#I fully support the delusions ride or die

[seoafin]

Maybe we’re not seeing Shoko for a reason…she has a plan I know she does 😭

If you say it I believe it!

[fanstuffrantings]

Once more thinking about a fairy tail rewrite and how I personally would've handled Juvia as a character. Going to ramble under the cut and I want to note it will be a pretty heavy departure from canon. Also be diving in a bit to my changes for Gray.

I really love the concept of Gray and Juvia not ending up together romantically, instead Juvia and him become ride or die friends. He becomes agitated by her increasing crossing of his boundaries and eventually ends up snapping enough for her to start breaking out of her delusions about him.

During this time of her being down about Gray, Lucy and Levy encourage her to start growing friendships with other people in the guild. That she should pick up some hobbies. This results in an odd friendship with Droy once the connection between rain powers/plants is made. She takes up gardening and becomes incredibly excited about growing crops so the guild can have fresh produce made by her own hard work. Yes, maybe Droy could use his plant magic to move things along faster, but having something to focus on and learn about makes Juvia so insanely happy.

We'd get downtime episodes where you'd see Juvia in the background asking around the guild for recommendations on what she should grow and getting together with Droy to figure out the details on how to make things work. What nutrition certain plants need and how their care differs from others.

Part of the excitement of juvia not being with the main group during arcs would involve wondering what new plant life we'd see outside the guild once everyone made it back.

And as her circle of friends and interests grows, her obsession with Gray starts to subside. She's still a massive supporter of him and all he does, she makes signs and shirts to cheer him on in the grand magic games. He was the one to actually make her feel like a person worth something for the first time in her life, but there's no romance. In fact Gray doesn't have romance with anyone during the series.

Juvia however during her time with other members of the guild begins to acknowledge a good portion of her love for Gray came from him being the first person in her world in so long, and her friendships with other people helps her understand what love can feel like when it's built slowly.

In my rewrite I'd angle instead for her to slowly form a romance with Droy, which I know sounds weird with what the canon is. And fully explaining it would need me to explain how I'd alter Jet and Droy.

Largely I wish there was more focus on Juvia bonding more with everyone, playing into an idea of her and Gajeel having a sibling bond of sorts where he has a soft spot for her that led to him joining the guild. Mirajane giving her a list of crops to grow that would cut down on guild costs for food that often ends up destroyed in bar fights anyway. Juvia and Romeo having little battles where they try to prove whether Natsu or Gray is the superior fighter. Post time skip Juvia excitedly making dolls and toys for Asuka because she wants to give all the love she never got in her childhood.

Juvia lockser growing beyond her obsession.

[nicketynic]

Prompt: Jon Snow falls in love with Sansa Rivers, Brynden's bastard.

Catelyn Tully Stark had never forgotten the strange, painful parallel of watching her uncle walking through Riverrun’s gates, her lord father’s bones in tow, cradling a babe bearing his look, imagining it eerily similar to Eddard’s return to Winterfell, the return that brought his bastard son inside the walls of his ancestral seat before his trueborn heir had ever graced them. 

Her feelings for Jon Snow aside, Sansa Rivers was her dear uncle’s only child, bastard-born or not, beloved enough to be brought with him to RIverrun as he took up regency for Edmure. Through letters, Catelyn watched her grow, transitioning from sweet, spirited girl to kind, dutiful young woman, thoughtful and grateful toward every bit of advice Catelyn offered. 

By twelve, Sansa had stepped so naturally into the role of Riverrun’s surrogate lady, just as Cately had before her, and remained so at sixteen when Robb’s march south saw armies and lords aplenty descend on the castle. Then Ned was gone, and sweet Sansa was a steady source of comfort and support in a sea of grief and loss. How could she not love this wonderful, giving girl, everything she would have wanted in another daughter if the Mother had seen fit, for all she never regretted helping Ned secure his bloodline, for all that Arya was a willful, spirited, irreplaceable gift?

Ned was lost to her, and a solemn specter of his likeness stood stalwart at their son’s side. While loss and his unwavering loyalty toward Robb had eaten away at the bitterness toward the bastard, nothing could stop her hackles from rising the first time she saw Snow’s eyes land on Sansa, widening with surprise and interest. So intent was she on diverting that attention, she nearly missed when Sansa began to return his gazes, until she was as moon-eyed as the boy. It was only the march into the Westerlands that relieved Catelyn’s vexation with the whole affair, and as the war raged on and months became a year, then two, she became certain the infatuation had long passed. 

Now, Jon Snow was a Stark-born bastard of a different variety, no longer a political unknown but the last scion of a dead dynasty, poised to have his pick between several noble seats. Some argued Dragonstone was his right so long as he let the name Targaryen die, Robb stood eager to see him landed and titled in the north, and Uncle Brynden himself had mused whether Harrenhal would be an acceptable compromise (granted to House Tully by way of Whent blood), if only to keep his daughter close by. 

Catelyn was wrong that time and distance would kill the attraction between Snow and Rivers, for all that Sansa had never spoken of or inquired about him within her hearing. Sansa herself had presented her desire for Jon Snow’s hand in marriage, and Brynden was showing no signs of refusing. Feeling the weight of his niece’s gaze upon him, Brynden raised his head, bushy silver brows over Tully blue arching expectantly. 

Catelyn hesitated for a moment, straightening subconsciously in her chair before she spoke. “Uncle, are you certain this is the decision you wish to make? The boy has prospects now, but the Targaryen legacy is liable to haunt him for the rest of his days. His children as well. Is it wise to subject Sansa to that?”

Brynden studied her for a long moment, deep wells of Tully blue full of something impossibly sad and wise. “Trust me when I say, little Cat, there can be no better judge of that girl’s happiness than Sansa herself. Her life’s already been hardship enough since the day I gave her the name ‘Rivers.’”

For the first time since his fateful decision, Brynden Tully was fully certain he had made the right choice when he plucked up a little red-haired waif from obscurity all those years ago, Tully auburn a beacon to draw his eye among a group of war orphans at Fairmarket’s motherhouse. All the evidence he needed was the soft, besotted look in Sansa’s eyes, the confidence in the way she spoke of Jon Snow’s love being true. That was all he could have possibly wished for the child who held his heart even if she wasn’t born of his body, much like the clever Cat sitting nearby. 

Let it never be said that the Blackfish of Riverrun didn’t look after his own. 

xx

Contrary to their elders’ assumptions, Sansa Rivers and Jon Snow hadn’t been blinded from the hardships of their world by infatuation or innocence, and had long since forged their own path ahead together. 

This day, Jon sat quietly in the shadow of several large old elms in Riverrun’s godswood. His eyes were closed, whether in prayer or sleep his audience was uncertain, only that he paid her approach no notice until he felt the light pressure of her hand on his shoulder, warm breath tickling against his skin with a whisper in his ear. 

“Perhaps it is improper to interrupt a man in such serious contemplation, but the solemnity on your face should be far removed from the beauty of this day.”

He jumped at the initial touch, glowering. Sansa allowed herself a few giggles at his disgruntled expression, leaning against his shoulder and letting her lips tease against the sensitive place below his ear. 

Jon looked at her sharply, and she responded with a soft reassurance and a firmer kiss to his neck. “I circled this clever spot you found from every direction I could conceive of, love. I only saw you since I knew where to look. We’re safe.”

Jon relaxed, turning in her arms to shift her closer, Sansa settling comfortably in his lap. She circled her arms around his neck, drawing his mouth to hers in a lingering, adoring kiss. She drew back at the need for air, giving him a cheeky smile. “Husband.”

“Wife.”

xx

For weeks, Sansa had felt the weight of eyes on her. Over the years of men coming and going from Riverrun, she had become accustomed to the hard, lustful stares thrown her way, unabashed in their audacity given she was bastard-born with no noble title to protect her modesty. The only thing that kept their stares as only stares, their hands from never daring to pinch or grope, rip or bruise, was the power of her father and cousin’s affection for her. Nothing more, certainly not through any virtue of her own, as barbed, gossiping tongues saw fit to remind her every season she was forced to play host to the ladies and daughters of Cousin Edmure’s bannermen. 

When she finally distracted herself enough for the chaos of preparing for war, she was shocked to discover the owner of these particular eyes. King Robb’s bastard half-brother, taciturn, solemn Jon Snow. A man who seemed too serious, too stoic, too devoted, for any woman to draw his eye away from his intense focus on duty. She puzzled over his interest, and several times she felt the burn of his gaze, she turned around to seek the source. More often than not, his expression was carefully composed into a sullen frown, and he was quick to turn away, but once or twice, she caught him unguarded. 

His expression naked and open, wistful yearning laid bare for her to see, unique to the entitled vulgarity she’d reluctantly grown used to over time. His was a quiet longing, appreciative and warm every time his eyes landed on her. Still he wouldn’t approach, not even as she began to return lingering looks of her own, not even when her smiles grew soft and inviting. He never came. 

So she went to him herself.

“I hope I’m not interrupting, my lord. Please tell me if my presence is unwelcome, and I’ll leave you be.”

“Your presence could never be unwelcome, my lady. And I know we’ve discussed that I’m no lord. Please, call me Jon.”

“Then you should remember I’m no lady, but I know from experience you’ll demure. So be it.” She smiled, slow and enigmatic. “Jon.” She drew his name out, testing out the sound, and Jon could have died from shame at the flash of heat it caused him. 

“Jon,” the sound of her voice, soft, husky, and alluring, was intoxicating, his name slipping from her tongue sweet as honey. “Jon, I’ve felt your eyes on me for weeks. Always watching me. Never approaching, Why? Am I wrong”

He couldn’t remember a time when his tongue had ever felt so thick and at a loss for words. “N-no, you’re not wrong.”

“Do you want me, Jon?”

She’d bewitched him, surely, how else could he justify actually giving voice to his next words? “Yes,” he choked out, voice hoarse. “Gods help me, do I ever.”

Her beautiful face hardened, something in her eyes growing cold. “So I’ve often seen, more through the years than I care to count. You’ve been kind, Jon. Courteous to a fault. Do you feel you have more a right to me because you haven’t resorted to slobbering and pawing?”

“No!” Jon went milk-pale, horrified at the very implication. “I would never dishonor you! I was never going to tell you, I swear it. Never belittle your worth with a delusion that I’d have any hope of your hand.”

“Hand?” In her confusion, something softened, peering at him with a puzzled, considering expression. “You mean to wed?”

Jon looked ill at the very idea of continuing to discuss his feelings, but he resolved to finish if only she could feel some measure of safety in his presence again. “A boy’s dream, my lady. I know that. I would never hurt you. Please believe me.”

“Oh, Jon.”  She drew closer, and closer still, panic rising in him as he saw faint tears glistening in her eyes. “I do. I so wished I was right, that what I saw in you was true. You just proved that.”

Hands on his shoulders, lips a breath away from his, Jon trembled, fists clenched at his sides to keep from touching her. “I won’t dishonor you,” he ground out. 

“Then wed me. But don’t leave me without knowing your love.”

“You can’t mean-”

“But i do. You return to war in a few days.”

“And you want to make yourself a landless bastard’s widow?”

“The hope is that I don’t become a widow at all. But where’s the stigma in being a bastard’s widow when I’m a bastard myself? I adore you for your honor, Jon Snow, but it’s not your honor I want to know before you ride into battle.”

“Gods help me. Gods help us both.”

It was the gods he prayed to save them that they wed themselves before later that night, kneeling before the sad-faced weirwood, then bedding down beneath its red-dripped branches. 

He kissed his love with the virility of youth, with the guilty passion and love he’d been harboring. They separated only before the need for breath became too great. He exhaled softly, not daring to open his eyes as deft fingers threaded through his dark hair to pull him into another kiss. His arms tightening around her, his hands grew restless, aching to explore further. Desire raged through him in a sudden storm of longing, tantalizing him to the point of desperation. 

He groaned, a low rumble resounding through his chest. At the sudden sound, they pulled away, each regarding the other with shy, darkened eyes. 

It was Jon who broke through the tentative silence. “I cannot leave you with child, Sansa,” he whispered softly, touching his hand to her cheek. 

She leaned into the touch, gently sighing at the contact. “There are ways around it, love, for all that I would love to have that piece of you with me.”

“I want that as well. Someday.”

“Then come back to me.”

Jon shifted closer, dipping his head to press his lips to her ear. “Always, so long as I am breathing.” He kissed her again, allowing his lips to linger for just a moment before descending in a trail of soft kisses down her jaw and neckline. Sansa responded with a breathless gasp, her hands working up into the folds of his tunic to meet bare skin. He groaned as she touched him, aiding her in allowing the garment to fall away from his shoulders. Drawing her into his embrace, her body molded into his as he pressed close. She gazed down at him, brushing heavy hair away from his eyes, tracing her fingers along the strong features of his face. The intensity of his dark gaze followed her every movement. “Love me, Jon. Please?”

He did not hesitate, his hands beginning to stroke and caress, his mouth seeking hers in a gentle, lingering kiss. Locked in a lover’s embrace, he pressed her back against the ground, the soft earth and the fragrant grasses of the garden floor cushioning their fall. Their world faded to the touch of mouth and skin, passion overwhelming every sense but that of each other. 

Jon sighed contently as he gave into the moment. “I’ve missed you so very much.”

“I missed you as well. Thank you for keeping your promise.”

He kissed her softly, his eyes so warm and full her heart swelled with feeling. “I promised you always, as long as I breathe. I wasn’t certain you would still want this, knowing I’m not who you thought.”

“Nonsense. Jon Snow, Jon Waters, Jon Blackfyre, it doesn’t matter, as long as you remain Jon at your core. And Jon loves me still.”

“As long as I breathe,” he repeated softly, this time catching her mouth in a deep, soulful kiss. Sansa’s arms twined around his neck as she opened beautifully to his passion, his ardor, his devotion, fingers burying in his hair to drag him impossibly closer. 

She pulled back just enough to speak, only a breath’s distance between their lips. “And if my kisses steal your breath away?”

“Then we’ll share it. We did promise to share this life together.”

“Then i can’t wait to share that journey with you.”

[toonstarterz]

BECAUSE I’M NOT POPULAR, I’LL READ WATAMOTE: CHAPTER #157

And now for something entirely different.

For the first time in the entire series, we have a chapter in which Tomoko Kuroki is completely absent. For a series whose initial premise was so dependent on having Tomoko as the solitary focus, it really speaks volumes that the side characters can now carry the series on their own. Of course, it wouldn’t be Watamote if Tomoko wasn’t there in some way, shape or form, and as we see today, her spirit lives on in rest of the Watamote Crew.

Chapter 157: Because I’m Not Popular, I’m Suspended

I really dig the hatching in this opening shot. It automatically gives you the sense that this is a retroactive moment and that Tomoko will be MIA until further notice.  

And just as we already knew, Tomoko and Yoshida got busted.

I’ve noticed quite a few people criticize this school policy, claiming that’s it’s unreasonable for the “crime”. My assumption is that riding a motor scooter reflects poorly on the school, which its students are supposed to represent with “proper” behavior. While I don’t think it’s really a justified punishment, I don’t think it’s necessarily an unjustified punishment either. Dissecting the reason would mean pulling apart much about Japanese cultural values, and this ain’t the place for that.   

This, on the other hand, seems a teeensy bit excessive. But that’s just me.

Naturally, Komiyama takes this as an opportunity to validate her less-than-savory impression of Tomoko. Gotta eat up those friend-of-a-friend brownie points. 

The true endgame of this series is when Tomoko and Komiyama call each other “friend.”

Blatant disregard of sensei’s instructions? Looks like Yuri’s the next to join the new delinquent posse after Tomoko and Yoshida.

But on that note, I really do enjoy that Yuri cares enough about her buddies to break the rules. She’s always been an obedient student overall, but I always had this inkling that Yuri wasn’t really a goody-two-shoes. Rebels gotta stick together.

And Tomoko’s (and Yoshida’s) reputation continues to brew. And through the semi-popular kids at that. If nothing else, Tomoko is going to leave school known as the “Weird Kid” that everyone admires.

I now wonder just how much these guys knew about Tomoko and Yoshida’s friendship? I’d imagine that this whole suspension might actually paint the two as BFFs in everyone’s eyes. 

Lastly, I wonder what was the manga Tomoko and Yoshida were reading? Maybe a sequel to “A Happy Cat”?

Can I get a Prison School shoutout, anybody?

Yup, like I said. Everyone knows about that “Weird Kid” in high school who did stupid stuff, but you couldn’t help but admire them for having the nerve to do it. Nemo may give Tomoko a lot of shit sometimes, but to some degree, I think she wishes she could be like her.

Girl’s itching for her Kuroki-Kimoi fix. 

Perhaps someone can enlighten me, but are Japanese shoe lockers really left unlocked? I mean, you see it all the time in manga–how else would the love interest send letters/chocolate to their crush?–but I’d like to to know if there’s any truth to that. 

If Ucchi really was getting ready to confess apologize, then I gotta hand it to her. It took her a lot faster to get to that point than I thought she would.

Unfortunately, the universe discriminates against emojis, and when they flippantly confront a random girl to inquire about their obsession, you know a blast of karma is heading their way.

The Counseling Room, huh? For those who’re uninitiated like me, that’s supposedly where they keep the suspended students to do their schoolwork and reflect on their actions. 

In Ucchi’s eyes, however, it’s the higher beings keeping her from her beloved. 

Sorry, Ucchi, but you gotta work on your “Uwaaaah!”s. Maybe you ought to get some pointers from Komiyama.

More and more, Ucchi’s cries of despair get even more absurd. And more and more, I wonder how she justifies it in that head of hers. 

Aw damn, is it that same dude that criticized Tomoko for supposedly almost falling into a ravine? And on film, too? Bro needs to take a chill pill.

That seems to be the food for thought amongst the student body these days. 

Is it wrong that I laughed at Katou’s very obvious face of absolute boredom? You can just feel the Tomoko withdrawal symptoms destroying her from the inside.

I used to be pretty ambivalent about her increasing affection to Tomoko, but these more humanizing moments make me grow fonder about their relationship.  

Fuuka’s never gonna let this one die, is she?

That’s basically the exact same thing that Tomoko said to Fuuka, wasn’t it? Shoot, gotta had another tally to the “Tomoko-Katou ship is actually kind of cute” chart.

At this point, she and Okada need to start a support group for the Tomoko-challenged.

I gotta say, I fully expected Tomoko to be hypocritical enough to deny Fuuka an answer, but not Katou. More than anybody else, it feels like nobody, not even her closest friends, really understand who Katou is. I’m counting the chapters to the day it all comes to blows. 

So close, and yet so far.

Back to fill the void with the ol’ earbuds, huh, Yuri? 

Well, Tomoko is perpetually tired, but I’d imagine suspension isn’t doing her any favors. A loner Tomoko may be, being locked up for a week in pseudo-solitary confinement (with Yoshida, no less) is bound to lead to some cabin fever.

I think the old Tomoko would brag about it before the fact, but after experiencing it, she'd take it back after realizing that suspension actually kind of sucks.

In old news: Yuu is a sweetheart and deserves the world.

Ah, Komi. I can't tell if you're ignorant, in denial, or just being a bitch, but your delusions of grandeur towards Tomoki never fail to amuse me.

It took me a while to realize that we were going over several days throughout this chapter. The time transitions are just that subtle, and I'm pretty sure that was intentional in order to emphasize how Tomoko's absence is really screwing with everyone’s sense of time.

Is this the first time anyone other than Minami has acknowledged Ucchi's lack of a face? Alright, Minami, you win this one.

Also, this is so going to add fuel to the fire on those NSFW headcanons about Mako and Minami’s "pet play" relationship.

Wow. When she says it like that, it puts Minami in an almost sympathetic light. Curse that endearing dependency of hers.

I see that Okada’s infamous shut-her-down moment from the field trip has left some after effects. If nothing else, Fang Girl knows when to fold ‘em.

Obvious imagery aside, I do like that they include Yoshida as one of the “loud” ones in the class. She’s definitely more of the “in-your-face” type of loud, while Tomoko is mostly loud in presence, and it really drives home just how extra loud the two are when together.

A wild Hirasawa appeared!

Somewhere underneath Yuri’s veil of apathy is a very particular layer of empathy. That being, her affection for Tomoko. Yuri may get jealous of other girls, but she can understand how it feels to have an attachment to someone, and when she recognizes that in someone else, that’s when she’ll go the extra mile.

Even she can’t abandon an underclassman all by their lonesome.

That said, it wouldn’t be Yuri if flashes of green didn’t flicker in her eyes at times.

Then that green turns into...whatever color is usually associated with begrudging respect.

Aw damn, this is going to be one of those heartwarmingly bittersweet endings, isn’t it?

Continuity porn.

Okay, ya’ll, but that glimmer of hope in Yuri’s slightly widened eyes is just golden. I hereby put this at the top of my “Top 5 Purest Moments in Watamote” List.

You know, if this were earlier in the series–as in, before Nemo opened up to Yuri–this would come off as pretty mean in the context of the plot, even if it really isn’t. It’s still trollish in a way that only Nemo can, but it feels like a genuine offer of friendship now that we’ve seen these two slowly come closer together. And if slice-of-life manga has taught me anything, it’s that walking home from school together is the Friendship Rite of Passage.

I’m sure Yuri’s first instinct was to punch her out, but hey, any reaction is a good reaction.

Actual proof that Tomoko has temporal powers that allow her to accelerate the passage of time at a rate that’s proportional to her exuding weirdness.

Or, you know, they all just miss her.

If there’s one thing that this series has taught me, it’s that the most wonderful of friendships can start with a mere coincidence.

At the start of Watamote, I never would’ve thought that the series could hold its own without Tomoko. And yet here we are. Gone are the days where the cast was just her, Tomoki, and Yuu. The cast has expanded exponentially since then, and their stories are all rich enough to headline their own series. But no matter how far the web grows, it always comes back to Tomoko. Even with Main Character Privilege, her existence is the glue that binds everyone together. And while this chapter gave us a unique insight on favorite characters, it also gave us a chance to see an alternate reality where Tomoko (and Yoshida) don’t exist.

And as expected, it’s a dull, dull world.

[j0x06ber]

Stream of Consciousness #1

Thirteen years ago I was ten. At the time I was a seventy five pound, bright eyed little boy. I had big plans for my life. I was going to do well in school, go to college and begin a career writing fiction novels. I looked up to the likes of Stephen King, Edgar Allen Poe, and H.P. Lovecraft. Easily scared, I recall when I was six or seven, I slept in the spare room on the second story of my grandmothers house.

One night, my parents had left for the night and I was in bed. The darkness of the room was overwhelming. It felt as though tendrils were reaching up the bunk bed I slept in from all sides. Waiting for me to fall asleep. A delusion of my young mind to be sure, but it felt real at the time. I could almost see them, swaying back and fourth and snaking their way up the wall. What really scared me though was the fire alarm. It looked like like an evil red eye and it would blink as it watched me. As I stared at it and attempted to slow my breathing I could have sworn I saw teeth forming around the edges of the alarm, slowly creating a distorted and twisted grin around the eye and in a fit of fear, I ran out of the room.

Afraid I would get in trouble with the babysitter, I snuck down to the second landing that lead to the entry way, and curled up on the off-white carpet. I was just out of her sight, but close enough to the light and noise from the living room to bring me at least a bit of comfort. I watched the swinging chair my baby brother was in and listened to the soft clicking as it swayed back and fourth. Eventually I fell asleep and was found on the staircase. My family still has pictures of me huddled up the corner against the rafter and wall. Like a scared puppy.

This was a reoccurring theme throughout my life. I would regularly wake up and see stuff in the night. Even into my early teens, I would wake up and see the figure of a man standing outside of my room, or tapping at the window. I would hear disturbing whistling coming from the streets and manic howls. I was always scared.

This followed me throughout my life. The fear is no longer a result of the figments of my imagination, but rather something tangible. I no longer fear the figures in the night. They’ve long since stopped appearing to me. I fear my life direction at this point. I fear the people around me. I fear failure and the thought of having to live a whole life alone and in perpetual destitute.

When I was ten my brother was hit by a car. I was a bright student and had caught the attention of my teachers that year, and they had extended the offer to send me to The Tech Academy. My parents, ecstatic at the thought of their son attending what amounts to summer school at San Jose University didn’t so much as blink before signing me up, and that summer I began attending a course on robotics and hydroelectric power.

On the last day of summer, I returned home from San Jose to the flashing lights and sirens of an ambulance and police cars. On the grass in the front yard my youngest brothers bike was sat out, mangled. The bike was essentially bent in half; the tires and handlebars twisted. He had been riding his bike without a helmet, and in a dare with the neighbors kid, attempted to ride across a busy street that was at the end of our road. For context, we lived on the outskirts of town near a mushroom farm. Because there weren’t police actively patrolling this area and there was almost never traffic, people would drive down this road faster than they would the freeway. One such woman was doing eighty when my brother attempted to ride across the street. She slammed on the breaks, but it was too little too late, and hit him as he attempted to recross the road.

He would spend the next year in a coma at the hospital. The doctors repeatedly told us it was unlikely he would ever come out of it, and that even if he did, with the damage to his brain he would probably spend the rest of his life in a vegetative state. My parents decided to foot the bill though and hold out hope. In the end it paid off for them. He began to display movement in his fingers, and in the following months he was able to lift his head and move his arms.

He essentially had to start from scratch at 6 years old. He needed to relearn how to walk and talk. It would take years of physical therapy before he was, for the most part, functional again.

My parents weren’t around then. The issues I already had with depression and social anxiety would get worse during this period of time; as I stopped talking to people at school to avoid conversations related to my brothers accident and opted instead to spend most nights alone in my room, working on school projects or reading.

As time went on my feelings of detachment from the people and world around me would continue to worsen. It was no longer a case of just not wanting to talk. Instead it felt as though an impenetrable wall had been constructed between myself and everyone around me. I couldn’t relate to anyone, I didn’t know what to say in casual conversation, and the very act of speaking to others evoked a fight or flight response. If you are familiar with the borderlands series, my response to social interactions was similar, albeit less exaggerated, to that of  Patricia Tannis. During this time I also regularly felt like I wasn’t in control of my body or actions. Everything I did felt like it was being done by an outside force, and I was just a spectator to it all. Despite all of this, there were people that refused to give up on me and they would go on to become close friends throughout high school and part of college.

Everything came to a head during my senior year. My friends were all distant and I felt it would be best if I transferred schools. I decided to take online courses to finish my final year. This was when I met Stephanie. She would be my anchor to reality, my best friend, and for a while, my girlfriend. Come graduation I experienced a psychotic break and began hearing/remembering conversations that never happened and people shouting my name. As my mental state deteriorated suicide stopped being a distant thought and became an appealing means of escaping. A permanent exit from what felt like some sort of an extended nightmare sequence straight of a David Lynch film.

June 8th I drove to an abandoned parking lot and parked under a tree illuminated orange by the streetlights just twenty feet away and grabbed out a benchmade knife I kept in the center console of my dingy orange ford. I started slashing everything I could My wrists, my arm, my shoulders, my chest, legs. Everything but my throat. I fully intended to kill myself that night. I sat there, globs of blood dripping off my arm onto cracked pavement and the side of the my seat.

I didn’t die that night. My typing this as proof. The bleeding stopped, at which point I was too light headed, weak, and scared to finish the job. Instead I fell asleep, woke up the next morning, put on my jacket, and drove home. Eventually my family found out what I had attempted to do. It was summer and I couldn’t wear my jacket all the time. Eventually they saw a couple, and demanded to see them all. Most of them weren’t too bad, but the ones on my wrist and chest were deep, with the cut on my sternum going all the way down to the bone. I carry hideous scars now as a reminder and have to be conscious of what I wear so as not to make the people around me uncomfortable. and I was hospitalized for the first time.

Stephanie was a sweetheart and everyday would drive three towns over where I was being kept to visit. Bringing healing stones, snacks, and much needed company. If you’re not familiar with wards, they are lonely and often times scary places. You have a routine of therapy, but outside that, there’s nothing to do but walk the halls, and when the clock hits 8, it’s lights out and you have to go to your shared room. I had been roomed with a violent schizophrenic that never acknowledged me when I tried to speak to him.

During my time there I was diagnosed with Bipolar and agraphobia. For the next three years I would be subjected to a number of heavy duty anti-psychotics, anti-depressants, and mood stabilizers. In tandem they dulled everything. I felt like a zombie. I no longer had emotional range and was tired all the time.

I started college a month after release. It was at this point I found out that the college funds my grandparents had been setting aside to put us through college had been used to pay my brothers hospital and therapy bills all those years ago. No one had told me this, and throughout school my parents discouraged me working, stating that my job was to focus on school and extra-curricular activities. I began working three jobs to pay for my courses, but after two years of this, my car broke down and I ended up shelling out five grand to repair the engine, only to have the transmission break soon after, leaving me no mode of transportation. Stephanie moved away to start her dream job as a forest ranger.

This was probably for the best. She was a sweet girl and I was bad news. I broke up with her shortly after getting the news that she was moving, and ended up reconnecting and getting into a relationship with Leilani. Leilani was also a very nice girl and supported me in more ways than she should have. We had similar issues, and she was able to understand what was going on with me better than most people, but our relationship was short lived. I isolate and cut off contact with everyone when I have a depressive episode. I was under the impression it would be better for everyone if I dissapeared when this happened. That I shouldn’t burden my friends with my own personal shit. It’s what I was taught growing up, to man up and deal with the problem. Don’t make it someone elses. During one of these episodes, she found someone else, and we fell out of contact. I remember the last thing she sent me was “Please don’t cut me out again”.

Shortly afterwards I was hospitalized once more. I had been out of college for a year and was working on paying for a new car and getting the debt I’d been accumulating through medicine costs and therapy when this happened. I was slapped with almost ten thousand dollars worth of debt, and that leads to today.

I will soon be twenty four. My friends and those that supported me for so long are gone. They have been for years. I’m living at my parents and am working a dead-end job as a QA engineer. I wont pretend like none of this is my fault. I’m self aware enough to know my own actions have lead me to this point. I should have dealt with my problems rather than trying to bury them. I should have accepted the help and support my friends had offered. I should have, in general, been a better person. I’m hoping that somehow, typing this all out, I can make peace with everything leading me to this point. If not that, to at least make sense of it.