#but im so tired of the endless pills

[the-dot]

lays down to cry. it's only been 10 days i can get through whatever effects the new pills are having on my system

[sessakag]

I can't thank you enough for sharing your struggles. A lot of people treat mental illness like its a big secret or like people that struggle are demons. I have bipolar too and its nice to be able to know im not alone. Are you pure bp or is there another on it too. I have bipolar and ocd. I hate the med cycle too. its always up and down every time a melt down happens and trying to get help is awful. sometimes id rather just suffer than to hear everybody telling me theres nothing they can do to help.

Oh no, it'd be too easy to just be bipolar, lol. I've got bipolar II and comorbid borderline, so it's like up and down all damn day. If I'm not trippin on bipolar, the bpd is acting up. Trying to treat one lets the other just fester, and then shit gets crossed, docs are shaking their head like wtf, and I end up in a damn hospital like wtf now? And the fucking stigma is CRAZY. How the hell do you have stigma against a mental illness in the mental health field?? Make it make sense! I have dealt with so many practices that refuse to take BPD patients because of the difficulty in treating it. Then you finally get a doc qualified to deal with it and somehow, someway, they bounce, and you get shoved to a different doc and have to start all over again. It's like an endless cycle of getting broken, getting half repaired, then getting broken down again over and over, then you lose your shit and folks are like "what's wrong with you?" 🤦🏾‍♀️And the med cycle, omgl. There's a pill for everything, and I swear it's like being on life support, you're just artificially being pushed through the human cycle. Pill to sleep, pill to stay awake, pill to stop the hyper activity in your brain, pill to treat the depression, pill to fight the effects of the other pills, then god FORBID you fall off the bandwagon or one of those damn pills stop having an effect and you have to readjust those meds. It's like being turned on your damn head, you're just dazed and tired, and angry and hopeless and like you say, don't wanna keep reaching out for help anymore. That's the kicker, since middle school people tell you, "there's help out there" and I'm like, where???? Where is it? Getting into a clinic is ti's own terrible battle, staying in treatment, funding treatment, getting the appropriate treatment in the first place, nobody mentions any of that, and sometimes I feel like folks don't care about it. That band aid phrase is thrown out, and folks wash their hands of the situation. One and done. Ya stepped through the door of a clinic and everything is fine now. Everything is not fine. This system is fucked up.

Anyway, I'm done ranting. I'm just so damn frustrated with myself and the system.

I'd love to just be fuckin normal.

On a positive note though, I'm glad my sharing helped you, and in turn, your sharing has helped me too.

[ritualofthehabit]

I’ve decided that I’m getting off psych meds soon. This is a lil terrifying given that I have the scary psychosis type of mental illness and not like uwu anxiety or whatever but I can’t do it anymore! With meds I mean. My “stable” antipsychotic that I’ve been taking for about three years turned on me recently - side effects of dizziness and fainting and unshakeable suicidal thoughts - I had to get three stitches after fainting and hitting concrete - and I’m sick of going thru so much effort to try and keep my meds stable while on poor people state insurance that fucks me and doesn’t always provide. I’ve involuntarily and unexpectedly been off my meds like…. Almost 10 times in the last couple years which is always Terrible emotionally and often leads to physical withdrawals - the other night I woke up and vomited profusely - and I’m sick of it. Yes the meds help but if I crash and burn just as frequently as I would not taking them then why am I doing this? Why am I constantly arguing with MediCal and my pharmacy? Why am I jumping through endless hoops and still with less support than I need? today I start back on a quarter dose of my antipsychotic and I told my psych that if I experience side effects I’m not going to try anything else. I also told her that even if it does work, I’m frustrated and tired of being on medication tbh and want to get off gradually. im not a firm believer in modern psychiatry tbh. I’m on fairly neutral ground bc I’ve had meds help me a lot and therapy help me a lot. But I don’t resonate with diagnoses and treatment very much, this “you’ll always be ill and you’ll always take a pill” vibe. I don’t go to therapy anymore bc I’m a “difficult client” for setting boundaries with complete strangers (pro tip: therapists don’t like that! They don’t like to be reminded that their professional experience doesn’t mean JACk to you and that you don’t have a relationship at all) and I HATE DBT/cognitive ball torture etc I think it’s wack.

also ngl the person who convinced me most that I was “crazy” and like. Needed to be fixed or something was my ex and they were firmly interested in controlling my life. They literally tried to convince me to go to the psych ward n shit… NEVeR. Btw that person is studying to be a therapist 😂🔪

[bitch-pontification]

endless convalescence

its whatever o clock and a i just failed a(n admittedly pitiful) suicide attempt.

its not the first time, it probably wont be the last. courtesy of my swirling neurochemical concoction, ive made the inspired decision to document my cortical whimsy on the internet. on tumblr of all places too, what a world!

first, i want to acknowledge the absurdity of the whole thing; believe me, i know. im ill and should seek help and everyone matters so much and you should always choose life etc etc. as true as that is, its a tired set of platitudes that dont actually help believe it or not. (i am medicated and therapy pilled ftr)

thing is, i just want to exist. even in this tiny, nothing way. in a tumblr blog no one will see. because of myriad circumstances both within and with-out(?) my control, i dont exist to the world, not in any meaningful capacity.

so yeah,

[cannibalisticatboy]

im so tired and exhausted, how do i deal with living any longer. its only endless pain, if there was a painless way to die i would rake it in a heartbeat. pills didnt work in the past and im still too scared to hang myself, even though i know i deserve the pain. its unbearable, im exhausted to the core

[craycraybluejay]

Lotus Eater//Biiiiig Personal Vent

Having the lyric "and I know you know I'm not the one" from the song Lotus Eater stuck in your head kind of mood. kill me

just thinking ab my relationships. and well, am I ever gonna be the one? is there such a thing? i feel so disillusioned and disconnected from love as a concept, a feeling, an anything. and i dissociate myself constantly and try to act "normal" and god I *want* to love normally. i want to be able to feel magical things. but fuck im so tired and done. i'm such a fucking asshole. flippant with the people that really care for me and clingy to those who would throw me in a dumpster without a second thought. what is wrong with me? oversexualizing absolutely everything but unable to connect sex to love as concepts. more absorbed in fantasy than reality and not even feeling quite "there" in fantasy either. like i'm in a limbo state. i can't lose myself in my head, i can't stay outside of it well enough to be in reality, and i cant afford to be high enough not to care. i *need* better than videogames and conversations to pass the time and emptiness. i *need* the pleasant warm blanket of an opioid telling me i can love and i can hope and i can feel no pain. it's just become habit. breathe poison into my lungs, waste away in bed, play mindless games, consume porn, get pangs of greater things than me and existential regret. how did i get like this? why am i losing the ability to love? why am i losing the ability to feel or think? time is an insignificant little concept i have no awareness of and im only reminded by random things. numbers and letters blur into endless consumption without creation. images stack up into one monstrous, depraved mural of degeneration. it's summer and the heat is radiating from this little eletrical furnace but i dont feel it. and suddenly its 82 and im too hot but too cold as well. i feel sick, i need a drug to fix me. i feel sick, i need someone to fix me. i need to be okay, i need to tell myself it's going to be okay, it has to be okay. my emotions arent going anywhere, theyre just taking a little VACATION. this void won't be forever. i'll wake up and i'll be good again. i'll wake up and i'll be carefree as ever soaring through life. well rounded and creative and whole again. when will I wake up. it feels like i'm always sleeping. dormant. like i need to just nail a big sign up on my forehead that says "the number you have dialed is unavailable, please try again later" or "vacant." i don't think i'm lucid much, any more. my dreams feel far more real than whatever this is. dreams of vivid places, people, events, things. more life-like than these dull walls and slowly mounting agony. more life-like than the yelling and unlively violence. more life-like than any love i know in this godforsaken place. and i want to lose myself there, I really do. just finally let myself go so i can fall forevermore in peace, into my mind, and never return. i know it might happen if i do slow down and stop forcing myself into dissociation. getting in my own head and never leaving. why am i so scared? its beautiful there. it's alive. it's super-alive. can i please just never wake up into this sleep again? but i do have nightmares. terrible, rip-your-own-head-off nightmares. nightmares that leave me cold and gasping not for air but for chemicals. take another pill, cure my anxiety for another little while. feel lethargic and "live" on autopilot. sleep and pray I never wake again. please leave me alone i hate it here. what is this love they claim and want from me when they pressure me and betray me and abandon me? and i end up at death's door begging him to let me in. and i know death is the unforgiving type, that drags people through. but i feel like im just pounding at his door and sobbing and begging him to end this quicker and he's just drawing on my agony and desperation, my slow death that feeds him for millenia. my lungs dont work right. none of me does. this isnt even the right body, if there even is one. get me OUT of here. get me out of here. god please. i'm fucking terrified of waking up every day and seeing this room and seeing the sky and hearing not the hum of life but the buzz of dying.

[cd-head]

thoughts go brrr

[ariesbilly]

say more abt parentdale psych ward!

hell yeah! okay

well... most of these bitches have severe depression. and a few others got some other shit going on. the only parents (as teens) i cant really see putting there would be tom, sierra, mary and hal (though i can see hal being put in one during the period where alice was off being pregnant and he was real down and out about it and his parents would just... throw him into the looney bin ya know. but i dont see hal and alice being there at the same time and quite frankly alice seems to have more shit going on so she gets top priority), oh and hermione i dont see her being there either

fred would be there for depression, eating disorder, pill addiction

hiram would also end up there for his eating disorder (headcanon by julia)

fp.... i mean what is he NOT there for. depression. ptsd. drug and alcohol abuse. behavioral problems. so many things

alice i just see with depression and suicidal tendencies

gladys is there for being batshit lmfao jail wasnt working so the courts were like “maybe this will help ???” she just gets to be unhinged i think its sexy of her. im thinking angelina jolie in girl interrupted

penelope... i mean how do you NOT end up in a psych ward after being adopted solely to be forced into marriage with your new brother. shitll fuck you up. plus shes got quiet weird girl energy which i personally think is necessary in media set in this environment

fred and fp are roommates.... who fall in love. and if one of them dies tragically by a nightmare dwelling boogeyman..... then thats life you know

i see hiram being in deep denial that he even needs to be there and is constantly acting like everyone else is a wack job and hes totally fine. 

gladys is constantly causing problems cuz shes determined to have a good time wherever she is. aint nothing gonna break her stride

i can see alice and penelope forming a sort of friendship like they arent besties but i can see them having kind of similar quiet girl personalities + being irritated by everyone else 

fred i would like to see first starting off in a really dark place but as he starts adjusting and getting better he starts taking on the attitude of trying to make the best out of whatever situation hes in and he gets real friendly with the staff and other patients and hes generally the only person who can calm fp down when hes having nightmares or outbursts

fps the angry kid like he hates being locked up - it triggers bad memories of his childhood. he hates being on a schedule, he hates having no freedom, hes tired of being poked and prodded at, he hates everyone around him. the only benefit to this place is hes guaranteed a bed and 3 meals a day. and freds not so bad.... he guesses..... (we found love in a hopeless place mental institution)

and then if you had freddy krueger on top of all this lmfao i think it would be fun! or you could skip that and just make it like a black comedy i do not know. its up to you. or we can do drama. a dramedy, even. the possibilities are endless

[k0kichiimagines]

hey im not sure if you do poly relationships so please ignore this if you don't,,, shuichi and keades fem!S/O taking care of them after they both over worked themselves thank youu

yep yep of course! hope u enjoy anon :)

- mod kichi, apologising again for the inactivity but im back !!

You had two problems.

Firstly Kaede had a pretty big and important performance approaching, which lead to many nights of gentle piano playing until she wasnt sure if her fingers or eyes were aching more. Was it healthy? Of course not, she knew as much but no amount of puppy eyed pleading would work. Usually it wasnt too hard to drag her away, especially when you had Shuichi on your side trying to make comprises, Kaede was willing to take breaks for her health.

However the next issue was Shuichi having had a lot of work pilling up, multiple tough cases followed by mountains of paper work. This sadly wasn't unusual, he was less stubborn generally but when it came to his work he felt a duty to finish it and couldn't relax fully until he did. And if and when you and Kaede dragged him away he would be constantly trying to get back, but this also leads back to issue one: Kaede was also busy overworking herself.

So it was just you, running between these two and attempting to get them to rest, Shuichi telling you 'just a minute S/O' every time and Kaede nodding with a concentrated face as she looked over her sheet. It took what felt like hours of gentle (and then more firm) persuading to drag these two away and good God where they tired when they did. You shoved them into fresh bed sheets and insisted they rest, hoping to sneak away and help out where you could, organising notes and clearing desks, but Kaede grabbed one hand, Shuichi the other, and she informed you she simply could not sleep without you with them. You couldn't refuse, and let them drag you in and cling to you until their breath evened out.

You hopefully assumed you could take a small nap and still wake with them asleep, and a while later you were proven corrected, allowing you to complete your plan. As you walked into the bedroom, holding a tray of drinks you set down gently, you found them awake and climbing out of bed. You received a kiss-and-thank-you from each, and they tried to return to their work, only to be pulled back by you. "Nope, still need to rest, we're going to watch something!" Kaede nodded brightly, instantly agreeing. Shuichi hesitated mumbling excuses that were silenced by both you and Kaede, before agreeing, glad he didn't have to return to the endless papers he had to fill in.

They thank you again afterwards after finding your work while they slept, Kaede grabbing you almost instantly to pepper your face in kisses and sitting you and Shuichi down to listen to what she'd been working on, playing it while you curled up with Shuichi on the sofa.

[misskittysmagicportal]

When Vicky Needed Honey

(An OC Kiss Week collaboration between @super-unpredictable98 and @misskittysmagicportal. No warnings, just mother/daughter love. Moonwalkers/The Umbrella Academy AU)

I woke up with that weird feeling again. I looked over at Klaus, still pretty much asleep, and grunted. On my way to the bathroom I prayed and prayed, but no luck. My period was nowhere to be found. A couple of days, I can understand, an entire week is a bit more worrying.

The last few days I've been feeling kinda sick, but it could be stress. I've been feeling kinda tired, understandable after two apocalypses. I've been feeling a little dizzy, which could easily be from the time travel... But my period wouldn't come, so that was starting to freak me out.

"Hey, Vanya... Would you buy a pregnancy test for me?" I rehearsed in front of the mirror. "No, no, I should ask Allison. She has a daughter, she'd understand, right?"

I nearly jumped when Klaus shifted in his sleep, I hoped with all my might he didn't hear what I just said. I sat on the edge of the tub and let my head roll back. How the fuck did we let that happen? We always wear a condom!

Well, technically a condom has 98% of effectiveness, according to the box, which I was reading as I thought about it. That means... 2 out of 100 women will get pregnant. With the amount of sex we have, it wouldn't be surprising that I could become part of this 2%. Damn it, Klaus! Why do you have to be so charming? Blame it on three decades of suppressed desire I guess.

I had to talk to someone, someone who wouldn't judge me, someone I could trust. There was only one person I could think of, so I went back into the room and as silently as possible, I slid the black briefcase from under our bed. The date was already set, so all I had to do was open it.

I felt that familiar pull of time travel, that endless rope that dragged me across the universe, which seemed to take forever, even though it was less than a second. As soon as I landed, I regretted it, my stomach did not like the disturbance and I felt like I was about to throw up.

"Vicky? Are you ok?" I felt a gentle hand on my back and took a few deep breaths before being able to turn back.

"Honey! Thank fucking God you're here! I need to talk to you."

"Is it Klaus? It's Klaus. Oh my god, tell me he's alright"

"Alright, I think we should sit down for this one..."

Honey nodded with a smile and took my hand as we made our way to the couch. I chewed on my bottom lip for a little while, thinking of the best way to say it, but I didn't wanna admit it:

"So, I'm gonna say it and I need you to listen because it's very complex," I started. "I think I'm pregnant, and I feel horrible because I don't want to be. Not that I don't want any kids, I do, in the future. The problem is that we just came out of the second apocalypse, everything is a mess, my family is all over the place. I love Klaus more than anything, so I don't wanna throw this onto him, you know? He's been through so much already!"

"Sweetie..."

"And I'm terrified of not being a good mother, the only mother I ever had was a robot. I love her to bits, but what if all I can give my child is robot-love? I don't even know what it feels like, my birth mom clearly didn't love me, she chose to give me away for money, I understand she wasn't expecting to get pregnant out of the blue, but... I don't understand why she couldn't love me. I feel so selfish and so stupid for letting this happen, and I keep thinking about my biological mom, I'm freaking out here," I started sobbing. "You're the only person I can talk to."

**

Honey began to live for the sound of her “kids” popping by the apartment. She brought the books home with her more often in case Klaus would come by to learn more about himself. Or Luther who really just wanted the tiny woman to hold him the way a robot never could. And Diego who well, was always hitting on her. Allison and Vicky and Vanya helped her feel not so alone.

Yeah, they were her children. They were mostly older than Honey. The discarded. The outcast. Who suffered abuse. They were the bought and sold to a billionaire. They were a magical pregnancy and 43 terrified women, one she would become 15 years from now. Thank God she already knew what one of those felt like.

Honey was checking on Sugar and Sunny as they napped. The large crow with his beak buried in his ebony feathers kept one large yellow eye on them from above. Sunny was enamored with the corvid. Klaus, despite being 35 years older than himself, was deeply jealous.

It was from their room, after hearing a familiar VOIP sound in the living room, that Honey just felt in her body something was wrong. There was an anxiety emanating from Vicky whose back was to her.

“Vicky? Are you ok?” Honey gently touched the woman. She wanted to hug her, but opted for minor affection.

Vicky's expression in response worried Honey. “Is it Klaus? It's Klaus. Oh my god, tell me he's alright.” Her lip started to tremble. For a clone of Leon, Klaus was infused with his mother.

Half an hour later, Honey could only stare slack-jawed over Vicky's guts being spilled all over the couch. So to speak.

Honey took Vicky’s hand and did what her mom would do. What she and Julia found themselves doing with their children. Whether they were full grown men or toddlers. Honey kissed Vicky's hand several times and held it over her heart.

“First of all, I can't speak for your birth mother or the others. I know Klaus told me it was a spontaneous pregnancy. Like BAM! We're suddenly giving birth. For me, even being 45,” Honey shivered dramatically, “I would rather kill Reginald and take you all. But whatever the other women did. That's on them.

“But! If anyone knows about an unexpected pregnancy, it's me. She's asleep in the other room with her brother. I think I realized I was knocked up, I just ignored it until Leon mentioned something about my body being new. We NEVER used protection. Pills in the sixties were for married women only. The fact that we had sex for over a year before anything happened is a freaking miracle.

I took two tests in the flat. Then at the clinic. Just a few weeks before, abortion became legal AND funded by the NHS. I told no one, went and made that woman tell me every single step of the process. I asked how easy the adoption process in the UK is. I wasn't keeping it no matter what.”

Now Honey took both of Vicky’s hands, “You have so many readily available options.” She kissed them both again, “But please just let Klaus know. It's YOUR choice. YOURS. Ultimately, I changed my mind. I had her on my own. Pregnancy, birth, her first six months. I wasn't even on the same continent as Leon. But if my baby would have half his looks, and his way of loving, and even an OUNCE of his heart, Leon deserved to be a dad. I WANTED to have his baby. I don't regret my decision. I don't want to regret yours either. We all love you.”

Honey kissed Vicky's forehead, “I mean I'm your mom now.”

**

I would've started crying if I wasn't already, it felt so good to finally have someone to hold my hand. I can only imagine dad's reaction if I told him I was pregnant with Klaus' baby... It was awesome to not be judged for once.

"I wanna tell him, I'm just scared... If I really am pregnant, I wanna keep it, but what if he doesn't like it? What if he doesn't wanna be a dad?"

My desperate rambling was interrupted by a blue surge of energy right in the middle of the room, that could only mean one thing... Klaus and Five fell from it with a loud thud.

I had to cover my mouth not to scream, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest, but Honey seemed pleased with the new visitors.

"Jesus Vicky... I woke up and you were gone, I was worried!" Klaus squeezed me in a tight hug.

"I told you she was fine, Victoria can handle herself," Five rolled his eyes. "It's not like she can get hurt."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to disappear."

Klaus moved to give Honey a hug as well, she kissed his forehead and urged him to sit down between us.

"I know this face, Scnucki..." Klaus placed his hand on my cheek. "What's wrong?"

I looked over at Honey and she gave me a reassuring nod. With a sigh, I took Klaus' hand, tracing the 'hello' with the tip of my finger.

"Klausie," I tried to muster the courage to say it. "I know the timing might not be the best, things are a little crazy right now, but I think I might be..."

"Might be...?" He stared at me nervously.

"Pregnant."

Klaus' mouth dropped and he widened his eyes. Shit! Shit! He hates it, he wasn't happy. He was gonna leave me right there and then.

"But we always..."

"I know, but apparently condoms are only 98% effective."

"You two really abuse your luck," Five mused.

"Timing isn't great, but if you want to keep it, I'm with you. It's our baby," a smile tugged at Klaus' lips. "And I love you, so..."

"Actually," I got up as fast as I could. "I love you too, but I'm not pregnant. If you guys will excuse me, I gotta go to the toilet, like right now!"

**

Honey watched as Vicky ran off to the bathroom. She was left with a bewildered Klaus, slack jawed over everything that quickly took place. She could only snort as Leon popped up from the same corner Vicky had just flown around. Mouth agape identical to his clone.

“Alright love,” Leon kissed her on the cheek. “Never told me the kids were coming ‘round for a visit.” He eyed up Five, still uncertain of him.

Klaus dramatically planted a fist on his hip, “Im thirty-six.”

“Too right. What's going on? Is Vicky ok she looked barmy.”

“Well we were almost grandparents.”

“GRANDPARENTS?! I'm thirty! Bloody hell I can't keep track of the ten we have now. Can't handle a baby, mate. Not coming from you. No offense.”

“All of it taken,” Klaus quipped.

“Well we don't need to worry about it. Pretty sure Vicky just overwhelmingly got her period. Better luck next time!”

Every single person in the room nearly knocked Honey flat with a loud in unison “NEXT TIME?”

She wouldn't make that mistake again.

[jisungs-tummy]

The Kids From Yesterday

This is the song I listened to while making this

Genre: angst im sorry seungmin ily

Warnings: Mentions of drugs, suicide attempts, death, hospitals

Seungmin was your best friend. He always had been. He’d been with you at your worst and always managed to make you feel your best. He found you when you had nearly overdosed, he had been there for you every time you got your heart broken, he would always distract you from your icky dark moods. He was everything you could ask for in a friend. He was your whole world.

And you were his.

When he found you laying limply on your bathroom floor, he was terrified that he had lost you. He froze and dropped the bags in his hands when he saw the near-empty bottle of pills laying beside your hand. He rushed over to your body and tried desperately to shake you awake. He was crying so much. He didn’t know what he would do without you and was so scared that you weren’t coming back. He called the hospital and you were rushed to the emergency room to get your stomach pumped. He wanted to stay by your side through it all, and almost fought one of the doctors telling him to wait outside. He didn’t sleep a wink until he saw you were resting peacefully. He got mad at you for scaring him like that, and told you sternly never to do that again. He told you if you felt like doing yourself harm that he should be the first thing you go to. You felt bad for scaring him, and did as he said, as best you could, from then on.

Seungmin would always be at your side when you got your heart broken. He hated seeing you cry. He hated seeing you so worked up over another boy. In all honesty, he was kind of jealous that you were in love with someone who wasn’t him, but he always kept it to himself. He would buy you chocolates and flowers and ice cream and anything to make you feel comfortable. He would give you an endless amount of attention, and leave you alone when you needed space. 

You recall the times he took you outside to Lotte World or a festival or even just the park when you’d feel upset. He knew when you had your mood swings, and would always do what he could to help you out. He always knew when something was wrong and always try to come up with a solution to your problems, or reassure you that you’re great the way you are when you felt insecure. He would tell you he cared about you every day. 

But now you were gone. 

His world shattered to pieces when he found your body. He knew you were gone the moment he saw you. He felt his chest tighten before he choked out a sob. He felt it was his fault you were gone. He didn’t do enough for you, did he? He caused this, didn’t he? It was his fault. He couldn’t save you. He never even got to tell you how he really felt.  He never got a chance to say goodbye. 

He cried day and night before and after your funeral. He ignored all the texts and calls he got. He rarely ate. He slept more than ever. There was nothing to keep him going anymore. His best friend was gone. The love of his life was gone. You were gone. There was no point anymore. He couldn’t be happy anymore. He would only be happy when you were with him.

He got to his lowest point a month after you left. He stared at the closet you had taken your last breath in. He looked down at the rope in his hands. He would finally see you again. He could finally be happy again. He’d be reunited with you and everything would be okay.

He was about to kick the chair away until he heard your voice echo in his head.

“Don’t do it.”

It made him freeze. Your voice was so present, so… there. It rang in his ears as his eyes filled with fresh tears.

“Seungmin, get down.”

He practically fell to his knees when he got down. He sobbed harder than he ever had. He missed you so much. Why were you telling him to stop?

“Live for me.”

He cried harder until he tired himself out, where you met him in his dreams. You convinced him to stay. You convinced him to live for you. You were weak, you told him. He was strong. You told him you would still be in his heart. You’ll continue to watch over him. He needed to live for you. He told you he loved you, but you were already gone and he always woke up when the words left his lips.

[withy]

12:45 am, aug. 20 2019

there she stands

the black sky

the dark rock face

her feet poised at the edge

looking out across the emptiness

deep breath in, chest rising

chest falling

she stares into the nothing, her future, the unknown, and feels the absolute terror of it all

her brow furrows, her eyes widen, a shaky breath in and out

she turns

her shoulders at an angle, one arm back, facing away from this vast darkness

leaning ever so slightly backward

legs bent, ready to catch herself should she stumble

hands out slightly

feels like slow motion

like claymation

she looks behind her, frantically and yet still resigned

at her life this far

who is she?

what is this void

she can feel it

the edge

right at her feet

now no longer directly in front of her

she’s facing away

but despite that, nothing is coming for her

for there is nothing there

nothing at all

just the indigo rock

and the never-ending cliff

and the unknown

the remnants of a life not chosen

the all consuming uncertainty of possibility without dreams to fill it up

where is the hope?

she lets out the air in her lungs, turns, sits, slumps down

swings her legs out back and forth

and back and forth

above the absence of things

like a child

staring back out

into her future, not yet written

more unsure than anything she’s ever encountered

her thoughts of the future always held this blackness

on the periphery

or perhaps if she thought too hard

she hoped a solution might come to her somehow

that blackness is upon her now

it’s there

but she's still got no clue what to do

as a child they told her she’d know someday

or that she must simply work hard

that she’d find her calling

but she hasn’t, not yet

the things she likes, they are hobbies

there is no passion there

nothing is real enough

real enough to put a hand on and know it’s there

to feel, truly

to hold to touch to know

this is a world of sadness and suffering and stolen words

growing up

feels like she’s done it wrong

taken all her energy and not divided it, not at all

everyone else, they seem to be able to put a bit into studies a bit into friends a bit into passions

she’s too

too what?

too something, that’s for sure

a child living in the stories in her books

that’s not uncommon, not really

but this sort of thing shapes a person

if she had gone a different route, would she know?

would that pit be something else, something visible, something maybe even tangible?

would the cost of that be worth it?

she finds she rather likes where she’s at

despite the fear and the

the choking feeling, the crushed chest, the sadness so strong there’s no tears that could cover it

her mind is sick in some ways

she knows

but in others it thrives

still, what good is an intellect when it’s being put to no use at all?

when it’s sitting there, shoved off to the side

causing a furrowed brow once in awhile

a mirror conversation

what’s the use?

what’s the point?

what is this mind meant to do?

if there’s no real use to this world, no destiny, no creator just humans just our cruelty and our pain and the horrifying imbalance of the world what is the point of one perfectly average girl who has yet to make anything of herself

and what the hell does it even mean to make something of oneself

to touch a life? is that it?

definitely not to be rich

or famous

no

she’s so good at the thinking

there goes the furrowed brow again

but is she really clever or does she just want to feel special?

grown up on a steady diet of stories

told that everyone is powerful

if you just wait your turn, something magical will happen to you, too

when you close your eyes and imagine the lights around you, they do something

you’re not alone

are those stories real?

what if

the thing she’s most scared of, maybe

what if she’s meant to live a life of mediocracy?

because we all think it

that we won’t be that one

the friend who never goes anywhere

we sit around and fuss about what others do with themselves

never seeing the truth of who we are

not willing to admit our own flaws

even her, attempting to reflect on herself

praised by friends for self awareness

what does she know?

who is she really?

because underneath all those words

all the hasty paintings and the turned pages and the generations of headphones

is she just a spirit

staring out across the nothing

that she’s inadvertently created

in the absence of dreams?

that fear

that anxiety that heartbeat the sudden random deep breaths reaching deep deep down

it’s always there, right at the surface

a pill to fix it, they say

but it won’t fix it

it might keep it at bay

but to fix it

oh, to fix it

there might just be nothing

nothing but her and the void, waiting, waiting, waiting,

even her dreams of a quiet life are so far away

she’s so tired

it’s like she’s burning up already

so young and yet so much

so many things

too much in her head

seeing so much of the world and yet completely blind to so many things

does it count as naivety when she is so painfully aware that every second she observes the world she is missing huge chunks of it?

the more I see the less I know indeed

there is nothing I want

in the world

nothing concrete

not yet

I hope that it’s a ‘not yet’

because if it’s that, then it’s somewhere in the future

but the future is just a rock face

a rough cliff

her feet dangling over the edge

no desire to fall

but nothing else to cling onto, either

so she sits

and she looks

and she ponders

the black, the deep endless nothing inside a space— not quite in her head but somewhere only she can see, still in an imaginary space, her subconscious version of the world, an attempt to rationalize and make beautiful what she’s felt in its terrible truth,

the blackness ponders right back at her.

what do I do? she says

there is no echo, because she doesn’t want there to be

or perhaps because she hasn’t really spoken

maybe there’s not an answer yet.

im eighteen years old, i’m not meant to know anything really

but I know so very much more than i’m meant to about so many things

so who’s to decide that?

the uncertainty might take me far

or maybe it’ll take me nowhere

but I’ll keep trying.

just as soon as I feel a little less tired, maybe

[mittensmorgul]

Today’s entire TNT loop in one post, because I’m tired and there’s only three episodes:

3.14, Long Distance Call. This is what happens when you mess with the phone company, dillweed!

I've written a bunch in the past about how this episode relates to communication and keeping secrets, which is still relevant:

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/159234156395/314-lies-and-secrets-and-its-deans-turn-to

and

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/171381786235/not-meta-just-interesting-im-rewatching-314

But because the voice on the phone when Dean starts getting Calls From The Beyond (which aren't from the beyond but a manipulation by a creature who wants to lure Dean in to eat his soul) is John, providing words of comfort, encouragement, and instruction to Dean at a time where he feels like he's running out of time and options, Dean is led down a completely wrong path. "John" tells him he can get out of his deal and save himself from Hell by trapping a specific demon, but of course it's just the crocatta luring him to his death (but of course Dean figures that out before that can happen).

But Sam, meanwhile, THINKS he's told Dean what the monster actually is, but that information never reached Dean, leaving him confronting the crocatta by himself... RIP Stewie. Sam calls Dean and gets his voicemail (This is Herman Munster, leave a message), but his whole previous call with Dean wasn't even really a call with Dean...

SAM: What are you doing? CLARK: I'm killing your brother. Or maybe I'm killing another guy. We'll just have to see how it goes.

and most terrifying:

CLARK: Well once I made you two as hunters, it was easy. I found Dean's number, then your number, then your father's numbers. Then emails, voicemails, everything. You see, people think that stuff just gets erased, but it doesn't. You'd be surprised how much of yourself is just floating out there, waiting to be plucked. SAM: Dean's not going to fall for this. He's not going to kill that guy. CLARK: Then the guy kills him.

The crocatta was a monster who preyed on human communication, twisting words to his own benefit and manipulating people into believing what he needed to lure them to him. He had Dean convinced killing this innocent man would save him from Hell, but the other man was convinced that Dean was the man who'd killed his own daughter. It was all a distraction to keep Dean from learning what was really going on-- that Sam had effectively figured out what the monster was, and that it was the monster luring Sam to his lair, using Stewie as bait.

At the end of the story, everyone lost. Dean lost hope that they'd find a way to save him from Hell. Which drives Sam to pull a bit of a manipulation of his own...

in 3.15, Time Is On My Side.

This is Sam's last stand, his last hope to save Dean. Not by defeating the demon that holds his contract, but by gaming the system. His logic-- if Dean's can't die, he can't go to Hell. But the way Sam wants to make Dean immortal is... horrific at best. And something tells me the hellhounds wouldn't care if someone scienced their physical body into effective immortality, and would've collected Dean's soul anyway. But Sam needed to believe in something, as is his wont. When he loses hope, he loses it hard. Look at mid s13 for a reminder of that, specifically in an episode with a heavy thematic and tonal comparison to this one-- 13.11 Breakdown.

Meanwhile, Dean goes in a different direction, getting a lead on Bela and hoping to get the Colt back:

DEAN: You're not helping! You forget that if I welch on this deal, you die. Guess what, living forever is welching. SAM: Fine! Then, whatever the magic pill is, I'll take it too! DEAN: Oh, what is this? Sid and Nancy? No. It's just like Bobby's been saying. We kill the demon who owns the contract and this whole damn thing wipes clean. That's our best shot. SAM: Even if you had the Colt, Dean, who are you gonna shoot? We have no idea who holds the ticket. DEAN: Well, I'll shoot the hellhounds then before they slash me up. Now, you coming or not?

Sam decided... not. He stayed to try and figure out Benton's immortality formula. He does find it, but Dean doesn't want to live like that:

SAM: Dean, don't you want to live? DEAN: What he is isn't living. Look, this is simple. SAM: Simple? DEAN: To me it is, okay. Black or white; human, not human. (DEAN walks back to stand in front of DOC BENTON) See, what the Doc is is a freakin' monster. I can't do it. I would rather go to hell.

Well, heck, we know Dean doesn't really see anything as "black and white," and the real issue isn't "human or not human" anymore. But he does have a line he will not cross, and whatever Benton is is way too far across that line for Dean. And thank heck... Preserving life at all costs that way? At the cost of his own essential humanity? Yeah, that's horrific.

We meet Rufus, who eventually does provide Dean the lead to find Bela, but he also echoes Dean's attitude we've seen over and over again:

RUFUS: I know ain't no peashooter gonna save you. DEAN: What makes you so sure? RUFUS: Cause that's the job, kid. Even if you manage to scrape out of this one, there's just gonna be something else down the road. Folks like us...there ain't no happy ending. We all got it coming. DEAN: Well, ain't you a bucket of sunshine? RUFUS: I'm what you've got to look forward to if you survive. (Smirking and raising his glass again) But you won't.

Survive this round, just wait for the next one, because there's always a next one... Thanks, Rufus!

But of course Bela doesn't have the Colt anymore. Dean does learn that she sold her soul and her deal is about to come due. She's in the same boat he's been in all along...

DEAN: Is that why you stole the Colt, huh? Try to wiggle out of your deal, our gun for your soul? BELA: Yes. DEAN: But stealing the Colt wasn't quite enough, I'm guessing. BELA: They changed the deal. They wanted me to kill Sam. DEAN: Really! Wow, demons untrustworthy. Shocker.

Because no matter what, the demons were NEVER going to let Dean out of his deal. No matter how many demons they killed, no matter who they bargained with, no matter what, they needed him to die and go to Hell to fulfil their prophecy and break the first seal on the Apocalypse. And that's what s3 boiled down to in the end...

This was the long con that s4 would do to freaking perfection, but s3, with all it's structural deficiencies for having been 6 episodes shortened because of the writer's strike, manages the same...

So that brings us to 3.16, No Rest for the Wicked.

The one where they think they finally gained the upper hand on catching the Big Bad Demon who holds Dean's contract, and don't yet know the entire setup was a trap laid just for them. The fact the payoff on this information doesn't come until the end of s4, with other little hints along the way-- like Dean learning what Sam's been up to while he was in Hell, like learning about angels and the breaking seals of the apocalypse, like being given the runaround as heaven and hell both use Sam's desire to get revenge on Lilith for perceived wrongs against them and is willing to turn himself into a monster to achieve that end... when all along it was exactly what the angels and demons both wanted them to do...

S4 will become the template for Cosmic Manipulation of the Winchesters as part of the Grand Story of the Universe. But all the seeds for it were already planted in s3.

Well, except for Cas. He's the wild card, and isn't that the wildest thing ever?

I wonder how Chuck accounted for him? Bring on Team Free Will, breaking Chuck's story again and again until they'll finally force him to drop the curtain in 14.20...

ETA, because I always do this... I’ve written some about Ruby’s manipulation before, like in this post from May 2018, after the s13 finale aired:

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/174230167715/since-your-anons-are-on-the-subject-there-is

SAM: And you decided to tell me this just now? RUBY: Um... demon. Manipulative's kinda in the job description. Fact is, is that you would have never considered it. Not until you were – SAM: Desperate enough?

and when Sam has doubts, and he’s so close to wanting to trust Ruby out of desperation?

DEAN: Don't you see a pattern here? Dad's deal, my deal, now this? I mean every time one of us is – is – is up the creek the other is begging to sell their soul. That's all this is, man. Ruby's just jerking your chain down the road. You know what it's paved with and you know where it's going.

And yep, that’s exactly it. The Winchester Family Sacrifice-Go-Round. All in the name of keeping Chuck entertained.

ETA FOR THE SECOND TIME: Lilith. Pretending to be a seriously twisted little girl, controlling this entire family for her own horrific idea of “fun.” Kinda similar to Chuck’s own MO, always playing a persona-- Chuck the trashy novel author, Chuck the prophet of the lord who doesn’t want to be, Chuck the super cute guy who was delightfully enamored by humanity enough to want to be human himself, at least for a little while... But all of it is part of his own incredibly long game, thinking he’s got the Winchesters exactly where he wants them, being on the scene to watch his plan play out, only for it to all go sideways.

ugh and yet another ETA: Dean, only when he is very close to death, a side effect of that is that he can literally see things he wasn’t able to before:

DEAN: I could see its face. Its real face under that one. SAM: So what, now you're seeing demons? DEAN: I've seen all kinds of things lately but... nothing like this. BOBBY: Actually it's not all that crazy. DEAN: How's it not that crazy? BOBBY: Well you've got, just over five hours to go? You're piercing the veil, Dean. You're glimpsing the B side. DEAN: A little less new age-y please. BOBBY: You're almost hell's bitch. So, you can see hell's other bitches. 

What a strange way to finally see through the illusions to the truth, you know? Dean got all the way through Chuck’s endless parade of misery in s14-- losing hope against Michael only to lose hope for Jack, and himself-- to that final moment where he was able to glimpse the B side, as it were.

ugh again... this is what I get for posting stuff before the episode is over...

How close to killing an innocent little girl did Sam come here? While her own mother begged him to do it, because as far as they knew, the girl was still possessed. But Dean saw the truth, the demon was gone.

Sam’s ready to do whatever “Ruby” wants him to to save Dean, but it’s already too late. Ruby isn’t even Ruby anymore. Dean hadn’t noticed the switch until it was too late, again. Always too late. All part of the long manipulation.

[i-wanna-be-cute]

i guess ive got... a lot to say. im sorry.

i dont want to die. im scared of dying so much but theres nothing for me here. if you know me, if you love me, anything. im so sorry im disappointing you. i just need... something. anything. ANYTHING AT ALL TO TELL ME IM WORTH IT. but nothing comes. im not worth it anymore. if anyone could tell me something to make it ok, then id love to hear it. but, im just... im gonna post every vent ive ever done in my discord servers, and a few other places.  yea can i get some help right now?I genuinely feel broken  I feel like a ruined, broken dollkenGod damnitI cant even vent correctlyI hate myself   Nothing makes me happy anymore I was survivngI was livingI was so confident i was gonna grow up happy and healthy and famousI was ruinedI was not made brokeni was ruined by a world who doesnt care full of people who dont try i literally hate my mother so muchi donti dont hate her i hate myselfconversation went as such:i cant focus! take your pill, then. (i start crying) i dont want to! why? it doesnt work and it kills my appetite! whats wrong with that? (still crying, i snatch the pill bottle from her and take one) jesus, are you playing around on discord? is it because you dont have live classes? its still school, wether im watching or not. (even though SHE FUCKING KNOWS I COULDNT FOCUS IN REGULAR SCHOOL EITHER)i can already feel it againi dont carei can already feel apathy in my soulquoting myself buti can feel my soul in my chest, and by god is it heavyi think thats not the problemi care far too mcuhi wish i was justi wish i didnt care I DONT WANT TO PASS ANYMOREI DONT CARE WHAT HAPPENS TO MEIM JUST TIRED OF IT ALLIM DONE i cant describe things anymoreno one is online, and im stuck doing seemingly endless workof course i get breaks but theres no set end to anythingmy appetite is dead but i feel so sick(dont worry- its just cause of my pill)i feel like im getting ignored by my friendsim just so depressedthis is fucking dismali can feel my temper start to come up because my friends are joking and playing like everything is fucking finefucki cant tell if i want to break something or cry  i think i just made my friend madim so awfulthe few people who trusted me and i cant even make them happy guess whos cryingmy dad not constantly taking my tablet because if i cant talk to my friends i get horribly, suicidally depressed is not a form of power that i have over him and he should not try to fucking paint it as one i dont knowif im upset and i raise my voice some because A. i have headphones on and B. im fucking upset THAT DOES NOT MEAN I AM SCREAMING AT HIM, AND HE SHOULD NOT TRY TO PAINT IT AS SUCH and especially he should not try to combine the two, and say that A. oh you're screaming at me? gimme your tablet. OR B. oh you said you wanna do something later? you're abusing your power, gimme your tablet. AND ESPECIALLY NOT C. oh, you did what i wanted, but with an attitude? Gimme your tablet.why cant he grasp that cornering me by the sink when he's literally 6'2 is horrifyingdoes he know how much he scares me when he's mad? im not leaving the fucking house. its hot out and i dont want to fucking go.i know you guys have trusted me to stay alone at home before.maybe not at night, but its the fucking middle of the day.WHY DO YOU INSIST ON BURDENING YOURSELF WITH ME? I am weary. My soul is tired. There are bags under my eyes, I am not getting enough sleep, no, but theres a reason. As if sleeping more could solve the visions of battles I will not fight Of battles lost and won Of battles inside my own head that affect no one. As if sleeping more would fix anything. Do not attempt to sing me a lullaby of a better future Because lullabies do not win wars And warring against yourself is never good So i'll repeat it; I am not tired I am weary I am solemn I am scarred And most of all: I am alive. And i will not die until i win. After that? I belong to eternity. But right now? I stand. I am weary, yes. But that has never stopped me yet.idk where this came from im justi can like feel my soul in my chestand its heavy.

sorry for the huge block of text, and that isnt even all of it, but... im so tired. i dont have the motivation to do any more. if you ever liked me, loved me, knew me... im sorry. im just not worth it anymore. i tried my best, i got as far as i could, but... i just wasnt meant to survive.

[mymetaphorwasdrawnfrombees]

I have a lot of feelings, as per usual, and insufficient words to make those feelings coherent. As if that's gonna stop me from trying, ha!

Good omens (as any one of my saintly followers who have withstood all my hyperfixations up to this point is already aware) is my current obsession. It is a beautiful show that I am continuously thinking about. It makes me think so much of my own journey to who I am today.

One part I can't stop thinking about today is Crowley, asking Aziraphale for the holy water. Of course, it's portrayed in the show as Crowley getting insurance, so he will have a weapon in case hell finds out what he's been doing, and comes for him. (TW: I'm gonna talk about despair and suicidal ideation, please don't engage with it if you're vulnerable. Take care of yourselves, loves<3)

Aziraphale reacts with anger, fear, concern. He refuses to indulge Crowley's request and when Crowley presses he basically ignores him for a century. He's so mad that his friend would ask him for that. He seems to see it as a cry of desperation, a cry for help. A last resort. And Crowley (at least on the surface) treats these ideas like they're wrong, like they aren't his intention or they haven't occured to him.

But for me...i see young-high-school-me reflected in Aziraphale: certain I'm on the right side, self assured, very naive, stubborn, slightly hedonistic but still righteous. Certainly bothered by some of the hypocrisies and paradoxes of my faith, the cruelties of my god, but mostly able to ignore or explain away my questions. Mostly able to bury them so deep it's not really pretending when I seem unbothered. Disconnected from the people who supposedly share my faith, deeply afraid that they'll find out I'm not quite who they think I am. That my beliefs maybe don't line up with theirs perfectly. That I've gone a bit soft. That maybe im a fraud. Trying so hard to earn their approval and love, clinging so desparately to my faith which slips away faster the harder I try to hang on.

And even more so I see college-me reflected in Crowley: lost my way, abandoned my faith, fallen into a pit of depression and despair because of the certain rejection from everyone I've known for my whole life. Losing my sense of self and identity because I had the gall to ask questions, to search for a more compassionate and kind way to live. Being treated by my supposed loved ones as if I'm lost. Realizing I am not the person I thought I was and having to build my identity from scratch. Living in a hostile environment with no supports or friends, feeling completely abandoned and alone. Turning my back on everything I knew. Gradually and continuously walking through the flames to get to the other side, hoping maybe there was an other side and not just endless misery, in what feels like an unending descent into madness. Struggling with insecurity and self loathing so deep it's in my bones. Angry all the time. Tired all the time. Afraid of being caught. Always on my guard. Clawing and scratching my way into being a better person, but being seen by the people whose approval I craved most as becoming a worse person the whole time. Barely hanging onto hope, onto life, into the possibility that life may get better and it might be worth it someday.

Back to the scene: when Crowley asked for that holy water, I immediately went where Aziraphale did: "I'm not giving you a suicide pill!" Crowley is searching for a way out. His suffering is too much. He is ready to let go and give up. Balancing the expectations of hell with the morals that led him to fall in the first place... It is too hard to bear. And the holy water, while he may be truthful when saying it's not a suicide pill, he's not using it for that...

I've been in some dark places in my own head, and I know the comfort of an option. A last resort. A glowing red exit sign that you can use if you reach the end of your ability to cope. If your suffering consumes you. It's not your intention, maybe the thought creeps up on you one night and scares you.

But as scary as it is, the intrusive thought keeps coming back. And every time it does, like exposure therapy, it gets a little less scary and a little more familiar. And the familar is comfortable. Bearable. It's not necessarily your intention but it's always there. You continue on, pretending you're fine, trying harder to put the pieces back together, putting on a mask.

And you're really good at putting on a mask, pretending, but the longer it drags on the more exhausted you become, and the more appealing that option seems.

It makes it easy to imagine Crowley one night, after Aziraphale acquiesces to his request. Remembering why he fell, sitting in his chair and considering if he can carry on. Considering the weight of the responsibility to introduce the Antichrist to the world that he feels so much compassion for. Contemplating how little he wants to continue to carry out his demonic responsibilities. Wishing that he had never questioned, but knowing that if he hadn't, he wouldn't be able to live with himself. Questioning how long he can continue to justify his demonic intervention as what amounts to just meager inconveniences. Wondering if he'll be able to carry on living as he is now, no end in sight.

And that holy water is a reassuring possibilty.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I want to end this on a positive note and say that I did withstand the temptations, obviously, to kill myself. I never had an intention, just a backup plan. But I did hate myself deeply, and I sometimes still do. However, I've had several friends who helped me. They shined lights up ahead while I dragged myself out of the muck and learned how to accept and forgive myself. They held my hand as I re-taught myself how to be a person, and rearranged my whole worldview. They didn't fix me, but they loved me while I did the dirty work of fixing myself. They're still doing it. And I love them so much for it.

For their love and kindness, I am forever grateful. They've modeled for me that it's possible to love myself. If you're struggling, feel free to message me. It's not always easy for me, even here, probably two or three years out from the worst bit of my depression. But I'm better than I was, and I'm slowly dragging myself, kicking and screaming, toward self love. It's possible and I know it is. It's possible for you too. ❤️❤️❤️❤️