyobrażać strach, z jakim odebrałam tę wiadomość, która, notabene, przerwała moją wieczorną jogę. No bo, co teraz? Panika. Jestem sama. Jestem sama w Tokio. Nie znam jeszcze szczegółów sprawy, wiem tylko, że się boję. Boję się bardzo.

Dni spędzone w strachu i samotności. Na śniadanie wódka, na kolację whisky. Nie wiem, jak trafiłam do szpitala. Wiem, że gdzieś w akcie rozpaczy (i jednocześnie ogromnej radości, bo nie ma obok męża, którego przecież rozważałam zostawić), postanowiłam skończyć ze sobą. Jak każdy trefny s4moböjca, straciłam dużo krwi oraz czucie w całym ramieniu, ale pijana wyczołgałam się na klatkę schodową, aby tam pozwolić dozorcy ocalić mi życie.

Kilka dni w tokijskim szpitalu, gdzie dowiedziałam się, że ubezpieczenie nie pokrywa aktów samozniszczenia. Więc sporo do zapłacenia, męża brak. Wróciwszy do mieszkania odkryłam, że w akcie pijaństwa przełamałam swój telefon na pół. Jestem więc bez telefonu, sama, w Tokio. Bez karty SIM, bo była mobilna. Cóż. Pocięta jak szynka, chwyciłam iPada męża. Cóż znajduję? Wiadomości do kilkunastu kochanek. Och. Och. Zwymiotowałam.

Po tym nic nie miało już znaczenia. Rozbita, całkowicie rozbita. Może skoczę? Boże, jak mi źle. Jestem sama, jestem zdradzona, jestem zniszczona. Kilka razy dałam sobie w twarz, wypiłam sake na gorąco i poszłam do centrum Rakuten, aby wyrobić nową kartę SIM. Mnóstwo papierologii, mnóstwo grzebania w notatkach męża, aby cokolwiek znaleźć. Ale się udało. Mam internet.

Piszę do matki, jaka jest sytuacja. Piszę do przyjaciół. Otula mnie słodkie wsparcie polskiego ducha, od którego tak bardzo chciałam się odciąć. Kupuję bilet do Polski. Reguluję rachunek w tokijskim szpitalu. Droga jest jedna - Warszawa. Znów życie popycha mnie do przodu, nie pozwalając na samodzielne podjęcie decyzji.

Co działo się później, w następnym poście. Jestem zmęczona, zmęczona, zmęczona.

[x---------------------------x]

FURII CURIIII

[jazumst]

Kto z kim przystaje?!

Żeby Was... Mam hormony!!! Posłuchajcie:

Dziś dzień nie zaczął się jakoś szczególnie. Chujowo spałem, obudziłem się, na dworze pizgało jak skurwysyn. Do pracy pojechałem normalnie. Nic po drodze się nie działo.

//

Na dzień dobry się wkurwiłem. Naprawdę to już jest przegina do potęgi. Z zadań służbowych nie było nic. Dosłownie. Ogarniać, ogarniać, ogarniać. - Sklep niewyfejsowany. To mnie wkurwiło najbardziej. Kiero dopiero co przełożyła wszystkie półki. Starczy więc na bieżąco równać i jest dobrze. Przecież lepiej na bieżąco po 2 - 4 rzeczy niż cały sklep. No ale chuj. Kuc się wyłamał i już wygląda jak narzygane. - Wczoraj był poniedziałek. Pomijam, że w niedzielę nie zdali ciast ("czasu nie było"), chociaż jakoś ja zawsze zdaję, i nie wymyli ciastkarki, to wczoraj jak przyszły świeże trzeba było podmienić blachy i wytrzeć szyby. Ciastka na ujebane blachy i w ogóle tak zostało. - Fajki tradycyjnie już nie dołożone.

I tak wkurwiłem się tym strasznie, że aż się zawiesiłem. Przyjechał Bakoma, więc ruszyłem. Szkoda tylko, że nie ruszył Manekin, który zrobił kolejkę, bo poszła sobie kawy zrobić. Cóż - rzeczy ważne są i ważniejsze. Zaraz za Bakomą wjechała spożywka, więc szybko schowałem Bakomę, ale bez układania, nakurwiałem fakturę i przygotowałem pod dostawę. W tym momencie przyszła Kiero.

//

Na początku była nawet miła, ale szybko dostała ataku furii. Dostało się Manekinowi, dostało się mi. Znowu mi, i znowu Manekinowi. W końcu zacząłem spierdalać jej z drogi, bo gdzie dwa żywioły razem tam grozi wybuchem. - I wybuchło w czasie ustalania priorytetów wykonywania kolejności zadań. Bo przyjechały jeszcze fajki. Kiero kazała zabierać towar ze sklepu, ja uparłem się, że na sam pierw magazyn, bo żeby wsadzić trzeba uporządkować, i żeśmy skoczyli sobie do gardeł. - Wyszło, że robiliśmy razem jedno i drugie.

//

Ogarnęliśmy magazyn, ogarnęliśmy towar, sklep, faktury. Napięcie w powietrzu jednak pozostało. Teraz mam wątpliwości czy Kiero udzielił się mój wkurw z rana, czy to jednak ja wyczułem jej falę już zawczasu. Tak też po sklepie szaleje okresowa Kiero i furia morski sztorm Bogdana. - Kuc absurdalnie zaczął mi się tłumaczyć. Zmierzyłem go tylko wzrokiem, kazałem się już zamknąć. Powiedziałem, że nie będę z nim gadał i lepiej żeby jutro było tip top. Ale zjebała go Kiero, więc powinien jednak usłyszeć co ma zrobić dokładnie.

//

Zjadłem ostatkowego kebaba. Był średni. Na Orlik nie idę. Wieje. Piździ! Nie chcę się przeziębić. Zaraz walnę ostatkowe browce i Post Ścisły. Dawno nie chciało mi się tak zajarać jak dzisiaj. To chyba z nerwów.

[dawkacynizmu]

czwartek 21/11 | 3/28

zjedzone: 720 kcal; 7500 kroków; 20 min full body hiit + 20 min pilates

oddałam zaległe zadania domowe na podstawy przedsiębiorczości i bede musiala jeszcze "zdac" rozmowa kwalifikacyjną PO ANGIELSKU

zostalam wzieta do tablicy na matematyce i brak snu tak mi najebał w głowie że zaczelam skracac ułamki przy dodawaniu, nauczycielka dostała furii

nienawidze swojej twarzy

udalo mi sie uniknąć odgrywania teatrzyku na francuskim chowajac sie za plecami laski przede mną

oblałam sobie całą dłoń wrzącą kawą i zaliczyłam pierwszy w liceum spacer do pielęgniarki 💪🏼

chce jutro isc na gorącą czekolade z jedna dziewczyna ale sie troche boje kalorii i chyba wezme kawe

[books-with-jules]

I NEVER PROMISED YOU A ROSE GARDEN

by Joanne Greenberg

Psychology, Dark, Emotional, Slow-Paced

★★★★★(4.75)

i never promised you a rose garden is a slow-paced, semi autobiographical novel in which Greenberg gives her readers insight into the schizophrenic mind of teenage girl, Deborah Blau in approximately 1948 to 1951, written originally in 1964. Many describe the story as Deborah's three-year battle with schizophrenia, but it really is specifically the confrontation with her inner world, understanding its roots, and understanding that there is a world beyond that she can be a more present part of. She has battled for much longer than three years, but this book is watching her regressions and recoveries as she understands herself and her place.

The writing style and vocabulary used was eloquent and college-level, and painted a vast outer and inner setting, which was very important as the character's state of mind and mental space is an important part of understanding the plot. The plot is realistic in terms of the non-linear road to mental "unsick" and health. The story is character driven and, in tandem with the plot, of course, complex and rocky. I love the psychiatrist, Furii, and I thoroughly enjoyed Miss Carol's appearances throughout the story, and there are no characters who I feel could have been developed better. Everything felt well done and tied together very well. The ending was perfect; I only wish we got to see a little of Deborah's family relationship dynamics and how they change with her resolution.

Reading a novel about a teenage girl with schizophrenia and getting to see some of the inner workings from an author who has experience with the illness as someone who lives with it is unique to read because a lot of time the portrayal is based on second hand experience and, like autism, may reflect all of the negatively viewed traits, rather than show every aspect objectively. My own personal quarrel with the mental illness part is as an unlicensed, book-educated reader, it seems as if Deborah is actually suffering from a delusional disorder of sorts, not of schizophrenia specifically, but the book was written in 1964, and as I've said, I am not a licensed professional and cannot give official input.

The writing style gives a feel like the author learned or mostly communicated in English in college-level or professional settings and, likewise, used complex language that made reading a bit tricky to navigate and retain at first, but I learned many new words, so that's a plus. The writing flowed smoothly and the way Greenberg described everything felt prose-y in some places and poetic in others. Her descriptions made for intricate visualizations and much empathy with all the emotion with her language.

The plot is very much character-driven, being that we are following Deborah's road to mental stability. I appreciate her struggle to come to terms with many of her beliefs that she came to understand were characteristic of the inner reality she's lived for so long and breaking away to find her footing in reality as someone without strong delusions understands it. She gets better and she gets worse. She moves on from being a slave to her own mind and creations to taking more control and also asking for help when she feels she is losing it. We see her regressions and her recoveries, and there is more than one hill to climb because progress is never linear, not in the real world. The plot is beautiful and terrible. It is a great, intense read.

I've never been in a mental hospital or rehabilitation center, so I don't personally know of the customs, but Greenberg does a beautiful job of explaining and reiterating the social norms of the wards, what behavior is "allowed", not "allowed", How different life seems in the wards and what life in the "real world" looks like from inside those doors. I can understand the mental aspect of life looking different for everyone else versus the patients, who see hope for it as useless, who don't understand that it has its ups and downs, and who see returning patients as sort of failures. Bouncing between wards is different from being out in the world and hospitalization, but "B" wards are a bit afraid of patients who make it back down from "D" ward. As I said, I don't know from experience, but reading this work really put me in there and made me understand exactly what it was like at that time. I don't know if there is a better book to help someone comprehend inpatient in midcentury USA, the turning point of psychology there.

I have a deep appreciation for Furii, Deborah's psychiatrist, for her depression understanding of how to navigate the sessions, work around Deborah's episodes and temperaments, which can make talk sessions very hard with her mind sometimes clouding or outright blocking her from talking about her made-up world and all its secrets. However, Furii, as long as both she and Deborah both felt like Deborah was not a lost cause and wanted to get better, Furii is determined to help Deborah work through all of her symptoms and find healthy coping mechanisms to replace them. The relationship is beautiful, well-meaning.

I think my favorite character is Miss Carol. She is described to be an old, white-haired, 90 pound woman who can launch mattresses during her episodes. She's an accomplished woman, a mathematician of sorts, I believe, and a returning patient. There are a few examples of returning patients and their places in life outside of the hospital. These examples serve as eventual realities that Deborah faces of having mental illness and understanding that progress isn't linear (this is a favorite theme of mine in this book and in life). There is also Doris Rivera, who we are not told how she makes a living or what her life looks like. We, the readers and the characters, only know that she was the goal and envy of the ward, and her returning brought a doubt to the ward about getting better and being part of society because of the expectation that you get better and you stay better. Deborah then makes a friend, Carla, who is a returning patient and, after becoming an outpatient and a returning patient, herself, understands the struggle of conforming and keeping up with life, stresses, and other regular, recurring issues in everyday life.

There was this understanding of not asking people why they are there, not asking returning patients why they had to come back, and not having prying conversations without the other being explicitly willing to give this information. Life is an experience that cannot always be conveyed in words. It was more like they had to live it to understand why they were returning. Again, progress isn't linear and while the patients probably understood this, or at least some of them who have went back and forth from the wards, within the confines of the hospital, life also works in this way and they could not ask, and the patients would not have the words to answer at that time.

All in all, i never promised you a rose garden, by Joanne Greenberg, was a beautiful piece of literature and I am glad to have read it. The theme of healing and regression really urges the reader to take a look at themselves and do some inner work of their own. I know I had to do some inner work along with this reading, and am grateful for it. The ending was not wrapped in a bow, happy, and satisfying as a "happily ever after" story, but an intense and reflective read as someone who struggles with their own symptoms and disorders. The only reason this novel got 4.75 stars and not five is because there was a lull where I was not compelled to pick up the book about four or five chapters away from the end, but that is a personal feeling and should not truly reflect upon the author.

[zoyaspoetry]

Krążenie po orbicie

Niczym skomlący pies nie opuszczam dzisiaj swojego łóżka, próbując skupić się na kolejnej beznadziejnej książce, którą czytam od wczoraj. Próbuję uspokoić swój oddech i oderwać myśli od tematów, którymi nawet nie powinnam zaprzątać sobie głowy.

Już prawie zapomniałam, jak to jest, gdy wieczorami zaczynasz błądzić po wydarzeniach i osobach, z którymi od dawna nie masz nic wspólnego albo z którymi nie chcesz mieć nic wspólnego.

Poranki są łatwiejsze. Spędzam je na pracy, a jeśli nie to pracuję nad książką, chociaż to ostatnio też mi nie wychodzi. Nie umiem się skupić. Mam wrażenie, że mój świat został zbudowany ze złych klocków i to w dodatku tych, które wybrałam sama. Nie mam już siły do samej siebie. Jak wyłączyć ten pieprzony mózg, który od świtu do nocy katuje mnie gonitwą różnorakich myśli? Do diabła, jeszcze dwa tygodnie temu umiałam nad tym zapanować, a dzisiaj już nawet nie próbuję. No dobra, może jeszcze troszkę próbuję, ale doskonale wszyscy wiemy, że mi to nie wychodzi.

Moja twórczość zrobiła się ostatnio monotematyczna i to na tyle, że czytanie błahych historyjek przyprawia mnie o dreszcze żenady. Naprawdę ktoś czyta taką szmirę, nieudolnie wepchniętą w ramy romansu, jak "Mała Charlie"? Cóż, ta książka utwierdziła mnie tylko w tym, że prawdopodobnie nigdy nie wydam książki w komercyjnym wydawnictwie. A zwłaszcza w takim, w którym nie mają pojęcia o korekcie redaktorskiej.

Nie wiem, może ja mam w sobie jakąś niewyrażoną frustrację i złość, a moją ofiarą stała się nic niewinna książka? Możliwe, aczkolwiek dlaczego ja w ogóle jestem zaskoczona? Przecież zanosiło się na to od dawna, tylko oczywiście udawałam, że tego nie widzę albo serio tego nie widziałam.

Czasami zastanawiam się, co byś zrobił, gdybyś tylko wiedział o tym, co tutaj sobą reprezentuję. Gdybyś wiedział, że większość moich dysput została wywołana właśnie przez Ciebie. I przez moje głupie serce, którego ni chuja nie umiem kontrolować.

Spójrzmy prawdzie w oczy. Zoya, przecież nie będziesz w stanie dalej się okłamywać. Doskonale wiesz, jaką mam słabość do tych ciemnych oczu. I do Twojego głosu. I w ogóle gdybym mogła to gapiłabym się na Ciebie całymi dniami, jak sroka w gnat. No ale przecież Ci tego nie powiem, bo uznasz, że zwariowałam... O ile sam nie czujesz tego samego, a niestety wiele wskazuje na to, że to wszystko zaczęło się od Ciebie. I od mojego durnego żartu na Prima Aprillis. Tak, zdecydowanie czasami powinnam zamknąć mordę, zanim coś chlapnę. Zwykle wydaje mi się, że to genialny pomysł, ale to przestaje być genialne, gdy opuszcza moje usta. A może jestem postrzelona i szukam adrenaliny na każdym kroku, któż może to wiedzieć? To, co boli mnie najbardziej to fakt, że nie chcę z tym walczyć, a przecież mam całą listę argumentów, według których nie powinnam tego robić. I o ile z rana twardo się ich trzymam, to wieczorem widzę Twoją wiadomość i chyba jednak nie jestem taka waleczna, jak zakładałam. Widzisz, Zo, tyle są warte te twoje ciche obietnice, składane między drugą, a trzecią w nocy. Tyle, co nic.

Naprawdę nie potrafię zapanować nad swoimi uczuciami, bo co? Zwykle nie miałam z tym problemu. Po prostu wyrzucałam to wszystko do kosza, zanim na dobre się zaczęło. Czy tutaj chodzi o to, że to narodziło się tak naturalnie? Bez głupich gierek i podchodów? Nieco nieśmiało? I właściwie nieco zaskakująco, bo nikt nie spodziewał się takiego obrotu spraw?

Może nie do końca mam wpływ na swój własny los. Może jest jakaś siła, która podpowiada mi, że wszystko przyjdzie do mnie w swoim czasie. Jeszcze rok temu chyba totalnie w to nie wierzyłam, ale przez ten rok wydarzyło się wystarczająco dużo, by to się zmieniło.

Dopiero dzisiaj widzę, jak bardzo to wszystko układa się w całość. Ja naprawdę zwariowałam. To już nawet nie jest żadne czcze gadanie, ja po prostu oszalałam. To cholerne uczucie robi ze mnie tak miękką cipę, że aż mi wstyd. To kompletnie do mnie nie pasuje i doprowadza mnie to do furii.

Pamiętam tamten poranek, gdy walczyłam z papierologią, siedząc w pracy. Pojawiłeś się obok, zabrałeś mi zszywacz, a ja warknęłam jakieś wściekłe "Okay, możesz mi to zabrać, i tak zaraz się zwalniam." - a Ty odwróciłeś się i patrzyłeś na mnie w ciszy przez dłuższy moment. Wyszedłeś bez słowa, tylko po to, by wrócić za kilka chwil i zasypać mnie oburzonym monologiem w stylu "Nie, kurwa, ty się nie zwolnisz." i widziałam Twoje spojrzenie, pełne paniki. A ja chciałam tylko uciec od własnego życia. Gdy tylko okazało się, że moja nagła ucieczka nie dojdzie do skutku, ale nie widziałeś mnie przez cały tydzień — już trzeciego dnia pytałeś "Kiedy wracam?" - jakbym stała się jedną z najbardziej potrzebnych Ci w życiu osób. A ja oczywiście, miałam oczy w dupie, bo inaczej tego nazwać nie można było. Och, jak mnie to, kurwa, gniecie. Co jakiś czas dostawałam od losu podpowiedzi "Patrzysz za daleko. To, czego szukasz, masz pod nosem." a ja mimochodem zastanawiałam się "Niby jak to jest, kurwa, możliwe?" - a kto w ogóle powiedział, że czegokolwiek szukałam? Moja filozofia o skurwiałej miłości nie narodziła się dwa dni temu, tylko co najmniej kilka miesięcy temu, więc? O co w tym wszystkim chodziło, do chuja wacława?

To nie jest żaden pasjonujący wpis. To po prostu moja notatka i przypomnienie mi o tym, że postradałam zmysły i że nigdy więcej już tego nie zrobię. Zrobię, wszyscy wiemy, że zrobię.

Najbliższy miesiąc będzie dla mnie naprawdę hardcorowy, bo mam masę pracy i nauki i naprawdę muszę się skupić. Wygłaszam cichą modlitwę o to, bym nie rozpraszała się Twoim śmiechem. Czy moje standardowe udawanie, że wcale nie krążysz po mojej orbicie, tym razem będzie skuteczne? Błagam, powiedzcie, że tak. Załóżmy, że nadal jesteś moim kumplem od płaczków i pistacjowego rankingu, a nie kimś, kto spędza mi sen z powiek od początku kwietnia. Nie prosiłam o Ciebie, a sam wlazłeś mi w drogę.

I teraz nie wyobrażam sobie swojej rzeczywistości bez Ciebie.

Może ja naprawdę powinnam mieć zrobioną lobotomię. To chyba jedyny ratunek z tej sytuacji. I od tej palącej tęsknoty.

[idesofrevolution]

I gotta say masquerade cause the idea of the skin taking control and you just being the meat on the inside is such an underused but great one!

Hahaha thanks so much man! It was heavily inspired by the works of Furii back in the day. Great guy!

[catominor]

lfc that man really does have a mind palace though. he has sooo much going on inhis little head....

[kayssweetdreams]

The Perfect Finale Ch39

The dragon gave an angry growl as it stared down the humans. "Lance? Is that a Negati?!" Aria gasped "It looks like it. It has the same symbols..." He said in shock "But...Negati are black, not red!" Haoyu whimpered. "These must be Yin's creation..." Balan said. Suddenly and without warning, the Dragon Negati snapped towards Balan and Lance, causing them to jump out of the way.

"I don't think it likes us!" Balan exclaimed as the dragon took another snap at them. "I think it knows that you two are maestros!" Mei yells "Well we don't have our powers, and Lance currently can't get it to stop!" Balan yelled "then make it get farther away from Prim!" She shouts. Seeing as they didn't have much of a choice, both maestros drew its attention towards the way they came in, making the dragon even angrier.

It gave a rumbling roar, before it shot off towards Balan and Lance. When it was no longer in the room, Cal quickly ran over to the comatose Prim, the antidote in his hand "Please let this work..." he muttered. Popping off the lid, he held the bottle underneath Prim, the familiar tropical scent of The Perfect Getaway filling her senses. That's when she went limp...

The humans stared worried at her "Um...is she dead?" Lora asked "Only one way to find out..." Bruce said, poking her with his cane. He gave a few more pokes around the various parts of her body, but she didn't react. "Um...maybe Yin's soul being tied to hers was too much?" Rebecca asked "Maybe..." Trisha Jane said with a shrug, not knowing what else to do now.

And thats when Prim's eyes snapped open...with the same perfection obessessed insanity from before.

Meanwhile, With Yin...

The red maestro could feel that something was wrong the minute he sensed his precious Furii growl and get upset. How could something so big be so troublesome? He gave a angered groan. Whatever was wrong with that thing was halting his search for the heart. Something he didn't have time for...but then again he didn't need that thing destroying his new workshop.

With a snap of his fingers, he summoned a portal to take him back to the Isle of Tims, and saw his dragon angrily flying and circling the PPP replica. He shot into the air, and stared it dead in the eyes. "HEY!" He screamed. The dragon Negati stopped, as it stared at Yin with pure fear "You. You are supposed to be guarding Prim. What are you doing out here?" He snapped.

The dragon gave a few growls, making Yin narrow his eyes "What do you mean 'intruders'? There are no 'INTRUDERS'! YOU'RE SEEING NOTHING!" He snapped. The dragon lowered its head in shame as Yin continued to berate, threaten and insult it, when an all too familiar screech filled the air, and shook all of Wonderworld

"YIN!!! WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON?!?!

Mei belongs to @sundove88

Rebecca belongs to @thehyperrequiem

Trisha Jane belongs to @lovelyteng

Aria belongs to @shadowqueen402

Lora Jade belongs to @alex-frostwalker

[ahosia3]

"Jutro zaczyna się wrzesień. Boże! Opadła na mnie nagle daremność i przemijanie moich dni i chciałam zacząć krzyczeć w bezsilnej furii na beznadziejne, nieuniknione mijanie sekund, dni i lat".

~Sylvia Plath:"Dzienniki 1950-1962"

[autistic-dishes]

Za 4 godziny mam terapię, ale zamiast opowiedzieć terapeutce o mojej furii spowodowanej niemożnością przemienienia się w eezoteryczny byt napiszę o tym wiersz