#damn who the fuck is this achilles dupe

[dawnlit-elayne]

why does fate theseus look more like achilles than fate achilles. something is not adding up.

[parallax-princess]

I'm a Heroin addict. It's the only reason I'm alive. This is not "an excuse." I'll tell you why.

When I was 13 to 14, I was targeted by a predator who masked himself as a teacher. I was in a school of 10 pupils, never even having held hands with a boy. He took advantage and I did nothing. I blamed, and continue to blame myself. I thought I had to marry him. I used to picture this while I showered after these "lessons". I told the first person when I was 17. Nobody noticed and I was refused therapy. When I was 21, I was finally allowed therapy - only to have an old, obviously "traditional" religious therapist tell me it was my fault. Not only that, but that I was somehow worth less because I had 'engaged in something only for a husband and his wife.'

I started training to be a pilot when I was 16. I was juggling school work, ballroom/Latin dancing, extra curricular art, school outreach, chess club, Latin society, flying, social life, family life and a turbulent relationship. My family begun to accuse me of avoidance and being "anti-social." They damn near forgot about me sometimes, occasionally even forgetting to prepare dinner for me - though my mother, father and younger sister were all well fed... With second helpings. My friends turned against me without warning, mistaking my fatigue and my pain for what I suppose was 'plotting and scheming'. People got an odd feeling around me. I could read them, but they couldn't read me. I guess paranoia kicked in or something. I cycled through friends - a new group - at least once every year. I loved them all dearly. I would still give my life for my eighth grade best friend, and I mean that. 'Twas not me who wished to move on. Still, I kept trying. I was still having PTSD nightmares and couldn't bring myself to tell anyone, so I tried still. I told several versions of what happened to several people. All versions with different levels of 'terribleness' - I wanted to spill, but I got cold feet at the very last second, so I downplayed what happened. I wasn't lying - all these things still happened. They just were not the whole truth. I can still remember everything, and I still wish I did not.

When I was 17, my male best friend and I were sitting next to one another on a school bus, on a 45 minute long bus ride (school outing) to view a prominent university's grounds and offered courses. Fifteen minutes before reaching the destination, I noticed a couple of... What I first thought were cat scratches on his wrist. He was a lively but shy spirit. Incredibly bright. Top of our grade, and good looking too... Unpopular only because of his shyness and his trauma-caused 'high pitched voice' - which is a false voice, by the way. I made some remark about the "scratches," completely convinced they were inflicted by an enraged feline. I knew he'd had several of those. The immediate pallor in his cheeks and the way he reflexively flinched away instantly told me otherwise. He was hurting. He was hurting badly, and I refused to allow it to continue - at least, I refused to let him suffer in loneliness because he was too shy, and too considerate to reach out. He tried his damndest to avoid me, and succeeded for about half of the day. When I managed to corner him, he told me something that made my heart ache in my chest. He told me he didn't want to live any longer, and that he was cutting to try feel better. I did not leave his side. Not as far as I could help.

Some weeks later, he told me he wanted to ask another girl out. A popular girl, but beautiful and kind. I was absolutely elated for him. More than I can express. He confessed the only thing holding him back was that he'd not had his first kiss yet, at 17, and was terrified he'd mess up, freeze up, or disappoint her. Being a very open, honest, and unconventional friend - I invited him over to my house. I had no interest in him romantically but I loved him for everything he was, without expectation or longing. I loved him truly unconditionally - and I knew I'd never make him awkward about it! The plan was to come over, watch a film on my laptop - in my bedroom - and I would kiss him. I wasn't in any relationship, and the idea elated him. He'd finally be able to ask this girl out, without worry! As planned, he arrived one Saturday. I introduced him to my dog. I played 'The Perks of being a Wallflower' (still a favourite)... And at the part where Emma Watson goes in for the kiss, I did so too. His heart was beating so loudly I could hear it a half meter away. He did just fine, and I told him so! Imagine my surprise when he sighed happily and said "it's so wonderful to have a girlfriend finally! I've just told my mum."... I had been duped! But instead of being selfish about it, I went with it. I decided I would learn to love him romantically, and I did just that. There was so much to appreciate, and my objective was to build him up - bit by bit, until he no longer considered the sweet relief of death... A year and a half later, and his ego outgrew little old me. He left me heart broken. I let him go. He's successful today and hasn't been with another girl since. We'd slept together and everything! I was his first kiss and first sexual encounter, and I treasure that for what it was. It broke me to be tossed aside so coldly, but I rose up. I had to. Nothing could break me!

When I was 19, I'd earned my pilot's license (PPL) & driver's license within a month of each other. I'd been granted a future dated scholarship by a national airline carrier. I'd become a gym bunny. I didn't drink alcohol, smoke or even drink coffee. I had a job, while I waited for 2015 - my scholarship date - to arrive. I met a guy. I was with him for three years. He had an engagement ring. He slept with my "best friend" multiple times and told me it was my fault because I'd allowed it to become 'normal' by continually forgiving him.

When I was 21, I was based in a different province on this aforementioned scholarship. I'd begun struggling to concentrate on studies (developing psychosis-spectrum), and I had a sociopath boss [who has since been fired] who emotionally abused me for over a year and a half. Various tactics. Some of which include inciting paranoia (telling me the whole company was laughing at me), unjust threats of expulsion, unrealistic demands with regards to exams - which ONLY applied to me, humiliation tactics (insulting me and framing me as incompetent in front of 15 of my colleagues), refusing to call me by my name - only [insert my father's name here]'s daughter. The worst was telling me I was shaming my father... You see, I had told him my Achilles heel was my extreme fear of ruining my dad's reputation at the same airline... He used this against me almost daily. The pain still hasn't faded. To top this all off, the owner of the flying school was taking advantage of my loneliness and attempting to groom me to be his mistress - I eventually figured this out. Obviously I didn't sleep with him. On April 28th, because I'd dared to postpone an exam by two days to ensure a pass, harassment from my parents, manipulation from the school head, my now-ex having slept with my best friend again, and a multitude of other things, led me to (incorrectly) believe I would be expelled if I didn't write and pass THAT DAY. Well set-up mock exams told me I wouldn't pass, not even by luck {the aviation syllabus had recently changed, no new textbooks had been released, and nobody knew what was in the exams as the instructor briefing conferences were only to be held many months in the future}. I couldn't bear the idea of my father having to tell people his daughter had failed the program. So rather than that, I dressed myself in my pilot's uniform, sent goodbye voice notes to those I thought would only find them much later, wrote a note, wrote out a list of my online passwords, placed my identity documents in visible locations, lit a candle, played one last song (Unsteady by the X Ambassadors) and promptly overdosed on a strong cocktail of rizatriptan, Tramadol, sleeping pills, mild benzos, and 42 ibuprofen-paracetamol-codeine capsules. I carefully calculated a lethal dose for EACH medication. I was found 15 minutes before death. All I can remember is sitting on the grass, which moved like the ocean, paramedics sticking a tube down my throat, then hospital lights... And this feeling of bliss. Finally I could have some rest. Finally I could die.

I am now 22. The Aviation Authority won't allow me to fly despite me having no mood disorders, and there were mitigating circumstances. My best friend and now-ex fucked off and fucked each other. I lost ALL my friends and my 3 year relationship one week after hearing I'd never fly again. I thought helping my Heroin-addict friend through withdrawals would help. I suppose it did in a way. I started inhaling speed, and inhaling Heroin, and I am alive because my psychosis spectrum causes me to feel pain so much more profoundly than should be possible. I get so scared and anxious I can't talk or move, just from a door slamming. I have days where it's so hard not to kill myself that I pace and claw at myself, and have trouble breathing. My parents have all but disowned me. My dog is with my parents. My Heroin addict friend is now my boyfriend (we've dated 3 times and he was my first love). I broke my meth addiction a couple months back... And now Heroin keeps me alive. Sometimes it's all that keeps me alive.

-B