#I still regret not reaching out to a friend who went through psychosis

[roseltheteacup]

Bomb Rush Cyberfunk: Story Headcanons, Faux

Major story spoilers under the cut.

Faux has undiagnosed schizophrenia, but I'll be talking about his anxiety as a result of the psychosis he experiences, specifically.

Despite how suspicious others seem to be of him, I personally can't see him always being as cruel as we see him at the end of the game. He definitely knows how to sweet talk people and get them to trust him, but he never had any grand plans to kill all writers. At worst, he felt no remorse in letting other writers pay for his crimes. His charisma played a part in convincing his father to keep his record clean, but he gradually grew to regret and detest this. Faux was always aware of how others would treat him if they knew his father was a cop. Too aware, in fact. It weighed him down and pulled at him and caused him to see many of his relationships as strained for the fact that he couldn't let anyone know of his background.

Regardless if he was doing it to himself or not, Faux was haunted by thoughts of his peers discovering his roots. Of the community he thrived in plotting to overthrow and abandon him, and he tormented himself by not reaching out to his two closest friends: DJ Cyber and Felix.

Felix, of course, discovered Faux’s roots anyway. He did not tell Faux about this.

He still saw the Big 3 as comforting, though. Cyber and Felix were, naturally, the furthest you can be from the police, so it gave him a rare peace of mind whenever they were together.

It didn't last forever. The day Felix announced that he would be going solo for All City was the day that Faux broke. All of his fears, to him, were true. Felix abandoned them. He abandoned him. Surely, it was all because of what Faux had done, and he would go on to plot the end of Faux’s career as a writer. To Faux, that was surely what it meant.

Perhaps Faux was in love with Felix. Perhaps, he was in love with both of them. Whatever it was, it only made Felix’s choice hurt more, and Faux’s mental state worse.

Faux’s downward spiral was kept entirely to himself. He practically disappeared off the face of the earth once Felix went solo for All City. That was until Felix finally got into contact with him again and asked Faux to help him throw up some graffiti one night, assuming that it would be casual and low stress for both of them.

I still don't believe that Felix’s death was plotted intricately beforehand. The combination of Solace being present, everyone's opinion on Faux, and how him and Felix were so close to the building Cyber and Prince were located– all of this just leads me to believe that the murder was an impulsive decision, spawned through everything that had been on Faux’s mind. A psychotic episode. He just couldn't take it anymore, and reacted in the worst possible way he could have because he simply didn't know what else to do. And he had to live with that. Or, at least until Cyber presumably killed him that night at the police station.

But Faux did not die. He was captured, and made to be the test subject against his will for the unseeable future. Time scraped by him while he was hooked up to Algo– painful and unrelenting, where he could do nothing but sit as a pathetic human head and think about everything that had led him to his situation. Whatever shreds he had left of a coherent mental state soon rotted away as he began to lose his mind.

His operation to kill all writers was also not planned. Initially, at least. Throughout the first half of Red’s journey, Faux merely provided misinformation in order to get more writers arrested and injured. He was also, at the time, still trying to retrieve his body. Reports of a “stolen body” began circulating because he really did want his full self back.

By the time the BRC challenges DOT EXE in Millennium Mall, Faux is set on killing any writers who get in his way, and he establishes control over the police force using the same technology that they had used to flay his mind for information. Faux is, to his credit, dastardly cunning when he wants to be, but it just so turned out that this time it was to every writer’s detriment. Through this control, he could call in as many officers and mecha as he pleased, and it even extended to him being able to contact Devil Theory for a deal, in which he would unceremoniously double-cross them once he got what he wanted.

Faux has Berlage killed and begins modifying himself, finally making his escape from the bureau’s basement inside the mecha tank we see him piloting after Futurism is defeated. In Mataan, he's determined to kill all writers, regardless if they've crossed him or not.

About Rietveld; I initially gave Faux the benefit of the doubt that he spared her, but given how far gone he is at that point it's more fair to say that Rietveld is just incredibly skilled at self defence and managed to escape him alive.

Despite all of his plotting and bloodlust, when confronting the writers in Mataan, a single thread of composure holds Faux back. That is until he attempts to kill Felix and gets sprayed in the face with paint. It's no holds barred at that point. Faux is both out of his mind and intoxicated with spray paint fumes, and it leads him to scrap whatever humanity he had left– transforming into a horrifying beast of metal and wires. He becomes the monster that he thought everyone saw him as.

It's clear that he still intended to return to a human form after wiping out all writers, though, because he kept Solace alive.

Faux fights and screams until his final moments and spends his last line still trying to communicate how he feels.

But nothing changes.

[sweetlittlevampire]

So.

Since I’ve been yelling and crying and whining so much about The Girlfriend Situation, I might as well update you on The Girlfriend Situation, as it stands now.

Mentions of suicide and mental health issues under the Read More (we’re both fine; I won’t mention anything graphic, but just - do what’s best for you. If reading about this topic isn’t doing you any good, then please, feel free to step away. I’ll be adding a  tl;dr at the end of the post in case you’re still interested in what the status quo is.)

First things first: The Girlfriend is still the Girlfriend. 

Not too long ago, my father-in-law tried to take his own life. I knew that he had suffered a major burn out years ago. I had no idea that he is suffering from depression and bouts of psychosis, and that this was the second time he had tried. He did so many years ago for the first time.

The girlfriend never told me about it, because she thinks that it should be his decision as to whom he talks to about this to. Either he never wanted to talk to me about it - which is absolutely fine - or it just never came up.

I don’t know his exact diagnosis. He lives in Switzerland. With what is going on in the world right now with COVID, there’s no way we would be even able to cross the Swiss border to go visit. But I gathered that he was lucid enough to call an ambulance and a psychiatrist for himself, and that he is now being taken good care of. He loves trains and photography, and there have already been new photos popping up on his social media, depicting his favourite hobby. He seems to be doing better; I really hope he is.

The girlfriend...she’s a rational thinker. After his first attempt at suicide, she knew that there was a chance he could try again. Even the doctors said so, she told me, and it must have been at the back of her mind ever since. Logically, she knows that there is not much she could have done. There’s the spacial distance between her and her father’s living places, for one. She did make an effort to visit whenever she could, which wasn’t as often as she would have liked, with work and general life interfering. Sometimes I went with her, sometimes her grandmother did. Sometimes he came over to us to stay with his mother for a few days. When the virus eventually gets eradicated (which might still take a good while, but I’m optimistic that it will, one day), we will resume doing so. In between visits, she kept up with him via phone calls and video calls. They do have a good relationship with one another.

He always seemed well, she says. “I should have noticed something,” she thought. “I should have done something,” she mused.

- even though she knew very well that she couldn’t have done much, or even anything to prevent this, realistically speaking.

She didn’t cry when she delivered the news to me, but I’ve known this woman since she was thirteen years old. I heard instantly that something was wrong. And so I offered up my support, as gently as I could. Because frankly? I had no idea how to react properly. I was overwhelmed and scared and sad. I really like my father-in-law. I care about him, and I care about my girlfriend. 

So I reached out, as gently as I could, and said:  “I’m here, if you wanna talk. Or not talk.” In return I got a  “I’d rather not have you around anymore. Not for a while, at least.” And - gotta be honest, that hurt. I didn’t understand, I had no idea what to do, or how to react. I’ve been dropped by people before, cast out, chased away, but never by someone who means the entire world to me, and who, I thought, cared about me, too.

Still, I know firsthand that people grieve differently, and said: “Okay. Reach out whenever you’re ready”, and tried to give her space.

And proceeded to panic. Because “for a while” - and I also know this firsthand - can easily stretch into infinity. And because I’ve been dropped by people before, cast out, chased away - I was so scared this was going to happen now, too.

It might seem like an unhealthy dependence upon another human being, and maybe it is, but - she’s someone I have in mind when I think about the future. And not just the foreseeable future, but about the “growing old and getting grey hair and dentures” kind of future. I can live without her. I can make my life without her. Meet friends. Do happy things. Laugh. I’ve done this the past few weeks. I know I can do it.

I don’t want to do it ever again. Not this way.

I’ve loved this woman for almost eighteen years, and as it stands now, it feels like I will be doing so for a very long time still, maybe - hopefully - even for the rest of my life. We’ve been through so much together that we shaped our lives around each other. We grew and developed with each other, around each other, alongside each other. It feels as if my heart was molded to fit hers to its side, and that the beating of hers reflects mine.

So this not knowing what to do, not knowing how to help, or when - or even if - I’d be allowed back in her space, was agony. I genuinely was afraid of losing her.

She was the one who reached out to me, as she had promised. Gently, tentatively, by replying to one of my last texts, what feels like countless days after I had sent it. We texted a bit every day. She cracked a small joke. Then asked:

“Hey. My mother’s not here on Thursday. Wanna come over? We could play Animal Crossing...and talk.”

So I went there yesterday.

We did play Animal Crossing. And we talked.

She needed to think. About her own way of thinking, about her own feelings regarding this whole situation with her father, and she needed to do so on her own. She acknowledged that the way in which she had pushed me away had been less than friendly, and she could only explain it by being too suffocated by her own conflicted feelings of guilt that she did not find the right words to let me know what was up. So she got emotional and lashed out.

She said that she regretted her words almost instantly, but was scared that I’d be angry or hurt. So she decided to wait until her mind was clearer, and the storm of emotions had calmed down.

She apologised. I said that I had been hurt, but more because it was so uncharacteristic for her, and because me being scared had worsened it all, but that I was absolutely willing to forgive her.

She said she was scared too, because me being so silent iwa uncharacteristic for me...I told her she had wanted me to step back, and I was to insecure as to what to do that I went completely still. So it was not just me freaking out, it seems.

She’s okay now. It’s still hard, but she’s okay. 

Yesterday was filled with fingers worrying at each other. With avoided gazes, trembling lips. A whole ocean of tears. Hand holding. But also hugs, and eventually, kisses, and laughter.

If I can, I will stay with her for two, three days very soon. Just the two of us, and the calmness of everyday life. She would like me to, and I would love to. Turns out we missed each other dearly.

I’m...emotionally tired. Exhausted, even, but also happy. So so relieved. So thankful that the gift that she is, the love she so graciously decided to give to me, has not been taken from me. And if she’ll have me, if she’ll allow me, I will give it back to her tenfold, and gladly so.

.....

tl;dr : Learned that father-in-law has tried to end his life. His daughter struggled with feelings of guilt, and needed space, which she communicated to me a bit too harshly. We both proceeded to freak out about it. Talked things through and made up.  (That sounds super underwhelming put like that, not gonna lie. XD)

[d-debased]

chapter 1: child star

Originally published in Rolling Stone Magazine, Dec 1999: “D Debased: a Portrait of the Artist as a Delusional Narcissist”

You’re looking at D Debased - former child star, future ‘pop messiah’ - at whatever comes after rock bottom.

He invites you into his crumbling, art nouveau catastrophe of a home. Disco balls hang dejectedly from the ceiling, and they aren’t nearly enough to distract you from the obvious signs of disrepair. Candle wax and black smoke line the walls. What the hell happened here, you think to yourself. D speaks of communing with the dead, and it’s not hard to envision the drugged-out seances that took place between these walls. Also of note is a battered “Live Love Laugh” sign with ‘666’ carved into its side. One gets the sense that this is where things go to die. It’s Studio 54 but the party’s over: the power’s been cut off, and what’s left are unpaid debts, a general sense of regret, and the lingering coke-drip aftermath of something that burned too brightly to have lasted very long.  

A portrait of the artist as a delusional narcissist. It’s as though the less successful he’s become the more successful he’s convinced himself he is. And D tells you, with utter conviction, “Everything in my career was a prelude to this moment. I’ve finally arrived.” 

You notice his face - those tight cheek bones & bright green eyes that once captured the world’s attention - they’re still there. But muted. Harder to place, and competing with considerable cocaine bloat. The expression is conflicted: erratic yet vacant, ecstatic but obviously doomed. He has that familiar sparkle in his eye, but it’s lost the sort of tragic-romantic James Dean appeal - that magical amalgam of childish innocence and damaged worldliness that once defined his appeal. What was then seductively dark is now desperate, unhinged. He carries himself with the confusing arrogance of someone who once commanded praise but clearly doesn’t anymore: once precocious, now mediocre at best. He drifts off into meaningless asides, shamelessly name-dropping irrelevant celebrities, whatever most effectively aggrandizes his ego at any given moment.

“There was the year where all I did was smoke crack with Scott and…” “Scott who,” you interrupt. 

“Scott.. Scott the guy from Creed. We went deep on some necromancy shit and banged rocks all day and night. Degeneracy came easy for me - no shame. Scott still had some residual Catholic guilt or something. And a family… maybe. Probably not anymore!” He finds this wildly hilarious.   

Or how about this: 

“96, maybe 97 - I did nothing but heroin for the better part of a year, mostly with Macauley. He was just insatiable. He’d achieved higher highs than me - y’know, with his early career and all - just dopamine levels you could never match, you could never reach again. Nothing short of death could satisfy that need. That need to get so high off yourself.. Cause the closest we ever get to the divine is feverish self love. Self adulation. Even Jesus understood that. Jesus was an egomaniac. You know the thing about Jesus...” And so it goes.

About 20 minutes into the interview he excuses himself to the bathroom and comes back trying to suppress a maniacal grin - or pretending to try to suppress a maniacal grin. It’s hard to tell. He’s grinding his teeth more than he was before, that much you know for certain. And you’re not all that surprised when he hijacks the interview and starts asking himself questions. He plays the role of interviewer and interviewee. It’s captivating. And frightening. This lasts for 10, 15 minutes before he loses interest and remembers that you’re in the room and that this is an Important interview. One that might even help to define his vision - this latest iteration in the illustrious career of D Debased. 

D is doing music now. He speaks of a kind of epiphany - or revelation - or prophecy. In a hotel in Los Feliz, where he’d spent some time on a spiritual vision quest, as he describes it.

“This is inevitable for me. Let’s be honest - everyone wants to be a musician. Acting is for pathetic douchebags. There’s no vision, no arrangement, no actual control.  Music… I was… I was listening to Psycho Candy, high on acid. And other things. I actually visualized this album.  From start to finish. I knew it was Sgt Pepper for this generation. And I just hoped that I would survive long enough to see it through.”

When asked about his contemporaries, D waves off the question: “I’m like Brian Wilson, John Lennon, Stevie Wonder, Phil Spector, Charles Manson, and Michael Jackson... and Jesus all wrapped into one. Oh and Dolly Parton”

And his process? Quite simple: “I heard an orgasm in my mind and translated it into music”

As a close friend and eye-witness tells it, this ‘spirit vision quest’ unfolded in a slightly different manner. Sequestered in a run-down hotel, D Debased had spent 72 hours free-basing cocaine in a drug-induced psychosis. Lipstick-smeared mirrors, nicotine stained walls, smashed-in television set on the floor - D had convinced himself he would die in this hotel. And then - somewhere between nightmare and reality; between ecstasy and complete dissipation - D Debased picked up a guitar and started writing.

From what he plays you, it’s… it’s really good. Like shockingly good. And you can’t believe that this sad caricature of a former star, this unmitigated trainwreck has produced something so... sublime? It’s avant garde; it’s bracing at times but tender at others; it channels the glam spirit of Bowie, of T Rex, then transitions seamlessly into the angst and aggression of the Pixies, Nirvana, before veering into darker emotional terrain, and coming full circle with unapologetically pure Pop moments.

To paraphrase a lyric from the first track, ‘Child Star’ - perhaps D Debased never really disappeared. Perhaps he has simply been waiting for the spotlight to find him again, all along. And perhaps it will find him soon enough. 

[yiangchen]

post 6x02 bellarke (4,346 words).

okay, so a few things. first, i wrote this after watching 6x01 and 6x02 when they were leaked, so i hadn’t read the 6x03 synopsis to know that the only ones going back to the ship were bellamy, octavia and echo.

also, yeah i’m well aware that there’s going to be a rave, not a ballroom dance, but in this fic, it’s a ballroom dance.

lastly, this is not in any way realistic in terms of what i really think we’ll get this season for blarke. i have hope for /something/ this season, but definitely not all of this.

oh, and one more thing! if you want to cry, listen to “happiness does not wait” by olafur arnalds on repeat while you read. hope you enjoy!

tagging @traitorwhoyoulove <3 because she wanted to be tagged!

don’t go, you’re half of me now

It took ten stitches to close up the wound on Bellamy’s leg. Clarke felt each one of them even though it wasn’t her skin being pierced.

Now, she sits on a chair beside his bed in the infirmary. Neither of them have spoken a word to one another since it all went down, but after a long while, Bellamy is the first to speak.

Before he thinks better of it, he reaches out to brush his fingers along the bruises that mare her neck. He swallows. “I’m so sorry, Clarke.”

Her eyes flutter shut, staying closed just a moment, even once he’s dropped his hand. “At least you weren’t in your right mind. I was when I—”

“You were trying to stop me from going after Murphy,” Bellamy cuts in, brushing her off. That isn’t something she should feel guilty for. If anything, he’s grateful she slowed him down to save Murphy. The guy hasn’t exactly been empathetic. It’s admirable that she still instinctively rescued someone who hasn’t been giving her the light of day.

But that wasn’t all that Clarke was referring to, and so she shakes her head, the guilt setting in and making her eyes water. “No,” she says, soft. “Not just that…”

Bellamy doesn’t have to ask what she means. He can still feel the contact her hand had made with his cheek weeks ago. “Clarke…”

Her bottom lip trembles. Part of Bellamy wants to reach out to steady it, and he instantly feels guilty about it.

Another traitor who you love.

“I know you said you weren’t mad at me,” she says, tears in her eyes now that make her voice waver, “but you should be.”

Bellamy sighs, shaking his head. “The only thing that I am is confused.”

“Confused?”

“You called me every day for six years, and then you left me to die in the fighting pits.”

“I’m so sorry, Bellamy.”

“I know you are. I’m not asking for an apology, Clarke.”

“Then what are you asking for?”

“An explanation, I guess. I don’t know…”

Clarke sighs. “I was just so scared.”

A muscle in Bellamy’s jaw starts working at that. “It was more than that.” He brings a hand to his cheek, where she slapped him.

Clarke’s eyes fall away from his. “You broke my heart,” she admits, not looking at him.

It’s since been mended, but he’d asked for the truth, and the least she can do is give it to him.

Raven, Echo, Murphy and Emori are my family.

Sometimes, she still fears he doesn’t see her as family too, but then she looks at him, sees his lips part, and he’s looking at her in that soft, broken way he does, and she knows.

She’s one of them. She never stopping being one of them. And though the others hate her right now, Bellamy doesn’t. He’s still here, right by her side, making sure she feels included, caring for her, looking out for her. All those things tell her she’s part of the family. And if not theirs then his.

“Clarke…”

She finds herself lost in his pained, watery gaze. “It’s okay.”

“Nothing about this is okay, Clarke.”

“Maybe not,” she amends. “But I know something now that I didn’t then.”

Bellamy’s heart nearly stops. Does she know that he—?

“When you promised me you’d keep Madi safe, you meant it.”

Bellamy releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Oh.

“You kept her safe, advised her, and I know you would have done the same had I listened to you.”

Bellamy opens his mouth, closes it. “Why didn’t you?”

Clarke swallows.

“I raised Octavia pretty much all on my own, so trust me, I get feeling like you’re the only one who can protect them, Clarke. But...did you really think I hadn’t thought things through? That I wasn’t going to protect Madi with my life?”

“I didn’t know what to think, Bellamy. I wasn’t really thinking at all. I didn’t know you anymore, and it was like—” Her eyes water further, voice breaking suddenly. “It was like I couldn’t breathe.” She shakes her head. “I couldn’t breathe.”

“Clarke…”

“You had always meant safety to me, and in my panic, suddenly you didn’t, and I just couldn’t breathe.”

Bellamy reaches for her hand. Clarke’s eyes flutter closed.

“And now?” he asks softly.

She opens her eyes into his, head cocked to the side. “Now what?”

“Do you feel safe with me?”

Clarke’s lips twitch with a watery smile. “Yeah. Of course.”

“You sure?”

Clarke nods. There are a lot of things she’s not sure of, but Bellamy isn’t one of them.

“Ms. Griffin,” a voice says then, breaking them from the moment. She turns to see a nurse approaching them. “Our leader has sent for you.”

Clarke nods again. Before leaving, she turns back to Bellamy. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Be careful.”

Clarke smiles at him, a closed-lip one that has his eyes softening. “I will,” she says, and before she loses her nerve, she leans in to press a kiss to his cheek; a silent apology, a promise of never again, and an I’ll see you later all in one gesture.

She means to move away the moment her lips leave his cheek, but she lingers. His eyes have fluttered closed, and he’s making no move to pull away. She means to. She really does.

But then his nose brushes hers and her forehead presses to his own, and she just gets lost in his warmth. In him.

And she swears she hears him whisper her name, soft and just for her, before someone clears their throat from behind them, and Clarke instantly pulls back.

It’s Raven. She’s got her arms crossed over her chest and an angry glare in her eyes that has Clarke needing to get the hell out of there.

“I’m um—” Clarke fumbles with what to say, flustered as she backs out of the room. “I’m gonna go.”

And then she does.

Bellamy just swallows, and when he finally finds the courage to look at Raven, he winces.

“What the hell did I just walk in on?”

“She just,” he brings a hand to the back of his neck, nervous, “came by to check up on me.”

“So have I, and I’m not planning on kissing you.”

Bellamy sighs. “Raven—”

“I’m gonna go check on Murphy. Echo’s on her way to see you now.” Raven heads for the door, stops a moment to look back at him. “You know, your girlfriend.”

Bellamy averts his eyes, a muscle ticking in his jaw. When he looks back, she’s gone, and as he waits for Echo, he knows he’s screwed.

Burying his feelings isn’t something he can do anymore. Even when he’d tried in the past, he knows he must have been so obvious—the boy who unapologetically wore his heart on his sleeve. Though that part of him has been missing these last six years, there was a day he felt a faint glimmer of who he used to be return to him. Uncoincidentally the very same day that Clarke returned to him. He remembers feeling like he could finally breathe again, like his heart was beating for the first time since he lost her—since he left it behind with her on Earth.

And maybe he should known what that meant, but he didn’t. Not until now. Not until a few moments earlier when he’d been breaths away from kissing her, knowing without a doubt, that she loved him too.

He tries (fails) to ignore how cold he feels in Clarke’s absence. How his heart doesn’t beat quite as easily. How it feels weaker.

Clarke Griffin isn’t just another traitor who he loves.

She’s the woman he loves more.

…

Bellamy doesn’t want to go.

When he hears that they have to attend a goddamn ballroom dance, he just does not want to go.

“They’re trying to get us to let our guard down,” he tells Miller as he adjusts his tie in the mirror. Yes, you heard that right. A tie.

Thirty years of his life Bellamy went without wearing one, but here he is. It’s one of the many things he’s doing and already regretting. Bellamy could (should) have stayed with Echo, but Miller had wanted to make up for lost time, and Bellamy didn’t want to turn down the opportunity, but part of him knows this is also because he needs space to think about...things, and he is decidedly not acknowledging that for the time being.

Miller arches an eyebrow at him. “They’re not the Mountain Men, Bell.”

“No,” Bellamy agrees, running a hand through his hair. “But they remind me of them.”

“Just try to relax.”

Bellamy sighs. He can’t.

When Clarke came back from meeting with Russel, their leader, she’d had more questions than answers. He hasn’t had the chance to really talk to her about it alone, neither of them sure how to be around each other after what almost happened, but he knows her, and when she’d said the people here are happy, between the look on her face and the way in which she said it, he gathered she had only been trying to convince herself of that.

He gets it. Monty found this place for them, and she wants so badly for this to turn out to be everything he thought it would. That they can live the life he wanted for them. Bellamy wants that too, more than anything.

But he just can’t shake the feeling. There’s something off about these people. More than the eclipse-induced psychosis they’ve been subjected to. Even just wearing their clothes has him on edge. The party is meant to make them feel safe, and that’s exactly why he doesn’t.

“You ready to head out?” Miller asks.

With one last look in the mirror, Bellamy runs another hand through his hair, feeling guilty that the nerves in his stomach have nothing to do with his girlfriend and everything to do with his best friend.

“Yeah,” Bellamy nods. “Let’s just get this over with.”

…

The first time Bellamy sees Clarke in a dress quite literally steals his breath away, and he swears for just one moment, he really does forget how to breathe.

(Okay, maybe it’s not the first time. He has seen her in a dress before, but that was different. Then, she appeared before him as a grounder. As someone he couldn’t recognize. Now, she’s just Clarke.)

And she looks beautiful.

It’s not so much the dress—a simple navy blue halter—as it is her, with her strikingly blue eyes and the way her blonde waves frame her face. He’s never seen her look so herself. So Clarke Griffin that it has his heart thumping against his ribs.

Just then, she catches his gaze from across the room, and Bellamy knows she already caught him staring at her, slack-jawed, so there’s really no point in trying to pretend he hadn’t been.

But he does anyway.

That’s when Echo appears before him, and he feels another pang of guilt at the smile she sends him. His heart is still beating furiously, but it’s from Clarke and not her.

“Hey,” he sighs, knowing what he has to do. “Could we go somewhere and talk?”

Before she can answer him, they’re swept up in the first dance of the night.

After, he tells himself. Just get through the dance.

Only that proves to be quite difficult when they switch partners midway through the song, and suddenly, Clarke is in his arms.

From the look on her face, he guesses she hadn’t expected that he was the face she’d be met with either.

“Hey, princess,” he manages after a moment.

Princess. Clarke ducks her head in a laugh. “You calling me that because of the dress?”

He gives her a look that says you know why I’m calling you princess, amusement in his eyes that make her heart beat a little faster, her chest a little warmer, but that isn’t what he says, and the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“You look perfect.”

Clarke’s lips part at that, and his do too when his brain catches up to his heart, realizes what he just said.

It doesn’t help that with his leg still injured, he’s not the best on his feet, and they’re far closer than they should be, so she can keep him steady, but now she’s too close. Too warm.

Everything about him is so fucking warm. His gaze, his hands, his breath.

And she just wants to be warmer, but he can’t be the one to do that. He’s not hers to have like this. Before she knows it, her eyes are watering. His brow furrows in concern instantly and that really doesn’t help either, so she runs, flees the room.

But of course he follows because he’s Bellamy, and it just upsets her further.

“Clarke,” he calls after her. It’s just the two of them, out in the hallway.

She turns to face him, exasperated as she shakes her head. “What?”

Bellamy’s chest rises and falls with a breath.

The six years he spent without her he’d learned to use his head, but she’s back now. She’s back now and he’s realizing more and more that she brings out who he used to be: the man who acted on impulse, with his heart.

He opens his mouth, closes it.

It has her eyes watering and his heart breaks. He reaches out to her, against his better judgement—because it’s Clarke and he just really can’t fucking think when he’s around her, never learned how—and she pulls away from him.

Don’t.

She doesn’t say it, but it’s clear in her watery gaze, how her bottom lip trembles, and she walks off before he can say anything. His heart screams at him to go after her, but this time he doesn’t follow, just watches her go, hands in his hair.

…

Clarke doesn’t say goodbye to Bellamy when he and the others head back to the Eligius III ship, but she does watch him go—long enough to see him turn back to look at her.

(And it just breaks her heart further.)

…

Bellamy breaks up with Echo that same night when they stop to set up camp for the night.

“You said nothing would change.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What changed, Bellamy?” she presses. He swallows, and Echo just nods. “You never told me.” At Bellamy’s furrowed brow, she explains. “That you were in love with her six years ago.”

“Because I didn’t want to be,” he admits, voice thick with the memories. “Losing her almost killed me. I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“You thought she was dead for six years, Bellamy.”

“Time did nothing to ease the pain.”

Echo doesn’t often cry, but he swears he sees the firelight glinting in her watery eyes. “I thought I did.”

You were just a distraction. He doesn’t say it—would never say something so cruel—but it’s the truth, and they both know it. They were over before they began.

The fire is warm, but Bellamy has never felt colder.

…

When Bellamy returns to Sanctum, he can hardly get to Clarke fast enough.

He was told she was in the art studio, and that’s where he’s headed now, practically sprinting through the halls—well, as close to sprinting as his leg will allow him—but when he reaches the door, suddenly it dawns on him what he’s come to do, and the nerves set in. It takes him a solid few minutes to gather the courage to knock.

“Clarke,” he says when he does.

She doesn’t answer the door, but he hears her call his name in question from somewhere inside. “Bellamy?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Hey, um, there’s something I need to talk to you about. Can I come in?” A beat, but she doesn’t say anything. “Clarke,” he says, the excitement building in his chest now starting to fade into worry.

“I’m working on something at the moment. Can it wait?”

“I…” Bellamy falters. “I guess, but Clarke—”

“What do you want from me, Bellamy?” she asks suddenly, exasperated.

“You,” he says, without hesitation.

“I—what?”

“I broke up with her, Clarke.”

He can practically hear her heart pounding. “Why?”

Bellamy huffs out an incredulous breath at that. “Because I want you...” he sighs, leans his head against the door and allows his eyes to flutter close, “Only you.”

There’s a long pause before her words break his heart. She sniffles and he knows she’s crying, but what he doesn’t know is that she has her forehead pressed against the wall too, eyes closed. “It’s too late.”

“Clarke,” he says, voice breaking on her name.

“Please just go.”

She’s begging now, further breaking his heart, but he does what she asks and goes.

…

Clarke didn’t mean it.

Telling Bellamy it was too late had been one of the hardest decisions she ever had to make, and she didn’t mean it, but she had to.

She knows now that love isn’t weakness but a strength. That he makes her strong. She knows she’ll always be safe with him, but she fears that he won’t be with her. Leaving him to die is easily her biggest regret, and she of course doesn’t intend on doing it ever again—because she knows now that he cares about her too—but she knows, and has known for some time, that she can’t always save the people she loves.

She couldn’t save her dad, or Finn, or Lexa. All of them are gone, partly because of her. The best thing for Bellamy right now is to let her go before he gets too close and it gets him killed. She doesn’t think she could take that.

So, she told him it was too late for them when everything in her—her heart—screamed at her to just let him in. She told him it was too late for them, so he would let her go.

But Octavia is certainly not helping with that. As soon as the word spread about Bellamy’s breakup with Echo, she just couldn’t help herself.

They’re all seated around the fire now. Murphy and Emori are cuddling against a log, Clarke beside him (aside from Echo, he’s the only one that has let up on verbally attacking her), and Madi at Clarke’s side. Across from them are Bellamy and Raven, and much to Bellamy’s annoyance, his sister, who (to Bellamy’s further annoyance) is wasted.

Bellamy has only had two or three. He’s slightly buzzed, and it’s certainly not enough to take the edge off.

“I mean, we all saw this coming, did we not? He let me send the woman off on a suicide mission.”

That does it, and Bellamy rises to his feet, storming away. He’s not just going to sit here and listen to this.

“Where are you going, big brother?” she calls after him, the nickname stopping him in his tracks. His shoulders tense up.

He exhales sharply through his nose, eyes closed. “Anywhere but where you are.”

“I was just about to tell a story,” she goes on, and Bellamy knows that she’s smirking without looking at her. “Starring you and me.”

He turns and glares at her. He was right. The corners of her mouth have settled into a smirk, eyes taunting him. “Octavia,” he warns.

She turns her attention away from him, gaze landing on a certain blonde. “And featuring one Clarke Griffin.”

Bellamy’s eyes widen. “O—”

“Did Bellamy ever tell any of you the real reason why he poisoned me?”

“Octavia, please.”

“Actually, Bell,” Murphy cuts in, “I’d like to hear this story.”

Bellamy rubs a hand over his face.

“Anyways,” Octavia slurs, and Bellamy shuts his eyes. “There were a lot of things I did to piss Bell off. First it was the fighting pits. Then it was marching my people into sand storms with razor blade winds. Obika. Banishing the devil—or wait, sorry,” Octavia laughs, shaking her head. “Bellamy’s ex girlfriend. I get the two mixed up sometimes.” Madi snorts at that and Clarke sends her a look that has her covering her mouth. “Anyways, where was I…?”

“Echo’s banishment,” Emori fills in, reluctant.

“Right.” Octavia sits down her cup. “Executing the defectors. The worms—”

“Can you please just get to the goddamn point?” Raven cuts in.

“I was about to, but I really do appreciate the enthusiasm. We’re about to get to the good part.”

At that Bellamy’s eyes find Clarke’s, and he swallows, but he can’t look away. Neither can she, even once Octavia goes on.

“All those things made Bellamy angry, but he didn’t do anything that would risk my life. So, what would you all guess changed his mind?”

“The war,” Murphy says. “He had to take you out so it’d be safe enough for Madi to come into power.”

“He didn’t do it for me,” Madi says. “Indra was initially supposed to be the leader in Octavia’s place. Not me.”

“We’re getting off track here,” Octavia says. “Poisoning me had nothing to do with the war. Not really. Of course, I’m sure that was part of the reason. To save you guys,” she motions drunkenly in Raven, Murphy and Emori’s direction. “But he never would have poisoned me if it hadn’t been for something else.”

Everyone just stares at her blankly, brows furrowed, except for Bellamy and Clarke who are still looking at one another. Bellamy because he knows and Clarke because she just can’t figure out what the hell is going on.

Hey, I know this is hard, she had said to him, but she was willing to destroy the last survivable land on Earth just to win a war. Not to mention kill the people we love.

And he had nodded, agreeing with her.

He lied.

Bellamy lied.

“Or rather, someone else.”

Bellamy swallows again.

“I planned on sending the eggs of the worms into the valley to take out Eligius, and Bellamy and Clarke thought they could stop me. Only they thought I was sending the worms, not their eggs. So, when I found Cooper dead in the room where we kept the worms, I knew it was Bellamy and Clarke that got her killed, planning on framing her for letting the worms out accidentally, but when I found them, I only had Clarke arrested and sentenced to die, thinking I could use it as leverage to get my way. If I had power over her life, Bellamy would never stand against me again, but I underestimated him. Because that’s exactly what he did.”

Clarke’s lips part at that, eyes watering.

Octavia turns her attention to Clarke, and it draws Clarke’s eyes to her. “For you.”

Clarke’s chest rises and falls with a breath. If only she’d known. She’d have known sooner how much he cared. She’d have never left him.

“Not just another traitor who my brother loves, as I’d said to him,” Octavia goes on and Clarke’s eyes widen, “but the traitor he loves more.”

Bellamy runs a hand through his hair. Clarke feels like her heart is about to burst from her chest when she finds the courage to look at him again and he’s still looking at her.

She hesitates a moment, then rises to her feet and slowly makes her way over to him, gradually picking up the pace with each step until she’s right in front of him. She opens her mouth, closes it. A watery breath of air escapes her—one that sounds a lot like a sob and nearly a laugh at the same time—and then she’s taking his face in her hands and kissing him, soft but sure, and a little desperate too, but she doesn’t care. Not when he kisses her back instantly, just as desperately, bringing his own hands up to cradle her cheeks.

Clarke pulls away all too soon. “I want you, too,” she breathes, for just him to hear, and she’s close enough to feel his breath hitch. She presses her forehead to his, voice nearly cracking when she says, “It’s always been you.”

Bellamy sniffles. “But you said—”

“I lied.” Her lips twitch with a watery smile. “We’re even now.”

Bellamy’s responding weak laugh has something warm swelling in her chest. Something that she hasn’t felt for some time now. Hope.

And she realizes in that moment that he’s never letting her go, but maybe, just maybe, that’s okay.

Because she’s never letting him go either.

“Technically, you’ve lied more than once,” Bellamy reminds her.

“Well, I never lost faith that you’d come back to me,” Clarke says with a smile, brushing her nose against his and leaning in to kiss him again. “So, hopefully that makes up for it.”

“It does,” he murmurs, just before meeting her halfway.

Clarke’s heart beats with those three words. She thinks back six years ago, when she’d told him to hurry instead of how she felt. She thinks back to each day he was gone. Each day she regretted never having told him.

“I love you,” she says.

Bellamy pulls back to look at her, and he has that closed-lip smile on his face, the one he reserves just for her, when he says it back. “I love you.” The adoration in his eyes has a smile breaking out on her face. “I love you so much,” he says again, softer this time.

Clarke is about to kiss him again when Octavia’s voice interrupts the moment. “My work here,” she slurs, swaying on her feet as everyone laughs and watches her start back towards the capital, “is done.”

Clarke leans her forehead into Bellamy’s chest, laughing, and he wraps his arms around her, pressing a kiss into her hair.

Somehow, no matter what is going on with Sanctum, he knows that with Clarke in his arms, solid and warm and his, everything is gonna be just fine.

[c-elestia]

Hello~ it me.

I'm not using my main personal blog because I don't really want to be identified nor do I want anyone I know finding this. I'm gonna namedrop people but I doubt anyone will find this and if they do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Eric and I broke up last summer. I'm dating a wonderful guy now. But we've been struggling a lot because I'm unwillingly uprooting a ton of trauma and I am having a REALLY hard time sorting through it and making sense of it all. I feel terrible about how I react to certain situations. They aren't logical reactions and I'm finding it very hard to control them. So I'm going to try to take the time to go through my life & see where the connections are and hopefully make sense of all of it. 

If I could pinpoint the start of any sort of trauma, it would be with my dad. It's complicated because he's grown a lot and he's not nearly as bad, but it was a struggle for me to deal with him. The things I remember most when I was a child was when he would be mad at me and refuse to talk to me. I remember there was one night where I gave him attitude and he got mad at me. My friend encouraged me to apologize, which I went out and did. I went to give him a hug, and he pushed me away and told me to go away. 

There were many times where my dad would get mad at me and I felt like I was a bad child, so I never left my room. I wouldn't even go downstairs to eat. I would intentionally starve myself because I didn't want to face my parents. I would go days without eating. It was strange because this was all self inflicted - my parents didn't tell me to do this. Something in me wanted to punish myself because I did something wrong. I see myself doing this a lot now that I'm an adult. If I feel like I did something wrong, I jump to withholding something from myself to make up for it. I also remember when my mom got mad at me, I went in my closet & scratched my arms. It was the first time I remember attempting self harm. Again, this wasn't encouraged by my parents - it was completely self inflicted. I don't know why I had these extreme reactions to these things, but that's where I remember this all starting.

Growing up, I was very deprived from affection and validation from my parents, so I searched for it in relationships. My first 'real' relationship was in middle school, when I was 12. I dated a boy named Brian. I legit thought we were gonna get married lol. I can't remember our relationship that well cause I was a kid, but I remember him being really controlling. He wouldn't let me do certain things. I can't remember what or why, but that's all I really remember. He wasn't that bad, honestly. But I felt really restricted when I was with him sometimes.

After that, I started dating Joseph. I think that's when I had more trauma come up in my life. We only dated a few months, but he was obsessed with me. He told me we would get married and we'd be together forever, and I ate that shit up because no one had ever told me that before. I remember he would take me behind the school and try to make out with me and touch me. There were a lot of times where I didn't want to do this, but I didn't say anything because I wasn't sure how to. I remember him telling me not to leave him and that I was his while he was doing this. It was... really disturbing when I think back to it. We ended up breaking up after we had a fight & he didn't want to get back with me afterwards. I was only a kid, but that summer vacation was pretty much one of the worst. 

The whole experience was traumatic. I truly believed he wouldn't leave because he was the first guy who said he wouldn't, and then he left. I would have flashbacks of us behind the school and have panic attacks. I actually think that's the first time I remember experiencing panic attacks. It was bad...

It took me a while to get over him. Honestly, I don't think I did fully until recently. Anyway - after that, I started dating this guy named Kyle. I met him online and we were an LDR relationship. We dated for about a year and a half I think? He was fine, the only thing that was stressful was that when I wanted to break up with him, he threatened to hurt or kill himself if I left. That was hard, but I was able to leave him without any traumatic repercussions. 

I started dating Isaac after that. We dated for about three years. He was pretty much there while I was going through the worst of my mental health. This was when the psychosis, multiple personalities, anger/depression/anxiety was at it’s worst. He tried his best but we fell out. He was ok. He had anger issues which didn’t help. We had a lot of fights that included a lot of yelling and crying and him punching his wall, breaking things, all that ~fun~ stuff. He never put a hand on me but he would take out his anger on objects and that scared me a lot. The only trauma I really got from him was getting scared whenever someone raised their voice at me or they were angry at me. 

After that, I started dating Skyler. We weren’t together for that long, but he went to boot camp & and we weren’t sure if we would stay together after he joined the military. After he graduated from boot camp, he ignored me for a couple weeks and then broke up with me. I was at the height of my stress for multiple reasons, and that was the tipping point. I tried to kill myself after he broke up with me. Ended up in the hospital for a week during Christmas ~all that fun stuff~

I got involved with Joseph again. I was an idiot and believed his lies again. He said he wanted to make me happy and regretted how he treated me while he was younger. He just wanted one more chance to make me happy and be together for real, now that we were older. And I ATE that shit up, like before. 

We had sex a few times and apparently he lost feelings a few months while we were talking. lol. cool. 

It took me a long time for me to get over him, a huge roller coaster of him using me for his own benefit and believing he became a better person, only to realize he was the same shitty scumbag. Because of Joseph I am TERRIFIED of getting used or getting played by someone I love.

Also.... Brian from my Year Up cohort - we weren’t dating and I wasn’t attracted to him, but he pretty much bullied me while we were friends & then sexually assaulted me at a party, and then blocked me & continued to hang out with our mutual friends, and refused to give me any closure. That doesn’t need any explanation why that was traumatic. 

FINALLY... we reach Eric. He was the most abusive, yet it was not as noticeable as the others. We were together the longest. Ended up getting married. He was also there while I went through a lot of mental health struggles. I was still dealing with multiple personalities and anger/anxiety/depression. I was not the best partner to him, I will admit that. It took me a really long time to improve myself. but he wasn’t perfect, either. He cheated on me and did things that he knew would make me uncomfortable multiple times. 

He would say he wanted to be there for me, but would get mad at me if I reached out for support and accused me for being the reason he didn’t have free time. He would refuse to acknowledge what I did for him and refused to let me help him, and felt like he was doing most of the work in the relationship. EVERY TIME I approached him with something, he would get defensive and refuse to come up with a solution or somehow turn it on me. I literally do not remember a single instance where we communicated in a healthy way because he was so hard to work with.

Whenever we had a bad argument (if I felt like he did something that upset me) it would somehow turn into me comforting him because he would tell me how worthless and shitty he was and how I should leave him. Typing that out right now really sucks because I realize I have a habit of doing that now, and maybe it helps to know that this is where it may have come from.

He would say everything was his fault yet at the same time, he had this way of making me feel like everything was my fault... even at the end of our relationship he basically said us breaking up was my fault. It doesn’t make sense, but I can’t help but listen to him because that’s all I’ve been used to for years. I can’t help but feel guilty for literally everything I do. 

Wow... that was a lot. I have a lot of history of trauma, and I don’t think I even captured everything, but this is most of it. I’m gonna add a TL;DR just so I can organize my thoughts.

Trauma list of fun:

Parents: Did not give me a lot of validation/affection/encouragement, probably contributed to my low self esteem & craving affection from other parties. Would punish myself as a child whenever I felt like I did something bad (not eating/scratching myself.) Dad ignored me a lot and refused to talk to me when I did something that made him angry. Probably why getting ignored makes me anxious.

Joseph: lol this boy fucked me up BIG TIME. Was the first guy that told me we’d be ~together 5ever~ (was a total lie.) Major lovebombing. Did things to me without my full consent. Because of that, I started having panic attacks and flashbacks of traumatic experiences for the first time. After we grew up, used me for sex or when he was lonely and would lovebomb me when I started to get distant so I would get pulled back in. 

Isaac: Was ok. He had anger issues so I get anxious or scared whenever someone gets violent or raises their voice at me. 

Skyler: Ignored me for weeks without an answer whether or not we were still together. Ended up breaking up with me. Also probably why me getting ignored makes me anxious bc I’m always assuming it’s something bad

Brian: ...sexual assault

Eric: Also fucked me up big time :^) Gaslit me constantly, made me feel crazy, made me question everything, made me feel like everything was my fault and he was doing all the work, did things behind my back. I adored this guy and thought he was great, only for him to abuse me in the background in subtle ways. He left me without saying goodbye which made my abandonment issues SO MUCH WORSE. 

List of common triggers, maybe?: 

-Getting ignored

-Language that feels like I am being blamed

-People raising their voice at me 

-People being violent near me

-Any sense that someone is going to abandon me

This is a good start so far. I’ve sorted out a lot and can see a few patterns. I’ll need to think about what people can do to help me and how I can help myself. 

[diana-panda]

wow I can’t even remember the last time I logged onto Tumblr. This place used to be my life, I even had to reset my password to log back on here. i’m amazed that I still have followers. looking at things I used to blog about is so bittersweet, I legitimately feel the things I felt back in the days. shit was really changed since then. been broken over and over and having to grow bigger and bigger. I decided every few years I'll make a  post, a lil update of my life so I can  continue to self reflect on the shit I wanna change. considering I know absolutely none of my followers, this is the perf place for me to just unload a bunch sack load of shit. covid was crazy this year, survived that shit and realize all those years smoking have really fucked my lungs up. today I got another call from Dahni, who I still consider as my best friend forever. one day when we both got our shit together and both thinking straight again, I know we’ll be able to be friends like we used to. I never pick up to phone numbers I don’t know but every fuckin time I randomly choose to pick up to a rando number - it’s Dahni. this is the 5th time she has called me from a mental hospital. it’s crazy, never thought my life would have be me working in a mental hospital and her coming in and out of one. after all these years, you’ve probs haven’t seen her in 3 years - but she has never ever forgot your phone number, even when she has completely lost her mind. she literally doesn't make sense when she talks. at the beginning, you sometimes understood the shit she said and understood what she meant and felt because you were that fuckin close to losing your whole damn mind before you decided to get sober. still so proud of you choosing to be sober, even after probation, even after drug tests. Dahni still remembers your literal exact address. she said she’s been sending you letters for the past 2-3 years but you haven’t seen shit, especially because you moved to Milwaukee this year. you texted daddy but he said he ain’t seen shit, probs lying, he would hide this shit from you. he always hated her but he doesn’t understand that it was actually you who got her into drugs in the first place. I pray all the time Dahni has completely lost herself or she’ll be able to return to herself again, I miss having my best friend around. after the call, you looked at oldddd ass pics like 2015 shit, yall were the craziest - up and just went to alberqueque, breaking into hotels and creating body slides out of tables and chairs in the ballroom, tripping at the trail of lights and deciding to just walk towards the Austin skyline, there were so many pics I don’t even know where we’re at. I miss that life with you dude, not giving two shits about anything and doing whatever we could to just live life. you were the one person I connect with in such a weird way. anyway 2020 was the year I had to finally grow up, and I can’t be more proud. the reason I got sober was because I was drugged then gang raped in 2016, but I have finally accepted that it happened and I am finally moving past it. your ptsd and anxiety was debilitating. months of therapy with no progress, Janet your psychologist thought the best option was drugs to calm you down but you refused, mommy had to move down to San Antonio with you, you got daddy to install security cameras around the house, you went to 3 different police stations and 2 different apple stores because you thought you were being tracked, a panic attack literally every fuckin day, you got your first gun - but damn shit has changed. I think when you got rogue, that was the start of your life changing around. you used to walk her literally only on your street but now you can walk her for hours anywhere. you got control of your own life again. texas sunshines helped you tremendously, you met a few life long friends - even though you made some besties but ended up losing them - either way, they helped you return back to your old self, the free spirit and careless golden wild beautiful soul you had. exposure therapy - that shit works. going to 6th every weekend, even a couple times a weekend helped you a lot. you had only a couple freak outs where you let your anxiety take over you but there was progress. you have grown so much the past 4 years, it’s honestly mind blowing because you used to be at rock bottom. you legit lost your mind at one point, legit rock bottom, even hearing voices and seeing shit, Janet said drug induced psychosis - but your resiliency and strong heart and soul helped you, with the help of god of course. you were in such a dark place but getting through that helped you be where you are now. but none of this could've happened without the help of your parents - they taught you the definition of unconditional love. maybe that’s why Dahni is still battling this love and hate relationship with drugs - she doesn’t have this support system like you. your parents never gave up on you dude, like how am I ever gonna repay them, because if it wasn’t for them - I'd literally be dead long ago. you still have only told a few of your close friends. Dahni and Mikayla a year after it happened. kiara, erin, and Gracie 3 years after it happened. maybe that’s all that ever has to know. this shit don’t define your life anymore girl. it sucked but you have let that shit take enough of your life. no more living in the past. you live and you learn. stop thinking of ways how you’ll somehow find these fuckers and make them pay, they’ll get what’s coming to them. I used to pray everyday these fuckers got killed and died a horrible and painful death but you’re letting them win every time you waste a second thinking about them. just be thankful you got out of that shit alive. you have this deep rooted reputation of a party girl. but never forget, daddy defended you when yall had guests over once - “yes she parties a lot, but she also studies hard too.” you’re legit a UT grad, you got into grad school - which you are killing. you’ve never been a straight A student but now you are in grad school whaaat. but you know if you studied this much and this hard during UT - you would’ve had a higher gpa, but no regrets. ever!! my time at UT was truly a blessing - it was the best time and worst time ever. that was boot camp training you to be resilient. you used to think you were being punished for having to move to Milwaukee for grad school but that was the biggest blessing in disguise. Jim howard was right, even if I did get accepted into UT’s msn program - I shouldn’t go or stay anywhere near Austin, I have too many distractions here, I would’ve failed out immediately - I need to start thinking like a healthcare provider, people’s literal lives will be in your hands. you can’t kill no one dude, losing your license will actually be the end of yo life and all this school and bullshit would’ve been for nothing. Milwaukee was rough at the beginning but you’ve grown to fall in love and appreciate its true beauty. you needed a break from Austin, it’ll always be your endgame and it aint going anywhere. you got to start over, start fresh, grow up, it was exactly what you needed. Milwaukee was the place where you defeated your ptsd, your annoying anxiety - I mean yeah sometimes you do psych yourself out but you have made the craziest progress, even Janet is so surprised and proud of you! you fuckin live alone and do a damn good job of it. but it wouldn’t have happened without Lola. rogue saved you 4 years ago and now Lola has saved you. they are both fuckin wild and misbehaving, but I am sooooo thankful I have them in my life. god put the most perfect dogs into my life, they helped you be where you’re at today. you even made a fuckin solo trip with just you and Lola from Milwaukee to Austin, stayed in Memphis with just yall 2 and literally no panic attacks. never thought that would have ever been possible. lol having your gun around definitely helps. this year you realized that you used to be fat, how come no one told you omg. but that doesn’t matter because you have finally reached the weight you had on your vision board that you made in high school - 105. you got home from grad school and literally every single fuckin person in your life has said you lost so much weight - girl you didn’t even know it, you don’t got a scale in Milwaukee. but looking at past pics, holy shit girl you lost weight. you still got some to go but good job dude - don’t ever let yourself get that bad again. your new goal is to be 100, then you can stop stressing. lol you’ve been trying to lose weight literally since high school, and all it took was grad school and being depressed AFFFFFFFFF to lose 20 fuckin pounds! with the help of addy too. yeah you were depressed, started in the 2nd semester of grad school and was at its worse at in the 3rd semester. but you yourself, and Lola of course, pulled yourself out of that. you walked to the beach, appreciate the scenery, focus on the sound waves - learn to love life again. you’ve changed so much dude, I feel like you’ve finally lost all of your old self now. quarantining for covid made you finally truly clean your room and rearrange it. took the biggest cleanse of your life, and damn it was a struggle because you the biggest hoarder out here. you found your old pieces, crazy how you still got them, you found old pills, even weed - proud of you for throwing everything away finally, and real quick. because you did think about smoking some and pop a pill or two - what’s the worst thing that can happen right. bitch you know what can happen, normal people can do that but you have forever fucked your mind up, like physically and biologically fucked up your brain. the way drugs works on your brain and Dahni’s brain only has a dark side to it - drug induced psychosis - every time, no matter what or when or how long it’s been, you have forever fucked that up. yall dropped the ball on that shit, yall did it too much, esp the mind altering shit and will never be able to enjoy drugs again - but that’s okay. you don’t need that shit. okay for guys, fuckin listen to me here girl. we ain’t going into zayne or Terren - yo first 2 boyfriends was just dipping yo feet in the waters for dating. you already know what you learned from them. you know what you want and don’t you ever fuckin settle.”life is a mess when you settle for less.” I loved Arin, and I'll always love him. your dumbass almost married him but why, knowing he does not meet half yo standards. from Arin, you learned you want someone that treats you like a princess like he did, he always showed you off, he put you on a pedestal, you were legit his everything - you want someone that does that, where you are their everything. but you don’t want someone who gets angry like that, who lets problems get bigger and bigger til they explode - shit needs to be fixed immediately, if your their everything - shouldn’t they do everything in their power to make sure it stays like that. from josh, you learned you want someone who you can be your goofy self and have fun and literally laugh all the damn time with you - it was such a fun time with josh, yall really did have this amazing connection. he truly loved you and honestly truly loved you. I loved josh, and I'll always love him too. he was the first relationship you had after getting raped, and he showed you how to trust men again. these 2 dudes lacked goals and had different visions for the future from you. you’re such a goal oriented and family oriented person - they were not. you worked hard to get to where you are today, and continue to drop the guys and the people who will get in the way of your goals. friends too - if they ain’t with you, drop em. in the end, it’s your family who will always be there for you. lol you truly treat guys like shit dude and everyone knows it, you don’t even feel bad about it, maybe it’s from being raped, maybe it’s from that ginormous wall you’ve built, or maybe you’re just that afraid of getting hurt, but that’s okay, you can keep doing that, it’ll get rid of the weak ones - what you can’t do is treat the good ones like shit, like tai. you never expected to find a dude so different, but maybe that’s what you need. he’s the exact opposite of the typical guys you usually go for - a fuckin gamer, not 6 feet, lol even asian. you didn’t date tai but yall definitely had something for 6 months. he has never done drugs and doesn’t want to even try drugs - I didn’t know that was maybe something I needed in a guy. from tai, you learned that you do want someone who went to college, grad school is even better, super caring about you. at one point you did think he was going to be the one - he speaks Vietnamese, he’s in pharmacy school, he can game with your brother. he may seem perfect but you learned a lot of shit you don’t want in someone. you’re not on social media a lot anymore, other than snapchat. you even had insta deleted for months - then when school ended for winter break, it took you awhile to download insta again, but when you did, you made one post and never got on it again. tai is super in the social media world, and you don’t want that. you’re starting to be someone who really lives in the moment, the shit happening right in front of you matters to you more, you don’t want someone super into the social media world. he doesn’t treat you like you’re a priority to him, he actually makes it clear that he actually doesn’t give two shits about you - so why you allowing yourself putting any efforts into that. the second he’s upset, he’ll drag that shit out and won’t try to fix shit at all - you need someone who will fix shit right then and there so yall don’t go to sleep at night angry, you need someone who will fight and continue fighting for you no matter what. he doesn’t apologize for shit and when he does, there is always an excuse - you need someone who owns up to shit and apologizes sincerely. you deserve someone who truly cares about you and is committed to you, they need to do anything in their power to keep you and show you love you and not give up on you. you did not get gang raped to settle down for someone who doesn’t make you feel loved. you did not graduate from UT and get into grad school for someone who causes you mental stress and make you unhappy. you did not grow into this strong, independent, brilliant ass woman to date someone who makes you question your worth. you deserve someone who continuously challenges you to be your best self and make you feel beautiful. cami said you deserve someone who spoils you, and she is damn fuckin right. you have come so far, getting sober, getting into grad school, someone needs to feel lucky as fuck they have you. but what’s the common denominator between all these dudes - quit pushing guys away, quit purposely ruining shit because you’re scared of shit, quit getting pissed because they don’t react the way you wanted, quit overthinking shit because you’re usually fuckin wrong. just don’t settle for less but allow yourself to get close. your trust issues ain't going anywhere, but learn to put your guard down a tad bit, let yourself get hurt - it’ll only make you into a stronger bitch than you already are. nothing will ever hurt you nearly as much when you got raped. if you got through that, you can literally get through anything. a lot has happened in the last 4 years, but you know what you need to focus on. continue working on your best self. keep thriving and surviving. maybe we’ll self reflect and reorient again when grad school is over in a couple years and you’re back in Austin. just be happy <3 do your best and fuck the rest

[kdwow]

My Condensed Life Story

I am going to tell you my story. I’ll start from the beginning and slowly make it to present day. It is a long story. It is a very sad story at times, well most of the time, but please remember it has a happy ending.

I don’t want you to feel bad for me or to feel sad reading it. Instead I want you to remember what I tell myself every single day: I regret nothing. Every single thing that has happened my entire life has led me to where i am today, and today I am HAPPY. 

Not only did I survive, I ended up thriving either despite or because of the struggle I went through. 

There are parts of the story or maybe the whole story that you may not believe. That’s fine. I’m not going to worry about convincing anyone that it is true. Those who know me at all know how honest I am and know I have no motivation in life other than helping people.

I’m not telling my story to gain anything. i’m telling my story because it might help someone. 

Okay, here it goes.

I was born in 1988 into a lower middle class family in Ohio. I had a wonderful childhood, despite not having much money, and I was very happy. As a young child I was sweet and loving and I already knew my life’s purpose. I was going to save people. It wasn’t clear exactly how I was going to save them but I knew I was meant to save them.

I had dreams every night at around 4 years old about me saving people from all sorts of things. Things I had never learned about yet. Famine, disease, poverty, floods, fires, and so much more. 

By age 6 when I started school I started being more concerned about other things and seemed to forget about my recurring dreams of changing the world. Now I was only focused on learning EVERYTHING. 

I was a very intelligent child and “wise beyond my years” according to most adults I interacted with. I was a no-nonsense type of kid and always asked why things were the way they were. I loved school and learning and soaked up every bit of information I could get my hands on. I was always ahead of my class in schoolwork and often worked on more advanced content while the rest of my class worked on the regular curriculum. 

I was very serious about learning but I was still happy overall. I still had never experienced anything traumatic or bad and my life was great. 

For 5 years I went on with my love for learning and my carefree and happy childhood. 

The year I turned 11 everything changed. That summer, I had started puberty, one of the first girls in my grade to start. My body changed and I suddenly had hips and breasts and looked much older than I was. Everyone told me how beautiful I had become. I had no idea how much my life was going to change.

I went back to school and everything was different. The teachers started being mean to me and harassing me about all kinds of things even though I was a perfect student. They would mock me and ridicule me and accuse me of trying to dress provocatively even though I wore the same uniform as the other girls. 

The girls in my grade AND the grades above me started to hate me. They would spread rumors about me and made my life hell overall while I was at school.

I tried to be friends with the boys, but they were all told by the football coach not to hang around me because I was a “distraction.” 

I couldn’t understand why the way that I looked was causing people to treat me this way. 

Mothers of the girls in my grade soon also started to spread rumors about me. MOTHERS of other children spreading rumors (sexual rumors mostly) about an 11 year old girl just because of how I looked. 

I went home from school every day and went to sleep. I told my mom many times that I wished I could sleep forever. I didn’t realize it, but i was already suicidal at age 11 and wishing to sleep forever was my way of expressing wanting to die. 

I was discovered at age 13 to become a model. Thinking it was a positive way to deal with my appearance, my mom and I agreed that it could be a good thing for me. We were wrong. Not long after, I went to an audition and the two women in the room after looking at my body in my underwear both told me I could stand to lose weight. I hadn’t even reached 100 pounds yet. I was 13. 

That was all it took to start my eating disorder. I began cutting out foods from my diet and coming up with excuses to get out of eating. I eventually got down to 80 pounds. During my last modeling shoot they had to use binder clips to hold clothes on my body because there wasn’t a size small enough for me. 

I was hospitalized for starvation. I had times where I would seem to get better and was let out of the hospital but I ended up back in there every time. I had to go to 4 different high schools because I kept missing so much work. 

Eventually I got well enough to go to college. College went surprisingly well for me and the new environment seemed to help me recover from my disorder and live a decently normal life for awhile. 

After college, I moved back home. I got into partying and music festivals and using all kinds of drugs. I took huge risks and almost overdosed several times. 

No one noticed, but I had Bipolar Disorder and it was beginning to manifest itself. Because of all the drug abuse, it was hard for anyone to see that it was really a mental illness causing my behavior. 

Eventually I experienced full blown mania and was hospitalized for psychosis. It was then that I was diagnosed with Bipolar I Disorder - Rapid Cycling. For years I was in and out of the hospital for psychosis or for suicide attempts. There were several entire years where i had to be under 24 hour supervision to stop me from killing myself. Most of the time, the hospital was the only choice to keep me safe. 

By 2011 I finally found the right medicine combination to successfully treat my condition. I was able to stay out of the hospital and I seemed to do very well for about a year. I was under my family’s care but I had stayed crisis free. 

Things seemed to be finally looking hopeful for me and my future. I had no idea I was about to go through the worst period in my life...

[baronessblixen]

A good shot

My entry for this week’s @txf-prompt-box challenge! It’s an AU version of Mulder waking up in New Mexico in Anasazi. 

This sentence must be in your fic:  “What are you holding behind your back?”

bonus: It’s not Mulder or Scully saying it.

double bonus: The thing behind the back is… trouble!

The streetlight hums and sputters as it throws orange light onto the dark sidewalk. Mulder leans his back against the warm brick wall, waits. He is not nervous, not even agitated. Turning the corner, he knows what to expect. Or rather who. Two steps to the side and there he is. The other man turns around as soon as he hears the footsteps behind him.

"Didn't think you'd find me, Fox." Krycek smirks at him. From a distance they must look like two old friends meeting by chance, happy to catch up. Mulder steps closer to his enemy.

"I'm gonna kill you, Krycek," He barks, "I'll kill you like you killed my father."

"Such big words, Foxy boy."

"Shut up! You killed him! Just admit it!"

"Where's your pretty partner, Fox? Did she leave you too? They're all gonna leave you, Mulder. You know that."

"I told you to shut up!"

"What are you holding behind your back?" Krycek asks him in a sweet voice as if talking to child, ignoring Mulder's outburst completely.

"Trouble." Mulder growls and his right arm shoots forward to point the gun at Krycek. But his nemesis, a grotesque grin on his face, is faster; his gun is pointed at Mulder as if had always been there, ready to shoot, ready to end him.

"Surprise, Fox." The sound of the shot is loud, tearing through the darkness. But Mulder doesn't hear it, only feels. The impact against his shoulder is profound. It throws him off balance, kicks his body to the ground. The orange light dies, as does he, and then there's darkness inside and out.

"Mulder?" Scully's voice, he'd recognize it everywhere, is not loud, but it sounds desperately hopeful. His eyes, open again now, try to focus and find her face close. As close as the gun has been moments ago. Mulder flinches.

"Hurts." He croaks out and Scully nods. How can she understand? She wasn't there. Krycek shot him, but she wasn't there. She is probably not even here right now, not real. He must be dead. Dead like his father. It makes sense that Scully would be there in the moments between his life and death, suspended in his mind.

"I'm sorry," she tells him and what reason does she have to be sorry?, "I tried to make it as painless as possible."

"What?" She's holding a glass of water to his lips and the need to drink is stronger than the need to know. He gulps down the water while his eyes remain on Scully.

"You were going to shoot Krycek, Mulder. I had no choice." She touches his forehead, turning into Dr. Scully, and he wants to move away from her touch. His shoulder protests and shoots rounds of pain into his whole body. Maybe, he thinks bitterly, he is not dead after all.

"I don't understand, Scully. You weren't even there… Krycek…shot…dead" but his vocal cords give in and rebel against the exertion. Scully's hand is still on his forehead and it moves now into his hair, gently stroking it.

"No, Mulder. It was me. And you're not dead. You might wish you were once the painkillers wear off though." Scully smiles at him as she continues to run her fingers through his hair; it's his job to make light of precarious situations like this. Good to know she can take over morbid humor duty if he's unavailable, he thinks. Partners indeed.  

Mulder closes his eyes trying to remember the events that brought him here, wherever here is. In his memory, or was it a dream?, Scully is not there. It's him and Krycek in the dark alley, the element of surprise not on his side, and then there is the shot. His eyes pop open to stop the images from unfolding. The worry lines on Scully's face grow deeper the longer he stays quiet. His muddled mind needs a moment to understand that she thinks he is angry with her.

"I had no choice, Mulder." Her hand leaves his hair and he misses it immediately. It hovers over his bandaged shoulder for a moment. "It went through nice and clean, though. It should heal quickly." She attempts a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. There's no guilt in her expression, she doesn't regret shooting him, but she wishes she could have stopped him without having to inflict pain on him.

"You shot me." He says the words she's been avoiding and they feel foreign on his tongue. To his greatest surprise, and Scully's from the looks of it, his lips curl upwards into a smile. "You really… shot me." It wasn't Krycek. Whatever he saw, or thought, it wasn't real. Krycek didn't shoot him. The words the other man threw at him: not real. None of it was real. Except the shot. Not dead, he thinks. I am not dead. The truth is in Scully's face, in her shy smile that, he can't be wrong about that, is almost proud. He always knew she was the better shot.

"Mulder, I know why you were acting so irrationally. It was the water. They were trying to destroy you, Mulder, by turning everyone you trust against you." Except her. She is here and she went as far as shooting him to protect him. Mulder opens his mouth and Scully pours him another glass of water, misjudging. He wants to say something, feels it deep inside his soul. I love you, Scully. He thinks it as she holds the glass against his lips. Thinks it again when she puts the empty glass back on the nightstand and when her hand lands on his naked arm, warm and certain.

"We're in New Mexico," Scully goes on because she can't read his mind and his secret remains with him, in his muddled mind that's still recovering from whatever has been done it, "We've just driven two days across country. I had to put you out to let the side effects of the psychosis abate. This is Albert Hosteen, he's been translating your files." Mulder glances at the man who gives him a friendly nod. It feels like this stranger, unlike Scully who knows him inside and out, knows exactly what he's thinking. When Mulder directs his eyes back at her, he still finds himself unable to reveal to her what he's just realized. I love you, Scully. But it's still just a thought, not tangible.  

"Mulder, there is something else…" she makes a move to take her hand off his arm and he is too weak to stop her, "My name is in those files. It appears in the latest entries with Duane Barry's."

"In what context?" He asks trying to wrap his mind around it, around all of this. Her face, so open, so full of questions distracts him, makes concentrating harder.

"It's not clear, but it has something to do with a test. I want you to find out Mulder. I need you to."

"I will Scully. I will." His broken voice answers without hesitation, without a doubt. It's not an I love you, no, it's a promise and that, he hopes, is worth even more.

[titandnene]

Hey I need to say this to you Lauren.

I dont know the best was to express or say how I feel but I’m finally at a point where I need to explain myself fully for all I’ve done and why i keep coming back into your life. For the past 3 years my life has been a rollercoaster through stages of hell that I really need to tell you about because in the darkest parts of it the idea of what we were and you in general have been my only light. That’s the reason why I’ve been popping back into your life when I’m sure you would rather have it otherwise. The night that we first tripped togther really shows the power that I see in the universe and how horribly cruel honest and true to form it can be about life. Lauren it had to happen the way it folded out. And I learned that it always does no matter what you want. The beginning of it like the beginning of us was great but that moment when I was facing the door and immediately snapped back to look at you started a chain of events that no one was prepared for. That’s when I started to go “crazy” or my mind started to twist my life started to twist everything started to go out of whack. That’s when me being here with you and me always coming back into your life started to turn things bad in my life. I’m deeply sorry for making you cry during the trip but what you don’t know is what happened after you left. I started to plan out what I would think would be our life together. And that was also my first manic episode.

After your left I started writing on the table and in my note book about a surf shack that we were going to have and this fantastic life that was going to happen because I could see it all in that moment. I felt like I knew it all in that moment. But the reality was I was having my first manic episode. Mania makes me feel like that. Like I have the world and it’s story and the universe and it’s story and our story tied up together and I just have to talk it into existence and it will happen the way I say it will. I felt like I had so much energy and enlightenment just pouring out of me and people were on the same brain wave that I was. But it’s never the case.

I was writing and then I finished with the thought of the universe could be this place that I’m envisioning or I could just be crazy and loosing my mind. And then I sunk deep down into that hole. Thinking that my mind was broken and that I couldnt stop this train that was my brain. So I got in bed shut my eyes and just wished for sleep and it came and I woke up the next day fine like back to normal. Hoping that you would still want to be with me after what I did to you that night.

That in essence has been the last three years on repeat starting January 1st 2016.

It’s a cycle of slowing going manic. Mania brings in good feelings and somehow you get involved in my head. That then branches out to me trying to contact you because if this vision that I’m so clearly seeing. And then the destruction of that vision as the episode ends.

On that day I started to go crazy or manic. I dont really know how but by the 4th I was in the back of an ambulance loosing my mind. My universe was fracturing reality was loosening I thought that everyone was going to die and I was going to be alone forever. So they put me in the hospital and they were running test and I was like a wild animal because I had no idea what was going on and then the seeds of my psychosis started being planted. Because within all of that madness I had one light one person that my mom made me think of and that was you. I was talking about the color of your eyes. And then I saw a girl that I thought was you enter a room but I didnt see her face. But I assumed it was you. But the seed was the idea of you always being just in the other room waiting for me. It’s been a constant theme when I’ve become manic. After some weird things happening they wheeled me away to get a brain scan. As they were wheeling me away and I tried to get away because I thought that they were going to do something like “dissect me” or take away a part of me that made me me. That part is hard to explain but. This part isn’t. I accepted the fate that they were going to take all that away that I was going to not come back the same. I put my hand over my heart and said the name Sandy. This was the first solid root of my psychosis that revolves around us. Sandy was the name of a daughter that I saw us having. And it was basically me saying if they are going to take me away i hope she’ll live.

I made it out of the MRI alive and eventually found sleep and woke up the next day still manic. But thing about mania is when your in it you never know that you are. It’s a lobster in water that’s slowly rising in temperature. Once it’s boiling it’s adjusted so it doesn’t know the difference. You just feel normal.

The next day they had me admitted to a inpatient mental hospital. That’s where you called me and we talked. The first few days were a manic mess. I was going crazy I thought that there was a game that had to be played that was going to get me to leave. I thought that my life was going to be this road trip to all these places to save the world. You basically think that you’re jesus and an undercover spy and you have to solve the clues to get out. After seven days in there I got out. But because it was my first time with mania I was still kind of on a high. It’s like coming back from the moon. I made it into the atmosphere of earth but Not quite back to ground and even then not on target. I’m lucky if I hit the ocean.

So I went into a day program where you meet kids who are going through similar things as you. People with depression mania and everything. I meet some people it was nice the first time. But it was a rough start. What made it tougher was the fact that the day that I got out of the mental hospital was the day after classes began at HP. So even if I wanted to, I couldn’t go back. My parents wanted me at the house and monitored on my new medication making sure I sleep and don’t go back into mania. I think I still might have been smoking weed at the time I’m not completely sure but I picked up 2 classes at the school that I’m at now still went to group and truly fucked things up with you.

The last messages that we sent to one another I really regret. I didnt like how I was pushing you away and trying to bring you close. How I wanted an open relationship when I really didn’t even know what it entailed I just wanted to keep you for emotional support and fuck other people. I remember sitting somewhere and having that talk and hearing you cry on the other end of the line and that’s just not right. And then the last Facebook messages that we sent where I was a true asshole and manic because I was smoking weed and it triggers my mania. And how I ended the relationship with a saw and a sawed off.

The next parts is so I can round everything out and really get this psychosis out of me so take it or leave it I need to write it out.

My mom says I have a season when it comes to mania but really it’s just when I start smoking weed and loosing sleep and stop taking my meds. But the next time I got manic was almost a year to the day. If you want to really see when I get into the manic place look for when I contact you or try to reach out that’s how you know I’m floating back.

The next time was the long haul to the hospital. This time I spent 5 hours talking to myself and making up a fictional son named Steven that you and i would have. Back story lore the reason for his name and universal significance. The whole gambit of this kid. This was also a time where i you were still following me on Spotify and i would look and think that we were communicating through our songs.

Eventually i got to loud and out about everything and got sent back to the hospital and what I now call my restart button. Hospital around winter break then group during classes and then back to the grind until I pick up weed again and then restart. But the time I stopped is worth noting.

After I got out that time and spring summer started rolling around I picked up again but weed wasn’t doing me the same. Instead of making me feel good it started to make me feel like shit. I would get on myself about being stupid that I couldn’t do anything every time I smoked I would just fall deeper into a pit and I couldn’t stop. So the universe made me stop. There was one night where the next chapter of my mental illness would kick in.

I said I was done but my friend called me out and said he’d smoke me up and buy my ticket to go see a movie. It was the worst expierence of my life I had a panic attack that twisted my brain into developing a type of OCD that I now know as Harm OCD. It’s not fun. But what that leads me to is the cocktail that that and mania made me go through and how that lead to the mania endured birth of a 3rd child named staysea. Basically the mania brought on the fictional reality glasses that had been brewing since my last manic episodes and the harm ocd brought on the horrific thing that I did to our child in this other dimensional state which was essentially rape.

Harm ocd is not fun it’s something that i go through every day and regret every day for not listening to the universe when it told me to stop. It’s consistent intrusive thoughts that have to do with violence and sex. It’s like being mind raped by a demon. I dont want these bad things to happen but when I say stop this demon in my head says go and I have to visualize atrocities happen multiple times a day. It’s not fun. But I’m getting better at dealing with it.

After the movie theater I stopped smoking for a while and got better felt better I didnt go to the hospital that January and got through the year. I was finally getting over you coming back into my life in these fantasies and having to deal with it. I metaphorically burried the kids that we had I was getting better. But about a year and half i picked it up again. And I would have moved on and stayed out of your life if not for one moment that started this years run of come ups.

I was at my grandmas old folks home. And she has dementia but I talk to her and her roomate still and I was fiddling with a piece of paper and my brain had been starting to go into a manic space. And my grandmas roommate said something to me which was basically for me to try to reach out to you because “she’s the one for you.” This ticked off my mildly manic brain and then everything that I spent the last years settiling came up and I started to believe in The future that I made back then kids and all. All the past things that I made up started coming back. And I started to try to believe in a universe that follows some narrative that works like a book compared to one that just is.

I ended up having a manic episode and going back to the hospital for the entire month of January this time. I think that was after you messaged me on Instagram. I was pretty manic when I was messaging you but I still had some of myself together. But I got out and here I am now. Trying to come to you with some sort of explanation of my actions towards you.

I hurt you a lot over these past years. Far more than anyone really should. You’ve told me time and time again how you don’t don’t want to see me and just want me to leave but every time I’m close to letting go I pull myself back somehow. For that I’m sorry. This is something that I wanted to write you but never knew how to put into words right. I wrote another letter essentially saying hey I’m coming back down to HP in late April to see Haleigh but I don’t even know if Im going to anymore. I barley have the money and I would halfway want to see you but you don’t deserve to just have me in your face without notice or permission.

You remind me of a time when I didn’t have all this weight on me when life was easy. And I was happy with someone I loved. And how a life with them would be all I ever needed. And that’s probably why I go back to it always because that’s all I want.

But this letter serves you and me better. I think. Life has been really really rough for me and you were a life that I saw that could’ve been and I always regret not just staying loyal to you because of how much i cared about you. Just being patient with us. I just want to fix everything I did. But now moving on is best but I needed to say something like this explaining why. I am the way I am.

It would be nice to talk to you though.

I would want to be your friend or just someone who you don’t hate, someone who you can forgive.

I love you Lauren. You’ve helped me through dark Really lonely times. And the only reason why I come back to you is because there’s no one else who made me feel so loved and secure. I wish that I could go back and advise myself about how good of person you would be to be and to treat you right because of it. You were my ace, the one person who was there for me always. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be a better person to you when I had the chance to.

Thank you for helping me whether you knew it or not.

Jordan.