#and my personal life makes me so beyond suicidal every single DAY but thats a separate issues sorry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

semiconducting · 4 years

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just reflecting on some personal growth stuff from last year !

im actually. genuinely okay. like i think im starting this year feeling okay! which is atypical.

i think i can attribute it to the enormous amount of work id put into myself over the past year...i remember one year ago being extraordinarily depressed and really just. high strung? incredibly anxious but exhausted. and i fell down a descent slowly from not eating, to getting really irritable and not handling conflicts with friends well, to actively self harming again, to the point where i remembered sitting in a coffee shop with one of my friends and saying out loud that i need to go to therapy. and that i was going to talk to a mutual friend of ours about how the therapy services on campus are. which was a huge step for me! ive always had trust issues with therapy services since i was 12 for reasons i wont go into, but im sure you can gather the point of.

and then, literally the next day after saying that, got news about campus shutting down because of the virus.

and i made all of the effort possible to reach out to my friends and get things figured out to weather the storm because i KNEW shit was going to get bad if i didnt. but only one of my friends was really keeping up, and thats because he and i do homework together so we were already in a rhythm of talking every single week no matter what. and thats not to say that im ungrateful for him or the fact that even still he was there for me while i was going through hell, i have this thing about Not Putting All My Problems On And Confiding In One Person And One Person Only. so i withdrew, i stopped talking to everyone, i stopped logging into my classes, i didnt do any homework, i didnt lead my workshops, didnt hold office hours...i was just wallowing in my own misery

and i made plans to kill myself. and thats like, i mean i could say that several dozen times over the course of a year since i was like 12, but i mean a legitimate walkthrough plan. had my hiking bag packed with everything i was going to use, decided where i was going to, and was going to prep myself for it. wrote drafts and drafts of suicide notes until i decided just leaving the contact info of people who needed to know asap was all i was going to leave. in addition to sticky notes on some stuff in my room for what needed to be returned to who, or if something should go to someone in particular...

and i acted as normally as i could around my housemates. attributed my not leaving my room much to being busy with classes. i have a rule to myself to always sleep at least one night before killing myself because if im really serious about going through with it it can always wait one day. this time i decided i was going to clean my room and leave it as pristine as possible. the last thing i had to do was a load of laundry, and then i was going to do it.

and then someone from campus showed up at my door. because one of my professors filed a report and i hadnt responded to any of the emails id received checking in on me.

so i readjusted. caught up on my schoolwork, just barely finished the semester and definitely didnt do it strong or well (god bless the pass/fail option bc of covid LOL), but i did it nonetheless. went home, started my internship, had a miserably mundane summer.

i grew bitter and apathetic. i was angry at my friends for not being responsive when i reached out to them to talk or hang out or do anything. i got tired of dealing with it. i was tired of feeling alone and like no one gave a shit about me except for when it was convenient for them. i decided that i wasnt going to deal with people who werent willing to put any effort into me, so i stopped talking to everyone and kept up with people who were willing to reach out after the fact.

it’s definitely not the best approach. it’s really unforgiving and it doesn’t give people a lot of benefit of the doubt, but i think it was necessary in some respect. i didn’t have any criteria for how people needed to reach out, or how long after, or whatever, just that they did. really needed people in my life who are willing to communicate with me. i was honest with how i was feeling and why i did things if they did, apologized for the shitty approach, thanked them for still being willing to talk to me, and worked out the best way for both of us to keep things going.

over the months i dont think i really regret the decision, because it’s been a weight off my shoulders. i feel a lot better. i’m far more okay with where i stand in all of my friends’ lives, even if that’s not as a priority and even if that’s as just someone to talk to and catch up with like a couple times a year. it took a bit for it to pay off but it’s nice to take a look at people i was putting far too much work into and upon reflection realizing that they only interacted with me when they needed something from me, and not for me as a person. i think there are still people where there are loose ends and i think i may try reaching out myself to tie those up at some point, whenever i have the energy and clarity of mind for it. but i guess at the end of the day i just decided that people who weren’t willing to communicate weren’t worth the time. i’m okay if that communication means i need to be the one to initiate conversations even! i just need to know that.

but yeah. i came back to ny and started the semester totally apathetic and angry. i was so fucking depressed and bored with everything even if i was keeping myself incredibly busy. the only thing that i found rewarding (and what was just barely keeping me going) was leading my workshop for the intro optics class.

and then a friend -- the same friend i was at the coffee shop with -- reached out to catch up. and i was honestly really bitter and angry with him and was prepping myself to start listing out issues that i hadnt been able to address with him beforehand (side note, while telling friends the issues you have with them is important, listing shit out all at once is hardly ever a good approach especially without warning LOL) but ended up...just having a calming and comfortable conversation about what was going on in our lives since we last saw each other.

n later that day i ended up reaching out to an old friend that i had been meaning to catch up with because we fell out of contact, but had just barely been trying to start talking again in the months before this but had kept missing opportunities to properly converse. but we talked again, and we set up a day to hike and catch up.

and he comes to my house and picks me up. and i get in his car. and its like, holy shit, its been almost a year since ive seen you. and we hugged. and just started to catch each other up on the mess that had been our lives since we’d actively been in contact. we hiked, he told me about the books he wanted to write, we talked about people we knew, we talked about politics, we talked about school, we talked about life, and it was just as comfortable as if not a day had passed...even though it was obvious that he and i were both changed people over the past year. nothing about our friendship was any different though.

we resolved to hanging out with each other every week. decided we both needed the interaction, appreciated having each other around, and had a nice overlap of free time in the week that worked well. friday nights unless otherwise specified.

it was totally unexpected. he’d always been a great friend to me, but i never expected us to get as close as we did. neither did he. he’s probably the first person in my life (or at least in a very long time, and certainly the only person at the time) that i’d been so comfortable with that i practically had no boundaries around. none that needed to be addressed, anyway, because the only possible ones to throw up wouldn’t even come up (but of course, i constantly reassured that as soon as anything came up i would let him know because early on he kept asking sjhdkjfh).

he became something for me to look forward to in the week. towards the beginning he was a shoulder to lean on when i needed it and was willing to listen to things i hadn’t been able to tell anyone out loud. and he confided in me as well. it was comfortable. it was safe. it was a level of trust with vulnerability that i’d never shown anyone else.

but it wasnt even just that! it was fun! hes so fun. we could talk about everything and nothing, and hes one of the only people where i feel like i have to keep up with him in conversation instead of the other way around. we’d jump from topic to topic so much faster than either of us could think and it was all always so interesting. littered with humour that was just dumb and simple. i felt comfortable just being an idiot with him. i felt like i had nothing to prove.

for the past few years ive held to the sentiment that i like to hang around with people that make me a better person. but somehow, with him, its not that i felt like he made me a better person, but that he made me more myself. he saw who i was without any kind of fronts. and i always was afraid to show anyone that me because i always assumed that they would be depressing, loathsome, bitter, angry, and vicious.

but....i’m not. i learned that i’m incredibly loving. that i’d do fuckin anything to for my friends, but always in a way that was healthy and rewarding for both of us. i’m very light-hearted and my sense of humour is so stupid, but also very analytical and thoughtful. just a bit judgmental and pretentious, but always for things that people dont expect. totally open minded in discussions. an avid explorer, and a bit of a thrillseeker. and so, so, so affectionate.

i realized im. not as horrible as ive always made myself out to be. i accepted that i didnt need to punish myself for things beyond my control. i realized that i could believe people when they tell me that they enjoy my company, or appreciate things i do for them, or that they think i’m a worthwhile person to keep around.

its not that i dont have my flaws, its not that there arent things that i have to work on still. but maybe, at my core, i’m not actually motivated by spite, i’m not actually a hopeless pessimist, and that i’m not...broken. i’m not some secretly irredeemable monster.

and for a period of time i’ve been in a place where i could say i was genuinely...happy! and i don’t think i’ve ever been able to say that. i’ve certainly been made happy by doing things with friends in the past, i’ve been through periods where i’ve been okay with where i am at in life, but ever since i was like 12 (but probably even before that) i’d never been able to say that i was happy. it’s not that i wasn’t stressed, it’s not that things in my life were all going perfectly....but they didn’t define my mood. they didn’t define my view of myself. school, despite being the primary focus of my life, wasn’t dictating how i was feeling. even when things were agonizing and depressing because of school, i was still okay. i was incredibly stable.

and i owe that all to him being there for me. and hardly any of these things were anything that he was really directly responsible for, like its not that he sat there and just constantly showered me in reassurance and praise or anything that changed how i view myself...it was just having his company. it was just being able to sit there and listen to him go on about some totally random thing that he was exceptionally knowledgeable about. it was exploring caves and climbing hills. it was cooking together. it was talking about science. it was talking about love. it was talking about music. it was just having a consistent presence in my life, someone that treated me like a priority but never at the expense of himself, and someone i didn’t have to walk on any kind of eggshells around. it was someone who trusted me and respected me not by anything id done to warrant it, but just because of who i was.

it was a reminder that i can take care of my own problems, that i just need to be a good presence in someone’s life and for them to be a good presence in mine.

but also that i can accept help from people who genuinely want to offer it! and that that help doesnt always have to be direct. that sometimes helping me means i get to do something nice for someone else LOL

it was everything i ever needed and i wasnt even looking for it. he meant the world to me and i was so, so thankful for the circumstances that led us here because i was so happy to have him in my life again. i was happy that we were able to get closer because we’d only been able to interact in professional environments before.

and then i realized i was in love. and i had a sexuality crisis. but i didn’t recognize it until i fell hard because it was a different kind of love than i’ve felt for anyone before. it was intense but entirely too comfortable. but i knew that i cared about him, and that he cared about me, and that i really didn’t need anything about our friendship to change but that it had potential to be something even greater than it was.

and i resolved to tell him about it...until he told me first. and that moment was, as cheesey as it sounds, nothing less than magical. we were both so happy and giggly and it was so sweet and warm and i dont know if im ever going to be able to recreate that feeling because it was just so particular, so specific to being something between me and him. its not that i cant love anyone else as strongly or be as happy as i was necessarily, but it’ll never be that same kind of feeling.

but things happened. things got complicated. i think he panicked. and then things that happened just felt so dirty and hollow and dark. he hurt me really, really, really badly, and it managed to happen in the span of four days.

and i’ve spent the last <2 weeks dealing with it. i think he’s dealing with it in his own ways, but realistically i don’t know how because i havent seen him since christmas eve, and we were both definitely not being completely genuine that day. was at his house for a small family party and he and i were the only ones who knew what happened. it was too soon to have healed from it any, but we couldnt exactly be honest about it then either.

and im doing better. im genuinely okay now. and, interestingly, i think i owe it to the past few months of hanging out with him and how ive been able to come to terms with a lot of things about myself. ive been able to show myself compassion. its really ironic.

its a situation where i was desperately trying to throw blame onto myself for, because if i could then i could punish myself for it and use it to fuel that deep rooted self hatred and then i could fix it, because i’d be the one responsible for fixing it. but, and i’ve talked to quite a few friends about it trying to figure out who to confide in about it, everyone who knows about it insists that i cant blame myself for it. theres not a thing about the situation that i can blame myself for. and its so fucking weird, because i cant bring myself to fully blame him for it either, just because it was so ABSURDLY out of character that it doesnt feel like it was anything he could have done to me. it was a boundary that i wasnt ever supposed to worry about him crossing, because he’s just not that kind of person.

and it’s the type of situation that you’re supposed to totally be willing to cut someone off for but...i can’t. he’s genuinely remorseful and i think he doesn’t really know how to deal with it either. and despite it being a massive fuck up its still like...the first fuck up in our friendship from either of us. and i’m willing to see this through. i think it’s salvageable, even if it’ll never be the same as it was. i have faith in our friendship. i think we can make it work.

but no matter what happens. i owe him more than i’ll ever be able to repay him for. and i’ll never, ever be able to hate him because of that. i’m in a much, much better place because of him and for that i’ll always be thankful.

#shut up mega #this ended up being longer and more in depth abt the earlier half of the year than i meant it LOL #a summary of my 2020 i spose #also there's some kinda detailed talk of #suicide ment -#self harm ment -#IM CRYING AFTER WRITING THIS OUT LMAOOOO

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asrasotherbottom · 5 years

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First, I hope you get all the support and love you deserve dear. ^^ You are FANTASTIC! Second, I am clinically depressed with high anxiety. How would the six handle someone with those qualities? The fretting and low, days where you want to disappear, worrying that no one really cares it just an act?

Thank you!

I’m writing this based on my experiences and the experiences of those close to me, and i 100% understand those aren’t universal. and my interpretations of the characters are not Law or universal. I just wanna say blanketly, that I hope youre doing alright and that you also get the support and love you deserve and that you are safe. Content warning for suicidal ideation (that feeling where youd rather just not exist without like A Desire to act), anxiety, depression. Under a readmore so please take care of yourself and don’t click if you might be negatively effected by reading about this also its long as hell.

Suicide prevention hotline: 1-800-273-8255Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386.

Asra:

- His heart literally aches with you

-Brings you tea in bed for days that you cant leave bed either because depression or because anxiety

-Will sit with you for hours just so you’re not alone, even if youre feeling awful.

-Cares 50000% less about the shop than he does about you, and if youre having a bad brain day he will just lock up and sit with you and hold your hand.

-Will encourage you to get out a little if you can, maybe for a nice walk in the woods to collect mushrooms with him because sometimes getting out and doing something helps.

-Is good at finding secluded secret ways to get around bc fuck people.

-He’s bffs with Muriel so hes pretty good with dealing with self loathing and anxiety already.

-Asra i think has a really good response to the “nobody cares and its just an act” because his magic mark will just glow when he puts his hand over your heart and its really hard to argue with “made a deal with the devil to resurrect you” if the argument is “nobody actually cares” and that was 100% his choice and hes not afraid to tell you that.

-Can, will, wants to, just ramble at you at length about how much he loves you and exactly why and will spend hours refuting your arguments which is tiring but maybe helps you feel a little better by the end.

-If things are just So Bad? If you want to disappear? he’ll nap with you just to be close to you and keep you safe.

-Will bring you to his oasis to walk around and help keep you safe if you really just want to disappear and he’ll try to cheer you up there which is admittedly mostly just pointing at tiny weird magic bugs and stars (but at least your body is safe).

-Deep deep down he’s still the person who brought his mom a button when she was sick so he’ll try anything to cheer you up. Faust too.

-He’ll even talk to Julian to see if he knows anything or anything to ease your pain a little.

-Will sit and just Listen to all your pain and be just Present for you.

-He loves you more than life itself and will definitely be receptive to anything you say about things that might help.

Julian-

-Extremely similar hat.

-But goddamnit if you made HIM feel better about being alive and worthy and deserving of love, he is absolutely going to return the favor.

-Anxiety? he knows all the back alleys to avoid people

-Doesn’t mind staying home from the rowdy raven to sit with you if youre too anxious to go.

-If you need a small dark quiet place to be alone and calm down? Hes got just the place (the hole at maz’s and he’ll even come in with you if you want because it makes you smile to see you both try to cram in there)

-Depression or anxiety making food hard? Some of maz’s soup will fix you right up.

-You find him in the middle of the night pouring over medical texts about depression and anxiety, looking for anything to help you at all.

-He’ll sit up with you on nights that you cant sleep because of anxiety or because youre just too sad.

-He’ll definitely lay in bed with you while you cry.

-He found someone who truly and entirely loves him and he will cling to you for dear life, and tell you all the things he loves about you whenever you need or want to hear them.

-He probably is gonna try a leech at least once.

-Brings you to the docks at night because its calm and peaceful and away from everything.

-After his upright end he definitely learned the importance of a support system and isnt afraid to enlist it to help keep you happy and safe.

Nadia-

- Shes extremely concerned that someone who lights up her entire life can be so sad.

-But shes not about to sit back and do Nothing.

-She can and will cancel any event or meeting if it means she can sit in bed with you and hold you while you cry or if her presence with you soothes some of your anxiety.

-She’ll bring you to her contemplation tower if you need a place to just get away from everything thats making you anxious.

-Will also bring you to the magical realms to help keep you safe and help cheer you up.

-Enlists the finest doctors that she can find if you’d like.

-She’ll take long baths with you where you two can just sit in the hot water and you can cry while she strokes your hair.

-If you feel like shes just faking her affections towards you then expect a bit of a surprised scoff followed by a 4 hour powerpoint presentation about every single thing she loves about you and how you make her feel

-You feel like youre not good enough? “I’m the fucking countess and i could have had literally anyone in vesuvia or beyond but i want you”

-Will pick you up and spin you if she sees you smile because shes just so happy to see you happy.

-Horseback riding as a way to help clear your head and escape anxiety is a given.

-Shes really attentive to making sure you stay fed, in fresh clothes, and bathed, even during bad depressive times so that it doesnt pile on to your bad feelings.

Muriel-

-If not same hat then EXTREMELY similar hat

-Lives in the forest so hes all about that avoiding social anxiety life.

-If you ever feel unsafe Inanna can and will lay entirely on top of you.

-Feeding chickens and petting inanna as anxiety relief for both of you.

-He’ll definitely hold you against his chest or with your head in his lap while you cry if you need it.

-Muriel hates seeing you sad, and doesnt always know exactly what to do or say but he’ll make you eggs all the time to make sure youre still eating when youre sad.

-Will remind you that youre like the only person hes ever truly let in to his heart and he doesnt want to lose you.

-Will also remind you that he gave you the myrrh voluntarily because he….wants you to remember him. hes never wanted to be remembered before. he never asked for it back.

- He really empathizes with wanting to disappear but he doesnt want that when hes with you and he wants to work hard to help you feel the same way with him.

-Long quiet walks in the forest together.

-He’ll take you stargazing and tell you all the things he loves about the beauty of the forest and the stars…and you.

-Big Hugs for Big Sads

-Enlists asra and nadia’s help if he feels he needs it, but he cares about you enough that he’d willingly seek out help for you.

Portia-

-Yeets pepi at you Like A Football.

-”Peep?? Peep Peep”

-Youre gonna feel better if it kills her.

-Gardening to help with sadness, touching dirt always helps. She’ll spend hours with you in the garden, helping you create like beauty with your hands.

-Chase the goddamn cockatoo with a broom to make you smile.

-Enlist’s Maz and Maz’s soup as well.

-Helps you find secret passageways to hide in when your anxiety is too much.

-Too sad to leave bed? Portia will carry you and your blanket.

-Is having none of that “oh what if you dont actually love me” business. She’s super used to Julian’s self loathing and depression that shes moved on to slightly tougher love.

-She loves you and shes going to keep telling you that and shes not going anywhere.

-She gets soft when you cry though and will cling to you for dear life and not move for hours.

-”How dare you talk about the person i love like that” - Portia, to you, when you talk about reasons you hate yourself.

-Cries with you though.

-Doesn’t like when she has to go to work when you’re in a bad mental space so shes asks nadia for you to have just a nice room in the palace reserved for you that you can lay in so she can come check on you during the day.

-Shes great for bad anxiety days because she has no problem doing social interactions for you. The thought of going to buy some herbs brings you to tears? No problem, she has no idea what herbs shes buying but shes Gonna Do It.

-The strength of Portias hugs is liable to just squeeze the depression right out of you along with also your internal organs probably.

Lucio-

-”How can you be depressed?? You’re dating ME, the COUNT! ……….Can I help?”

-He definitely tries to use his sex appeal to lighten your mood, it probably works sometimes (or at least gets a laugh out).

-Gets extremely startled when you cry but holds you tight against him.

-Cancels meetings, cancels plants, cancels the entirety of the Vesuvia if he has to in order to stay in bed with you when youre having a bad depression day.

-You can cry into M&M’s fur as long as you’re not wearing any makeup :P

-Gets worried and hides the pointy tips for his gauntlet.

-Absolutely having none of the “nobody really cares and its just an act” hes the COUNT! He could have anyone anytime he wanted! You were the first warmth and compassion he felt in years! The first person to really actually love him for /him/! he gets way more emotional than he plans to but he feels very strongly about this

- 4 hour powerpoint presentation on all the reasons hes into you

-Tries really hard to find material things that will help your mood. Gold? Silk? Furs? Sweets? Watching fistfights? Anything?

- He knows what its like to really disappear and hes not about to let that happen to you.

-He’ll never admit it to anyone but you but hes clinging to you with everything he has and he will work tirelessly to help support you.

-”Will petting my hair help you relax”

-Ropes Julian, Nadia,and Asra into things to help you, but they dont mind because its You theyre helping really.

-Anxiety? “Oh don’t worry, I’ll make /sure/ all eyes are on me” it maybe doesnt help exactly as intended but watching him be ridiculous eases the tension a little.

-Deep deep down he knows in his soul Deep Sadness and it makes him surprisingly good at supporting you.

i hope this was what you wanted!!!!

#Anonymous #nadia #julian #asra #muriel #portia #lucio #the arcana #depression #anxiety #mine

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madisonmasochistic · 4 years

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Coals & Fire

TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF RAPE

you where fire and I was coal, cold and hard with traces of scars running down my spine.

you where chaos and I was the calm before the storm. I was calculated and indifferent to everything around me, I was nothing when we met. And now as i sat on the soft comforter of my own bed, a simple moment, I shake at the thought of your touch, your words.

is it excitement, or is it fear? I never know when it comes to you.

Even then as I sat next to the person I feel closest too, I stare at my fingers and it makes me think of the way yours ran down my legs, my neck, my cheek. I think of the tears that ran down my cheek as I stared at a screen, holding onto every message every word that those very fingers typed out.

I feel the betrayal, like I feel your fire. You light your fires, and burn my coals, heating passion without worry, without care for how fast my coals would deteriorate.

I burned with your fires as you said the words "I do not love you" with your whole chest, you defiled me in a shower, you broke me like a cheap whine glass that you never cared much for, more like kept around out of necessity. I felt as if my heart, the one that was already in pieces, was broken into more, pieces you couldn't possibly put back together, the only thing left to do with such pieces of a heart like mine in that moment was to sweep them up and throw them away.

You had promised me safety and you had given me hope, and with that you stole everything you'd once promised me away. Yet I still gave to you all I had.. I still broke myself over and over again just to make you the person you promised to be.

And as I am held by the one who I feel closest to, as she tells me I am where she was at my age, as she listens to me break, the tears that don't seem to stop pushing past the barriers of my eyes and all I can seem to do is sob, the cries that come from my lips ones that I have held in for so long, and she tells me she will always be there for me, and how she doesn't want me to hurt.

I cannot fix the pieces of myself you broke, I cannot forget the treason you did to my heart.

I cannot shower.

I cannot love.

I cannot trust.

I cannot stop crying over the pitiful little boy that broke me into pieces.

And the others tell me to be strong as you lie to my face, pretend to have an illness that I do, as you victim blame me to my face, as you deny the wrongs you did to me. They tell me to be strong but I don't have the energy to be anything but weak.

My knees still bleed for you, my heart still yearns for your fingers, your hands to touch my skin.

My heart still beats for you, I still feel sorrow when you act so sorry for yourself.

I want to reassure you that I still love your fires, and that I can make more coal for you to burn.

But I have long since run out of coals for you to burn, I am nothing but ashes and fume, I am nothing but the darkness of trauma that you consume.

I sit here with tears that want to fall, but I do not want those around me to know I still think of you. I want you to see this, I want you to know how much I loathe how much I love you. I want you to hate me.

I break into pieces when i see photos of us.

I want to put out your fire.

I can write for hours on how I feel, but nothing changes, I still respond when you text, I would answer if you called, I still crave your attention. I still wish to hear your voice, and I do not know how to tell the man I am falling for that he is falling for a damaged void of a human that only knows pain and pleasure. I am not whole, I am a building of others and coals that keep being burned beyond use.

I wish for someone to make me more, for someone to add to my coals instead of burn them, for someone to help me take all those shattered pieces and try and glue them back together. I need someone's water to extinguish your fire, I need someone to show me how to shower, how to love, how to trust. I would like to think the one I feel closest too can, in a friendship way, I feel like a spoiled child when I ask for more, for someone to use their water to drown out the flames that you still burn, my coals beyond repair, I am empty, my coal needing to be replaced.

She can help in the ways that she can, and every hug I feel replaces a piece of coal, every time she says she is proud of me, I feel as if I have more coals, yet you come back and burn them every time, her moon water puts out the little flames you still burn, but some days you burn harder, and her moon water can't put it out, my coals still get used.

moon water is like the friendship I have needed and craved.

I hate to admit I also need rain water, a water that can snuff out your flames for good, rain water that can breathe a romantic life back into my lungs.

I wish for the water to bring light back into my life, surrounded by my own ash and broken glass, the way you left me when you said you didn't love me, the way you left me when you raped me, when you held me down in the shower and told me you where "almost done" and to "just stay still" You ignored my cries, the tears that seemed to blend into the shower water that hit my face, as you covered the sounds of my cries with your moans. You make me hate myself, and then act as if I am the villain for leaving you.

You make me hate myself when you say it was an accident that you slapped me across the face for the smallest thing.

You make me hate myself when you threw my help back into my face and called me controlling for trying to help you..

You make me hate myself when you misgender me to your family and do not correct them.

You make me hate myself when you lied to your family about how you loved me and made me out to be a psycho that wouldn't leave you alone, when you where crawling into my bed at night.

You make me hate myself when you lie to my face over and over and tell me you lied to me about how you felt about my body, how you said "how am I supposed to tell you that in certain outfits you look fat and unappealing?"

You make me hate myself when you say you miss the way things used to be.

You make me hate myself when you beg for my forgiveness, when you know I am trying to fucking heal.

How many of my coals will you burn to ash before you are satisfied?

How many of my coals will I continue to let you burn?

I am nothing but ash and sulfur from your fire.

I cannot go a night without breaking apart as I crave to turn around and be in your arms.

I cannot go a night without thinking about throwing every single coal i have left into your flames by going to see you and pressing my lips against yours again.

My coal burns when I think of you

My coal burns when I look at you

My coal burns when I talk to you

My coal burns when I dream of you.

My coal burns when I try to do a basic human action and what you did to me pops up in my mind

I wasn't supposed to have this, I was supposed to help my system, not be burnt to ashes because of you, you where supposed to dance in the flames with me, not be the flames that consumed me. You where supposed to be passion and love, you where supposed to be my husband.

I am too young to be feeling this pain

I am too young to be another stigma of a rape that will never go documented or brought to justice.

I am too young to be another broken female bodied statistic of suicide.

I cannot burn anymore.

Ashes to do not burn.

Your fire is too much.

I once danced in your flames, and now I scream because I cannot stop burning.

I cannot lose the one I am closest too, I cannot lose the man falling for me. I cannot lose to keep burning my coals for you.

The song goes, some mistakes get made, thats alright that's okay, you can think that you're in love when you're really just in pain.

I was in pain with you, I mistook that pain for love. This song played as I knew it was the end for us. I broke in the innocent one's care listening to this even though I'd heard it so many times before.

I feel a burden to those around me.

To the one I feel closest too, I am so sorry I cannot get past this yet.. I am sorry you have to hear the same stories over and over again.

To the man falling for me, I am sorry that I need you to be the rain water that saves whatever remaining coals I have.

To the innocent one I am sorry I don't want to fuck you up the way he did me, and I am sorry you have had to see me through this.

We lost our virginity to you.

No you where not the first.

But we trusted you with it.

You promised you'd love us

You promised you'd never hurt us

You promised you'd be there through it all

You promised you wouldn't be like your brother

You promised you wouldn't be the cause of the pain

You promised you'd never make us hate you

You promised you'd never take advantage of us.

We trusted you.

You Lied.

You lied.

over and over and over again.

You are my demon, a flame that I cannot put out again.

I do not know how to stay away

I don't know how to stop burning.

I held you so proudly. I was so sure that you where the one I'd spend the rest of my days with. I tried to defend you as the one closest to me tried to help me sooner. I wish I'd listened.

When I was raped by the prophet, when I was drugged and assaulted, you made it about you.

I feel as if I am drowning in the ashes you left me as. I feel as if I keep burning, I feel as if I am nothing because of you.. I hate my body because of your brother and you. The stars gave you the wrong sign. Because you are a flame, you do not run calmly like the water, you are reckless and selfish like fire. You are just like your brother, like your father.

I hope it hurts you to know that you hurt me.

I hope you stay awake at night and can't sleep because of me.

I hope you see my face and it haunts you.

I hope you cry when you hear my name.

So i ask again, how many more coals will you burn?

when will your flames be snuffed out?

When will my broken pieces find their way out of the ashes and be put back together again?

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wrckhvck · 5 years

Text

In PORTLAND, ME I found JAX COYNE, a child with the ability of BLOOD MANIPULATION. At first HE came off as IMPETUOUS but they also seemed GREGARIOUS. I was unable to procure the child, as an adult, they should resemble GRANT GUSTIN. ( c, she/her )

hey hi hello everyone! i thought my rping days were behind me but i loved TUA and decided to give this a go. we’ll see how it works out shshshss. i love yelling about riverdale ( so bad its kinda good ), shadowhunters, broadway, and love cats more than people and i’m super hyped to be here. for a little more about jax, you can keep reading ~ also this is important !!! there are a lot of trigger warnings re: his past / life so i’m going to list them all here instead of in the tags at the bottom. you have been warned.

trigger warnings: minor child abuse, child abandonment, domestic violence, negative self-talk, lack of self-esteem, suicidal ideation, self harm, self mutilation in the name of science, lack of self-worth, lack of self-preservation, unintentional suicide attempts, warped self image, bloodplay(ish), mentions of violence / self-violence.

TLDR: jax has a fucked up sense of self and likes to experiment on himself. proceed with caution i guess ???

&. basics

full name: jackson ‘jax’ edward coyne

nicknames: jax, jaxxy, jack

age: 29

sexuality: pansexual

relationship status: single

date of birth: october 1

place of birth: portland, me

gender & species: cismale, enhanced humanoid(?)

current location: unknown.

&. more basic info

languages: english, spanish, french.

religion: n/a - he’s an atheist.

education: BS degree in human biology concentration from the university of southern maine & MD from uConn school of medicine. 3 years studying to be a forensic scientist and now completing a one year residency/fellowship before getting board certified.

occupation: forensic pathologist

drinks, smokes, & drugs: yes, no, yes.

&. personality

zodiac sign: ( references: one, two ) libra

mbti: ( reference link ) istj

likes: emo music, pasta dishes, cats, supernatural (tv), black nail polish, coffee, true crime podcasts, greek yoghurt.

dislikes: socialization, herbal tea, vaping, people who don’t use their turn signals when driving, one way streets, mustard, taylor swift music, and reality tv.

bad habits: bites his nails, picks scabs when you’re not supposed to, obsesses over getting song lyrics right, poor posture, obsessing over things that can’t be changed.

secret talent: tattooing. he’s not licensed to do any work on anyone else, but he’s done a lot of the work on his sleeves himself. he had his in love and death tattoo done when he was 16 and he’s been addicted ever since. he was too broke to be able to afford constant work so he had to learn how to do it himself with a lot of trial and error.

hobbies: listening to true crime podcasts, research, drawing/sketching, watching wrestling, boxing, studying, etc.

fears: isolation, decision making, the future, responsibility, the truth about his origins.

five positive traits: determined, altruistic, loyal, competitive & vulnerable

five negative traits: impetuous, cowardly, stubborn, blunt, & prone to self-harm in the name of science.

other mentionable details: jax has done some Questionable Shit TM in the name of science. as he can control / manipulate blood, he’s frequently injured himself to test the extent of his abilities. he’s also caused some health issues by increasing his blood pressure / fucking with the way blood is supposed to work that has landed him in the hospital a few times. he’s also tried playing operation with himself and has been studying his genetics obsessively to try to figure what the hell is he / who he is. he grew up thinking he was a monster (bc thats what they told him he was) so he sometimes considers himself more of a science experiment than a person.

&. appearance

tattoos: he has full sleeves up and down his arms. i can’t really find anything that suits it but i think the left side would be venom / symbiotes and maybe some nightmare before christmas elements??? idk. the other one would be like a graveyard kind of theme with like tombstones, skulls, some wild looking shapes and black roses.. he also has the album artwork from in love and death by the used on the side of his ribcage (x) he also has the tattoo from supernatural (x) bc he’s a fucking dork and its his favorite show.

piercings: nipple, septum, tongue.

faceclaim: grant gustin.

&. family information

parent names: helen & n/a.

parent relationship: he doesn’t have a relationship with his parents. his mother gave birth to him at 17 - after having not been pregnant until she went into labor - and always considered him an abomination. helen’s boyfriend broke up with her thinking she’d been unfaithful and wouldn’t believe that she hadn’t broken their agreement. they’d been saving themselves for marriage and were planning to get married the summer after they graduated. betrayed by her love and judged by her extremely conservative, religious, family, helen found herself looking for love in all of the wrong places. this love was never shared with her son. when she abandoned him at a local orphanage, he was only 5 years old. he never saw her again.

sibling names: n/a. he doesn’t consider himself having any siblings. he bounced out of foster home after foster home and never made any lasting connections.

sibling relationship: n/a

other relevant relative: none. he had a maternal uncle but he passed away when he was a baby. he never knew him.

children: n/a

significant other / spouse: n/a

pets: he has a pet snaked named anguis. it means snake in latin. he thinks he’s clever. he’s not. sdkjgsds.

&. biography

it was a blustery october day when helen coyne doubled over in the park across the street from her house. she was meeting her boyfriend, edward lovington, and they had plans to get milkshakes and go to the movies. instead she was rushed to the hospital under suspicion of a burst appendix, only to give birth to a healthy baby boy some minutes later. this phenomenon would later be known to be the moment that 43 women around the world delivered babies without ever having been pregnant. each child would have abilities beyond comprehension and some would go on to become students at the umbrella academy. jax would not enjoy such a fate.

helen’s parents were extremely religious. she and her boyfriend had pledged their chastity under the belief that they would be married come the summer and he believed her to have broken that vow. he ended things with her and her family turned their backs on her. only her brother kept in contact, allowing her and the baby to move into his guest house until they could get back onto their feet. he was named jackson edward, after his maternal grandfather and his mother’s former love. jax never met either man but had heard the story from his mother as he grew up. to this day he doesn’t know why helen decided to keep him; why he wasn’t given up for adoption as a baby, or abandoned at the hospital on the day he was born.

desperate for love and looking in the wrong places, helen suffered a string of abusive and controlling men. it was a circle of abuse that she seemed caught in, believing to her core that she deserved it because god had punished her. this continued until jax was five, when her latest boyfriend scratched her face. the cuts welled up - the first time a boyfriend had drawn blood in jax’s presence - but to everyone’s dismay, the wound coagulated and the blood disappeared, back where it came from. her boyfriend would have killed them both - afraid of what he’d seen when jax yelled at him to stop - but his eyes ran red as the blood inside his body boiled and cooked him from the inside out. the sound of his body hitting the floor was drowned out by helen’s screams. jax was abandoned at a local orphanage days later, his mother unable to look at him as she believed he was a monster.

maine isn’t a big city. the area they were in was extremely small, so whispers of what had happened to helen’s boyfriend ran rampant. jax was branded a freak, kept in isolation at the orphanage in fear of what he’d do to the other children. he didn’t understand his powers yet and believed what his mother said was true; that he was a monster and that he deserved whatever happened to him as a consequence of it. he withdrew into himself and was selectively mute until his teen years, bouncing from foster home to foster home as he grew. it was only when he was 13, now exploring his powers with a morbid curiosity he would later attribute to scientific hypothesis, that he started speaking again.

jax grew up very isolated and socially awkward. he doesn’t always know how to talk to people or how to appropriately react in certain situations. he’s very morbid, has a dark sense of humor, and has a lot of questionable interests. his music taste is skewed towards screamo / emo music and heavy metal. he prefers horror movies to essentially every other genre and spends hours listening to true crime podcasts and lives on CSI / Criminal Minds / SVU etc. his favorite bands are my chemical romance, the used, saosin, underoath, black veil brides, and disturbed.

academically, jax is kind of a genius. he didn’t really have friends so he spent a lot of time studying. he finds biology interesting because his own biology fascinates him. he can control blood; can make it coagulate, raise his own blood pressure, and even create it from his own cells. it doesn’t make sense. it doesn’t fit into what he knows about the human condition and that fascinates him. experimenting on himself has become second nature and he covered up the majority of the scarring with tattoos. the only friend he ever had showed him how to do some of it himself as a teenager and he’s kept up with the hobby - buying cheap supplies online or cutting corners to keep up with the artwork decorating his body.

with two degrees under his bet, jax is swimming in debt. honestly his checking account is a terrifying place to live. he’s been low-key indulging in credit card scams for years to keep his head above water. he has a ledger where he’s written down every card, every loan, and every payment he needs to pay back. it’s locked in a safe so no one can ever find it. as a forensic pathologist he’ll make good money and hopefully be able to pay it all back before the cops come knocking down his door.

#all43intro

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sketchynebula · 7 years

Text

Scribbles, Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, You are here,

Scribble tag list: @mikado413 @pleasebringmerlinback @thecrimsoncodex @too-precious-to-process @skadinavien @lexi-love99 @lovisoverrated @kickthecel @rayndropsonrosez @lamp-calm-sanders@iaminmultiplefandoms @ffsas-side-account @tree4life25 @thats-so-crash @sugarblob0 @pattongirl @fandoms-n-ship @izzynuggets @pasteliosis @thisrandomperson102 @memepool1 @hayleycreagine @artistgracie @its-me-madzy @bunniicc

Content Warnings: Self-hate, parental death, short moment of slight dissociation, suicide, flashback of suicide, rejection, fainting, abandonment, emotional break down, descriptions of anxiety and breathing, verbal and physical bullying, neglectful adults

Pairing: LAMP

Word count: 4,725

Genre: Hurt/comfort, Angst

AU/trope: Soul-Mate AU where whatever you write on your skin, it appears on your soulmate’s.

Summary: His mind worked over-time considering whether or not running to the other end of the building would be worth it, but as the fatigue from his sleepless night pressed into him, he decided it wasn’t. Today wasn’t going to be the day he decided to be punctual.Virgil’s English class was all the way across the school from his math class, so it was a long walk. Oh, and he also had it after math and that didn’t help his mood either.

There was a moment where he was sure that he would be late. His eyes peering into an empty classroom and checking the time, only to find that he technically only had three minutes to get there. His mind worked over-time considering whether or not running to the other end of the building would be worth it, but as the fatigue from his sleepless night pressed into him, he decided it wasn’t. Today wasn’t going to be the day he decided to be punctual.

By the time he had walked through the door to the classroom it had been a few minutes after the late bell. The class was all there, all 30 of them visibly acting every bit of ‘straight out of elementary school’ as one would suspect. Fortunately for Virgil’s attendance record, the teacher wasn’t there.

Unfortunately for Virgil’s eardrums, the teacher wasn’t there.

The teacher's desk was vacant, but clean with not a page of paper on it. That was probably just as well, since anything left unattended was almost certain to be looked through.

Virgil’s head was aching again. The windows poured bright light into the room and his head throbbed in pain with each noise that echoed in the class.

He moved to sit in the back, an area that was a little farther away from the windows and a little more closed off from the rest of the students. He sat, before laying his post-concussion head down. His arms wrapping around his head in order to try to muffle some of the sensory information.

He ignored all the kids around him, and they thankfully did the same, but somehow the mess of kids, middle school boys running around and girls talking loudly, made him feel even more closed off.

More isolated from everyone around him.

These kids ran around, laughing, with the privilege of being able to care about nothing more than homework and friendships. They weren’t nursing bruises and hiding concussions. They weren’t carrying drunk parents to their rooms at night and crying when new messages were written on their wrists.

He sniffed, the emotions swirling in him were too complex for his tired mind and he pulled his head off the desk before he could fall asleep. As he lifted it up, a piece of paper came with it, stuck to the side of his cheek.

As the paper floated back to the desk he looked around, seeing that a piece of lined paper was lying on the surface of each desk. A single word was written on the board, ‘Scribbles’, and just as a dawning sense of comprehension and dread filled him the teacher decided to make an appearance.

The teacher quickly bustled in the room, a familiar face that made Virgil stare unabashedly, eyes locking with the last person he wanted to see.

“Everyone sit down! I am sorry I’m late, it’s a long walk here from anywhere else in the school. That, however, does not mean you are allowed to descend to chaos in my absence.” She leveled the class with a glare. “I’m Mrs. Higgs, and I’m your English teacher.” Virgil felt his face flush, sinking into his desk. Of course she was. In his life there was no way that he wouldn’t have to see her everyday for a year.

“Today, we’re going to be working on a free-writing prompt, some children are better at creative writing while others are better at essays.” She turned moving to grab a few papers from her desk and having everybody pass one back, “It’s in my opinion that both aspects of writing and literature are important even if the curriculum only favours one, so I like to give the creative writers in the class space to like language arts and use it as a supplement to improve their writing. Everyday when you come in, there will be a writing prompt on the board, you will write for the first fifteen minutes of class and turn it in after for a daily grade, if you are absent you won’t have to make it up and it won't negatively affect you. this isn’t supposed to be a stressful activity it’s just to expand your mind and get credit for doing it. I am handing out the syllabi and then we are to get started on our prompt,”

As the papers moved from hand to hand, Virgil’s eyes helplessly looked at the prompt. Of all the things he hated the most the list topper had to be sharing his writing. He wasn’t any good, and there was never any reason that anybody in his life had to know anything about the personal inner workings of his mind.

“We’re going to start the fifteen minutes now, try your best to stay writing the entire time- go.”

Virgil’s hand shook as he glanced from the board back to his paper. Idea’s bouncing around his head, none of them he felt comfortable with a teacher reading.

Especially a teacher that hated him.

He gripped the pencil hard before he settled for a compromise. His hand was hesitant as he wrote the first words, mind halting every few letters before his brain started to flow into the mindset. His hand movements slowly evening out, moving to weave emotions in fictional scenes.

He pulled real events out of context and projected them on a fictional world. A world that Virgil wouldn’t have to be responsible for later. Taking what he itched to write for the prompt, what he itched to tell the world, to scream at every teacher that looked at him like he was a criminal, and pressing it against a safe grey area. Somewhere in the middle a place where Virgil can adamantly deny being related to any of the words that graced the page.

Virgil wasn’t done writing by the time the teacher asked them to pass their papers forward, but he almost threw his sheet at the person in front of him. Just wanting this to be over.

The rest of the class was uneventful. The only other notable event being when Mrs. Higgs’s raised an eyebrow at him during roll-call. Virgil would have nodded off after that, but he was tense. His eyes staring forward the entire class.

That didn’t mean he was paying attention at all though. He felt far away from the situation, away from the room and the light and the pain. All until he found himself jumping at the sound of the bell. His body temporarily going rigid before he moved to reach down under his desk. His body buzzed with nerves, antsy to get out of here, to spare himself the embarrassment of having to be around Mrs. Higgs for any longer.

He slung his backpack over his shoulder, students brushing his side as they moved pass him to get to the door, but just as he reached it himself Mrs. Higgs called him back. One of her hands clutching his free-writing assignment in her grip and beckoning him over.

“Don’t worry, You’re not in trouble.” She asserted to him as he glanced at her warily. His cheeks burning.

She motioned him to take a seat in a desk in front of her, “This will only take a moment, however I will write you a pass to get to your next class.” Her lips scrunched, brows furrowing in a stern way.

Virgil fidgeted as the flash of that memory passed through his brain. His mind was flooded with all the other things it brought with it. Saturday was fast approaching, only two days away as the week quickly ends. Everything that that meant was fresh in his mind. He swallowed hard and gripped his hands together in his lap.

“Virgil, you’re writing is- far beyond your grade level.” She said, eyes running over the page again before carefully placing the writing down on the desk and pushing it toward him. “Have you ever thought of taking up writing as a future career choice?”

Virgil can’t say he’d ever really thought about his future, he always assumed he wouldn’t have one to begin with.

He pulled the paper back towards him a full 10/10 points graced the corner of the page in red ink and he shrugged. The thought never crossed his mind.

“There's a writers competition, an annual event that i think i want you to participate in,” she cleared her throat, “though i must admit i have never chosen a participant this early in the year-” Pulling a few papers out of one of the locked drawer of her desk, she circled around to him handing him the papers, a list of careers and different applications of writing was there, along with a ‘Young-Authors Competition’ registration form, the top page of the stack had a bolded title of ‘what you can do with writing’.

Mrs. Higgs nodded to the pages, “I recommend doing some research on some possible careers in the meantime, only if you’re interested of course. perhaps a journalist, or even maybe an author?”

Virgil's face was awestruck, hesitantly he shrugged. His brain backtracking turning the words over in his head. Trying to find any alternative meaning in them than the one he was being presented with. Anything that would make more sense.

His writing wasn’t good by any stretch of the word. It was jumbled and unthought out, each word was meaningless, a product of his mind spewing out emotions that he trapped inside himself over the years. His pulse increased at the very idea of a competition.

A writing competition with people who spent their lives learning how to be good writers. Students who wanted to write since they were young and not someone like him. Him who only wrote because he never seemed to be able to speak.

His shaking was visible now and Mrs. Higgs reached out, hand resting over top his clenched fists, trying to get them to still. The warmth and weight of it made him look up at her concerned expression.

“The competition isn’t until December, you have time to think about it dear.” She said softly, “I, of course, won’t and can’t force you to submit something against your will, and I for one think you are all a little young to be able to fully decide what you want to be in life.” She said gesturing to the pages she had given him, “but it’s better to be well informed and say no than be poorly informed and say yes.”

She patted his hands, before pulling away and moving around the desk, hunching over it to quickly scrawl out the information on a hall pass, ripping it out in one fast motion and handing it to Virgil.

“However, i would at least think about it.” She finished eyes imploring as she turned away from him.

Virgil swallowed hard, standing slowly before his body went into overdrive. He pulled his backpack off the floor, collecting his items and almost running out of the room. The concerned eyes of Mrs. Higgs following him as he went.

Virgil moved out of the way of oncoming hallway goers, ducking through the hall as he made his way to flow onto the correct side.

His fingers nervously tear the edges of the hall pass he was given. He was at lunch, but he appreciate the sentiment more than anything else. Most teachers didn’t care enough to write him one anymore.

Which Virgil wasn’t blaming them for. When someone is as consistently late as he is there came a time where there wasn’t a point.

Virgil’s hand pressed into his pocket, shoving the pass deep inside with it, and he held the small stack of papers in his left hand, eyes glancing over the words and dates.

The bodies moving in the hallway brushed up against him in an uncomfortable ‘sardine can’ way. Shoulders hitting against his until one particularly hard shove had his side slamming into the row of lockers beside him. The disorientation was instant, and the snickering that followed confirmed Virgil’s immediate hunch. He angled his head to see Ricky and Fred’s backs as they passed down the hallway. Laughing to themselves.

Virgil’s hands balled themselves into fists, crumpling the papers, as he kept walking. Hunching into his frustration, and the brand new ache in his shoulder, he walked until he was able to carefully and discreetly duck into the school library. A small area that attempted to tightly fit book shelves and open desks together.

Virgil spared a glance at the librarian at the front desk, he managed to give them a small smile despite his mood, you always wanted to be on a librarians good side. His hands pressed the papers to his chest so nobody else in the room would catch a glimpse of their content, before he moved to round behind a row of bookshelves that were further back.

He hadn’t eaten in the cafeteria since his first week of first grade, the memory of having chocolate milk poured down his back was humiliating enough that he was willing to take steps to not have it repeated.

Virgil pressed his back into the bookshelf there, the knobs of his spine aching uncomfortably. He slid to sit down, hidden in the small nook that he had found. He dragged his backpack into his lap, his legs stretching out in front of him.

Unzipping the top of his pack with one swift motion, he pulled out his sad, sad, sack lunch. A bag that he’s pretty sure he just threw some bread and an apple in that morning.

Virgil frowned at the memory of that morning. His mother having sat silently in the kitchen, nursing a hangover, probably not even knowing that she shared a memory with him from the night before. A memory that his brain couldn’t help echoing back at him when things were quiet. The words ‘I’m glad you don’t have a soulmate’ making him feel guilty and paranoid all at once.

He hunched into his corner, not bothering to touch the bread as he bit into the apple. His unoccupied hand pushed the papers roughly into the backpack before zipping it back up and tossing the pack to the wayside.

“Hey, Verg?” James’s voice whispered out, starling Virgil, who inhaled a bit of apple as James rounded around a shelf. “Guess what!”

Virgil panicked for a moment, coughing before shrugging, his mouth full. James laughed, nodding his head “i feel that! anyway- you know how Mrs. Kace used to be the AP French teacher at the High-school?” Virgil paused, startled at the sudden topic of conversation. He slowly managed a shrug.

He typically didn’t make a habit of talking to teachers, at least not as a pastime, and especially those he didn’t have to directly deal with.

“Well, okay - i guess long story short- I have a chance to win a Trip to France under an exchange student program!”

Virgil’s chest was suddenly tight, his eyes wide in shock before he swallowed hard and tried his best to smile. His face split into more of a grimace.

“Yeah! I might get to be with Sarah!” James gripped his hands together, eyes dancing over the written exchanges they shared on his arms all in french.

Virgil, felt the bit of apple be was able to swallow sour in his stomach, he nodded jerkily to James.

“That’s cool.” He said, his voice weaker than normal.

“Right! Sarah says her parents are more than willing to house both of us and my mom says that if we present out soulmate status they will most likely give me citizenship,” James’s voice was hard pressed to continue to be a whisper, his voice slowly rising in volume as he continued his small, hopeful rant. “-I mean it’s France they’re like the epicenter for soulmate finding resources, you know, as long as i can prove i can speak French well and yadda yadda whatever, I’ll be able to meet her! Isn’t it great!”

It was. He was happy. It was so good for James. He had worked his entire life for something like this. Deciding to be a French translator in second grade when they had first started to write to one another and found out about the language barrier they had to overcome.

He was going to be with his soulmate. In a school that wouldn’t immediately mentally connect him with the outcast and ostracized him in turn. A school where Virgil wasn’t ruining his only chances at being a normal kid.

Why can’t Virgil just be happy for him, why can’t he just be supportive.

Why can’t he just let his soulmates be happy without him.

“That’s amazing, I’m so glad you two- I’m glad you guys get to see each other and stuff.” Virgil said, eyes void, stony and guarded and James’s smile slowly faded, eyes filling with recognition,

“Oh i am such a dick.” He said, a grimace pulling at the sides of his mouth, “dude, i’m sorry, i totally forgot, here i am telling you all about Sarah when everyone knows-,” He paused voice lowering, even quieter than a normal whisper now, and leaning in, as if what he was saying wasn’t common knowledge to every kid in this school district “- everyone knows you don’t have a soulmate” James tried to look Virgil in the eye but Virgil just shook his head.

“No, it’s fine.” Virgil shrugged and James just shook his head back,

“No it’s not, I just- i can’t even imagine-...” Virgil looked at James eyes imploring him to change the subject.

“Anyway?” Virgil said, voice more neutral than his previous tone.

James hesitated before he continued “Anyway… I- I’m just saying that if my french essay gets chosen for this thing in November i’ll be gone by next semester so…”

Virgil nodded his head. That was it. He suddenly felt like he didn’t have anything left to lose anymore.

Scribbles

Virgil's fingers raked through his hair, grimacing. It seemed to be greasy no matter how often he washed it.

He met the mirror with a blank stare. His eyes had started to form light bags under them from inconsistent and sometimes nonexistent sleep. His reflection looked as tired and pale as he remembered it.

The surge of fear that he felt while his shaky hands pushed his hoodie back over the mirror was enough to make him question why he was here. Standing around and holding up the only bathroom in a comic shop near the Cedar cafe.

Who was he kidding?‘Strip’s Spot’ was a geek safe haven that was literally right across the street from the hipster paradise that was the Cedar Cafe. It’s large glass doors and windows making the comic shop a safe viewing spot.

It was stalking, basically. Virgil recognized this to the point that it was almost tormenting him. He was stalking them now.

Or maybe he was always stalking them. His arms and hands containing personal information about them that they wouldn’t normally have shared with anyone they didn’t trust. The question ‘would they trust him’ bouncing around his head was promptly answered by every dark part of his mind, the resounding ‘of course not’ breaking him down a little more.

“But we’re soulmates” he whispered to himself eyes settling over the fabric of his hoodie. “We’re- we are, soulmates.” He stated to himself shakily.

They have to love him.

Their soulmates.

“emphasis on the ‘have to’ part” he mumbled to himself, echoing his thoughts out loud. His mind wavering. He pulled his hoodie away from its place precariously balancing on the mirror, pulling it around his shoulders. He thumbed the sleeves, eyes catching another unwanted glimpse of himself from the mirror before he turned to unlock the bathroom door.

As his hand wrapped around the metal and he spared a moment to try and pull on an at least semi-good neutral face. The kind of face one wore for a public area.

His eyes blinked from being in the darkly lit bathroom to suddenly being in a well lit shop. He took in the dark patterned carpet and the vivid posters once more. His eyes nervously glancing around at the few shop goers as he moved to stand near one of the windows. He pulled one of the comics off the shelf, hands thumbing through it as he pretended to brows, eyes glancing up at the people around him. He was trying so hard to be casual, though that could wrap around and make him seem weird, ‘too casual’ is a thing that exists.

Was he being too casual?!

His pulled himself away from panically staring at a random page of a comic book only to have his eyes connect with the window.

He felt paralyzed.

He didn’t know how he knew it, though it was probably because they were the only party there that was larger than two, but when his eyes landed on the three of them he knew.

It felt like he had known them forever.

They were all standing in the outside seating area just outside of the cafe, hugging, all three of them so elated.

A redshirted boy that Virgil can only assume was Roman was almost jumping up and down. The boy who was obviously Patton, wearing a rather warm looking puppy and kitten themed sweater, was attempting to hug each of them together. The last of them had to be Logan who was smiling a warm smile, and hugging back when it suited him. They all seemed happy and Virgil felt a sting of envy again. Their warm arms and faces were exchanging looks and touches.

Virgil was standing in a Comic shop.

They fit so well together, their arms and hands wrapping around one another like it was the most natural thing in the world.

They fit.

They just- they fit together effortlessly.

His entire life Virgil had never fit anywhere, Virgil had been time and time again shown that he didn’t belong with anyone.

Apparently not even his soulmates.

He watched their hands curl into one another and their faces breaking out in bright smiles. He watched them confirm every fear he ever had, knowing that he could never do any of those things. He could never jeopardize them that way. His hands were cold, and his very presence brought gloom.

He had no place with the three of them. Their colour and their light was gift he was supposed to admire not contribute to.

Not that he had anything to contribute to it anyway.

Virgil tried to shake a barrage of thoughts from his head, eyes watering. The loud sound of a honking car horn startled him, blurry eyes raising to barely make out the faces of just as elated adults waving to the group from a car. Virgil’s cheeks flushed, hands almost dropping the comic book he was now tightly clutching, another car stayed down a ways, the parents smiling.

Normal families.

Normal happy families that Virgil can contact and ruin, ruin the same way he ruined his.

A flash of his fathers cold hanging body made his brain silence, his chest suddenly tighten, his mind tilting until there was nothing.

He woke up all at once, and the moment he was standing to the moment he was waking up on the floor felt like a mere instant appart. A concerned store manager hovering over him, a hand at the back of his head checking for an injury.

He pulled away from the strangers hands, the man's voice was muffled, sounding too far away from the still reeling Virgil.

“-Would you like me to call your parents” The words came into focus like a lense, slowly and with a gradient in time between indecipherable and clear. Virgil shook his head.

Who was there to call?

As Virgil sat up on the floor, he tilted back a little to peer out the glass doors, seeing both the cars and his soulmates gone.

‘Probably soul-bonding’ he thought to himself. Swallowing hard. An aching feeling filling his chest made him turn his head, and stare at the carpet there, mind dully wondering if there was ever going to be a time when things started to hurt less.

Scribbles

The night was all consuming and the edge of the table pressed into him. The blankness of his arms made the sorrow crop up inside of him again. His hoodie discarded to the floor.

It didn’t feel like there was a need for it anymore.

“You don’t normally take the hoodie off.”

Virgil’s head snapped to the side, looking into the eyes of his mother, who he hadn’t talked too since three days ago. He swallowed hard at the tired disheveled look she had. Her eyes bruised with circles and hair tousled.

“Yeah.” He said, turning his eyes back to the wood of the table as he waited for her to go for the liquor cabinet.

His mother took a seat.

She put her purse on the kitchen table, heaving out a sigh as she pulled her name tag off and ran a hand through her hair. “I- I know I’m.. I’m a- failure of a parent.” She stated and Virgil’s heart ached.

“No. You’re not. You do everything you can-,” Virgil began but his mother spoke over him

“I don’t- I don’t do enough.” She said, turning the name tag over in her hand as she spoke.

There was silence then. All consuming silence as they both sat in their own turmoils.

Emotional grievance pulling them both into the darkest places of their minds.

“How did you-” Virgil started suddenly, his voice cracking. “How did you deal with dad- with you know…”

His mother looked away from him. Her eyes vacant again, her expression mirroring the look she gave him in the bathroom that night. Virgil’s heart braced itself. The wounds so fresh that he didn’t think he could take another disappointment.

“I didn’t.”

She stood, tears running down her face. Giving Virgil the most apologetic look he’d ever seen on another human beings face. She pulled herself away from the kitchen table, the apartment echoing around them both as she pulled open the liquor cabinet.

Virgil stood, eyes spilling and a hand covering his mouth. He stepped over the hoodie. Leaving it there.

He burst through the door to his room with the edges of hysteria gripping at him. His hands going to clutch at his hair, yanking until it hurt. The pain making his eyes water.

He thought about his mother, about the years of isolation and pain. He thought about his dad leaving the both of them for his mental illness, and he thought about inevitability.

The pressing feelings that he would end up just like the both of them. His mother who would never see her soulmate again, and drank to forget that. His mind working against his own happiness no matter how every talks about soulmates being the ‘cure for all ills’.

He would be just as broken up, just as lost and desperate. Another ghosting figure in a world that doesn’t care about anyone with anything other than a happy ending. He was a damned soul.

A soulless.

He was truly a soulless now.

His breath came out in harsh puffs and he collapsed, sitting on his bed, keeling over and folding in on himself until his chest rested on his knees.

His eyes rose for just a second, just long enough for the time it took for his eyes to connect with the haphazard pile of the pages on his desk. The writing information Mrs. Higgs had given him. All of them collected in a single spot, discarded and crumpled.

There was stillness. The tears running down his face continued and he stood. His body slowly moving. He gripped the first page, moving it aside to pick up the Young-Authors Competition Rules. His hand shakily gripped a pen. His knuckles turning white with the force, and he pulled a loose leaf sheet onto the surface.

Then. He wrote.

Chapter 4

#Scribbles #my fic #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #soulmate au #polyamsanders #polyamory #hurt/comfort #angst

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nightcoremoon · 6 years

Text

Callout post: me

lying, manipulative, hold grudges, constantly paranoid, would absolutely 100% check out a teenager if nobody was looking because "it's a harmless crime", liar, cycle through idealization and devaluation, 'sick of fat people trying to be the next civil rights issue and making it that much harder to get civil rights for people who are ACTUALLY oppressed like gee idk poc and muslims and the mentally ill and queer people', frequently fantasizes about committing violent acts against people I rationalize they deserve it including family members, untruthful, attention whore, pedantic AND pretentious, tells lies, doesn't believe in one sister's claim of sexual assault (went to smoke weed with the alleged perpetrator), UNAPOLOGETICALLY AGAINST ASEXUAL EXCLUSIONISM (LITERALLY FUCK YOU DUMBASS FOURTEEN YEAR OLDS WHO SHRIEK THAT QUEER IS A SLUR, SHUT YOUR GODDAM FUCKING WHORE MOUTHS YOU DUMBASSES AND GO THE FUCK OUTSIDE OR READ A BOOK), would absolutely punch a child over an insignificant internet argument, secretly sought out sexual pleasure from two friendly seemingly platonic encounters with two girls I just met within twenty four hours, overreacts to the slightest provocations and has bitches at or vagueposted at several people who did not deserve it, has used mental illness and physical handicap to evade trouble from being late for work because video games and laziness and excessive sleep, has spent maybe a thousand dollars on fast food in 2018 alone, evades bills for medical care from an actually great clinic, lying sack of garbage, gave up on calling out family's bigotry and is now an accessory to prejudice, despises terfs predominantly for their refusal to fuck me because of being trans and yet meanwhile would not engage in sexual relationship with another trans woman or cis man unless reeeeeeeeally drunk, can and will blame being sexually assaulted as a child which probably didn't even happen because I don't think I remember it, unabashed furry, probably as addicted to video games and masturbation AND LIES as I almost was to alcohol, pretended to have almost been an alcoholic just to "win" facebook arguments about addiction, doesn't give a fuck my dad almost died from heroin JUST because he's a *little* homophobic and racist and classist and xenophobic because of a christian upbringing, would literally fucking murder him if he EVER PUTS HIS HANDS ON ME AGAIN, only slightly depressed because of laziness and a lack of drive and ungrateful to my family because hey they didn't kick me out for being trans so HEY THATS SUPPORTIVE ENOUGH FOR SOME OTHER PEOPLE SO WHY CANT I BE HAPPY WITH THAT, legitimately salty about ~the friendzone~ and just makes fun of incels because everybody else does, takes the moral high ground for not being a misogynist even though I don't deserve a pat on the back a lap dance and a blowjob for not hating women, overly sensitive about stupid things, thinking about faking having a trigger warning for more discourse credit, HUUUGE ASSHOLE to men I deem unattractive for no other reason than every single ugly fat guy I've ever met has been an asshole, rationalizes it after the fact because they eventually say something shitty because all men are terrible, probably a little bit of a cisnormative misandrist because trans men tend to be much better people, finds trans men attractive (specifically and significantly more so than cis men) so must clearly be fetishizing them, relatively okay with people referring to me as deadnamed and the wrong pronouns so probably just lying about being trans to everyone including myself, not 100% okay with the hijab for 'no reason other than all organized religion is evil and opposed to its mandate and the shame it forces on many women in many situations the exact same way I'm opposed to no sex before marriage and wives being subservient to their husbands and treating women as property in the torah and quran alike because ITS ALL BRAINWASHING' so is clearly not unlearning islamophobia and doesn't want to let that go, hypocrite because I believe in the basics of judeochristianity

and loathe atheism and atheists entirely because their smugness and smarm literally sets my blood pressure through the roof of what is safe and normal and yet claim to hate all organized religion, mansplains yet gets so pissed off when other people mansplain to me, judgmental of other cultures because they don't have the exact same values that I have, james gunn apologist, talks and talks and talks about anarchosocialism all damn day but would beat the shit out of a coworker for leaving me to do things because they're lazy because "any job worth doing is worth doing well" and other capitalismisms, literally couldn't give less of a fuck that his mother is dying because people die but it's no reason to make my life slightly harder and making me work hard when I work because BOO HOO MY LEGS HURT FROM THE LITERALLY MOST MILD CASE OF MUSCULAR DYSTROPHY I COULD'VE BEEN BORN WITH, hasn't actually performed real suicide attempt ever but still claims to have done so to attain sympathy that may result in physical affection, countless other shitty terrible things that yeah I recognize are bad but CANT SEEM TO CARE BECAUSE I HAVE DEPRESSION... WHICH IS THE WEAKEST FUCKING EXCUSE IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE GODDAMN WORLD

I am not a good person, okay?

I just pretend to be sometimes.

I'm sick of doing it, I'm sick of trying to do well and earn people's approval by doing and saying the right things only to just be ignored which is a step up from receiving many anons that hey, never actually told me to kill myself, but did take my words out of context to paint me as a racist. I am not the kind of racist who would vote for trump and march with the kkk. that is one of very few good things I can say about myself. but I'm an arrogant, violent, and angry opinionated perverted manipulative judgmental lying asshole. I'm not a good person. I have let myself fall so much and I deserve to be alone. my only connections to people were built on personal gain and I swear to myself that I do love them but those feelings fall away in direct correlation to how much they interact with me. I could love you to the point of obsession and stalking and one month later be completely and totally disinterested. I'm a bigot who pretends to not be bigoted and just parrots what other people say not because I believe it but because it's the right thing to say, and I only say what the right thing is to say because whenever I say a good thing something good will happen to me and if I say a bad thing something bad happens to me. it's all just self preservation, nothing else at all. but now I'm at the end of a road of just trying to do good and I'm alone. out of the only two friends that I can really say that I have left, one is far away and trapped in a guilt spiral that I caused by being too clingy, and the other has been behaving in a way my mind has decoded as defensive around me which makes sense as I have been very... the best way to describe it would be the way a dudebro incel interacts with any person who possesses a vagina/breasts but sneakier. in both relationships I've pushed my own wants and desires in extremis... I can't for the life of me recall the last time I have ever offered something in return other than my own company or paying for a meal at a restaurant or I guess transportation. and instead of sex I just want them to express even the slightest bit of intimate platonic physical affection towards me but that's still a lot to offer someone who has clearly expressed the existence of a sexual and maybe something near the realms of romantic in one of the cases physical attraction because for this aspec it's practically the same fucking thing.

and I've manipulated them to attain this goal. at this point my shit brain has considered just fucking going to town on my wrists with a razor blade to draw sympathy so that I'll get a hug or something beyond just a simply hello/goodbye, and finding a way to induce tears to concoct a sob story to reach the same end result, and one time very briefly via threat and intimidation so you can clearly see that I've gone far too into irredeemable territory. I've been playing and replaying cry of fear because it's just too similar to my own issues and the first ending where he just kills everyone he loves and then himself... I see me in that ending. and it scares me so much more than the sprinting screaming twitching one hit kill chainsaw guy ever will. I don't want that to be me, I want to change something, but I just can't get the help that I need. I had hoped to go for a domino effect, where if I could be cuddled for like five minutes or something, I'd have the energy to be more hygienic, which would make me feel capable enough to take on two jobs, which would get me the cash flow I need to pay my bills and take care of my hormones, which would put me in the headspace necessary to effectively use psychological help, which would let me get over my illnesses and actually become a more successful person instead of the pathetic husk I am here in non-fantasy land.

but that won't happen.

I'm just sitting here in the dark angsting about how nobody will touch me in a way that would produce oxytocin, and it's making me so sick, so physically sick, that it's affecting my brain too. I'm in pain, nauseous, vengeful, spiteful, paranoid, judgmental, and lonely. I'm stuck and I can't even kill myself because my mind wants me to stay alive and suffer through all of this because "oh it gets better" people have been saying that for well over half of my life. I was six or seven years old when I asked my mother to kill me, and that same level of desperation and bitterness has only gotten worse as time goes by. when does it get better? I'll tell you when it gets better, after I'm in prison or comatose or forty five years old with a cane and bad eyes and high blood pressure and lung cancer from all the secondhand smoke I've breathed in my life. when my life is over, that's when it gets better. I DONT WANT THAT. I WANT A NORMAL FUCKING LIFE RIGHT NOW. I WANT NORMAL FRIENDSHIPS AND A NORMAL HOME AND A NORMAL EDUCATION AND A NORMAL CAREER AND A NORMAL FAMILY. or at least I want someone to hold me and make me feel like I'm not so horrible and broken that I can't be touched.

but that's too much to ask for.

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rennyji · 3 years

Text

June 18th tweets

June 18th tweets...

-so in Hollywood, its actually now a style for women 2wear skirts/pants w/a bra &open blazer..i mean u see more skin or physique, for beauty adoring, of an actress..but the style itself is simply stupid..it looks weird...who comes up w/these trends..how do U start such a trend?!

so if a guy or girl is interested in each other, beyond the weird natural possible bumping into each other, you can get creative on how to further bump into a person in order to make an excuse to talk to the person or get to know them...-

- i think thats what people do when there isn't a freakish "situation" relaying everything about a particular person. If you really wanted to, you could speak to a person, without freakish stalking or a militia of long range friends doing ur bidding..-

- i mean alone, one can figure out that a girl's number begins with a 7 and ends with a 27. alone, from witnessing trips afar by chance, you can, say, drive near the bus terminal, and say, "i was driving around, do you need a ride..." to talk to a person, dear blondes, brunettes-

- black haired, etc. girls...if you really wanted to talk to a guy, or vice versa, you can. Just follow being natural without a freakish situation getting in your head...

- i would absolutely revere the girl who tells me about what's transpired, be it past, present, or future...without the vague pattern of signs set forth by orchestrators and their following...

- yeah i kinda don't like talking explicitly about these everyday things...but sometimes you gotta state the obvious, the way things are with your peers, at the risk of seeming full of urself or a non-regular person...i mean this is how the orchestrators build hype...

hmmm what else can i say...

2 my asian compadres..would you consider me asian? i mean, geographically, u guys are east asian, & i'm south asian...but you may not think geographically...i mean hey, harold & kumar was about us...I feel for every Indian, there is an East Asian friend-the harold&kumar effect...

you know who i haven't seen in movies in a while...margot robbie...harley quinn will forever have her face...its a crime not seeing margot robbie after "focus" and "suicide squad..." and regretfully she's not on twitter...

so a giant flying insect, with possibly something that stings, flew into my house yesterday...it survived the night, and now, for some stupid reason, is in my bedroom...gotta get rid of it...

-i mean geez a loo, it looks like a wasp, but all black...it landed on a rectangular award in my room...i took the award, while the insect didn't move, and went outside, tapped the award against my mailbox, and got rid of it that way...

- i think the orchestrators are harping on a past particular individual again, who I don't know...kindly stop...i don't know how to communicate with the unknown...this is my best attempt...moving on...

- is what the audience to the "situation" hearing male/particularly female college kid like sounds, on maybe the radio? That's just the front for something bigger...but then what do I know...why tell me anything...

I hope they come up with a second season to wanda vision on disney plus..but i don't know how that would work post-Thanos in the Marvel Cinema Universe..Vision could be another time variant like Loki..come to think of it, i don't recall seeing wanda in the fight against Thanos..

- i gotta meet eastern europeans and australians...i mean wanda, margot robbie...

so now theyre areRumors onTwitter about sam&bucky on Marvel's Winter Soldier being gay..i mean this is what i mean..i think i say some insightfulStuff..but i think people latch onto/obsess/&/or remember theMore tantalizingStuff..&1 level of orchestrators encourage this behavior.-

- i mean this level of orchestrators have this "randomly fallen into their hands" power of steering American behavior, hence fixing the flaws of American culture. But they're allowed to use it, to literally act as children, lusting for tantalizing things to talk about all day.-

- but back to the Marvel characters being gay...you know, personally I have nothing against those who are gay. i mean, to each his own...but when i was in a genetics and molecular biology summer program at columbia ages ago, a professor said that: when kids form in the wombs of-

-their mothers, whether destined to be male/female, they all start out as female. The guys go thru this inverting process of physical features. It was suggested that some men, some people, don't fully undergo the transformation..could explain why someGuys have femaleTendencies..-

- not limited 2 who they like...i dunno, it makes u wonder, if theresSomething more there...bluntlyPut, males&females, physically, have complimentaryFeatures...so when opposites don't attract, aside from their minds/souls beingInSync, the bodies can't exactly complimentEachOther.

- but probably on the controversial side of things, not my business, just sharing what i learned ages ago...

- but that said, with homosexuality being embraced and now visible in children's cartoons on Cartoon Network or Nickeloedeon, it makes you wonder what a five year old will think. -

-Exposed at a young age, would someone who is not biologically wired toward the same sex, feel "who they're attracted to" is a "choice." -

-When I look thru the filter of my life, I can date/marry australians, eastern europeans, greeks, italians, irish, etc. or whoever. I think in a way like I have those options. Likewise, would a 5year old, who wasn't wired to be gay, think he has the option 2 date male or female?-

- what about children growing up & developing best friends? I mean me, personally, when I lost my best friend in the 1st grade, i decided on mastering being independent. & now by a twist of fate, im facing enforced solitude by "the situation" & its "instructions." moving on,-

- and back to the point, would children have confusions, fantasies, about their best friend? As seen through the changing perceptions toward me in this "situation", based on one single word/action amidst 10,000 , people are impulsive to their feelings &thoughts...-

- would children, based on a thought error or a random thought from confusion, think they're attracted to the wrong individual?

on women, the big hair of the 80s or the fluffy hair of the 90s is missed...i mean the modern flat hair is nice too, but so was the hair of that period...

the default homepage on a windows computer on microsoft edge...i think its msn dot com...they don't display the web address...for some reason, lately, i've been attracted to the trending or side links...maybe because of the spice it offers my boring life...

I think the following is “a thing”…I remember hearing that, in potential relationships, “some women like the chase…” I mean, at any point, are women direct with men, or do they speak to men?! What happens after “the chase?!”

0 notes

404utopia · 4 years

Text

please catch me

Ever since I was little I was always sure of two things. The first one was that I wanted to find someone to love who would love me back, I always thought love was such a beautiful idea. I understand that in reality, its not always so beautiful -- but its definitely possible for some people to find true love. The second was that I always wanted to make an impression on the world. For some reason the idea of impressions were always the foundation of my existence. I still have difficulty trying to put this feeling into words but I guess I’ll try my best.

I guess if I had to pose it in question form, it would go a little like this:

“Do you really exist if you aren’t remembered?”

Even in life and death if you aren’t remembered do you really exist? If you’re the kind of person who suffers from depression and finds it so incredibly difficult to get out of the house and make something of your life chances are that you don’t really have any friends or connections, hopefully you have a family but even then there is something incredibly lacking when it comes to not having any connections to people outside of your own blood. I guess I can touch on that more later in the post but I need to get back to the original point. (Aside from family) if no one is really thinking of you, being all alone in a sense because you have no friends or connections, if you are not remembered, do you really exist? And even after death, once you’re done being remembered, you’re not even a page in the book of the worlds history, its like you never existed once you’re not remembered after death. That idea always kind of fucked with me in the back of my head. I always wanted to do something to make an impression, I know no one can last forever, but if I can at least last a while I think I would be happy.

Lately I’ve been feeling extremely worried for myself. The combination of the state of the world and the state of every single aspect of my personal life is weighing on me too much. I refuse to seek the appropriate help because it would only make me feel worse, it would only ruin my life further. As a human being I have the responsibility of lasting. The second you think of giving up you’re marked as faulty. If any medical record was made over the fact that you felt suicidal you could basically never hope of having a proper future ever again.

I guess this is the part where I explain whats been weighing on me. I think I’ll put it in list form, because its much easier to transcribe my thoughts into text that way.

1. Obviously, COVID-19 has been really affecting my life. I’ve been extremely worried that it’ll get to my mother, who is the last person in my life who loves me and understands me. If anything happens to my mother I will break.

2. The quarantine has surprisingly been affecting me. I was already home-bound and stuck in my room even before quarantine was in place but for some reason the essence of being forced inside is a lot more mentally taxing. Its almost like, even if I wanted to try and pull myself together and even do something as simple as take a trip to the city alone or go out for dinner alone to temporarily relieve myself - I can’t. Being stuck in my room because I’m depressed is not as bad being stuck in my room because I’m depressed and everyone outside is dying.

3. My parents have been going through a divorce, or so I think? It started but now its been in limbo between them separating and not separating. But its so mentally taxing because every single day my dad mentally abuses my mother and torments my family and my mom does not have the strength to rid herself of over 30 years of marriage. Hearing them fight everyday and seeing my mom be so morbid and depressed in her 50′s is breaking my heart every single second I’m inside the house.

4. I broke up with my first physical girlfriend at least 4 or 5 months ago. I’m over her, I was over her not even days after it, but I think the only thing about it thats been affecting me is the way it ended. She turned around one day and decided she didn’t love me anymore even though I was so careful and delicate about communication and I think it really fucked me up how someone could just turn around in a split second and just decide you no longer matter.

5. My only source of friendship - my online friends, they’ve been really aggressive towards me for a while now. Even when I was still in college and at my peak with irl friends they were being really aggressive towards me. Everyday it feels like they’re tired of my shit, of my existence. They always have a problem with something I say and everyday I feel betrayed and hopeless that these friends I have are not even friends I feel safe to talk to. Maybe its all in my head, but how do I even get it out of my head?

6. I really miss my best friend. I miss her so much. She was the only person I ever met who stuck with me for so long and tried her best to help me learn and develop. She was the only friend who shared so many things in common with me when it came to interests and because I didn’t know any better at the time I fucking ruined it. I knew it would come to it but I really just couldn’t catch my breath when it came to being friends with her. It always felt like everything I experienced with her was so far beyond me. Its so hard to put into words, its a feeling that only exists in my head and in my heart. I’ve learned and grown so much through therapy over the last 2-ish years and I wish I could have another chance to show her how much I’ve grown. I know I already had so many chances but I would do anything to have someone like her be by my side again. I tried reaching out to her and she said she isnt interested. I dont blame her. It hurts a lot but I've gotta accept her feelings. It might be the last time I reach out to anyone. I don't want to make her feel responsible or feel like shit. That's the last thing I want. I'd want her to connect with me again becuase wants to, not because I begged her to.

7. I’m so lonely. Outside of my mom and my online “friends” I’ve got nothing. Nothing at all. I don’t exist outside my room. Theres no other way to put this. its as simple as I’ve got nothing. I really want to just die thinking about it.

8. I was really close to landing a solid job at an airline company before covid became an issue. I was really excited that I was going to get a job so soon after finishing college. I thought even if I was alone at least I would be doing something with my life. And then this pandemic swept the world and that dream got shot down. I was expecting that I could use that job to travel to Japan for free and live a dream that always felt so impossible. I was a step closer to this dream and it got shot down by something so sudden and crazy.

9. The state of the world, humanity, and I guess politics is so draining. Everyday its the same thing over and over again. The country is split in half and everyone hates each other. We live in a world where its so hard to reach out when its almost like every hand is so far off. Its not even just like that in America too which is the fucked up thing. The entire world is dealing with so much hatred and splits and hardships it feels like theres nowhere to run. I’m so tired of politics and hate.

10. The worst part of all of this, is where I was before any of this came to be. It feels like yesterday I had made so many friends on campus and had my best friend to hang out with. It feels like yesterday i was going to the city with friends and going to karaoke and getting drunk with my best friend. It feels like just yesterday I was on discord with my online friends before they felt so distant. it felt like yesterday i was on discord with my friends screaming and joking and laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. It felt like yesterday I was holding my ex’s hand and it felt like yesterday that I could remember how it felt to actually be loved and appreciated. It felt like yesterday my family was all together and we weren’t so depressed and torn. It felt like yesterday I didn’t have to worry about my future. I was still depressed during those times, over different things maybe but even then it felt so different.

When I was depressed back then it still felt like I had something to fall back on. I always thought “well if I don’t have a family at least I have my friends”, “if I dont have my online friends at least I have my best friend”, “if I don’t have my best friend at least i have my girlfriend”. well what now. i’ve got nothing left.

i’m free falling.

i don’t know how much longer i can last.

i’ve always had occasional thoughts of suicide even if I wasn’t even necessarily suicidal. ive never been in a rush to die. i cant say I ever really felt “holy shit I need to fucking end my life right now”. even right now I don’t feel that way. though I always thought of ways to die. Like I always wondered how I would do it. But I would always immediately dispel the thought because it felt so wrong and dirty.

but now. now when I think of suicidal and all the ways I could die i don’t even dispel it. I don’t wash it away immediately. I’m genuinely trying to think of ways I could that would be as quick and painless as possible.

im worried about myself. I need a miracle. i’m free falling and I need to be caught. I can’t do this on my own anymore.

i couldn’t possibly reach out to my mom over this. shes dealing with so much with her divorce, if she knew her son was suicidal all hell would break lose it feels like the very fabric of reality would break. ive been in therapy for around 2 years and ive grown and learned so much but for what?

im still alone and my life is still falling apart, the only difference therapy is offering me is clarity, instead of things seeming so dark is that its clearly dark. its not a foggy kind of depression its a very clear, morbid, understanding kind of depression.

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violetteviolence · 7 years

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okay so in having a discussion about the phenomenon of neo-liberal young cis straight people consuming queer tragedy porn and why that really is a problem and isn’t just people being nice i was reminded of an experience i had all throughout college and really just needed to talk about it

under a read more because this got way too long but im sorry im so bitter about this shit

also young queer college kids do not make the mistake i did and allow your university and even other queer people exploit you, your identity, or your lived experience to make straight people feel better

so okay, i was super heavily involved with my universities queer campus organization and the faculty adviser for the group also happened to be the unofficial “queer liaison” for the university. So she used to do these “panel discussions” where she would take a small group of “volunteer” (i say volunteer in quotes b/c in all reality if you were the only person with a “unique” identity, aka not a white cis gay man or lesbian, you were peer pressured and coerced into going whether you really wanted to be there or not) students from the org to go speak at various (usually graduate sociology and psychology) classes on campus.

And let me just say, I have never in my life been through something that so purposefully shows how creepy, disgusting, and ineffective as this shit. We would literally sit in a line at a table in the front of the room, facing the students sitting at their desks. Our adviser would first say a few words about the campus organization and its history, and then she would defer to us and we would start at one end and go down the line and one by one give this literal audience of strangers our “pertinent identifying info” aka “Name / year / major/ identity” in that order (and god help you if you had an identity they wouldn't know because then you would have to explain that first before you even got on to the “real” part) and then we would recount our entire coming out stories. Every one that we had, the more tragic and tear-jerking the better. We were encouraged to really “tug on the heartstrings” and lay it on thick. We would even purposefully seek out people we knew had terrible family problems and would exclude those who didn’t because it was “boring.” It was a common joke that I should never go first because my story was too “short and boring” because there was nothing to tell and was always encouraged to talk more about my identity and explaining polysexuality than anything. My girlfriend who also had a very supporting family was always encouraged to play up how “lucky, fortunate, and grateful” she was and how other people had it so much worse.

And then, after we were all done, the class would get to ask us questions. And every. single. time. the questions were the most invasive tragic ones possible, thats all they cared about. not our identities or our lives beyond that or how they could help work towards being better allys. nope. every time it was “so did you try to commit suicide? who was the one person who was there for you? whats your relationship like now? well do you think you would ever forgive them? how was going to therapy? do you take any medications now? have you disowned your entire family?” and like it was just relentless. And the few times we would bring people who didn’t have those stories, or who didn’t talk about them, or we would try to focus on other things, we would get crickets. not a single question. every fucking time.

Like ive never in my life felt more like a circus act then I did during those few years doing those panels. It was literally a performance piece where you paraded around these queer kids and their “tragic backstories” so that a class full of cishet people could cry and boo-hoo and then pat themselves on the back for not being like those “real homophobes” when meanwhile I can guarantee you every single one of them said and did homophobic and transphobic shit every single day.

It was so pointless and horrifying but we totally did it under the guise of “helping allys understand” and using guilt and empathy to try to win our humanity and right to exist from literal strangers and honestly like it did not work and it did jack shit and was so dumb and not worth and i will never not be bitter

#i dont even know how to tag this monstrosity

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somethingconsistent · 7 years

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act, react.

I found a note yesterday.

I love/hate my sentimental self.

Being convinced that what i had was real, and forever.

I set up traps for myself.

Would it have been better to not read it at all?

Perhaps to notice the handwriting and immediately throw it away?

That would be so out of character though, would it not?

So i read them. It didn’t make me cry or anything. we are way beyond that.

I had forgotten about that detail of my life completely until i read it in scribbling handwriting on yellow note paper.

I know there are more. I hope i’m in a better place when i find them.

I cleaned out my drawers, my closet, my safe keeping box.

But i don’t have it in me to clean out every single book that i read in that span.

Page markers. Little reminders.

I left a note for someone in a book four years ago. She’s never read the book, and so she has never found it.

I like little notes. tiny reminders of my love. itty bitty pieces of affection left just because.

I keep every card that i get. Even the generic ones.

Sometimes on the dark days it’s nice to see small reminders that people love you, or care about you.

I don’t know why things about suicide hit me so hard. But they do, every time.

I’m much more afraid of death than suffering. There is nothing more scary than the unknown to me.

So then why did i sit and sob uncontrollably watching the last few episodes of this netflix show?

i may have needed a good cry i usually do that more often than i have lately.

Crying is therapeutic to me. I need that crying high the way some people need exercise or nicotine. or coffee. or whatever the addiction of the day is.

Is it my fragile heart that makes watching suicide and rape and gore so difficult?

i’ve never experienced anything like what i’m seeing. and yet i can’t watch it.

I turn my head or leave the room. It’s not real, it’s just a minute on a tv show, or a scene in a movie. But i can’t stomach it.

Lies of omission are still lies you know?

When did i turn from the person that everyone told everything to,

into the person that people tell half truths to.

they tell me a version of the truth. a jean safe version.

when did my own ridiculous standard of ethics get to where it is now?

you have to take every experience as a learning opportunity.

sometimes thats easier said than done.. but you still have to do it.

don’t exclusively take from people and dump on them, and think that they couldnt possibly have anything to teach you.

everyone’s story is different. you just need to be willing to listen.

are you?

is anyone willing to reflect on themselves anymore?

personal growth, personal reflection.

why not blame someone else.

there is so much wrong in the world today.

i just wish i knew how to fix it.

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growinginsideshrinkingoutside · 7 years

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Disclaimer: This post series is going to deal with very sensitive topics including suicide, abuse on many levels, and hard truths. If you or someone you know is somehow included in this blog series, please do not be offended by what I may write.

It is my life, and my perspective.

I want everyone to know where I come from and what I have overcome, and I believe that everyone is entitled to their own personal truths. I know that many people deal with hard things in their life, and you may never know because it is so well hidden, especially when it appears fine on the surface. Most people would never guess that I’ve had the life that I have based on who I am at this point, but I wasn’t always the person you see today. I hope my story has an impact on those that need it, and to know that you aren’t alone.

Read the rest: Part 1

Part 2:

Things seemed relatively fine for awhile in this new life. It was strange and completely different. My mom and I began to attend a church that was near our trailer park and we slowly started to know many people in the village. But as soon as we made friends and began to live a generally happy and settled life, we suddenly had to move yet again. We had only lived here for one year. We moved to the next village over, and the same thing happened every single time. We moved every year, or less than a year. As soon as it seemed we were getting comfortable and gaining friends, D would pick us up and move to another location.

In the second place that we lived, there was a family across the street that we became friends with. I always would go over and play with their kids every evening and every weekend. They were great friends, although I can’t remember their names at all at this point.

I remember one particular night when we were visiting them. All the kids were watching Disney’s Robin Hood in the living room, laying on the mustard colour shag carpet and eating raw, cold hot dogs as a snack (what a strange and disgusting memory), when suddenly there was a lot of laughing coming from the adults in the dining room. Then came a loud yell from my mom, and I was incredibly scared. It didn’t sound right at all, and sure enough it wasn’t. D was playing with a lighter and keeping the flame lit while getting closer and closer to my mom’s hair. Somehow under the guise of “having fun”, everyone else at the table was laughing while my mom tried to get him to stop. He eventually ended up setting her hair on fire, which is when she yelled. Thankfully she didn’t get burned on her skin, and she did manage to put out the flame in her hair quickly, but that doesn’t change the fact that D was still laughing. He enjoyed torture in these ways, and didn’t see anything wrong with it. Mom took me home immediately and the house was an anger filled place for quite awhile afterwards.

Soon after, they were having more money problems. I cannot remember where exactly D was working at the time, but mom’s disability cheque from the government was not going very far. I was 9 at this point, and I had been saving all the money from every birthday and holiday for quite a few years. I had about $300 saved up and the two of them sat me down and asked me if I would be willing to give up all my savings to help them out of whatever problem was going on. Of course I said yes, because how could I say no? I wanted to help out as best as I could.

Unfortunately, that was only the first time that my money was “borrowed”. Much of the money that was ever sent to me as a gift from family on any holiday was saved by me, only to be used to pay bills at some point. I always said I didn’t mind because I wanted to help out my family, but of course I was always sad. It was quite a fortune to a young child, and I loved saving my money, planning what I could buy some day. Mom always tried to pay me back little by little, but eventually they used everything I had saved again and again, because money problems don’t usually stop once they begin. At some point, Mom cashed in part of her life insurance early, and paid me back some of what they had borrowed, and then started giving me an allowance every week for the chores I did. I would always spend most of my allowance as soon as I got it, afraid that I wouldn’t be able to keep it anymore. So my $5 got poured into an Archie comic and junk food. Every week, I would buy the same things from the local drugstore. Archie comic, candy, or chips and a pop.

It was around this time that I started really gaining weight. Since we didn’t have much money, mom always made me eat as much as possible when we had food. She wanted to make sure to keep me well fed in case we couldn’t afford much more on another shopping trip. In addition to this, cheaper food tends to be more unhealthy, and when cheap is all you can afford, that’s just what you end up eating. We always had plenty of cheap junk food in the house, ready to munch on. We had lots of processed and packaged products ready to go for dinners as well. This is really when my emotional abuse started. D constantly called me names. Every name you could generally think of to throw at a fat kid, I guarantee he said it all. There was nothing encouraging about this man. He beat me down at every turn. Every day without fail, he would yell at me, call me names, and tell me how pathetic I was. Naturally, as I can see clearly now, these reasons drove me to something, and that something was food. It made me happy to feel full and it gave me something to do and keep busy, ignoring the world around me.

It came time to move yet again. This move however, began with some excitement. We left the village and were now going to be out on a farm. It was a beautiful piece of land with a big valley on one side of the house, leading down to a creek. There were plenty of trees and wilderness to explore. It was a young boy’s dream world. I could explore for hours and hours on end. It was the kind of place that stimulated imagination. I cannot imagine my life without this wonderful place. It gave me a refuge from the emotional abuse that was happening to and around me. I could just get outside and wander through my own personal forest, pretending to be a famous adventurer, exploring new worlds.

Shortly before this, the third move, I was removed from school. There were a few reasons that it happened. The main reason that I was always told is because the teacher wasn’t challenging me enough, and I wasn’t learning anything in school because I was ahead of all the other kids. This is definitely true, and I remember that very clearly, but I have always believed that another reason was because it kept me from gaining friends. Not only that, but my mom and I could not attend church anymore now that we lived outside of town, because D refused to let mom “waste gas” getting into town for more than groceries, and the store happened to be closed on Sundays. This move away from the village also made it easier for D to cheat on my mom. The wife of the family that lived across the street from us became (I believe) his first affair.

He would take me into town so that I could play with her kids, my friends. He always told mom thats what he was doing so he could seem like he was doing something nice, but really, it was all just a ruse to sleep with the wife while the kids and I were playing in the basement or in the backyard. It was sadly the first of many times and multiple women. As I remember these events now, it’s shocking to me that I had no idea what was going on upstairs. But when you are an oblivious child, there’s plenty of things that going on around you that are well beyond your grasp.

Since I was no longer attending school, mom had begun homeschooling me, and now D had opened up a mechanics shop at the nearest truck stop. We lived very close to the truck stop and he always insisted that helping him in the shop was more important than school. So I had to quickly do my schoolwork in the mornings and spend the rest of the day working in the shop, sweeping, mowing the yard, stocking shelves, grabbing tools for him while he worked, etc.

This was where the physical abuse began.

Part 2 in a blog series devoted to detailing my life. Real. Honest. Open. #BellLetsTalk #mentalhealth #health #weightloss #abuse #suicide #suicideprevention #suicideawareness Disclaimer: This post series is going to deal with very sensitive topics including suicide, abuse on many levels, and hard truths.

#abuse #bellletstalk #emotional abuse #health #mental health #Suicide #suicideawareness #suicideprevention #victim #weight loss

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somedaypast-thesunset · 7 years

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so he calls me and asks whats wrong. and i feel like this is trapping me because i cant express anything but by not expressing it it creates a cycle. i told him i didnt want to go to the park tomorrow. to me, i expected like an oh well whatever and i’d watch some videos and go to sleep.

but now he was starting into his shit again. and hes telling me its not okay im not referred to a psychologist and that the doctor is not enough. but its like.. he does not understand clinical depression. like he doesnt understand how far depression can affect every single thing in your life and to explain this is an excuse. like why didnt you do xx today, why did it take this long to do this, why do you nap so much etc. and its like.. im tired. im really tired of being alive. and you should be fucing grateful that im sitting here today talkng to you because everyday is a choice to be alive. i AM choosing to be here DESPITE everything that says i shouldnt. despite everything that makes it super hard.

but its all an excuse. its all “defeatist”. but its like.. i dont sit here and tell you word for word what ive spoken about or what has been said to me. the first few visits were in the understanding that i was clearly really really fucked up. like i believe the doctor believed that i was very close to commiting suicide but i was functioning at a level that i didnt need to be tipped over. like he had a real chance of helping someone in need and he jumped at the opportunity. and the trust had to be built - he asked me questions about my life and the history and we had to dicuss in depth my mother whom i have not spoken about in 7 years.

and like part of my problem is beating myself up. like .. wow i was such a shitty kid, i was a terrible daughter to my mother - i must have been the things she said i was and that must have contributed to the eath of my father so it must be my fault. do i “believe’ this? like reallyyyy believe it? no. cuz im not dumb. these people lived their own crazy lives. but this was my life for 25 years. TWENTY. FIVE. not like oh i had a break and was a drug addict for 7 yrs. no. all twenty five years, every damn day of my life was dedicated to these people. every. single day. my own mother tried to have the cops do something for me 4 months before she died because she knew that the relationship i had with my father was detrimental on like a next level.

but how do you turn away from a sick person? how do you do that? he said i should feel pride. i should feel like i had strength and look at it as positive. which is fine - it’s fine. but dont you see? dont you see i put in TEN YEARS of UNPAID WORK to have a man DIE? do you know what i got from the responsiblity to other people? to be on another persons schedule? to live another persons rules?

nothing. absolutely nothing. and ive seen “grown men” decide to stop working for months at a time because a job let them go for a reason they didnt agree with. like they got “fucked”. but i really got fucked. and yu now what thanks i got?

people like him telling me i didnt do anythhing but watch tv and smoke weed. youre right. i did. in between making meals and cleaning up blood and shit, i smoked weed and watched tv. that was my only fucking solace because i could not go away for longer than a night without serious concern for my father. but i smoked weed. and i watched tv. so that means i didnt “work hard”.

but the thing is - no one my age has been a full time caregiver. no one. not a single person can tell me what its like to be a caregiver or how i should feel or what the ‘right amount’ of work is. in reality - if you believe i smoked weed and watched movies and he was always “going to die anyways” then how much “work” did i do in the decade he wasnt dead? how did i manage an entire decade with a man hell bent on killing himself? tell me how i didnt “work”.

and im not into this argument anymore. i will not allow a single person on this earth to speak on my time with my father. not a single person knows ANYTHING about this time except me and my father and hes dead. and i cannot speak solely on it. thats just my word. so i will never argue about it. believe what the fuck you want because if you dont believe me theres not a damn thing that can be done to change your mind and i dont have to care becaue i know what i did i know the time i spent with him.

but he continued telling me he thinks i should be working and i should be trying harder. i am frustrated - how do i explain the massive concept of trauma and severe depression? do you not understand that “everyones” reaction is part of the problem and stigma of depression? this is why people are suffering in silence - well he goes to work but hes a sever alcoholic. he wants to die everyday but damnit he still goes to work.

and its like none of this at all in any capacity makes me feel different about the world aroun me. why do you want to die? why are you still working and wanting to die? whats the point? because youre ~not dead yet~? awsome. that really gets me going. that sparked the flame right back up inside of me. i cant believe i never thought of that - might as well do it because i’m not dead yet.

and you think its procrastination. that its inherent laziness. do you not think im procrastinating on suicide then? perhaps im just waiting it out? maybe im waiting for the final nail in the coffin; my last reason. either give me a reason to live or give me a reason to die but you know im in purgatory right now.

and thats part of the problem - i’m asking for a reason when i should make a reason. i create my own reason. and i know that. i have worked very very hrd to solidify the concept in my brain that i have to make my own reason - no one will provide a reason and more so its not okay to have someone provide it. because someone could die or leave and then what? you make your own. i made the mistake of putting my reason into a dieing man. and i waited far too long to pull back. even when i wanted to nothing was ever as important, nothing ever fulfilled my life and soul like knowing i was responsible for this person. i had a purpose to be here.

he continued. continued. continued. i finally broke down, “im sorry - you called me. i was sitting here a little sad about to wath fucking gta videos and go to sleep and probably wake up in a different mood. now youve called me and made me so upset that im now in a panic attack and sobbing and contemplating my self worth. how does this help me?”

“this is just my opinion. im allowed to express my opinion when youre life affects me.”

and he continued but continually tried to reiterate that he wasnt attacking me or my methods. it sounded more like frustration and inability to understand. like he was unwilling to accept that as a depressed person i struggled on my own to find a trust worthy doctor after having issues with doctors my whole life. then i allowed this person to help me but it wasnt like.. in the movies. this is not like fairytale romantic manic depressive pixie dream girl. like u loved me so hard i got this help and magically became amazing in 30 days and forgot all my troubles.

this is serious trauma. this is serious trauma that now that we are getting even older has become even more detrimental because i did not even realize how traumatic it was until i learned to be “apart of society”. by “being apart of society” it triggered dozens of things in past trauma that i did not even understand as being traumatized and thus had serious depression and anxiety about issues unrelated to people just being dead. its not like oh my parents are dead and im sooo sad. no. i have a very complex grief that spanned decades and to even expect me to remember what happened to lead me to the conclusions i have now immediately and just convey this to a professional and have them give me a once over and this is how to fix it is soooo naive.

this will be a very long process that involves more than doctors visits. he acknowledged i needed daily assistance to overcome my issues and that my own isolation for so long has prolonger and increased social issues that im not getting around on my own. he told me i needed to “grow up”. i told him i agreed. i said it was very frustrating to be me and know that this was fucked up and still be doing it because i didnt have the tools beyond myself to figure out how to “grow up”. like this is all trial and error for me. no one held my hand and protected me and patted my ass when i came home strung out and fucked up. no one sat me down and told me to put a smile on. i was not in any way shape or form parented by anyone. i have never had a parent. i have been completely independent and have thought indepndently for as long as i can remember. i have always dealt with my issues on my own and have had to care for someone for ten years starting as a teenager. in those ten years i never failed to pay a bill or do something i was supposed to do.

okay. so this is just me. and i would love to have a parent. i would love to have someone who knows more than me around. someone who gives a shit. but i dont. so its just me. and whatever i think is right which has been convoluted by a dieing man and mentally ill woman. thats my foundation. so im sorry if im not a fucing university graduate building a 401k driving a car with my own house. im sorry. u know im sorry im not even a fucing fast food mcdonalds employee highschool graduate with 10$ in a savings account and money on a bus card.

but bitch. i’m still here. i’m mad as hell and i’m still fucking here. thats literally the greatest accomplishment for me on a daily basis. its my biggest accomplishment and greatest anxiety. im still here.

i told him again - all of this was making it worse. the real issue i had was having no one to talk to at all. no one wanted to listen to me. everyone wants to tell me what to do or how i should think or some negative opinion because theyre envious that i get ‘free money’.

and the doctor had to convince me to get disability. i told him the people around me felt i could work. he said he did not believe in any way i was capable of holding a job right now and listed a number of reasons why he believed i couldnt, most having to due with symptoms of sever depression. in a switch side, if i listed these reasons i would be told theyre merely excuses by other people and that “they were tired too”. which is why he had to reiterate a number of times to fuck what other people thought. no one has to live my life but me. in reality its disgusting that people continually look down on or disrespect me outright for collecting benefits while they pity me for having issues. it’s hypocritical and bullshit.

finally he said that he wanted to see me do better and wanted to encourage me to find ways to cope with these times of serious depression. i told him that i do have ways to cope - but this is real life and its not always successful. but yet, i have been successful - i’ve not self harmed this year. not because it was “a fad” but because i actively choose not to do that to cope. this is a choice i make during every anxiety attack. this is a sign of strength i have this year i did not last year. so perhaps i spent four hours crying but i did not cut myself or attempt suicide so all i did was spend four hours crying. just so i could be alive right now. so who cares that i spent four hours crying lets be grateful im here now. who cares that it took five days to mail a letter - i mailed the letter. thats what matters. you dont even know that ive been given disability forms twice before that were NEVEr MAILED. fuck they werent even FILLED OUT. so not only did i get these forms, i had them filled out and then i MAILED tHEM. 100% BY MYSELF. my momy didnt help me. i didnt get any fucing drives to the doctor. nothing of this process was made easy in any fucking way. and i did it. so does it matter that ti took five days? absolutely not. even if it took five days, in 60 days do you think itll matter if im accepted? when i have those benefits, do you think itll matter i took 5 days to mail the thing? fuck no. because i mailed it and got the benefits

LET ME CRY. LET ME BE SAD. acknowledge i exist with this sadness!! do you not understand the pain of being ignored when you’re suffering!! i told him that i try to be a good listener for him - i let him speak about whatever he wants, whenver he wants in which ever way he wants to speak about it at the time; if he feels very angry and upset at something and expresses that, i dont later hold him to it and say “well u were angry about this before now ur not how come”. i said i never express my opinion because im a listener just listening so i acknowledge him and if i think hes doing something that is harmful to him i say something like “i dunno if thats a good idea” or “i wouldnt personally do that” or “thats gross” (usually used in context with an elaborate idea involving sex or drugs).

he paused and said that was true and i did do that. i told him i just wanted someone to listen to me. all i really needed to be “helped” was for someone to listen without any preconceived notions or opinions they wanted to put on me. just accept the words im saying and perhaps if possible express some empathy of some kind because they understood the sentence i put out in the world and maybe they can say something like “i bet this thing happening to you would cause this feeling.” to demonstrate that they understand the connection between an event and the reaction to the event and that i am not an insane weak dumb person for having an emotion. no one does this for me. no one. including him. and i believe at this moment he understood, finally, that no one does this for me. including him. tht i am a good listener, that i do not bring him down and allow him to be his own person until i think something is harmful and then i try to express to him my serious concern about his thoughts but not tell him hes a bad person for those thoughts. hes not lazy or stupid or evil. i tell him based on personal knowledge and experience why i think its harmful and rarely is it based just on a personal opinion. like i dont say dont do drugs cuz its bad. i say dont inject drugs, dont take drugs on a regular basis - all very valid safety concerns in the use of drugs. it is not “dont do drugs”. because i know that for something to matter to someone long term you have to create your own purpose. he cant not do drugs for me or any other person. he hs to not do drugs for himself. but i can encourage better use of drugs.

finally he apologized - an apology that has been maybe a year in the making. he said he realizes now that being aggressive and negative about things is not helping anything and that he should be encouraging about positive things in order to promote me actually recovering. he said he was “man enough” to admit that he was wrong and that this is something he should work on to better support me because he believed i was making an effort.

but it was a very good example of something that was small that couldve been handled differently that became a massive overwhelming issue. his bottom line was that i should see a psychologist. i told him i would tell my doctor that the person closest to me in my life is saying they believe i need more/additional help than whats being provided because they want to know the person im seeing to get help is specialized in helping people like me. thats totally fine request to make. im not going to argue that the doctor is “enough”. i dont know. maybe hes right. maybe i need to talk to even more people. but to tell me this on top of “blah balh you get welfare you smoke you nap all day etc.” is horrendous and backwards. should i see a psychologist to tell them what an asshole you are and that you probably cause alot of grief in my life?

like how my doctor thinks of you right now?

he couldve just said hey you know i can see youre trying but i want to suggest maybe asking your doctor to refer you to a psychologist again because i think itll be helpful for both of us.

like he wanted to help and was roadblocked by the fact that i had no coping mechanisms for him to bank on. so he was coming in blind and frustrated that he is not even normally capable of being a good “shoulder to cry on” and now he had no instructions but he still had a very sad girl to worry about. and this doctor didnt “give me” any coping mechanisms so what good is this doctor if he cant “fix” the issue he has to deal with now.

but there is no coping mechanism. theres no like “turn on this song and ill be okay”. theres a variety of things i can try to do, not all of them will work, but one will. one will bsolutely because if one does not, ill be dead. one is always going to work even if the one is time. just waiting it out and battlign it in some meditative state. but one will work.

like he disregarded alot of reasons for what i do as like some general thing i just “like”. like some random thing in my head that makes me like it. and im obsessed with watching specific gamers on youtube. i do not play video games. like i have almost no interest in video games. i dont care who the fuck wins. i dont care about the mechanics of a game. i will watch the most boring ass games like a shitty flash game or a fucing terrible job simulator that is just the most complicated system of buttons and bullshit to move a fucing tractor and i would never even remotely consider even trying to play the game let alone download it or install it.

but here i am. hours a day. watching games i will never play by men i will never meet. and i trid to explain this - its “sad” to you that im going to go watch these things. but to me its like.. a graduated version of something that can be simplified with penny lane’s quote, “if you ever get lonely you just go to the record store and say hi to your friends”. like ive always held the idea that music and sound is a constant familiar. so i have specific sounds - much like people have specfic smells or tastes. as a kid my fathers keys jingled in his pockeet and i could hear this jingle from anywhere in the store. like my ears trained to it because i feared getting lost but if i could hear it i knew i was okay. a bit older i grabbed on to all my favourite bands but what i found was after years of doing things, familiarity felt like visitng a grave. like nothing changed. it was so familiar it was stale, it was a nostalgic memory i was visitng and not being embraced by a warm hug. many of my favourite bands broke up and stopped releasing new music.

i told him that the sound of these mens voices was calming. like i had alot of isolation and listening to music or whatever didnt seem real. but here are these real life people who have their own things they do and that happen to them and everyday they pop up and talk about nothing. NOTHING> they come and be like “hey so today we’re going to build a room” or “so today we’re going to race this virtual car” and nothing in the game matters and like people get “mad” but no one is mad. because nothing in the game matters. you die, you come back.

and like the attitude of these people helps. like “damn im in last place today BUT ILL GET YOU” because nothing in the game matters. or maybe you feel invested in some grand feat theyre trying and they dont get it and theyre like ah shit well gotta keep trying. so ive focused on specific gamers who rarely are offensive or loud or otherwise unwatchable.

but he brushed it off a bit, “yeah, yeah, its someone with a comforting voice” but the tone of his voice hinted at jealousy; like why wasnt it him? why couldnt he just play a video game and make commentary and ill feel better? why does it have to be these guys?

and maybe because i dont know them? they will (potentially) never do me wrong. maybe one day they’ll stop recording. theres a small chance theyll say something super offensive or racist. but i mean theyre never going to personally attack me. theyre never going to point me out and say this girl is fucked. i can be their friend without being their friend. i get to be apart of inside jokes and funny conversations but never actually apart of it. i get to feel like i’m not alone while being terribly alone. and i dont think im necessarily choosing this above other things to cope - i think it’s what i’m “making due with”. i found something and it takes such little effort.

im honestly at a point where i am waiting. my current perspective on life is that people are absolute fucking pieces of shit who have little regard for anyone but themselves or their own kind. however there are 7 billion people on the planet and it would be “racist” so say “all humans” are pieces of shit. so like.. a lare majority of humans are pieces of shit and there are a few who are actually good souls but when you have 7 billion ppl and like 100,000 are good - who the fuck cares? thats like a drop in the bucket. to act in the world as though you are encountering those 100,000 ppl on a daily basis is a set up for failure and thus how it creates the cycle of 7 billion pieces of shit because “self preservation”.

from what i have honestly seen of the world - fuck the world. hands down 100% i have absolutely no desire what so ever to participate in society. i have experienced some terrible shit and i have seen and heard some even worse terrible shit and the positive DOES NOT outweigh the negative at all in anyway. the only reason people care about me in any way right now is because i am considered a “burden” to them by having issues. i dont want my issues. i hope i recover and become a mentally sound and healthy individual. because i do not in any way want to be involved with people on a whole. like if i can afford to live alone and buy my own food and not struggle as i have been - i’m done. i’m sorry. i’m waiting to leave society. i realized how disgusting people are and have lowered myself to using them when i can for like the very basic theyre willing to do (despite what i put out i never get remotely the same in return) and when i am capable of supporting myself i honest to god dont thin ill do half or more of the things i do now “for people”. thats the thing - i’m now waiting to isolate myself further because the experience ive had says there is nothing there for me. if i want to live, ill be living alone, secluded and isolated.

because honestly? im not fucing with a single person who did not fuck with me during this time. fuck. you. you let me struggle and suffer alone and youre soooooo happy im on benefits now? no. youre not. youre more than likely going behind my back and talking shit about it anyways but you think im “cool” or “talented” so you’d like to be associated with me. but you dont want any of the “drama” or “baggage” so youre not even really a fucing friend.

the only thing keeping me going right now is the idea that maybe before the end of the year, i wont have to do _this_ anymore. ill get my own place, have my own food, live my own life and i fucking deserve it no matter how much the pieces of shit cry about it and how they dont get it because i dont “get” half the shit they do in their lives and never have. the pieces of shit will always be pieces of shit and they will never stand to see someone have something they dont.

i learned about myself that i like to cook. i like buying ingrediens for food and trying new recipes and i can do that alone. i can just eat nice food on my own. i like to play guitar but i like to play for myself not to share music. i dont get anythng from sharing. its a totally personal experience just for me. and not having the space to be alone to play guitar is depressing. i like animals. i want to learn to travel by myself. i have literally never gone anywhere by myself. LITERLLY. LIT.ER.ALLY. i have never gotten on a bus to another city and been in that city by myself. just like.. existed in the city by myself. NEVER. but i cannot learn this if i cannot travel and i cannot travel without some sort of purpose behind it. i want to go back to making art for me not because im the artist who makes art. i saw a movie by myself for the first time ever last week.

it took 10 yrs to have experiences that 18 yr olds do. im not “living like a teenager”. its that i NEVER LIVED AS A TEENAGER to be able to become an adult. and now that i am an adult i cannot make teenage mistakes.

and thus we give the highest of praise to the singular best accomplishment of my whole life:

not pregnant. do not have kids. not a drug addict. not an alcoholic.

do you understand at all the HIGHEST OF CHANCES i had to have children? i was a naive girl with no parental supervision, no outlet for myself, super emotional & depressed.

then he tells me, “you know, learn from your parents”.

bitch i did. my mother was 25 years old when she met my old ass father and MARRIED HIM ONE WEEK AFTER. did i do this? she did this KNOWING he had little to no feeling of love for her. this bitch had been abandoned and fucked with by her family sooo much she was like the only way out is with this guy and she grabbed on to him and NEVER FUCKING LEFT.

so bitch.

i did.

im 27 yrs old. youre 26 yrs old. i live on my own. you live at home. ive never been pregnant. ive never been married. yep - my mother and i did not “work”. that is a serious flaw we shared. she also never acknowledge the SERIOUS MENTAL ILLNESS SHE HAD WHICH LITERALLY ALMOST KILLED ME NOT LIKE FIGURATIVELY BUT LITERALLY ALMOST KILLED ME AND I DID NOT EVEN HAVE THE WHEREIWTHAL TO KNOW IT HWAS HAPPENING

so i did. i did learn from my parents. my father told me people are fucking terrible and they are. i learned. in fact i did not. i did not learn. i lived in a naivety that people are good. and people want to hear me sy people are good because god forbid they be considered shit but lbr.. you’re probably terrible. i’m pretty terrible. i am totally in limbo where i have like 6 months to a yr before this becomes “my fault”.

so youre right. i am waiting. im waiting to see what independence looks like and whether or not i’d fuck with people like this. and like all i can say is im glad it took 12 months to realize that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. i did thank him. might as well put my own shit into practice - it doesn matter it took 12 months bcause he is admitting it now. and it makes me feel a bit better but at the same time i feel like an obvious statement is if you had known this even 6 months ago, how much better off might i be now? if the closest person to me in life was a positive rather than a negative, how much better would i be now? take some fucing responsibility for the fct that not only do i have to fight myself, but i have to fight through the negativity people like him put on me and decide despite what they aid to stay alive. not like feel a desire to want to because they reminded me of all the good things. i have to fight and be angry and create alot of bitterness towards them and live in spite. thats not fair. and life might be “unfair” and i “choose” to stay aroun someone who has consistently made things sooo bad but my god take 1 second to see it from my side. imagine if i had 6 months of positive reinforcement from the closest person in my life and a professional. i wouldnt have had the second hospital visit. i’d really be in a much better place than i am right now and its SUPER unfair to hold it against me that he cause damaged i had to fix before i could even focus on my actual issues. he held me bac and i allowed him to hold me back and prolong this process. im not even going to blame him like an excuse. i allowed him to hold me back. maybe i allowed it so i would have an excuse. if he tells me all the negative things i think about myself then its like reiterating that what i think is right. it deepens the depression.

but honestly having someone in his position - where he was very much becoming a second coming of my terrible parents, suddenly apologize and admit they were wrong is actually okay. that actually helps my life a bit. for a long time i wanted this from my mother.

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