#especially one girl from church she always belittled me

[irritablepoe]

People from my old church and school saw me today. I'm so glad they didn't talk to me like fr, apparently I looked unapproachable enough🙏🥹

[katz-chow]

Coming from puff puffs blog 🤧🤥 hope you don't mind 😝🙈🙉 ur also totally gaining a new follower..

WHAT ARE YOUR HEADCANONS ON SOAP? 🥰🥰🥰 unless you've already done this before then I am so sorry 😓

relationship with soap headcanons

warnings: sfw, fluff, some angst, relationship arguments, family trauma mentioned, religious trauma, homophobia, bad dad

a/n: my fav cod man is soap so this took my top priority!!! i think about this man a lot, 09 and reboot version. reboot is my fav though, realistically, he's who i would actually get with. here’s all the things i’ve thought about him, there’s probably more tbh… OK OK HERE :))

childhood hcs

johnny soap mactavish comes from a large family of 5 siblings, he's the second oldest. it's elsie, him, blair, callum, and olivia.

growing up in a family of mainly girls got him on that respect women juice. he would always have to make sure his younger siblings are ok and aren't you know, being bullied. his parents were adamant on 2 year age gaps between them all.

his cousin, jack, was an sas operator and that was what made him want to join. they had to call security forces to arrest him out at some point because he kept sneaking in to watch them do stuff lol

elsie left for uni with her bf to live in soho when johnny was 16, the same year he would talk to recruiters around his hometown, driving hours and then getting rejected the same day due to his age

9th grade (year 10) chemistry got him obsessed with stem and its *explosive* results. he aced chemistry and then took advanced chemistry and physics just because he loved it so much

after this, as soon as he turned 18, he went to sign his papers THEN graduated school (he's just like me fr). his mom was so worried for him, especially when her sister told her about the danger that jack would get himself into. in the end, he promised he'll always call her and his siblings

his dad's an ass, hes an alcoholic, a cheater, a *bitch*... he would always take the kids to church on sundays and twisted the religion into a reason for his behavior. claiming that johnny's mom being at home was just "their culture"

she makes a killer shepherd's pie though

always had had some sort of love-hate relationship with the catholic faith. on one hand, it was nice to know there's always at least someone watching out for him, but after hearing the constant belittlement from his father, claiming he wasn't "manly enough" for not willing to give his life up in the service, he started to resent the “all merciful”.

he ended up blaming god for all his faults, letting him take accountability. this especially happened when he got diagnosed with adhd when he was 17, his dad didn’t believe in mental health. his mom was only a bit better about it, they both refused meds for him.

he's bisexual, leans towards women though. found this out after a truth or dare game in junior year (year 12) and some beers in a closet

at one point, callum acccidently let it slip at dinner when johnny had first moved out that he had met a cute guy and their dad screamed and yelled at the whole family, especially their mom, about "raising a fucking whore of a son, dragging the family down to shite"

blair called and told johnny a few days later and johnny rushed his work as quickly as possible and begged his chain of command for a few days off to go back home to his family

his family gets loud…like really loud. there’s 7 people what do you expect?

it gets especially bad when it’s sunday morning and you gotta get 7 people awake and looking their church best for an hour and a half 😔

johnny is the quickest everything there is, which has its downsides too. he could run and swim the fastest in the family, but he was also the quickest eater…meaning he’s on dish washing duty. he’s quick at that too so by the time everyone’s finished, he’s washed all the other dishes that took to make dinner

broke his arm chasing a cat through someone’s yard (he was 14)

had a goat scream and kicked him because he wanted to give it a hug

he got a part time job at a local bakery in 10th grade (year 11). the pay wasn’t much but neither was the work really. olivia, who was 9 at the time, made him promise that he’ll get her a doll to have tea with. her tea set had 4 cups but only one of her, so she must get another one to join her! he kept his promise; he ended up getting three dolls for her

he can make amazing soda bread and brioche loafs now too, still keeps a starter from the owner of the bakery to this day

he had a mountain bicycle that he would take everywhere. had room behind his seat for packages and his backpack, which he would tie down. that thing had such a loud bell too, would ring constantly to “let people know hes coming and get ready”

was terrified of selkies for some reason, always had the window closed and made callum sleep by it while he slept by the door

wasn’t much of a troublemaker, but would get into trouble with his adventurous heart.

got lost in the woods once and after a while of fake courage, he sat down and cried until elsie found him. he was 20 yards (13 meters) away from the clearing 😭😭

laugh at that guys, mf was 15

personality & relationship hcs

johnny is such a fun lover. he’s handsome yeah, but what makes ppl flaunt over him is his humor. he’s what jessica rabbit said “he makes me laugh”

such a charismatic and charming person, gets it from his dad. he could talk about just about anything, also the type to strike up a conversation with a stranger at the grocery store. then end up with their number and a date or helping them dog sit

this isn’t always a good thing though, one time before he was medicated, he would talk on and on, his story becoming incoherent due to the amount of self-interruptions he made, that a group of guys got so annoyed at that pub, they punched him.

he was young, 19, and couldn’t fight, so he didn’t win and came back to the barracks with a nasty black eye

he likes to be the big spoon, has to hold something in order to sleep

feel like he’s the type to wrap his arms around a pillow and lay on his stomach to sleep

speaking of sleeping, he HATES sleeping with socks on. he tried it one day and he just shivered at the feel of it, woke up and his socks were missing (he found them under the bed)

i also feel like he sleeps like a log, unmoving once he finds his comfort, i also think it's because he had to sleep in the same bed as his siblings at one point and he didn't want to wake them by moving, so he got accustomed to being a still sleeper

one time he accidentally got into a fight at a bar when a guy kept being misogynistic and was arrested and kept in jail for the whole night until one of his civilian friends bailed him out

johnny's the type to race you in the rain to the car. again, he's quick so he's always ahead of you but then he slips from the rain and ends up all wet and muddy and in the car.

his favorite thing to do is hear you laugh. he'll do anything to hear you laugh.

whenever you're sad, he'll purposely stub his toe or trip down the stairs or make you kiss his "owie" (a papercut) to get you to cheer up. like yeah it hurts like a fucking bitch but seeing you sad hurts more than a silly tumble

number one date event is city exploring and hopping. like cafe hopping, pub hopping, museum hopping, restaurant hopping, anything that makes you get up and get going with time to sit and chill at the same time.

feels like he can eat a lot, he's the type to eat your food if you end up not liking it or being too full

when he gets home from missions and the initial excitement of seeing you dies down, he also dies down and nap for hours until it's the middle of the night and he gets up to eat something.

he loves naps. feels like he needs a nap time every day if it was possible

he's a very kind lover, he's easy going so its not hard that sometimes people take advantage of this and push his buttons until he can't take it anymore

causes a huge blowup because he can have a nasty temper whenever he bottles stuff up and pushes things aside

not a physical manifestation of anger, but definitely a verbal anger, will say things he doesn't really mean just to say it and realize right after the words leave his lips that he fucked up

but he'll stake out in front of the guest bedroom in which you've locked yourself in until you come out and he gets the chance to forgive you

the type to stand in the rain and hold a sign saying sorry right outside your window, a very cheesy romcom style (gaz made him watch them)

he loves you more than anything and loves you even more than you can keep up with him and laugh at his jokes, no matter how awful they are

he wants 4 kids by the way

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #410

“oh baby, baby, does she take a piece of lime for the drink that i’ma buy her, do you know just what she likes?

Do you put candy canes on your Christmas tree? Ye. Have you ever written/drawn/painted random stuff on your bedroom wall? No. What do you currently hear? A slowed w/ reverb version of "If U Seek Amy" by Britney Spears. Yes, I have a serious thing for these edits of childhood songs, ha ha. Actually, no shame, I still love Britney lmao. What's your favorite flavor of Doritos? Cool Ranch. Do you like bagels? Yep. Do you ever worry about what the world will be like when you have kids? I ain't having any of those, so I don't have to worry about that. Have you ever seen a hippo in person? At a zoo, yes. Are you any good at HTML? Noooo. When was the last time you did something you knew was wrong? Recently, because I'm awful about downloading things illegally. What was the last thing you downloaded on your computer? A picture. Do you ever cry just to get your way? Hi, I'm 25. I at least have SOME adult traits. Have you ever been to any professional sports games? Yes. What's the most boring sport to watch? The only sport I enjoy watching is dance, so. I think golf has to take the cake for the absolute worst, though. Do you like lip rings on the opposite sex? UGH I just love lip rings on anybody. Do you have good or bad vision? Literally awful. Have you ever parked in a handicapped spot when you weren't supposed to? Hell no. That is so fucking inconsiderate and lazy. Have you ever been to a different country? No. When was the last time you finger-painted? Nooo idea. Probably not since I was a little kid. Do you say car-mel or car-A-mel? "Care-uh-mel." When you get out of the shower, do you use one or two towels? One. Are you uncomfortable with changing clothes in front of others? Absolutely yes. Hell, I don't think I ever really changed in front of Jason back in the day, so that says something about how self-conscious I was with a FIT body. Never mind this catastrophe I own now. Which is worse: Runny nose or stuffy nose? Both suck, but stuffy drives me absolutely INSANE. Who's been the most influential person in your life? My mom. Do you have any tan lines? Ha, yeah, no. How many different schools have you gone to? Six. Do you know how to slow dance? I mean, yes? It's not complicated. Have you ever taken The Impossible Quiz? (If not, you should Google it. :D) No, and I'll never waste my time doing that shit. I've watched people play and beat it, but it seems like such frustrating, pointless madness with zero rhyme or reason behind it. Has someone that you liked told you that you are a waste of their time? No. Who is the last person you were in a car with? Mom. In the next 6 months, what are you looking forward to most? Ummmm Christmas, maybe? That's always exciting. Is there anyone who hates you? Probably. Who were you with the last time you went out for food? Mom. If your boyfriend or girlfriend smoked pot, would you care? Eh... I guess if it was for medicinal purposes, I would be okay with it. I'm not keen on dating a smoker of anything. Do you want to start over with anyone? Just Jason, at least sometimes. It'd be really, really nice if we could be friends again and just forget about who we were all those years ago, but I genuinely doubt my ability to be "just friends" with him. Even though I haven't spoken to this dude in over FOUR YEARS, and I'm sure he's changed a lot, just like I have. We might not even be compatible anymore. As much as I may want it, I think it's probably for the better we remain unassociated. Do you eat the crust of your sandwiches? It's what I eat first. Are you completely over your last relationship? Not "completely," no. I still love her, but I'm in a headspace of accepting that now is not the right time with unfit conditions. What hoodie did you wear last? My Pikachu one, which is the one I pretty much always wear. Do you listen to Incubus? Probably surprisingly, no. I don't know if I've even heard a song. Do you wear flip-flops during the winter? More like always. Do you like the smell of Axe? If you don't use an obnoxious amount, yeah. What do you think of feminists? Absolutely necessary as pilots for change. HOWEVER, I do believe some can take the concept waaaay too far. Who was the last person to smoke a cigarette in your presence? Dad, probably. When was the last time you ate a cupcake? Oh my god, GUYS. It was my niece's birthday last month, and she did the CUTEST shit. She used to be very, very opposed to getting even slightly dirty (I mean like a speck of dirt on her would make her cry), and this kid decided to just C H O M P into her cupcake and get the frosting ALL over her face. She had two and got so messy, and that angel was just laughing hysterically about it. That girl is such a damn gift. Safe to say she was bouncing off the walls that night. Did you hug one of your parents today? No. Do you tan in the nude? I don't tan, period. Have you ever put a lot of thought and effort into a gift for somebody, only for them to act like it didn’t really matter to them? Oh god, no. That would really, really hurt, because I genuinely do try to be very thoughtful with my gifts. Do you follow the ‘five second rule’ when you drop food on the ground? NOOOOOOO. It's just a bullshit myth. I am NOT eating food that's been on the floor for a millisecond. If you had to describe yourself using a colour, which colour would you be? Maybe like... navy blue? Kinda dark and somber, but also has a calmness to it. Have you ever had to use another person’s toothbrush before? What were the circumstances? I WOULD FUCKING NEVER. Omg that is so gross. Have you ever crashed a car? No. Do you have a garden? Does it have flowers, vegetables, or both? No. Where do you want to raise your kids? I don't want kids, but if I did, absolutely surrounded by nature and animals. Have you ever been to Cracker Barrel? Yeah, I love it there. Damn, now I want some, lol. Have you ever seen a ghost? I sure as fuck saw something. As soon as you find out you are pregnant, who will you first tell? Who says I'm ever going to BE pregnant? 'Cuz it sure isn't in my plans. But hypothetically, the dad. Have you ever won a game of Minesweeper? Like ever? I've never played it. Who is your best guy friend(s)? Girt. I really should chat with him soon, it's been too long. If you had a tiny scar on your face, would you get it removed or just keep it? I'd keep it. Make me look more badass. ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ What is your hair naturally like? Brown and kinda-sorta wavy. Have you ever stared at a stranger and they said something to you about it? No; I don't stare at people. Is your father very protective of you? I wouldn't say "very protective," no. What would you do if your hero died? ffffffUCK THIS QUESTION HOW ABOUT NO HE'S NOT ALLOWED THAT'S VERY ILLEGAL Where was your first date at with your current lover? I don't have one currently. Are you friendly in the morning, or are you barely awake? Depends on how much sleep I got, but I'm generally in my best mood in the morning. Did your parents force you to go to church? Mom did. What made you pick up the last book you started reading? It was the next book in the series I'm reading, Wings of Fire. When was the last time you went somewhere for the first time? Hm. I dunno. Hypothetically and generally speaking, how would you go about breaking up with someone? Is there anything you would make sure to say, or perhaps not say? I mean it would really depend on WHY I was breaking up with them, but I guess in most situations I'd try to meet them face-to-face and explain why I wanted to cut things off. I think it'd be important for them to hear my tone of voice, and I think physically meeting somewhere would show that I care enough for them to cut time out of my day to see them and try to hurt them as least as possible, given the situation. What do you find particularly offensive? Would you say you’re easy or difficult to offend? DO NOT in even a minor way ridicule mental illness or belittle victims as "weak" or pull the "it's just in their head" bullshit. The misuse of the term "retard(ed)" also genuinely offends me. I wouldn't say I'm easy to offend, either. What was the last chore you completed? Changing my cat's litter. When was the last time someone saw you naked? It's been a loooong time, and it would've only been my mom when I was like, going into a shower or something. If you could bring someone back from the dead and spend an hour with them, who would it be and what would you do/say? Probably Steve Irwin. I'd go on and on about how his family has carried his legacy so brilliantly, and show him aaaaaall the public pictures of Bindi and Grace, especially. God, that man would be so proud of them all. What is the greatest lost you’ve endured? My first "real" boyfriend. How would you describe your current mood? A mix of tired and anxious. I don't feel like going to bed yet, and the storm we've got passing through has me nervous about tornadoes 'n shit. Do you ever drink or get high alone? I've had some light drinks alone. What is the “worst” drug you’ve done? Are there any you will never try, or any you want to try? I've never done any illicit drugs, and I don't want to. What is the most personal thing you’re willing to reveal? Probably that I've had a pilonidal cyst. It's awkward to explain, but I'll share it anyway if there's a good reason to/I'm asked or something. What made you stop talking to the last person you cut out of your life? Her just being the most toxic, drama-filled person with the biggest victim complex of any human I've ever met. Who was the last person to yell at you? Did you yell back? Mom, and my voice was raised. Where do you like to be kissed? This depends on how serious we are. Can go from just the cheek to a lot of places. Which season is your least favorite and why? Summer, because it's too goddamn hot and humid. Who, if anyone, do you compare yourself to most? Probably my little sister. She's on such a successful path, and then there's like... me lmao. Do you have a night-light in your bedroom? If so, what does it look like? No. What is your favorite breakfast food? How often do you get to eat it? Cinnamon rollssssss. I have 'em very rarely, though. I'll eat too many of them, which I definitely don't need. What is your favorite thing about autumn? What about your least favorite thing? AHHHHHH EVERYTHING. I love Halloween and the decorations that come with it, the changing leaves, the crisp air... just all of it. :') Who was the last person you asked for help? Mom, I'm sure.

[isuzukuretsuki]

me before playing blue lions: haha I’m not like ~other girls~ I don’t like Dimitri and I think he’s boring and basic.

me after playing blue lions: I will die for Dimitri.

I finally finished Azure Moon!! Can’t believe it took me 4 damn months to finish this route. Just like with Crimson Flower, I decided to do a very long write up of my thoughts of this route after letting my thoughts marinate for a bit. There will be spoilers for both Azure Moon and Crimson Flower. Also disclaimer: these are just my personal opinions.

Tldr: this route was so fucking good!!!! I jumped ship from being team Edie/BE to team Dimitri/BL faster than Sylvain jumps girlfriends because I enjoyed this route more than Crimson Flower in almost every way possible. The Blue Lions are my KIDS and I will die for each and every one of them. Blue Lions may not be my first route/house, but this is where my heart rightfully lies. 

I guess the first thing I should get out of the way are the negatives. While this isn’t really a complaint about AM specifically and more so the narrative over the entire game... the conflict between Edelgard and Dimitri seems really stupid and contrived. In other games, war happens because the villain is evil. In this game, war happens because the villain is fucking stupid. Basically, I still ain’t convinced that Edelgard’s war was ever necessary LMAO. She straight up nuked the church’s authority and relevancy out of orbit the chapter before the time skip, so she technically already accomplished her goal; why she still feels the need to go on a savage conquest alludes me. 

Speaking of nuking the church’s relevancy out of orbit, that’s exactly what happened to Rhea LOL. Despite all the church goons clamoring every .5 seconds about how they gotta save Rhea, we literally never see her again at all after the time skip, even at the end of the game. It makes no sense why Edelgard would keep Rhea imprisoned and not kill her, especially when Rhea seemingly served no greater purpose to Edelgard and became completely irrelevant in the war phase.

Edie says some mumbo jumbo of “I weighed the victims of this war against the victims of the world and I deem that there will be less victims of war” like bitch, how??? How do you tangibly quantify “victims of this world”. If she means “people who had a shitty life because of shitty society”, then those people are always going to exist because every society has its flaws. Even if you change society, you aren’t decreasing that number because you’re only solving problems by creating new ones (Edelgard’s specialty). Also the mental gymnastics you have to do to be tortured by an evil organization only to team up with said evil organization to take down another organization that, unless I missed something, isn’t even directly responsible for the death of all your siblings??? In both CF and AM, Edelgard comes off as incredibly thoughtless and illogical in her actions and I can’t help but feel that if she had been just a little bit more diplomatic, then maybe, just maybe, she could have found a better solution without starting a bloody war.

This brings me to the god forsaken chat between Edelgard and Dimitri. Dimitri demanding to know why Edelgard started the war only for her to go “it was the only way” has about the same narrative weight as “Riku why did you become one with the darkness?!” “Because I’m the worst”. Instead of bitching about whose ~ideals~ are better, how about y’all sit down and actually discuss what each person wants to accomplish and maybe figure out a way to accomplish these goals without murdering each other over it? Not that I think Edelgard would accept anything BUT murder, but jesus, this is why you don’t leave diplomatic matters to actual children.

Speaking of why you don’t leave diplomatic matters to children, god that Gronder battle. I get that it’s supposed to be an epic showdown between the three houses that mirrored the mock battle pre time skip but... the Kingdom had literally NO reason to fight the Alliance!!! The reasons they provided to justify why the Kingdom and Alliance couldn’t team up at Gronder was so fucking dumb, especially when two chapters down the line, Claude is knocking at our door begging for help. I will say tho, I never knew how much I appreciated himbo in distress Claude until now lmao.

Rodrigue's death was also really poorly done imo. As much as I liked having Dimitri’s father figure be the one to snap him out of his insanity, (I love found father/son relationships...) how on earth are you guys so fucking incompetent that you let this tiny little girl kill Rodrigue??? It doesn’t help that the exact same thing happened with Jeralt and Monica. This... just ain’t it, chief. 

I think the biggest bone I have to pick at AM specifically is... so what the fuck is the truth behind the Tragedy of Duscur LMAO??? They literally blue balled me by dropping the bomb of “Dimitri’s step mom may have conspired in it” ONLY TO NOT DO ANYTHING WITH IT. I assume that the full truth behind the Duscur tragedy will probably be revealed in VW (I hope) because it involves the slithers but it’s highkey ridiculous that the BL goons... never actually find out what really happened, and why. And I get that the story is about them moving on from their trauma and the past, but they should have at least figured out the actual truth behind it so they can get the closure they deserve???

Despite the gripes I have with some of the writing, unless VW or SS is mind blowingly amazing, this route will easily stand as the best route for me, because.... it is kind of is mind blowingly amazing. I wholeheartedly love character driven stories, and this route absolutely delivers in that respect-- the character writing is amazing and is essentially the heart of this story. To think Dimitri and the Blue Lions were the lord/house I was least interested in at first. Even after hearing people talk about what the BL goons and Dimitri’s character arc was roughly about, I was still blown away by just how damn fucking good it was, and this route exceeded my expectations in every way possible. 

When playing CF, I struggled to connect with a lot of the beagles; I didn’t have that problem at all with the BL goons and the route does a phenomenal job at making me actually give a shit about these characters and their problems. Childhood friend squad (+Marianne and Ashe) are easily my favourite characters in this game by a landslide, and the dynamic between not only the childhood friend squad, but all the BL goons, was just so, so amazing. Watching these characters that are seemingly joined by a single tragedy, rise above all their suffering as they grow, heal, and overcome hardship together is just so... MY KIDS... MY HEART..... I really got the sense of not only their shared pain, but also shared intimacy, care, and friendship. Their support conversations with each other had everything; from goofy and fun, to soothing and nurturing, to painful and harrowing. 

The connections that the BL goons have to the pre time skip missions gave part 1 story so much more meaning, and it only gets better after the time skip. I really appreciate that the BL bean boys actually feel relevant to the main story, and that their input and opinions actually mattered. The cast’s struggle to come to a consensus on the best course of action during the war phase made them feel like actual people with opinions, unlike in CF, where everyone was just a mindless passenger to Edie’s not so merry joyride. This also made Dimitri’s arc way more impactful because the narrative actually holds him accountable for the consequences that his behavior/poor decisions had on others. What I also really liked about the war phase is that you could just feel how war torn the kingdom was and how much everything went to shit after the time skip. I felt really strongly to the characters’ sense of hopelessness at fighting a losing battle as they struggled to keep their home land in tact while everything just kept spiraling out of control and deteriorating further. 

So to see the BL goon beans slowly, one battle at a time, turn the tide of the war and push back against the corner they were backed in, was SO fulfilling and rewarding. The battle of Fhirdiad is probably my favourite battle in the entire game because it felt like all the suffering and toiling that the BL goons went through was finally worth it, and just watching the kingdom slowly heal after being liberated was just such a good feeling. This kind of payoff is something I think CF sorely lacked, since tbh, I struggled to celebrate Edie’s victories with her. Though I do appreciate how Edie’s a much more threatening antagonistic force than either Dimitri or Rhea were in CF too bad Edelgard’s boss battle was pathetically easy and Dimitri shredded through her armor like swiss cheese... at least Rhea put up a slightly challenging fight.

I could gush about the characters all day, but Dimitri? He makes this game, 100%. This truly felt like his story and he was the star of this route. On a superficial level, I’m a basic bitch as well as a slut for angsty boys who have trouble talking about their trauma because I want them to rail me. I fucking loved his feral personality it was just so fun to watch and interact with LMAO 10/10 would let him use me until the flesh falls from my bones. His dialogue in this state is just so demeaning, belittling and raw that it somehow comes a full circle and becomes charming I promise I’m not a sick masochist.

I’m also a degenerate and dimileth is my otp. The way the relationship between Dimitri and Byleth develops over the game truly felt like a bond forged over time. The way Dimitri admits that he couldn’t trust Byleth at first because he was put off by the way they could “kill without batting an eye”, to being so elated when he sees them smile for the first time that he’s completely mesmerized when they starts expressing emotion... oof, talk about otp material. I think what really sold me is the way he’s their anchor after Jeralt’s death; their emotional support both in a traditional sense, but also in a darker sense when he declares he will kill anyone so they desire it because their enemies are his enemies. Character A declaring they’d die for character B? Soft shit. Character A declaring they’d kill for character B? A+ romance right there, boys. 

On a non superficial level, Dimitri’s character arc of his fall from grace and subsequent redemption was absolutely phenomenal. Just seeing how far he sinks, how far he goes, only to see how far he climbs his way back up after hitting rock bottom, was such a roller coaster and I loved every minute of it. I also probably like revenge stories more than I care to admit. Dimitri has everything; blood lust, cruelty, obsession, but also empathy and compassion so extreme that it’s his very own innate kindness that drives him into insanity, which is what makes him such a compelling character in my eyes. The extremity of his psychosis was absolutely heart breaking, but despite everything, him making the conscious decision to change for the better and rise up to fulfill his role as king was just astounding to watch. 

I will say though... maybe I have a screwed up moral compass but tbh Dimitri brutally killing imperial soldires didn’t really upset me because... this is war??? That he didn’t even start?? Everyone is killing everyone??? Even if he never went feral, he’d still be killing because his bloody kingdom is being invaded?????? But I digress.

While I think just how damn avoidable everything was kind of detracts from the tragedy of his relationship with Edelgard, I still really loved how steadfast and unconditional his love for her was (after he stops going feral), and you can tell just how much she meant to him every time he spoke of her. I also love how the dagger kind of becomes a symbolic motif throughout the story, and Edie throwing the dagger at him in the final cutscene as a sign of her wholehearted rejection of him was just fucking depressing, but also very fitting of her character. 

I adore the whole overarching narrative and themes surrounding grief and death, befitting of a war game. How, as tempting as it is to constantly keep the memory of the dead alive, there comes a point where you have to move on and not let your life be ruled by those no longer around. The way that the characters react to the death of loved ones and grieve so differently was a huge highlight of the BL squad’s characterizations, which just makes them feel more alive and human. Honestly, no words can really describe just how incredible of an experience Azure Moon was.

Anyway my order from favourite to least favourite BL goon bean boys are: Dimitri > Ashe >/= Sylvain >/= Felix > Ingrid > Mercedes > Annette > Dedue. (I love Ashe/Sylvain/Felix almost equally LOL)

tldr my experience with Azure Moon:

tfw my second best girl is childhood friends with all the best boys in the entIRE GAME and she settles for a guy with a dead wife, daughter, and most likely triple her age :|.

I’ll be finally playing Golden Deer next, which I’m gonna do on NG+ Maddening so.... hope that goes well!!

[llothlette]

I'm writing this because, I got some news today, April 4, 2020. I want to write it all down so I don't lose this piece of who she was. I don't want this truth to become muddied when the shit really hits the fan. TW: angst, abuse, disease

Mattie Ruth Fletcher

Grandmothers are probably one of the most beloved creatures. They have all the qualities of a mother, though tempered and slowed with age. They seem to delight in watching their grandchildren grow and learn. They have lived and raised enough children to adulthood to forgive more readily and cuddle more often. They give and they teach and they spoil and they love.

But they are also weak and frail. They are the wrinkled, weary shrouds of the brave, stubborn, and determined women they used to be. Many people take refuge and comfort in the presence of their grandmothers but often, especially near the end, they are often abandoned in their hour of need.

My grandmother was born somewhere on a reservation of the Choctaw nation. Her mother gave birth to her out of wedlock during a time when such things would see the mother and child scorned as vehemently as a pile of dog shit. An unwed mother wasn't fit to hire for maid services or other wholesome "women's work". She was used goods and the best she could hope for was to find some desperate man to take her.

My great grandmother was a child of freed slaves, working as a sharecropper in the south. She was as dark as coal, petite, but still strong and beautiful enough to catch the eye of a fairly well off man who's Choctaw mother found herself in the bed of a white man. She had been terribly in love with my great grandfather but when my grandmother was born, he denied her. Even though she had his thick, silky hair as black as midnight. Even though she had his light tan skin, and gracefully sculpted cheekbones. Even though she was clearly his.

His family sent my great grandmother money and food but continued to deny his child's legitimacy. My grandmother suffered. Her family disgraced, ostracized, and bullied. She tried her best to make friends, but the other townsfolk kept their children away. Each day she tried harder. If she was the best reader, they'd be her friends. If she was the best at sewing, they'd see that she was really a GOOD girl. If she went to church, they'd know that she too was a child of God.

It wasn't enough. It was never enough. There was little respectable work for her mother to do and the money, food, and occasional dress her former lover sent out of pity was never enough to keep them both fed, so she rushed to marry.

She married an awful man. Where home had once been at least some sort of refuge, it became a nightmare for my grandmother. Her stepfather was abusive... in so many ways and she had the misfortune of being "exotic" and pretty. He wouldn't keep his hands off her. She attempted to reveal what he had done but, she was a child of an "unscrupulous woman". She HAD to have seduced him herself. The abuse from the rest of their small community and home led my grandmother to seek refuge with her father's family.

At first things were fine, or at least better. She performed the role of the perfect little stepdaughter admirably. She, did whatever was asked, in hopes that they'd love her. But it did not last. Her father's family still saw her as a stain and his wife loathed her entirely. Once the novelty of his lovely estranged child wore off and the verbal abuse from his wife became too much, my grandmother was forced to return home. She knew she couldn't stay and so....She fled into the arms of the first decent man she found, hoping to finally be loved.

But...as romantic as being married to a military partner is at first, the neurotic need for structure, the outbursts of PTSD, and the resulting abuse proved to once again to be too much. She felt trapped and unloved and afraid. And then one day, after a fight with her husband, she packed just a few things, left their child with his grandparents and walked down the road. She walked until she found someone... and hopped into my grandfather's car.

He was understandably confused. A beautiful woman, sobbing, and shaking had appeared in his life, asking that he just take her anywhere. So, he did. He took her up north with him to Wisconsin, where he intended to make a good living at the steel mills. She settled down with him, still technically married to her first husband, and became his wife. They weren't quite so good at keeping and updating records back then. So it was easy to just walk off and get married again.

Their life was good. For a while. She birthed him a strong baby boy and soon was pregnant with another child. The second child didn't make it. She slipped into what she called "a deep hole, like the devil got a hold of me and wouldn't turn me loose". She couldn't find her way out. Her husband did the only thing he knew to do with a woman who wouldn't cook, clean, and was only slightly responsive to their living baby. He beat her.

That quick, painful shock jarred her out of her head, her depression and fear. It reminded her of the days she spent trying to appeal to her abusers and bullies to avoid the sting of another beating or indignity. If she was good enough, they wouldn't hurt her. If she was good enough, they would believe her. She resumed her domestic duties. And her new husband was immediately sorry, for hurting her at least.

For a while things were good. She fell pregnant again and upon the birth of this child, They found him sickly. He wouldn't talk when it was time. He clung to her. Her husband took to drinking. That deep dark hole threatened to swallow her again, but this time her husband was proactive. He cursed her, belittled her, hit her, degraded her. Only, no matter how good she tried to be, he did not stop. It just continued. She thought to leave... But somehow she fell pregnant again.

This became their cyclical love language. My grandfather would be happy, tender and loving, my grandmother would fall pregnant, if the child lived, they would continue to be happy and in love until some other man noticed she existed. If the child died and slipped into depression, he beat her. If he had a bad day at work he belittled and criticized her. When it became too much she ran away.

When she returned, they were in love again... until she was too tired, fearful, and doubtful of herself to run anymore. When that happened it became an endless slog of misery and pitiful dependence on a man who showed love with beatings, harsh words and strategic sex to keep her pregnant and uncertain. In total, my grandmother had 7 live children that made it to adulthood, that I know of. But between each child there is 1 or 2 that were lost.

Throughout my childhood I saw my grandmother as a harried, but capable woman. She always was trying to figure out what was wrong with her. Her husband and children always said she was crazy and making things up for attention. Even when her speech became slurred and her gait unsteady. She was making it all up. She was an uneducated woman. We knew because grandfather said so. Everyone talked over her all the time. She could only be part of the conversation if she was agreeing with everyone else. The only "good" thing about her was that she "always loved granddaddy".

It was the strangest of days when I learned the truth of their relationship. During my childhood, her pitiful pining, her fear, the accusations of him cheating or trying to leave her, her flinching if he ever moved too fast, all seemed to fall in line with grandfather's statements that grandma was crazy. She was strange, mentally. She always exaggerated everything... But that day, something was different.

I have always been the sort to listen and try to figure out how to fix the problem. That's how we had learned that her colorful descriptions of "things crawling under her skin and snapping in her face" was a series strokes and muscle spasms. So on this day, when her movements were clumsy and slow and she seemed so, so weak, I listened.

It was after my grandfather had died and no one was left in the house but the two of us. She heaved with great body shaking sobs, feeling along the dining room table as she eased into a seat. I assumed she missed grandfather. I... was wrong. "I've been abused. I've been abused my whole life. By everyone. Even my own children. They look down on me, treat me like a stupid animal. There's so much I wanted to see and do and I never will!" She declared between sobs.

"Because granddaddy is gone? Grandma, you can still do things! I miss him too, but I know he'd want me to be happy. So I keep trying, you have to keep trying."

"That man.... He took so much away from me. I ran from home to stop people from hurting me. I ran to my first husband thinking life would be better... I ran to your granddaddy thinking he'd save me. I should have stayed where I was." She, the woman who had cradled me in her arms and soothed me when I scraped my knees as a child, was now cradling herself...But without comfort. "At least I knew what ugly thangs they had for me. At least they wouldn't be able to break me down like this! He kept me full of babies, even when we couldn't afford them. My children were hungry because he'd spend the money, drinking, to keep me scared and desperate. I got a job, thinking I'd make up the difference. He couldn't let me have that, he clowned at my job every day until they fired me. I gave up on everything. Everything... until he was all I had. That's what he wanted. And now he's dead!"

I stared in shock for a while and asked her questions...and in turn she told me her story. It was long, disturbing and left my heart crushed. I knew it wasn't a lie because of the bits I had heard growing up. Great stories of my grandfather's wit, perseverance, and strength, finally had the plotholes filled in. The dam had broken in this woman but there was no relief. As i pressed on with encouragement to help her travel she confessed something she hadn't told a soul yet.

"Ain't no point in traveling now. Baby my eyes are going. I can barely make out the color of your shirt, it's all a fog. I ain't said nothing cause nobody ever believes me."

I told one of my aunts. And later that year we learned that my grandmother had multiple sclerosis. She probably had it the whole time, but the lack of education and the abuse she suffered rendered it difficult for her to communicate what was happening.

After her husband's death, her health declined rapidly. Her memory failed her and her sight completely left. Her children argued over who would shoulder the "burden" she'd become. No one wanted her. She was always too much. Eventually she was placed in a nursing home, to the lament of her grandchildren. But, let's face it, we're all struggling to carve out something for ourselves. We don't have the resources or the right to command more for her.

I consoled myself with the fact that my grandmother had found some peace in her old age. Perhaps some love. But... today, I learned that she's been diagnosed with COVID-19. She's scared, alone, and trapped in the looping nightmare of her MS and PTSD addled mind, struggling to live. I feel that I have failed her utterly. I feel that her family has learned nothing from her struggle.

But, I have hope that one day soon, she'll be discharged and I can hug her tightly again and hopefully she'll know that she is loved by someone.

[thisselflovecamebacktome]

How do you feel about this Kaylor obsession? i find it disrespectful

I’m going to be honest with you, I’ve thought of 20 different ways to write this as to make sure it didn’t come off in a way I didn’t mean it, but I’ve realised just I’m probably going to get criticised either way so writing what comes to me is probably easiest.

To start this, I want to speak a bit about myself. It’s not directly relevant to Kaylor, but I think it’s important in understanding where my perspective comes from. I say that because I will be the first to admit that I come from a very privileged position in comparison to most. I’m a white, cisgender bisexual girl who grew up in a rich, pretty forward thinking city and even though we were definitely poverty line poor, we never went without the essentials and thanks to the government scheme, I was able to go to university along with not having to worry about going to a “worse” school in my childhood because schooling is not as heavily linked with location here as other places. I mention this because with the exception of the church, my catholic grandparents and one or two assholes, I have rarely had issues with my sexuality. 9 times out of 10 if it’s brought up, it is me casually saying it. Most of my friends are queer, and while my family have their less than perfect moments with it (mostly ignorant comments), I have never been at risk of homelessness or abuse or suicidal ideation over my sexuality and have never felt like my parents nor siblings nor friends loved me any less because I wasn’t straight. That’s not to say where I live doesn’t have queerphobia because friends of mine have faced abuse and/or homelessness and/or committed suicide over it, but once again, I have been so privileged to have not. Once again, this is not directly related to Kaylor, but I am well aware it is a very different perspective than what most people have and I definitely feel it shapes and contextualises what I’m about to say so it’s important to say.

Kaylor is a very nuanced topic for me… moreso than any other ship, real or not,  I want to say that I personally don’t believe any romantic relationship Taylor had was fake. Do I think she had deeper feelings to some over others? Yes. Do I think her and/or certain partners knew that their relationship would give them extra publicity and that was an added bonus to the relationship? Sure. But I do not think she went into any relationship being like “The only thing I’m getting out of this person is their publicity”, especially after the world starting in on their “Taylor Swift is the problem” rampage. In saying this, I think Taylor showed us with Joe that it is possible for her to only show the relationships she and the other person wants to show and it wouldn’t surprise me if he wasn’t the first. I feel I should also mention that in my younger years, I was a major Swiftgron shipper… not to the extent that I feel every RED song + Better Man is about Dianna, but I definitely shipped it hard and believed it happened. Likewise, I got the vibe with other females Taylor hung around at certain points even if I didn’t ship them as strong as Swiftgron. So, as you can imagine, I’m not opposed to the idea that Kaylor had something other than a platonic relationship at one stage. If they came out today and said everything the Kaylors said was right, I’d support their relationship. However I am not someone who believes that they are this massive romantic love story that’s included beards for years, especially not ones related to the Trumps. Perhaps they had something for a short time in the past, and hell, I’d even believe Gorgeous is about Karlie, but I do not think that they are secretly together when lets be real, Taylor isn’t particularly getting anything out of Joe promotion wise if he is a beard. And before someone says “she got someone who she can say her Reputation love songs are about”, there are a total of 3 songs on that album that she couldn’t spin to be about someone else, as a platonic/family based love song or a general observation on her anxieties. Of those, one of them could have easily been reworded to be about friendship/family over romantic love. Like it just really does not make sense to me that they would play their cards that way when it’d be simpler to just keep her “single” if her and Karlie were actually together. It especially doesn’t make sense now because quite frankly, Taylor has done nearly everything she can to make it clear that even if she has conservative followers, she is not a conservative person and is very ready to defend and support the queer community. And yes, I know that coming out is very different than giving support, but with the seemingly genuine “I don’t care what anyone but my loved ones think of me” attitude she’s been giving off in the last year or two, I genuinely feel like beards are off the board if indeed they were ever on it.

Regardless of how I feel about the ship though, I don’t like that Kaylors cross boundaries. I want to make it clear though that it is not just the Kaylors that do this. I didn’t like how Tayvin fans constantly spoke about Calvin’s dick and made comments about the sex they were supposedly having, Same with Joe/Taylor fans. I didn’t like hearing how Haylors (and other shippers) tracked Taylor’s plane. And in general, I hated how this fandom kept making “Not 10 months sober anymore!!!” jokes. As a whole, I think this fandom has crossed a lot of lines it shouldn’t have and in part that’s why I am grateful for the Reputation era because it somewhat forced us to take a step back and reconsider that stuff. And I say us because I will fully admit that in my younger days (early to mid teens) while I didn’t go as far as some other fans, I was far too obsessed with Swiftgron for my own good and crossed a lot of lines because of it. But as I’ve aged I’ve realised two things. 

Firstly, it’s invasive as fuck and goes against my “treat people how you would like to be treated” way of life. I was talking to friends a few weeks ago and I mentioned that I would hate to be famous because I know that because of the way I am with my friends, I would have fans being like “[insert female friend here] isn’t really with [insert boyfriend of 5+ years here]. Clearly her and Jess are in a relationship! Here’s the receipts!” or “[insert brother’s ex girlfriend here] and [insert brother here] were never in a relationship in their teens. Jess and [insert brother’s ex girlfriend here] clearly were in love but couldn’t be together because of the age difference so [insert brother here] stepped in to be a good ally and said he was dating [insert brother’s ex girlfriend here] instead!”. And here’s the thing, I could probably laugh that off as a “oh those silly shippers” thing, but I also know that I have a few closeted friends who would be literally scared if a rumour like that got thrown around about them just because they associated with me. I have other friends, both queer and not, who would lose family over it. And in general, the remainder would be rightfully annoyed that their relationships were constantly being belittled and being accused of lying about them. And people can make the argument that they’re just trying to uncover the truth so Karlie and Taylor can live their “authentic” lives, but like it’s not your place to do that. It’s not anyone’s place but Karlie and/or (preferably and) Taylor’s if in fact they are in a relationship. If they are romantically involved and hiding it, they have done it for a reason and that should be respected.

Secondly, and somewhat tied to the first point; it doesn’t matter. Look I love Taylor, I do, but at the end of the day, whether Kaylor are together or not does not matter. Same with Taylor/Joe, same with Sweeran, same with Swiftgron and same with literally any other ship you can think of. The world is and always will be bigger than Taylor and her partner. Would Taylor showing off a female partner be nice given how big she is? Yes. But the truth of the matter is in a hundred years, almost nobody is going to give a fuck about who Taylor’s partners were and which songs are about who. Like I genuinely believe that who Taylor is with, male, female or otherwise, is never going to make history like just say Ellen and Portia. The world moves way too fast for that and to be honest, at least where I live, we’re not really in a moment of time where Taylor coming out would be seen as a big deal to most people for more than a few months. To her fans it obviously would be, and I get that, I really do. It would be incredible to think that I have something so formative in common with Taylor and could look up to her in another way. But at the end of the day, not only does Taylor’s partners not matter in the sense of I don’t know these people and it doesn’t and shouldn’t impact my life, but it’s not Taylor’s job to be that person a lot of fans want her to be. Obviously if she so chooses to be and is said person then I would welcome it with open arms, but I would rather use my time being that person and supporting artists like Janelle Monae that are that person than trying to force Taylor to be that person when at this point in time, she has chosen not to openly be that if she is at all.

Anyway, this is far longer than I intended it to be, but that’s basically all my thoughts on the topic.

[sweet-xoxo-thatcares]

Based on what I was taught in school, in church, and with my mom and dad, I know better. I knew I should have left they asses alone along time ago. I knew I should have got the fuck out the first time they even scolded me like a child, popped me on the hand, and told me I had 10 seconds to leave.

But every time I leave myself to my memories with them, my throat hurts and I can feel it pulsing, the true things that I wanted to say, the real thing that I wanted to do back to them.

Knowing I would have snapped, because I was so scared, so confused and did not want to hurt their feelings for pushing me around for so long, testing my limits, pushing my buttons, hurting and pushing me, using me, taking advantage, kissing me with lies just to get me closer, then using me for sex again, throwing me under the bus and blaming it all on me, belittling me, degrading my body, then using me again for sex to throw me away once they got tired of me being so ready.

Ready to be loved. And time and time again, I see parts of you in someone else and I just wanna lash out and quit on them too because anybody that reminds me of you, the hurt and turmoiled child, that took their chances to make me feel sorry for them and look out for them, only to get backstabbed by a stubborn mule who only takes his friend's crops as his own. You're a user, a stealer, a thief, a bragger, so shallow, you misused someone who opened their heart up to you, but all you see is your own pain and suffering.

But you never looked at the pain and suffering you caused me.

Not once did you think, "This is wrong." The lack of morality and mercy shows. You never cared even when you knew how I felt about you. You played my vagina to you and your wife and later on inviting guests to get acquainted to my body that I only shared for you, but you didn't see this. Cause you didn't care. It was all about you.

I'm not your whore, I'm not your slut. And you sure as hell was never my friend. Because a true friend of mine, would never had used me like that for their own sadistic, petty fun and joy. The games that you made me play, the manipulation, the switches of personalities, the plots to get me back on board to being your threesome buddy. You just used me.

Even when you kissed me, it wasn't genuine...it was to invite me to fuck you later. And bdsm, was your sword. And you turned it around on me to hurt me with it.

Its like you punished me each and every time I wanted to be open, honest, and vulnerable with you when I was butt-ass naked. You never cared whether I was dying inside or not. Long as you had fun beating me and making me cry, you had fun. And you and your wife joined in on it.

I hate people like you. You know exactly how it feels to be violated, abused, neglected, forgotten, and taken advantage of sexually and emotionally...

Yet you did the exact same thing to me. And you violated my heart, my soul, my life, my head. And I'll never feel the same way about sex or love again. I don't even wanna be near anybody who thinks its ok to hurt women like that just because you feel like it and you think pretty, sweet, innocent things deserve to be broken by you.

You triggered every single wound I ever had and now your occupation was to press charges on me for harrassment?

Kiss my ass and fuck those charges. Better be glad I never came to your house not once or your job or your family's house. Cause Lord knows how enraged you made me feel, I wanted to burn it all. Every single memory, every single lie, every single kiss, every single time I ever got undressed, especially the very 1st time when you took my virginity.

You preyed on me for awhile and I wish I had known not to fall asleep on the phone with you or even had phone sex with you. I wish I had known the friend I had just made would betray me and use me for my body like a slut, because that's how disgusting and lowdown dirty they truly are.

Even after all they ever gone through, people abusing them. They still chose to continue the cycle, by making me one of their victims. And just like that, they got to walk away and hurt somebody else. Some innocent, bubbly, happy little girl is gonna get played, assaulted, and used just like gullible, old me who had no idea sex can make your heart be manipulated to never wanna fall in love again.

I'll never trust nobody the same way again until everything lines up with what they say and do and how they feel about me and what their true intentions are. There was so much I missed because they always controlled where my eyes were to look at and what/who I should be listening to. Its like these two broads played me, so I wouldn't hear or trust nobody else was saying about who they were, until God showed me Himself. There's a reason why he called me to leave them alone the last and final time Jay broke my spirit. Cause I gave them my all, cause I never reassured me that I was good enough just as a sex partner, or even as a good enough friend. Because they always pushed me away when I got close to them.

Always pushing me down, telling me take steps back, and me telling myself to not fall in love with them, because I knew she, they, he was a traitor.

Blocking me as a punishment for not keeping my mouth shut or speaking the truth. I hated that. That was the finale when they said they completely forgot about blocking me and that they didn't wanna argue. Luring me back in again....

It didn't take me getting away from this jackass to understand what they was really trying to get me to do for them, instead of doing what was best for me to. Idk why the fuck I was even too scared to be 100% honest about the reason why I was leaving when I told Ayunna. It wasn't till I got angry that I let everything out like a fucking melted lava volcano that had been churning and seasoned by them and their wife for years and I was supposed to just shut up, smile, look cute, and just take the pain from them and not allowed to defend myself unless they would get too mad and upset at me, enough to block me or ignore me again. Blocking felt like disbandment, like I broke the family. But truth was, these people weren't my family....family don't treat you like that and expect you to let them disrespect you without you standing up for yourself. It was mind-bottling. Like she taught me to keep my mouth shut and I was supposed to stick to the mask and the sub role that she gave me at all times, even when I fell asleep with them on the phone or staying up for them when they had insomnia, but never reciprocated for me whenever I wanted to talk on the phone at night. I always had to wait and wait for them to speak to me about something. Like my voice was just cut off like Ariel. The pretty, but lost mermaid not having a clue, being babied, but also being tortured for their entertainment.

I never even knew how wrapped around I was around their finger until I unraveled myself from the game of house and dress-up they had me play in. Wearing all these different masks with me and shadow cloaks around me and their wife together in the same room. You sure was different on the phone than you were in person, and it stank. Even after you told me yourself, Ayunna watches all of our texts and phone calls, she even tells you what to say to me sometimes.

I knew it was just about you and her, and I was supposed to wear the stupid, ditsy, clown face you thought I was. I'm glad I put an end to your petty little game and left you hanging like you did me for years.

You don't deserve any single part of me. Not even a goodbye to your face.

[thetldrplace]

Weekend Update

What a weekend.  

Saturday started off light. Ran over to visit with Mom, and while there my youngest sister and her husband came over. We all sat for a while and had a good conversation.

Came back home and spent some time laying out in the sun, trying to remedy the extreme whiteness of my legs. (I've heard whiteness is a real problem these days, so I'm doing my part to lessen mine!)

Then we alternated some tv time and running errands.

Around 4:30 got a text reminding us that we'd committed to going out to dinner with our friends V/W, and his father, who is in town. Then the fun started.

While waiting at BJ’s for our friends to show up I got a nasty text from my middle sister. I have had a particularly contentious relationship with her over the last years, and the last year and a half especially., But she has recently started to pick up Italian. She asked me about a few things earlier in the day, and apparently I didn't respond appropriately, so she got mad at me.... again.... for about the 10th time over the aforementioned span and sent the nasty text.

I had at this point pretty much decided that I really didn't want to hear from her and told her that in a text. Then I blocked her phone, for the third time in the same span. She must have figured out that she was blocked and fired off a nasty email accusing me of various crimes against humanity (the only humanity that matters is of course her). At that point, I knew the night was gonna be shot.  

I couldn't sleep since I knew this was going to consume my thoughts, so I got up and tried reading through the next poetry volume in my series of books. That didn’t work so I decided the only thing that would help me get some peace would be to write out my responses and see if I could settle in my mind what I would do.

So I spent from 10p to 2a processing through my thoughts by writing these responses. I've kind of come to the conclusion that the only way for me to "let something go and give it to the Lord" isn't trying to ignore the issue and give it to Him by not thinking about it. I can't NOT think about it. For the, it's to process through my thoughts about it and make peace with the issue.

So I analyze what she wrote, then write out how I would respond, if there's anything that I got wrong, if there are areas she is correct about something, etc. Then I write out what I was thinking when I said whatever it was that upset her.  

In this case, she sent me some screenshots of the explanation of some of the singular Italian definite articles, Il for masculine, la for feminine and l' for both when the word starts with a vowel. She texted "What is this????" Now she's a long time Spanish speaker, so masculine and feminine isn't an issue. I literally wrote: "Not sure what the issue with the definite articles is for you" and then restated the basic structure.

She responded that I was belittling her and accused me of having a Low EQ (emotional intelligence quotient), something she has regularly accused me of.  

I was baffled and showed my wife, who at first said- your wording DOES look kind of insulting. When I showed her the other stuff for context, she then thought it didn't look so bad.  

But I wrote back and said "I meant no disrespect, Sorry."

She responded with: Give me a break. That really infers 'don't know why you're so stupid and can't get it". Then she proceeds to tell me that she asked two 'highly educated' friends and they both agreed that it was sarcastic and belittling. And that I was "Low EQ if you can't see that."

So my apology was rejected and she accused me of lying about my intentions. At this point I told her that she had returned a direct insult despite my explanation, and that I wanted to be clear now- I don't want to hear anymore.  

Then I blocked her.

I guess she figured out that I blocked her because later I got an email telling me that I was self-righteous and arrogant and a hypocrite because I told her back in 2002 when she left her husband that she didn't have biblical grounds for a divorce, (which was true) and yet I'd had an affair (in 2018). And furthermore, "despite my long history of telling women what to do [I have NO idea what she is talking about here, and my wife said the same thing: What???], don't ever even think of telling ME what to do."

Now, to be honest, I'm ready to cut her completely out of my life. My wife blocked her years ago and doesn't want to hear from her, my youngest sister has told me that as soon as mom dies she will tell her to piss off and not contact her anymore. My middle sister has been in fights with my mom (at whose house she lives rent free), my aunt (who lives with my mom), me, my other sister and her husband, both her daughters and her son hasn't spoken to her in years, although he just recently started to again. In fact, she has had restraining orders on her son and youngest daughter. Basically, anyone she's around for a few weeks, she gets in a fight with.

When my dad passed away last year, she lost it. She was always a daddy's girl, and loved him dearly. And she's held a grudge against my mom for a reason I won't get into since forever. But she treated everyone in the family very poorly, especially my mom and I. Since it was during covid, we couldn't get anyone to do the service, so I basically led the funeral service. We had a tight schedule and I asked my sister to keep her remarks to about 5 minutes, just like everyone else. She went 15. And we had to cut out a part of the service because of it. No problem, didn’t say a word to her.  

My mom asked me to put together a small video of the service for her, so my sister, my aunt and I would have to rerecord our thoughts. I asked my sister at that time to edit hers down to 5 minutes. For this she accused me of being the "little dictator of funerals" and singling her out for mistreatment.

She snapped at my mom once telling her, "I just lost my DAD!"…. To my mom.... who had just lost her husband.... ALL of us lost him, and yet not all of us behaved nearly as badly as she did.  

The list goes on. I kept a record of the various spats and there were 7 different incidents where she took some innocuous thing I said and rewrote herself as the victim. Which a common theme in her life- everybody mistreats me. She goes on about being the middle child. She'll send me meme's that say: when is it middle child day? Oh yeah, no one cares about the middle child. As if there is an oldest child day.  

So.... given the history, I had finally decided I was going to have to cut off contact with her. I have avoided telling her, but if she is going to take any harmless statement as an insult, then ignore my explanations and accuse me of lying about it, then I don't know what else is left. I can't possibly have a relationship with her as long as things are like this. And she's progressively gotten worse over the years, so I don't see anything changing.  

Somewhat to my credit, despite some fairly harsh words that I wrote, things I've been wanting to say for years now, I didn't send anything. I remembered in writing it out, that God has forgiven me for much over the years, and while He would have been fully justified in throwing me out in to the street, He didn't. I want to show that same kind of grace, even when that person thinks I'm her enemy. I do recognize that she's being used as a tool of the enemy, and though she is willfully ignorant of the damage she's causing, I still want to hold out hope and act in way that if she ever were to come around, she'd be able to recall that I didn’t lash out at her in these darker moments.  

So, I go to church on Sunday morning and one of the songs, Hallelujah For the Cross, just caught me up and I completely forgot about all this stuff. So praise the Lord for that momentary respite.

Came home and watched Italy beat England in the Euro finals... in Wembley stadium in England! So good day there.

Then I got to watch the US beat Haiti in the afternoon, so more good....

Then I got to go play indoor soccer with some friends from church. (I'm exhausted and beat up and limping this morning, but it was still awesome.)

Then this morning I get more crappy emails from my sister. So now I'm kind of thinking about the situation again.  

I'm torn between wanting to lay into her and then tell her we're done, or just tell her we're done.

I know that she won't hear anything I say, and the only thing it will do is rile her up and cause her to send off a bunch of hate mail. Part of me thinks I at least owe her some explanation, but that's because my nature tells me that if we (by that I mean any parties involved with anything) can just sit together and be reasonable, then we can come to an agreement. But I've talked with my mom and sister and wife about this and everyone is telling me the same thing: Don't bother, it won't do any good.

She IS my sister, so I don't want to cut her off, at least in principle... but to be honest, I've crossed a mental bridge where I just don't really want to hear from her anymore. At all. But I haven't crossed the Rubicon yet with what I've said to her. I guess I could really use some prayer, and I need to be praying more about it myself.

And that's my weekend update. I know it's kind of a get this stuff of my chest post, but for me, that's what writing does.

[hutchhitched]

Blue (Part 17)

Happy third Sunday of Advent! We celebrated Peace Sunday at church this morning, and this chapter is pretty much the opposite of that. This is part 17 of my contribution to the Christmas challenge run by @everlarkchristmasgifts. If you’ve missed a chapter, the story page is here. Trigger warning: This is the opposite of fluff.

Prompts: Biscuits/Cookies

“They’re on their way,” I announce after reading the text from my sister. “They should be here in about thirty minutes.”

 “Just enough time to finish the Christmas cookies,” Peeta assures the girls. “I’ll wrap up some for you to take home.”

 My nieces cheer, and I wring my hands. As soon as they’re gone, I’m forcing Peeta to talk to me whether he wants to or not. There’s been a distinctive chill in the air between us for far too long, and I don’t want to try to survive the rest of the holiday season with my best friend mad at me.

 I haven’t liked Christmas for a long time, not since my father passed, and it takes almost everything I have not to sink into a deep depression every year right after Thanksgiving and stay there until after the New Year. Peeta usually goes home to see his parents the last week before Christmas Day, so he hasn’t seen how bad it gets too often. I almost regret asking him to stay in town this year because it’s putting a lot of extra pressure on me to pretend I’m okay.

 Prim and Gale arrive earlier than expected, and there’s a flurry as the girls streak to their parents. Tears spring to my eyes as I watch their reunion. There’s so much love, it’s almost too much to take.

 “Thank you so much for looking after them,” Prim breathes into my ear when she hugs me. “We missed them like crazy, but Gale and I really needed this.”

 “No problem. Things better?” I ask quietly as Gale shakes Peeta’s hand and picks Poppy up to prop her on his hip.

 “A thousand times better.” Her relief is evident, and I’m thrilled I was able to help her when she’s been such a good sister to me.

 Prim throws her arms around Peeta’s neck and smacks a thank you kiss on his cheek. Gale crosses to me and gives me an awkward side hug. “Any chance you have some time tomorrow to help me Christmas shop? I’ve already picked up a few things for Prim, but I was hoping to get your opinion on something before I get her big gift.”

 “Sure,” I agree with a smile. Gale doesn’t ask me for favors very often, so I’m happy to help. Besides, we used to be really close friends before we dated. It might be nice to hang out with him for a little while again.

 “Thanks. Just let me know when you can. And thanks again for watching the girls,” he says gruffly. “Mellark’s a good guy. You guys did really well with them.”

 “Happy to help. Always love hanging with my nieces.”

 All too soon, the Hawthornes are gone, and Peeta and I are alone. He hunches his shoulders and nods his head to the couch. We sink onto the cushions together, and an awkward silence stretches until I finally ask, “Will you tell me what I did wrong now?”

 “I’m not a saint.”

 “Peeta—”

 “Shut up, Katniss, and let me talk.”

 I grit my teeth to keep my mouth shut. Peeta’s rarely rude to me, so he must be really pissed. Still, this seems extreme.

 “I’m not a saint, and you don’t have to act like I’m one. I love your nieces, and I had a great time with them the past two weeks. I didn’t do that because I’m perfect or because I’ve got some magic power that makes kids like me. I did it because you mean a lot to me, and I spend half my life doing everything I know how to do to make you happy,” he explains.

 “I never asked you to do that.”

 “No, you haven’t, which makes it worse. The other day when I was so upset about my mom you said that I always know just want you need, and it pissed me off. Because I do know. Because I have spent years figuring you out, knowing what makes you tick.” He pauses and runs his fingers through his hair to tug at the ends. “I don’t know you because I’m perfect. I know you because I work my ass off to do so.”

 “Well, stop then,” I blurt, exasperated that he’s mad at me because he wants me to be happy.

 “I don’t want to stop,” he yells. “I don’t want to stop working on us. You’re worth working for, dammit! Stop acting like I’m more than you deserve and accept that you’re special and important and worth all the effort I put into this relationship.”

 I study him for a few minutes, and my heart aches a little bit at the sincerity in his blue eyes. He’s always done so much for me, and I’ve never understood why he settles for so little in return. I’m not the most thoughtful person, but I try to be nice—especially to Peeta.

 “You saved me the past two weeks,” I rationalize. “You gave the girls so many memories I couldn’t even begin to imagine. I didn’t mean to make fun of you or to belittle you. I appreciate that you take care of so many things. I wish I could do more. I should do more, but right now…this time of the year is incredibly painful.”

 He reaches over and covers my hand with his. “Why is it so painful?”

 “I— I miss my dad so much,” I stutter.

 “Is that all?” he urges as gently as possible.

 “That’s not enough?”

 “It’s plenty, but I’m just curious if there’s anything else.”

 I hesitate, but I might as well be honest. He’s my best friend, after all. If I can’t tell him, who can I tell?

 “I’m probably not going to get married. Or have kids.”

 “Okay?”

 “And I want a family,” I explain. “I’m hard to be around. You know that, and there hasn’t been anyone since Gale, and he wanted sweet Prim, not grouchy Katniss—which was better for all of us anyway in the long run. But still. I’m difficult and demanding and irritable. No guy will ever want to throw in his lot to spend the rest of his life with me.” Peeta stares at me like I have three heads, and I mutter, “Or have babies together.”

 “I’m right here!” Peeta roars. “What is wrong with you? I’m. Right. Here!”

 My mouth drops open, and I shake my head. “You’re my best friend.”

 “I’m in love with you, you idiot!” he yells. “I have been since I met you, and you’ve kept me firmly in the friend zone the entire time.”

 Peeta springs from the couch and paces back and forth as I grapple with what he’s saying. His arms flail widely as he lays into me, but I can’t process his words.

 “You’re my roommate,” I protest weakly.

 “Because it was the only way I could get this close to you without you running away! Dammit, Katniss. Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for you to wake up and see me?”

 “I see you.”

 “You don’t!” he shouts. “You see a saint. You don’t see me. I’m not perfect; I’m a man in love with my best friend, and I’m dying inside because I want you so damn much.”

 “No…”

 “I can’t do this anymore. I cannot do this.” Peeta grabs his jacket and storms to the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he turns to me and warns, “Figure out what you want, Katniss, because I can’t wait forever. Quit acting like I’m out of your league, and give me a fair shot. Don’t do me any favors by sparing me from your prickly personality. I happen to love it.”

 He slams the door behind him with enough force the tree ornaments sway. Shocked, I stare after him.

 I had absolutely no idea how he felt, and my obliviousness scares me almost as much as his confession.

[paganchristian]

My girl cat.  I still like to write and think and talk about my cats almost like they are still alive, because it feels like that is healing to me.  In some way, I feel they are still alive in another realm.  I can remember them, and keep their memory alive.  It doesn’t have to feel so painful anymore now that I’m learning the lessons that I had to learn about how to live without them and how to adjust and how to see how overburdened I was (and in many ways still am) anyway so maybe I sometimes wonder if I should have another pet when I really think I was allergic to them, and as much as I love pets and they’re like family members, but maybe I need to heal my own life and spend a lot of attention on my daughter and her upbringing, maybe not having a pet will help me focus more on that, because I used to spend so much time with my cats and sometimes it felt like a respite from the stress and confusion, including the overwhelm and confusion of motherhood, and my cats would wake me up in the middle of the night so that I didn’t get enough sleep, and I was allergic and I wasn’t able to do as well in some ways in my life,... maybe because of all that, and so on, anyway,...  There’s many ways to see it, but I am happy to bring back the happy, healed energies and feelings around them and all the memories I can.

I will write about her eventually but there is also something to me that feels special about not hurrying to express what does not flow, but what is so special and unique, powerful and sacred to me.  In fact also there is something special about not expressing what is wonderful to myself but that I feel others wouldn’t necessarily get. Because sometimes when I express and share things special to me, others don’t get it or don’t care as much, not that much,...  And I think that somehow I might feel that, even if they don’t talk to me, but if energy affects you then I might feel it.  And sometimes it feels to me that I do feel it.  And that it kind of diminishes things somehow.  But other times, though I feel like it’s different, and I feel like I reach a point where I can share without it being diminished much if at all, not enough to really hurt me or take away from my meaning and joy and confidence and energy and focus and whatever it is that I have bout this thing,.  And when it is one way or when it is another, that depends on something, a feeling, hard to describe.  Maybe a more intuitive thing, but also a lived experience kind of thing, where I see that when I follow this kind of feeling and intuition then I get these kinds of results.  And it also has a lot to do with the atmosphere I’m sharing it in, the kind of people who might see or hear or read or whatever, what I’m doing.  So I think that some people and some situations are more likely to end up having some kind of negative effect on me.  Maybe their negative, deflating opinions are more likely to affect me with their energy.  But other situations and people, it’s not that way so much if at all.  Maybe it’s just a trial and error thing for me to see how I seem to feel when I do certain things in certain places and situations, and that tis how I “intuitively” know, partially or mostly by first trying and seeing different things.  It’s often been in the past that I would put things out there on the internet where people could read them on a blog and at first I didn’t notice anything negative from it but over time I began to feel this negative energy, draining, anxious, intrusive, attached, worried, fixated, as if someone was making negative energy cords or just projecting, getting too in my business, and too reactive and too hungry for more or worried, and yes, often, belittling or misunderstanding.  Sometimes it really felt to me like it dragged me down emotionally, mentally, burst my bubble of enthusiasm.  I had to recognize it and stop putting things out there on the internet in those places.  I now use prayer to help me and I think that it does.  I used to use the help of deities, but now I use a different type of prayer.  The help of my deities helped me in the past, and it included a variety of deities including Hindu as well as Christian deities, but now it seems to work better with the particular prayer I’m using, all the time, and that is like I don’t know how it does it but it seems to be very protective in many situations, including with my husband, my family, strangers and people on the street or online.  Not that it all goes perfectly, and it’s not just protecting me either, but helping in the harmony between myself and others, and what I can do to help them in their lives.  But I think it also depends on the attention, the mindset, values, emotions and deep-seated beliefs you have (even beliefs you have that you’re not conscious about having).  If you have the right mindset and beliefs and feelings, then it works much better.  

Anyway I was going to write something about how I want to be able to be there, to share, to care, to offer help and ideas and advice if they want it, or take it or leave it, for my family member, since they do ask for advice and input and ideas.  But I want to do all that in a really detached, low-stakes way.  So somehow the picture of the mirror with my cat facing away from me made me think of this.  I want to have this approach with my family, with religious groups and spiritual beliefs, and I want to have this approach with potential friends if I ever even try to make real friends.  I have to first know that the person or church or the belief system, whatever, that it’s someone or something that is unlikely to ever hurt or misunderstand or reject or abandon me too badly, or else I have to feel that I have gained so much from the whole interaction that I will leave still much richer, and able to feel I have not lost, that there is not that much to lose, because I’m still fine to know the truth of how they’d reject me, how those opportunities would close, etc.  And so, the image of looking at someone in a mirror, while turned away from them (from the view of my cat), that seemed to fit.  I could always just look right at my own reflection if the world in which I inhabit is so much more full and vital and overflowing and alive than whatever it is they would try to reject me with.  So that is what I was thinking of.  

I’ve felt this way in the past when I did a little bit of speaking before a class or whatever, and I was so fired up about what I was talking about, introvert though I am, that I just didn’t even really care and hardly saw the people I was talking in front of, and was just wrapped up in my own speech, and the world around me felt like it just dissolved.  And another time I really felt like i had a rapport with the audience, somehow, and I felt their feelings, I held their gazes, as I looked around the room and I felt they were really touched and inspired by me.  And even the professor also commented on that and told me that I was a great speaker, and knew how to really connect with the audience and create synergy.  But in high school I also recall my teacher once telling me that I seemed incredibly nervous and she was concerned and the funny thing was I didn’t actually feel nervous, and I thought I had been in my own world of inspiration and confidence, again, but she though I was consumed with anxiety.  Hmm.  

Anyway, just some thoughts.  I think it might be good for me to remember this idea, and act on it, somehow.  How to make a situation where I can share but it is so distant, that I can turn into myself if they don’t care, if they don’t want what I have to offer, if they’re not interested, and it won’t feel too harmful and they won’t reject me too much , because like in the case of my relative, for example, and in the case of my daughter, there is so much in common, so much love, so much closeness, that even if they really do not like what I’m saying or care or relate or understand, I know they will not be too rude and abandoning or rejecting, they’ll just wander off to their own thing, mostly, .. And especially if I put my ideas in some format where they can easily do that, like say, a blog, maybe, or I some other thing where I can turn into myself and tune out the world, as I am fed upon my own ideas, and happy to talk to myself, write to myself, say what I want or need, regardless of if anyone else is listening or if they care or not at all.  A blog or something else, maybe occasional letters, just not too much, letters that do not require a response at all,...   to try to share and care and advise my family?  Can it be done?  Maybe.  I mean, really why not?  As long as I can let the blog just morph into a self-revolving project of helping and learning for my own self if the sharing, interactive aspect doesn’t work as I might have hoped.  Since I’ve done that before with other blogs, not sharing with my family but just putting them out in public, and they turned out to be totally self-revolving, self-help type things, why not this too?  Much of what I’d like to share with my family has a as much or more value for my own self or even for the hope and possibility of sharing with someone else out there in the world if even if not my family.   But my family won’t criticize too badly if they don’t feel too burdened and too obligated to listen or respond at all.  It won’t deteriorate our relationship since they can take it or leave it and it won’t be like with other friends where we tried to share so much and felt unable to say too much is too much or I’m bored with your passionate interests, or I’m drifting apart from what once held us so close.  If we start and continue with this really detached, low-stakes kind of distant way of interacting, then whenever this has served its purpose (or if it never has a purpose after all), it can be let go of without a lot of painful raw edges, attachment, expectation, awkwardness and the habit of acting like we care, the rituals of interaction and expecting that, bonding and growing fixated into those patterns as if it’s “our time together”, that can’t then be challenged without disrupting the relationship.  And if they didn’t like it they would maybe give me some little critiques at worst, nothing too bad and our friendship, our strong family relationship will continue pretty much as strong as it ever was.  

And if I had a person who I could feel that way about, when trying to “make friends” or whatever, it wouldn’t be the same, because of course then I’d be making new friends, as I’m speaking of it here, not just continuing a strong relationship with family.  But even then I wouldn't’ want to interact, unless they had shown me enough of what made me convinced they would understand, respect, relate, care, accept, etc so much of what I say and would not be cruel, callous, selfish, towards me for just trying to share things in this take it or leave it way (like really why would it be so hard to not just be respectful of people who openly share things in a take it or leave it way?  But it seems many people would be rude and intrusive in such a situation if their values, their views, etc were too different.  They would take your vulnerable sharing and use that as an opportunity to try to hurt you.  So I would have to know that our values, views and our personalities and ways of doing things and ways of relating were similar enough.  Then I could be like, ok, if you want to get to know me, the deep me, my passions, values, insights, ideas, and what I want to offer the world, what I’d like to share with others, what makes me tick and what would make me want to be a friend to someone, what friendship means to me, just look at my blog.  Haha  That sounds weird and yet I think with the right person it could work.  And if they really did like what you had to say and what you had to offer, they could respond and if not, they could just not respond much or at all. And if they only respond a little and then drift off or start to feel distant and negative about it all, then you can just return to the mirror of self-reflection, again, but only as long as you have always kept it very self-referential all the whole way through.  None of this deep attachment and involvement, more like I’m making a speech and you can comment, then you can drift away or become critical and I don’t feel like my best friend is leaving me after we were so close and had so much deeply in common.  I don’t feel that because it was only ever this kind of thing where I gave a speech and you comment, and we’re friends and our friendship is strong enough with or without the speeches or rather, you’re a respectful person and if we don’t become lasting friends, that respect is strong enough with or without friendship, so I don’t feel desecrated, used, and discarded,...  Because that is how I usually end up feeling with people who I share my deepest feelings with.  Even when I don’t share my deepest feelings I usually get terribly hurt by people if I let them get close after just sharing somewhat deep feelings.  

So they have to share enough of themselves before I’ll share myself at a deeper level, kind of like my family has shared to much of who they are that I can now trust their respect.  I t how do you have that with friends and people who aren’t family?  I am not sure but the same way I’ve gotten to know my family this deeply, somehow maybe it can be shown in others without getting too vulnerable to they unfairly attack and abandon me like so many others.  I am asking God, because it feels maybe this was an answer to something from God, but I’m not sure,...  Maybe it was.  Maybe this idea of how to relate to my family member was given to me from God.  Maybe the idea it could be applied to potential other friends and belief systems and whatever is also an idea from God.  If you start out strong and independent enough, and distant enough, and stay that way, nothing can reach in and take too much from you, especially if the ways they can and would try to reach you aren’t too vulnerable in ways you can’t bear.  You have to know what kind of vulnerability is comfortable and acceptable for you.  I guess some can handle a lot more rejection and invalidation and misunderstanding than others and it depends on the person, their history, their traumas, their remaining support system and coping methods, their identity, how strong their identity is, and so on.  

Another question that I’d have about all of this is, really, how to or can you, can I, make all this feel like an exchange?  And since it is take it or leave it, you don’t have to respond, then how might it still be able, or could it still feel like an exchange?  Because in the past when I would blog, even though I got no comments, likes nor any followers, for some of these blogs, it felt strangely like it met some of my deepest, most unique, hard-to-meet social needs.  Not all, and I needed my daughter, and God, and books, and reading and divination and what not to help me feel more seen, less alone, and more loved and interactive and healed by others too.  

But another funny thing was that when I blogged often it would seem like the guidance from spirit and the healing and good luck I got were better.  i wondered if the energy of any readers was somehow helping (even if I didn’t have followers or commenters, maybe silent lurkers?  But then I had negative psychic effects too so it was a mixed bag, and sometimes I felt like my prayers and guidance was better when it was kept secret, totally private, which is something you oftentimes hear in spiritual beliefs - that to tell something to others diminishes the power and the more secrecy the better.  I think based on my own experience, it depends, sometimes it may be one way and sometimes another for different things and different audiences.  Now on my my new spiritual path I still keep much to myself with my prayers and it does seem to have better results thus, these days, because I feel like I have finally tapped into a source of power that doesn’t let me down as much as my spiritual powers and deities did in the past.  I rely more on God, less on the public effects of sharing and the unusual coincidences that seems to ripple out in my world). 

But blogging met so many needs I felt were unmet before I blogged, and after I kept on trying to stop blogging, for various reasons, I’d b drawn back once more because of those needs I felt deprived of when I didn’t blog.  What was oftentimes weirder still was that it seemed to create these kind of visions of people in the past, but that has faded away, and I really think that maybe I was connecting with energy and that the energy created the visions.  That is not to say the person was actually interacting with me but maybe their energy somehow did and it presented itself to me as a person.  Anyway, for whatever that might be worth, it created these visions that were socially fulfilling to me, and felt like real friendships, or sometimes love, astral lovers.  Although I also had the problems going on with psychic cords, so it was a two-edged sword.  Though even after i stopped having the visions of people much anymore, I still found blogging to be a socially satisfying endeavor and expression, often more so than real interactive social exchanges.  Perhaps what I needed more was to connect to my own deeper self, however to do that in the context of a social, public setting, because I needed to feel that what I was saying was worth saying, deserved the right to be said, was ok to say out loud where others could see and hear it. The way my brain seems to erode thoughts if they’re not shared with others, even though I want to hold on to them.  Something about the public, social interactive or potentially interactive (not too interactive in reality, just potential. haha).. something about all that stuff makes my brain focus, and think better, and hold on to thoughts that would just slip off like memories of dreams, and fade away or get blurry and inarticulate otherwise. 

Maybe anyway, blogging could feel like a social exchange, though, back to that,... It could feel like a social exchange, the same way, with family or potential friends who I trust enough to let them interact if they so choose, or take it or leave it if not.  And how can that feel like an exchange, if what they are giving to me in return i feel like I have to respond to, the way most people respond to social gestures, and they’re normal that way so I would feel like I have to do that?  And I’m not sure, but it’s a question, a thought, that I pose to God, hey God, please fill me in on the details on this, if you will, if this is your idea you are leading me or trying to lead me or if you are just leading me on stepping stones jumping from one possibility to another to spark thoughts till I get the real clear ideas of what will really work, then I wait for that.  I make no assumptions including not assuming it’s you that’s telling me or giving me these ideas.  But if it is, then God, please I will pay attention and if you show me I’ll try to see what you show, as I feel it’s not just some passive thing, and I will at least ask and pay attention.  I do think I’m meant to play a part in my own life instead of just let it happen to me as God deems without me trying to see and plan and interact with God for guidance, like many Christians often seem to suggest when they hear the complexity of my prayers and guidance seeking from God.

Speaking of that, I feel like maybe when I blog it’s just like it’s making the social and thought mechanisms in my mind, heart and soul and intuition and subconscious and memories and whatever all stir up and activate, and maybe that has something to do with the guidance that I get, maybe it has something to do with the visions I get too.  What if the visions are some kind of repressed part of my subconscious or something, some part of myself?  What if the insights that let me recognize the right symbols and messages, in the guidance, what if that is also activated this way?  What if?  Or maybe I am manifesting it, or maybe God is manifesting it, but some reason God wants me to use or needs me to use blogging to have this effect, because my brain is trapped inside, under layers of something that can only be excavated with social environments (socially distant, socially potential but not really interactive, like these mostly if not totally unnoticed blogs, even in particular?).

Then what if I have to go through a particular mechanism to make them surface and interact and become clear, lest they’re lost in the mist?  What if it’s not like the things that many new age people said to me, that I just have to willingly open and tap into my own insight but instead I really must go through elaborate particular processes to finally tap in my insights in the form of visions that appear outside me?  Whether these things are really outside me or a manifestation of my own mysterious power that has to be activated by some strange and subtle means, some particular ritualistic precise and complex methods, well, what does it matter really?  If the point and purpose and role and result is it helps me, I can do it this way, I can’t have the same results any other way?  I have tried.  So that is all that matters, do what works then. 

[quill-ink-requests-blog]

Behold Yourself

Chapter 1

It was a fine morning as I rolled out of bed, stretching my long, muscular arms, and shaking my long, gloriously soft red hair---yeah, who am I kidding!

It wasn't a fine morning. Or rather, it isn't a fine morning. My feet trip over themselves, causing me to hop around, as I scurry to my closet to whip through my available clothing options.

Let's see here, I have a pair of skinny jeans, 3 t-shirts, a blouse, a black and red checkered skirt, and some scrubs. . . I really do need to do laundry.

Pulling out the jeans and a gray t-shirt, I rush through the morning process. I'm almost about to brush my teeth before Fiona calls out "Meds, Yusa!"

Oh, yeah, right. Setting down my toothbrush, which is currently properly covered with toothpaste, I rush downstairs. On the table is both my Lexapro---Fiona was always so nice and prepared for everything, wasn't she?---along with a glass of water. Downing a quick gulp of water, I swallow my Lexipro---ugh, thank goodness I don't have to split it anymore---and rush back up to the bathroom.

My toothbrush with toothpaste is still sitting there, nice and proper, and I hurry through that process before running back to my room to make sure I have all my tiny trinkets. Watch, check. Phone, check. Necklace?

My hand flies up to my neck as I gaze around the room. Where is it, where is it?!

There! On my wardrobe, half hidden by what can only be described as a mass of junk---not that the stuff isn't useful, but I never use it, and it's just amassed into a pile. Snatching my necklace from among them---without knocking anything off, I grin, put it on, and rush back downstairs.

Fiona's already waiting for me. "Your backpack is in the car already, and so is your tablet." Never let it be said that my foster mother isn't amazing.

Yes, foster. My parents died when I was young, at the hands of some very careless bullies. I don't mean that they just didn't care, I mean that these bullies weren't careful as they tried to set some of my stuff on fire. The blaze found my house, decided it was very hungry, and that a house, with my parents inside, was much better than the little pile they'd amassed.

Yeah, not a fun memory. I try my best to keep it from showing, though, and I guess it succeeds, because Fiona returns my grin with an eye-roll and a smirk. "Geez, you'd think you're going to an awesome place, or something, not Reggard's Parochial High."

I snort, laughing as we get into the car. "What, Reggard's isn't awesome?" At her incredulous look, my laughter escalated. "I'm kidding, just kidding." Yeeeeaaaah, Reggard's Parochial was a high school funded by the local church. They were a very. . . religious bunch, but there were no other schools in town.

Crappy, I know, but it's all we got. Quite a few of the kids there take to some of their practices easily, but for people like me, who refused to be forced into a belief, and didn't actually believe in something like that anyways. . . well, it's sucky.

A few minutes of laughter and silence as we drove later, and there it was. Reggard's Parochial, the only high school in town, and home to hell. Ironic? Yes. Overstatement? Not really.

See, the thing is, many people at Reggard's, and admittedly many people in this small town of Hildeburg, were very judgmental. Very, very, very judgmental. So while it might've been sucky for the extremity of religion, it was hellish for how easily everyone found that one thing which seemed out of place and placed all their burdens upon it.

Getting out, I grab my backpack, wave to Fiona, and begin the walk. At the door, one of my only friends, Mack. Her hair was in a braid today, I noted as we waved to each other. Today must be off to a terrible start.

"Hey, Yusa," Mack grinned at me. "The ghouls seemed extra vicious today." Grinning back, I exhale and hide my necklace under my shirt.

Maybe I should explain. Ghouls are the term I used to describe our current bullies. Yes, our; Mack---whose real name is Erin---befriended me in our first year, and after my home and parents burnt to bits, joined the ranks among the bullied; I had seemed uncaring about their deaths, and that she remained my friend made them think she didn't care either, but I digress. I had come up with the term after a particularly silly spill with Geronimo Hacks, a prankster who had listed me as his target.

They don't have a brain, they don't have a life, and they haven't found their purpose. Until they find one of those three, we're stuck with them haunting us. Pretty accurate, I figured, and so it's stuck ever since.

"Oh? What'd they do?" Mack sighed before pointing at the banner---the banner I hadn't noticed because I was too busy thinking. On it, painted in gold, were the words, You're Not Welcome Back, Bollix!

What a lovely welcome. I said as much, Mack smiled wryly, and together we made our way into the wolf den.

Inside wasn't much better. Glares and whispers---okay, more like very loud talking that they pretend is private---follow the pair of us as we head to our first class. Today was the first day after winter break, so our classes hadn't changed, but it was a long enough absence to warrant a welcome back.

"You'd think they'd get a life by now," I muttered. "It's been an entire month for them to do so, so where'd they go?"

Mack snorted, giving me a patronizing look. "Now, now, Yusa. We shouldn't belittle the less fortunate."

We both laughed at that---really, having no life is unfortunate, but had to stop as Kirsten Wallace approached.

Just great.

Kirsten was among the privileged in the school, known for being devout, being hot, and being a complete and utter wagon.

Okay, well, it was more to Mack and I that she was a wagon, but still. She was a wagon, and a particular pox of one, at that. "I'm surprised you're talking, ginger-face." Her voice was sickly sweet, as always. The girl might look like and sound like sugar, but I'm pretty sure that sugar was actually lead. "I mean, being without parents is pretty unfortunate."

I raise a brow. They usually tried to avoid that topic, because it made them feel guilty, and ginger-face was a ludicrous insult. Kirsten must've had a bad break or there was someone new, because she'd never be such a 'female dog' otherwise.

The sugar-lead girl doesn't move, as if she's waiting for a reply.

She must've had a really bad time.

"It's not so unfortunate when I know they have no chance of meeting you. I'd worry they wouldn't be able to get to heaven, with the smell of your perfume." I wrinkle my nose. "You could drown out a flock of sweaty athletes who haven't bathed in a month just by walking by, and still have stink left to make people gag."

Mack was snickering into her hand, but I was being honest. Kirsten always wore too much perfume, as if she failed to get the idea it was supposed to make it easier to breathe around a person, not suffocate those nearby.

I guess the bratty brunette wasn't expecting me to spit something back---which was astonishing, truly. Surely, after three years of me returning fire and laughing at theirs, they'd have realized by now---because she became flustered, gaping for something to say before spinning around and marching off.

Mack leaned over to me, and whispered, "Despite how bitchy she is, she's probably the most pitiable soul around." I nod in agreement. Anyone who spent all their hours trying to make another feel like crap, but couldn't take anything they said back, they didn't even have an okay life.

Shrugging it off, I grinned lopsidedly at Mack, who raised a brow at me as we continued to first period. "With all she says and tries to do, I wasn't aware she had one."

Mack let out a bark of laughter, shaking her head at me, before shrugging. "Okay, good point." Our chuckles dwindled down as we found the door to her first period. Mrs. Madison, English 111. How sad. I sent Mack a little wave, walking away as I called, "Good luck!"

Mack glared at me, frowning as she reached for the door. "Coward!"

"When it comes to Mrs. Madison, that I am!" Is my reply, especially as I zip through to crowds to my own first period. It is, thankfully, not far away, but the ghouls always got worse when I wasn't around Mack. I guess they were reluctant when one of their former own was right beside me. If I lingered too long, they'd find some way to mess me up, and I didn't want to be late.

As I made my way to the classroom door, I felt a shiver go up my spine, like something bad was going to happen. Frowning, I slowly pushed the door open with my foot. It didn't feel like the danger was nearby, but it was better safe than sorry.

Sploosh!

Knew it.

>> A/N Originally written on my Inkitt, BreathingInk. The link is below. Please, tell me what you think!

Inkitt

Chapter 2

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Japanese 20-year-old woman recruited by the UC, and then sold to an older Korean farmer in an “apology marriage”.

PLEASE RETURN MY SISTER WHO IS IN SOUTH KOREA

1. Ms. Nameless  Posted: 01/10/25 ID:FFmOrZXZ

I want to write about my experience here as my serious warning to all Japanese women. Please note, everything I talk from now is true!!

My elder sister, who was bright and pretty, got involved with a Korean person and South Korea.

Then she was taken away to South Korea where she became a virtual slave.

You might say “You are so silly!” But the story is true. The tricks used are surprisingly clever, and thousands of Japanese women have already been taken away to South Korea through this scheme.

Now, I want to reveal their dirty tricks. I want to bring this to the attention of all Japanese women, so they can be careful. And again I want to say that this is based on my actual experience. I would like to sincerely ask you not to interfere with the warning I am going to post here.

It started three years ago.

“I met some Korean people and we became friends.” It all began with these words from my sister. She was in her junior year at university when a female Korean student started to talk to her, sitting on a bench on campus. The two of them soon became close friends. I also met that Korean student several times and had a good impression of her. She was courteous and seemed to be a nice person. I heard that she was a member of a peace organization.

2.  I really regret now that I was not more aware of what was going on at that time. My sister had begun to attend a “Culture Class” given by the peace organization that she had been introduced to by the Korean student. According to my sister, the class was “to learn about peace”. In the class she repeatedly watched videos and then listened to lectures.

Although the name of the class was “learning about peace”, the contents were only about “how the Japanese tormented Koreans”. After watching such videos for hours and hours, they then listened to lecturers from the organization – and the topic was always “How the Japanese people have never compensated for their crimes and always speak irresponsibly”.

One day my sister’s face was pale. She explained to me “the Japanese army forced 150 Korean comfort women to stand in a line and cut off their heads one by one and cooked a head soup. Then they forced other comfort women to eat the soup ……”

I was shocked by the story, but at the same time it sounded “exaggerated” to me so I got suspicious.

While continuing to attend the culture classes, my sister’s attitude gradually changed. She began to repeat, with a desperate expression on her face, “I’m so ashamed that I was born Japanese,” or “the Japanese people must make amends to the Korean people right now,” or “the current Japanese prosperity is founded on the Korean people’s sacrifices.” She completely forgot her schoolwork and started to study the Korean language.

3. My sister said, “I want to go to Korea to apologize to the Korean people in Korean”.

I did not think it was necessary for her to go, but on the other hand I thought it was good to make international friends. I didn’t take it seriously enough.

One day, my sister told me that I should also study the Korean language. I asked her why. She answered, “The Korean language is the global language and is the most excellent language in human history”.

On hearing this I got a suspicious feeling. So I secretly sneaked into my sister’s room while she was away where I found books entitled “The Divine Principle” and “Apostate” and some brochures. I started reading and was appalled at their contents. One of them said, “Japan is a country ruled by the devil that tormented South Korea which is the world leader,” another said, “Japan is the country of Eve, therefore it is her obligation to work to serve Korea, the country of Adam”. “After the unification of North and South Korea, they will become the center of Asia and will rule the world”. The literature was full of such crazy content!

I asked my university tutor about the content that gave me such an uneasy feeling. He told me, “Well, that is the Unification Church.” Then I researched into the Unification Church and discussed it with my parents. We all tried to convince my sister to withdraw from the Church. But it was too late. She took a hard line and decided to quit university and insisted to go to South Korea straight away.

We were desperate and tried to stop her, but she swore at us angrily saying, “You people are all devils who want to insult the Messiah and South Korea which lead the world!” We were horrified at the change in her. I cried, together with my parents.

4. Suddenly, my sister decided to join a mass wedding ceremony in Seoul and finally left our home.

I protested to the Korean student who had invited my sister to their meetings. The student completely changed her polite attitude. I asked her “You are a member of the Unification Church, aren’t you?” But she acted as if she didn’t know. “Eh? What is that?”

I said, “The founder of Unification Church, Sun Myung Moon, he’s really weird, isn’t he?”

This comment of mine made her so upset. “What did you say?!” She yelled like mad, spitting out her words, her face red with anger.

Although she was hiding this fact, she was indeed a member of the Unification Church!

My family was so sad, we all cried for a while after my sister left home. We all worried about her circumstances.

Soon my sister contacted us to say that she had got married to a Korean man and was in countryside. For a while we felt relieved. But then she began to send letters, frequently, in which she wrote “Please send money”, and “electrical goods” and other things. It seemed that her Korean “relatives” of the countryside demanded that she get money and goods from our family for them. My parents felt they had no choice but to continue to send money and goods as requested.

We worried what sort of life my sister had in Korea, so I decided to go to Korea to see her and find out. It was dangerous for me to go alone, so we had to make an effort to find an appropriate person to be my interpreter and bodyguard. We hired Mr. A., who was a Japanese exchange student living in Seoul.

5.  Mr. A took me to the address stated in my sister’s letter. It was in the Korean countryside.

The place was totally different from the general countryside in Japan. It was a pre-modern farm in a village with unpaved roads. We found my sister in one of these poor village houses. My sister seemed glad that I had come. Her husband was the son and heir of a farming family. He was an ugly and uneducated countryman. He seemed to be over 40 years old although my sister was in her early 20s.

Mr. A and I talked together with the poor family for a while.

I thought it was impolite to do so, but I gently challenged their marriage, and asked my sister to return to Japan.

Suddenly the interpreter became pale. He explained that my sister’s husband said, “I paid money!” and continued with a vulgar smile “It was a good deal, ’cause this Jap girl has got a nice body.”

This made me so angry and I really wanted to kill him. But in this situation, I had to silently endure for the sake of my sister’s safety. My sister also answered, “the Japanese people must make amends in Korea.” She said she was working from morning to night. Listening to the family’s conversation, Mr. A whispered in my ear, “it seems she is almost a slave”.

6.  There was nothing I could do for her but to return to Japan. On the way to the Seoul airport, Mr. A explained many things to me. For example, there was a strange group of Japanese women in Seoul – all Unification Church members – who were working from early in the morning. Those women often joined demonstrations and performances against Japan, or were perhaps forced to join in such activities.

In addition, when I talked about the comfort women, he said he heard from an old Korean man, who had experienced the Japanese colonial era, that “the coercion story [of forced recruitment] is complete fiction”.

According to the old man, the truth was that poor families in rural areas sold their daughters to Korean prostitution brokers. It was a common solution in the Asian region, including Japan, for such poor people to get out of deep poverty. “It is fiction that the Japanese Army arranged trucks to kidnap girls. Nobody has seen such a spectacle and I never heard such rumors at that time”, the old man told Mr. A.

I said to him “then the comfort women stories must have been created by somebody for a certain purpose.” He caught my drift that the Unification Church was using the comfort women stories. “I know a person who is close to a lawyer, Mr. Takagi, who is responsible for litigation in the wartime comfort women case. I will contact him to see if he knows something about this.”

7.  I came home with a feeling of frustration. I could not speak honestly to my parents about my sister’s situation. I had the impression my sister had been sold to Korea as collateral, as a servant.

After a while, my sister suddenly informed us that one of her “relatives” was going to visit Japan and she wanted us to take care of him. My parents and I were fed up with the idea, but felt we could not refuse.

Then a crude beggar-like young man arrived.

The Korean had a featureless face with thin eyes just like pen lines. At first he seemed emotionless, but soon he had violent mood swings. He would yell and his face became the colour of a boiled octopus. Especially during meal times he would sit at the table in a very rude manner. He ate his food making horrible noises. Not only that, he complained saying “Why you don’t serve Kimchi, uh?!”, “So bland taste!!” and so on.

Needless to say I really hated this Korean guy.

One day, he yelled at my mother. “The sauce for dipping the tempura is too bland! You’re stingy! Are you trying to belittle your precious guest?!”

I was getting to the limit of my patience. I seriously thought about putting something like pesticide into his drink.

I felt he was always looking at me in a strange way.

One night, the man sneaked into my room and tried to rape me, covering my mouth with his hand. I screamed and scratched his face. He beat me with all his strength.

This made my father furious and he drove the man out of our house. Finally I could be reassured.

8. One day Mr. A, the student who was in Seoul, sent me some surprising information. The following is a summary of what Mr. A sent.

What I should explain first is that it was an organization called the “Hundred Members Committee” who raised the “Comfort Women Issue” for the first time. The goal of this organization was to “obtain official apologies and compensation [from the Japanese government] for the Korean people”. Some Korean members of this organization, and Japanese housewives, went to South Korea “to search for victims” suitable for starting a lawsuit. Kim Hak-soon, who was the “courageous first woman to come forward as a victim of the sex-slave system”, was just a Korean prostitute who made a lot of money from her prostitution business with Japanese soldiers. But the “Hundred Members Committee” searched for such kinds of prostitutes and had them appeal to the Japanese government. Then they started international propaganda about the issue.

Now, what sort of organization is the “Hundred Members Committee”? In fact, this committee was created by the “Asian Women’s Federation for Peace” and that is a secondary organization of the Unification Church! Besides, Kenichi Takagi, the lawyer who supported the prostitute lawsuit, and the Japanese housewives who went to Korea to search for “victims” are also members of the Unification Church. (Of course they all denied being members. This is the modus operandi of the Unification Church. Members are instructed to say “We are different” when they are asked “Are you members of the Unification Church?”) Their actions are based on their belief in the teachings of the Unification Church that “Japan is a country of the devil and must therefore act to make restitution for their crimes which plagued Korea, the country of the Messiah”.

9. After the rapprochement between Sun-Myung Moon and Kim Il-Sung in 1992, the General Association of Korean Residents in Japan came to be involved in activities concerning the comfort women issue, and many North Korean “fake comfort women” appeared one after another. They circulated stories to the international community, such as “the Japanese soldiers cut off the comfort womens’ heads with swords, and made soup with the heads which they then made us drink”.

Then what is the reason why the Unification Church fabricated the “sex slave issue”? The reasons are complex.

First, they wanted to diminish the credibility of Japan and Japanese, so that they can make the Japanese government pay compensation to Korea, and give advantage and political status to Zainichi Koreans in Japan.

_____________

Note: Zainichi Koreans, also often known as Zainichi for short, are the permanent ethnic Korean residents of Japan. Strictly speaking, the term refers only to long term, permanent residents of Japan who have either retained their Joseon (the old, undivided Korea) or South Korean nationalities, not ethnic Koreans who have acquired Japanese nationality through naturalization. More details on Wikipedia: Zainichi

_____________

Secondly, they wanted to brainwash more Japanese women to set them up for “human trafficking”. In the Japanese women’s minds they planted the consciousness that the guilt [or shame of Japan] should be expiated, or atoned for. They believed that being in the same situation as the comfort women could be compensation.

According to Mr. A, thousands of Japanese women had already been tricked this way, like my sister. Especially in countryside of Korea there is a high demand for these women. The Unification Church groomed the women for human trafficking to be collateral!

When I heard this story I was stunned.

I also heard from another person who was with Mr. A, that 辛淑玉  Tsura Yoshi-dama [Shin Sugo], had a relationship with the Unification Church and she delivered lectures to Unification Church-affiliated organizations.

[ 辛淑玉、シン スゴ、신숙옥、女性、1959年1月16日- . とは、東京都生まれの実業家。のりこえねっと （ヘイトスピーチとレイシズムを乗り越える国際ネットワーク）共同代表、シューレ大学アドバイザー。東京都立第一商業高等学校卒業。在日韓国人3世。LINK ]

[ 辛淑玉, Shin Sugo, worked for the International Network to Overcome Hate Speech and Racism. She is a third generation Zainichi Korean. ]

I came to think I could not trust Zainichi Koreans.

Apparently the Unification Church believers, the General Association of Korean Residents, and human rights campaigners in Japan were all in one crony gang.

The reality is that they are the despicable people who continue the activities to tailor Japanese women to be the slaves of Koreans – all under a mask of justice!

10.  Currently, a lot of Japanese women are being fooled by this Korean propaganda and support their activities. This it is totally wrong because it just helps the crimes of the Unification Church. I will say it again and again, so many Japanese women are sold to Korea as a “commodity” for human trafficking by the Unification Church, just like my sister. If you doubt my story, please take action and research what miserable lives those Japanese women have in Korea. You will find out those women are virtually enslaved. I don’t understand why the Japanese mass media do not report these harrowing tales. Why do the the so-called quality papers like Asashi shimbun, Mainichi shimbun or Yomiuri shimbun not explain to the public that right now such women are being trafficked ? Why!?

I simply want to ask why Japanese TV stations do not report the fact that Japanese women are victims like this? Why is this so?

Right at this moment, many Japanese women are brainwashed by this bad Korean religion and sold to Korea to be enslaved for their whole lives.

I want my sister back!

11.  Now, I will finish my story about the miserable experience of my family.

I think our experience is hard to believe for most Japanese women, but it is true.

I think all Japanese women need to know the existence of this terrifying trap that leads Japanese women to such miserable situations. That is why I posted this series of messages.

But I think most of the Zainichi Koreans in Japan and the South Korean people are good people. So please do not have an ethnic prejudice against all Korean society. But it is a fact that there are some crazy people who do horrible malicious, wicked deeds against the Japanese with no scruples. It is also a fact that such actions have been neglected or ignored.

Maybe there are some people who do not want to believe my story.

I don’t want to be hurt by heartless responses like “show the evidence!” or “don’t make up a story!” So I will never come back here again.

Each person is free to believe or not. I cannot blame people who do not believe my experience. It has not been broadcast or well publicized by the mass media.

But anyway, let me insist again, the whole of my story is true! It is a fact!!

______________________________________

Notes

Sun Myung Moon: The founder of the Unification Church, which is a South Korean based religious organization. [Supposed] activist in the Korean independence movement during Japan’s annexation of the Korean Peninsula. After the independence of Korea, he established International Federation for Victory Over Communism against North Korea. [He died in 2012.]

Kim Il Sung: Former leader of the socialist nation Democratic Republic of Korea (North Korea). He was well known for his Red Terror with continuous blood purges to maintain his political power. He died in 1994.

There were Comfort Women used by the Japanese military. There are testimonies and photographs, and there is a lot of evidence. However, it seems to be true that a lot of the recruitment of women was done by Koreans, and there were even notices in Korean newspapers for Comfort Women.

It seems there are also fake Comfort Women seeking compensation.

______________________________________

“About 100 Korean women were abducted by Korean prostitution brokers but were rescued by Japanese military police.”

______________________________________

Military commentator Ji Man-won raised “fake comfort women” question

Joong Ang Daily (中央日報)　April 14, 2005

Military commentator Ji Man-won raised a question of fake Korean ex-comfort women and it caused significant ripples.

On 13th January, Ji Man-won posted an article entitled “analyze the comfort women issue” saying, “Who can verify real or fake of the women’s claim to be former comfort women? How can it be verified?”

Ji indicated the possibility that fake comfort women are included in the demonstration group gathered in front of the Japanese embassy.

In the article Ji said, “1994 can be the last timing to be taken as comfort women. If those women were over 15 years old at that time, they should be over 78 years old right now.” He also added, “Ex-comfort women seen in TV look too young and healthy. Some of them speak with very lively voices.”

Ji claimed no more than 20 percent of all comfort women were conscripted by Japan, while the rest were ordinary prostitutes trying to escape from poverty.

The Korea Chongshindae Council issued a statement threatening legal action against Ji. The organization’s website was inundated with messages criticizing Ji.

______________________________________

“Fake comfort women in Wednesday meeting” Military commentator’s essay causes ripples.

Chosun Ilbo (朝鮮日報)　April 14, 2005

The controversial military commentator Ji Man-won has come under fire again after saying that claims by some women to have been drafted into sexual slavery as “comfort women” by the Japanese Army were fraudulent.

Ji said on his website on 13th and 14th that only 33 women had been confirmed former “comfort women,” or Chongshindae…

______________________________________

The above text has been re-translated from the Japanese. The old English translation is here: http://resistance333.web.fc2.com/english/english_comfort_women3.htm

The original Japanese text is here: http://mimizun.com/log/2ch/ms/1003978299/

______________________________________

This book was written by a professor of anthropology at San Francisco State University. It confirms some of the above points.

THE COMFORT WOMEN: Sexual Violence and Postcolonial Memory in Korea and Japan, by C. Sarah Soh. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009, 384 pp., $25 (paper)  ISBN: 978-0226767772

Review of this book

Overall, this is a brave and impressive book that usefully complicates and adds layers to our understanding of a sordid system.

______________________________________

Dae Mo Nim (Hyo-nam Kim) pours guilt on the Japanese

Fear, guilt and shame used by her to trap the Japanese members.

Hyo-nam Kim uses the story of the Korean comfort women to manipulate the Japanese members.

However, the facts about the comfort women need to be explored. They are not as Hyo-nam Kim would like UC / FFWPU members to think.

______________________________________

Korean newspaper advertized for Comfort Women!

______________________________________

Kim Tŏk-chin was recruited by Koreans at 17

Kim Tŏk-chin was recruited by a Korean man. She was also transported to Japan by a Korean couple, and then taken on to China to work in a brothel as a ‘comfort woman’ by the same Korean couple.

______________________________________

The Japanese military were concerned about the criminal methods used by Korean “comfort women” recruiters and brokers.

Below is a notice to Japanese military commanders in China concerning Comfort Women. 

Dated March 4, 1938.

Title: “Matters regarding recruitment at military comfort station”

[list of signatories]

To: Army Chief Generals of the troops in northern China and of the expeditionary force in central China

When brokers recruited comfort women for the establishment of brothels during Sino-Japanese war, there were more than a few infamous cases to which we need to pay attention: the case of some brokers using the authority of the Japanese military for their recruitment, as the result, they ruined the credibility of the Japanese military, which led to a misunderstanding of ordinary people, the case that some brokers used an unruly method of recruiting through embedded journalists and visitors, causing social problems, the case that some brokers were arrested and placed under investigation because their recruiting method was similar to kidnapping. From now, as regards the recruitment of comfort women, the expeditionary force must properly choose and control brokers who recruit comfort women. Also, it is necessary to cooperate with the military police and law enforcement authorities. To keep the prestige of Japanese military, and to consider social problems, take careful note without omission.

March 4, 1938

______________________________________

Japan gave $800 million as reparations for Korean occupation

Asia Times Online      December 2005 In 1965 Japan gave $800 million as reparations for the occupation of Korea, in a combination of grants and low-interest loans. This was part of the Korea-Japan Normalization Treaty of 1965. In January 2005 details were disclosed to the Korean public for the first time.

______________________________________

Why Japan Is Still Not Sorry Enough

War, Guilt, and World Politics after World War II by Thomas U. Berger

______________________________________

S Korean forces killed more than Japanese killed in 36 years

In about 36 months in 1948-1951 South Korean forces killed more South Koreans than the Japanese killed in the 36 years of their occupation of the country. There were some 1,222 probable incidents of mass execution without trial by the South Koreans.

DaeMoNim seems to have forgotten this part of Korean history, as she continues to pour guilt on the Japanese.

______________________________________

South Korea Admits Civilian Killings During War New York Times (November 26, 2009) By Choe Sang-hun

______________________________________

Here is a link to a Japanese point of view of their occupation of Korea. It is an example of an extreme opposite point of view.

http://resistance333.web.fc2.com/english/ruling.htm

______________________________________

韓国よ、私の姉を返せ！！Please return my sister from Korea.

Moon: “Women have twice the sin”

“Please search for the 6,500 women missing from the mass wedding ceremony,” victim’s families appealed.

Yuka Nakamura, a Unification Church member in Korea, recently took her own life

Why did a Japanese UC member kill her Korean husband?

The ‘True Father’ who could not forgive: “I haven’t been able to release my grudge towards Japanese people yet.” November 2011

Moon personally extracted $500 MILLION from Japanese sisters in the fall of 1993. He demanded that 50,000 sisters attend HIS workshops on Cheju Island and each had to pay a fee of $10,000.

“About 100 Korean women were abducted by Korean prostitution brokers but were rescued by Japanese military police.”

“Comfort Women of the Empire” Reviewed by Professor Jun BongGwan

Former Korean Comfort Woman Mun Oku-chu’s Memoir

Summary of Professor Park Yuha’s Book “Comfort Women of the Empire”

“The Comfort Women” by Professor C. Sarah Soh

What Is Behind South Korea’s Criticism On Comfort Women Issue

For Japan, a Difficult Art of Saying It’s Sorry

Annexation of Korea – some facts and a song

[sparkesink]

Chapter 11:

Use Pens, Not Pills

In Which Way Do A Accurately Expect To Finish Writing This?

(The Ultimate Seven Year Question…)

Scratch That:

Going On Eight Years Now,

(Fantastic.)

How Does One Used Eight Years Of Writing…

(And Still Not Understand What To Make Of It.)

Today Is One Of Those “Shitty”Kind Of Days:

Wake Up,

(Pleasant:)

One Thing Or Another,

All The Suppressed Stress Pokes It’s Nasty,

(Gruesome,)

Head Out,

Snarling.

(Evolution Of A Nasty Demeanor.)

Not All Negative Outcome Has Come From Instances Such As this,

However:

Had This Not Occurred…

I Would Have continued Procrastinating This,

(Now Eight Year,)

Procrastinated Dream…

(Completion.)

Today Was Not A Good Day.

My Face Split In Two, 

(As I Coward Within The Bathroom.)

“It’s Not Him.”

“He Won’t Love You.”

 The Whole World Is On Fire, 

(You’re Nowhere To Be Seen.)

Like Hot,

(Molten,)

Tar, 

Clinging To My Flesh, 

(As The Feathers Are Stripped Away,)

Blistered,

(Obscene.)

 You Turn A Head,

(Whilst I Scream For Help.)

You’re Pointless Bullshit,

Too Important To Spare A Look,

(My Way:)

To Understand The Pain You’ve Caused…

 As A Child,

(Determining Right From Wrong,)

You Cannot Even Admit,

Your Actions Have Been Passive,

(For Far To Long.)

 So I Sit Here, 

(Foundation,

Crumbling From Beneath.)

You Cannot Even Respond:

Claiming A Position Of The Victim,

(She’s Got No One To Listen.)

If She Dies,

(A Little More Inside,)

And No One Is There To See…

Do Her Requests For Chivalry,

Even Matter,

(Within The Grand Scheme?)

 Don’t Pay Her Any Attention,

(The One You Broke On Purpose.)

You Isolated The Prey,

Take Your Shot,

Don’t Sway,

(Don’t Miss.)

Over And Over,

(And Over And Over Again…)

Till The Poor Thing Lay,

Helpless,

Hemorrhaging,

Until Its Very, 

(Final,) 

Last Breath.

 You Sit Upon Your Thrown,

(Made Of Self Justification And Deceit,)

Remember Who’s Fur You Stole:

Purposeful For Nothing,

But Simply Warming The Creases,

Upon Your Seat.

 (Mind Throbbing.)

Fuck This Untested,

Experimental Project.

A Raw Attempt To Dive,

Inside Out:

(Finding The Basis Of A Tormented Soul.)

 From A Third Perspective,

Nothing Is Sensible.

Whilst Experiencing,

(This Puzzle Of Self,)

I Find It Most Unfaltering,

(Crude.)

 It Comes Within Waves,

(Drowning,

Salt Written,) 

Waves.

Crashing Upon My Skull,

(A Pressure Of A Thousand Suns:)

Hundreds Of Gallons, 

Smoldering Water,

(Never-Ending.)

 Gasping For Help As My Airways’ Fill,

Grasping For The Tiniest Molecule,

(Oxygen,)

The Waves Power Through Me, 

Whirling Through, 

(Vastness,) 

Of An Origin Unknown.

 I Shall Work Through My Story,

(Simultaneously Observing,)

My Own Life Crumble, 

(Scatter Amongst This Learning.)

 How Am I Suppose To Help Anyone?

(I Can’t Even Help Myself.)

Secluded From Everyone:

(No Outlet From My Silence.)

Thoughts Raging:

Faster,

Faster,

The World Spins,

(The Great Always Fall,)

Skidding My Face Amongst The Pavement.

(It’s All My Fucking Fault.)

 I Had This Inept Idea,

By Finishing This Fucking Project,

I Would Find Self Peace:

Experience Happiness Once More.

I Can’t Remember The Last Time I Smiled, 

Without My Heart Bloody,

(Gruesomely Tore.)

 If I Cried Forever,

Would Anyone Ever Care?

The Next Best Video Will Drop,

This World… 

Just Disappears.

 “How Are You Doing?”

“Are You Okay?”

(The Half Hearted Gestures,)

Enough To Make Me Stay?

My Baby Smiles,

A Tragic Mother,

A Beautiful Story,

(For Another Day.)

 So If I Sit Here,

Within Myself…

“Who Am I?”

“What Is My Purpose?”

I Cannot Seem To Find Viable Truth.

 If My Existence Is So Insignificant,

(My Presence A Nuisance,)

If The World Doesn’t Stop,

To Woe An Insignificant Existence…

Why Am I Here?

 I Once Believed, 

It Were For The Hope Of True Love,

Some Other-Worldly Purposeful Greatness,

Some Shift Of Conscious, 

A Good,

(Always Too Far.)

(Unprovable.)

 Not All Sheep Are Born Within Black Wool.

I’m A Fraud,

I’m Something, I Am Not.

I Could Take The Pills,

Dull the Pain,

Mask The Fact:

I Got A Shitty Hand.

It Is My Fault,

My Responsibility.

I Let You Hurt Me.

I Allowed Myself To Play Victim,

Allowed Myself To Stay…

Longer,

And Longer,

Until The Only Thing I Had,

Belonged To Whom I Write,

(For Sake Of “Love”,)

This Very Day.

 (No One Will Understand.)

 If Money Is The Root Of All Evil,

Time Is Money,

Human’s Break Under Financial Strain,

Wasting Time,

Making Tireless Money...

Is The Time Spent,

Seeking More,

And More,

And More,

And More, 

And More,

And More,

And More,

(AND FUCKING, MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE!)

It Will Never Be Drenched In Happiness…

Why Wake Up?

Why Get Dressed,

Why Go Outside?

 A Realization…

(You Have Nothing Valuable,)

A Heart Of Broken Strings…

A Castle, 

(Turned Dungeon.)

Gold, 

(Turnt Soot.)

Showering In Ash,

Disappointment,

(To Heavy To Loot.)

 I’m Sure I Could Fake This “Happiness”,

Lost Within Friends, 

(Saturated In Constant Forgiveness.)

A Love Who Fails To Reach For My Hand,

Another Fall, 

(Amongst The Blood, Soiled, Dirt.)

A Roaring Audience, 

Hollering Obscenities,

(Every Which Direction.)

 Am I In Love With The Idea Of Love?

The Character Built Up Within My Heart Will Never Exist,

And No-one Will Ever Amount To “Him”…

That Idea Of “Him”,

That “One” I Urned For Since Before I Could Understand,

What Love Even Meant.

 What Is Love?

When Is Love Not Love?

When Does Love Become An Addiction?

The Lines Of Heartbreak And Withdrawal,

Blur As One.

Is This Love?

Or Dependence?

 Do We Even Exist?

When The Knot Within My Gut Wreathes From Within Me,

What Would I Do Without My Daily Dose Of Serotonin?

That Hug,

When Your Stupid Face Makes Me Forget My Own Judgement,

(Just Moments Before.)

How Can You Be My Heaven,

And My Hell…

Simultaneously….

 You Will Never Be The Man I Want You To Be,

(Within My Own Mind,)

You Will Never Change To Be That Man…

I Cannot Continue To Pretend,

You Won’t Ever Be The Man I Need You To Be.

And You Don’t Want To Bend.

 It’s Time For Me To Fly.

Because When I Sat In That Tub…

You Weren’t There.

And That Was Fine,

And When I Died That Night…

(When I Believed The Pill Would Taste Better In Bulk.)

My Wounds Were To Fresh, 

(To Handle The Stabs You Had Dealt.)

 And This Is All Probably Just A Bunch Of Shit,

You Never Understood What My World Looked Like After Being Hit.

You Never Sat In That Cold Bathtub,

Shaking Under Boiling Rainfall.

You Never Knew How Much You Effected Me,

Because You Never Cared To Ask.

You Never Cared To Check,

(To See,)

If I Was Slamming My Head Against The Wall, 

(To Beat.)

 I’m Just Another Teenage Tragedy,

Make Up 13 Reasons,

While Raking Millions Like Last Season’s Leaves.

 “She Thought Too Much,

That Poor, Smart Girl.”

“She Lacked Religion.”

As If Not A Single Person Had Any Blame.

Like Just One Mother Fucker,

One Fucking Person To Worry…

When That Addiction Doesn’t Pass.

When They Don’t Wake Up,

(From A Drug Induced Nap.)

She Was Never Wanted, 

(In The First Place,)

Why Pay Her Any Attention?

Then Cry At The Funeral Like,

“We Were So Close, 

I Never Saw This Coming.”

 Just Another Statistic…

Just Another Overdose.

Another Sad Story,

Another Trauma For Their Children,

Broken,

(As If We Didn’t Make Them.)

 The U.S Military Guard Poppy Farms In The Middle East,

And Then Shifts A Head To The Opium Crisis.

“Such A Tragedy,”

(A Simple Travesty.)

Your Politicians Pocket Their Cash,

(The Real Drug Dealers.)

The Profit Of Misery.

I Fucking See You!

I See Your Childish Game.

 It’s Easier To Murder The Victim,

When You Spent Valuable Time,

Sedating,

Tormenting,

Feeding Sickness To Their Beautiful,

(Impressionable,)

Mind Space.

 A Fucking Dollar Earned Mad, 

Right?

 We Don’t Need Your Chemicals.

We Don’t Need Your Phycho-analysts,

(If Your Only Solution Ends In Sedation.)

We Need To Feel.

We Need To Process,

We Need Time,

(To Heal The Broken Bits Of Our Self…)

We Need To Hit It,

(Full Force,)

Take That Fucking Bull By The Horns.

We Need To Fix Our Selves,

Because Everything Else…

Is Nothing More Than A Cowardice Copout.

A Shortcut,

(An Addiction,)

With Psychosis On The Withdrawing Menu.

 I Am So Fucking Sick…

The Excuses We Create To Avoid Confrontation,

(Especially With One’s Self.)

God Forbid, 

We Be Human.

God Forbid,

We Allow Ourselves To Be Raw.

God Forbid,

We Figure Out…

Who We Are;

That Our Truth Is Our Purpose.

 Those Who Understand This Assimilation Of Writing,

Understand The World In Which We Exist Within.

Nothing Matters,

(In Direct Contradiction,)

It Is The Only Thing That Has Ever Mattered…

The Memories,

Those Fuzzy,

Simple Thoughts,

They Get Sweeter, 

(The Longer They Age.)

 You Don’t Need To Savor So Intensely,

(Upon Those Darkest Of Pages:)

Desperate For Someone To Love,

Unable To Be Loved In Return.

A Turntable,

Flowing One Way…

Scratching To Reciprocate,

A Passion.

Left Empty…

Tucked Inside A Dust Sleeve,

Filed Carefully For Further Enjoyment, 

(When Left Alone.)

 A Lifetime’s Belittling Weight,

Piled Through The Galaxy, 

(Upon My Heart.)

Haunted By A Love Story,

In Which,

(Consequentially,) 

Will Never Stop Ending.

 When The Antidepressants,

And The Antipsychotics,

The Antispasmodics,

And The Countless Diagnostics,

Peg You As A Lifetime Customer,

Causing Manics Upon Withdrawal…

Banking In On Your Torment,

(Your Soul.) 

A Sea Of Prescription Zombies,

Hazing Everything, 

(Including Your Light Of Day,)

Drug Dealing Billionaires,

(Masking The Façade,)

Pulling Your Pennys For An Endless List,

(Of Side Effects.)

 Constant Fear,

(Failure,)

A Beast With Four Mouths.

Constant Reassurance Of My Failure,

Achievable Exclusively By Breaking Through Rambles:

(The Consistent Chatter Ringing As Church Bells.)

It May Be Nothing But A “Silly Dream.”

It May Be Nothing More Than “A Waste Of Time And Money.”

It May Be Nothing To Anyone More Than Myself…

Fighting,

(Scraping By,)

Shot Back In The Dirt…

(Back Where I Started.)

An Inspiration Sprouted Through Hunger,

Unable To Afford Nourishment For Those I Love,

(Those I Am Responsible To Care For,)

Till My Next Insignificant Paycheck Rolls Through.

A Thought To Myself:

“Such A Fucked Up World Is This?

You Receive One Day Off Per Week,

(If You Are Lucky.)

You Still Cannot Feed Your Family.

After All Of The Bullshit That Steals Your Money,

Before You Even Get A chance To See it.

The Crippling Student Debt,

The Medical Bills,

The Various Insurance Bills,

The Utilities,

The Shelter…

What Does One Do?

A Beautiful Daydream Of A comfortable Life,

A Life Of Beauty,

Helping The World See The Purpose Of Their Own Existence Here…

Write,

Just Write.

(What Other Choice Have I Been Given?)

Regardless Of Failure,

(Rejection By The Masses.)

At The Close Of all Of This…

I Will Be Able To See My Story…

Sitting Upon My Bedside,

(Till’ The Day I Perish From This Existence.)

I Will Fulfill My Greatest Challenge,

(Reap The Gratitude Of My Greatest Accomplishment.)

Not A Damn Soul Will Ever Be Given The Power To Remove That From ME.

So,

Here It Is.

(A Young Woman’s Most Intimate Reality.)

Pieced Together.

One Part At A Time.

I Am Here.

Finishing This Shit.

I Will End This Fucking Story.

I Will Finish Telling My Truth.

I Will Heal From This Journey,

(Silent,

Hidden Away…

For Too Long.)

I Will Wake Up.

 I Will…

Use Pens…

Not Pills.

[featheredglasspen]

Review: The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo

The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo is a slam poetry book that won a National Book Award. It’s about a girl who is trying to find her own voice and sexuality when her religious mother wants her to attend church and be a good Catholic girl. Review under the cut.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

In all honesty, I’m not a huge fan of poetry. I can never tell what tone I’m supposed to use or what voice is appropriate for poetry. I find it difficult to read, plus I spent most of my academic career studying poetry and I think I only had an appreciation outside of learning. Other than that, I don’t read poetry unless someone recommends it to me. This one, however, is a book that I’ve been seeing everywhere. Eventually I caved and bought it at the Festival of Books in LA. This was nothing that I was expecting. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into when I read the first page. We shall now continue on to the review!

I like the story’s structure. It’s not so much as poetry but slam poetry. I feel like with this story, it’s something that you have to read aloud. I can feel the anger, the sadness, the desperation of trying to be free. I have never grown up with parents that were extremely religious to the point where they will belittle you and blame that you’re a woman and therefore will sin. It’s an interesting concept and I wish this was explored a little more, but I get it. It’s telling the story in the present tense and I think we got as much from her childhood as we got. If anything, I think X writing out her thoughts through poetry is important to the story itself. I can’t see this book being written in any other way. It’s personal and it makes me feel like this story is supposed to be personal. If X wrote it like a journal entry, I don’t think it’ll have the same impact. Like I said, I can never really liked poetry because of my academic career, but I believe that this book can let kids who never liked poetry to begin with start reading it. There are countless books that are written like this, and I honestly believe that this one is written well. 

The characters in the book, I feel like, should have been developed more. I kept thinking that it’ll have a sequel, but I’m always disappointed when it’s not the case. I would love to know the backstory of Twin, of Aman, of her parents a little more, and maybe of herself. I think it is limited because it is written in first person and it’s poetry about a girl that is told that she can’t grow up until she does grow up. I think it’s fitting, especially since she is Dominican Republic and is raised catholic. I’m not too familiar of the D.R. culture (I am Mexican so I would assume D.R. is different than Mexican culture) but the mother in the book does have strong vibes that is similar to mothers of Latin culture. Machismo, as many have called it. It makes me feel repressed in the book, and few books have made me feel like that. The way that Acevedo wrote the characters made them feel real. I just wish they were developed a little more and I got to know them. Maybe that’s just me and maybe I’m wrong. Either way, it needs more development.

It’s a good book, I won’t lie. It’s a good book to help someone probably get into poetry. Poetry is difficult to understand and get in to. This one is simple and doesn’t try to use flowery words to get the point across. Obviously it uses metaphors and similes, but not to the point where it’s overbearing. It’s fantastic and I recommend it to anyone who feels lost and wants to show that who they really are inside.

Until next time.

[worddonor]

Ugh

Ja.

Is it too much to ask for the person I’m supposedly having a conversation with to listen when I have something to say and not just keep talking or brush my thoughts off as if they are of no importance?  I already speak so very little, so when I do speak it would be deeply appreciated if you took the time to listen to the few words coming out of my mouth and not just wait for your turn to speak.  Is that how people communicate these days?  I mean WTF? I feel as if I’m the type of person who lets you say your say completely before interrupting or trying to speak over you to shut you up when you have something to say.

I just felt slighted today and a bit fed up.

I mean I’ve listened to every Tom, Dick and Harry moan and groan on and on, just verbally vomit their entire day’s events and feelings all over me no matter how bladdie dry it might have been – I, for some fudged-up reason, understand that it is important to lend an ear to your fellow man as it’s good to have someone around to listen even if what they’re talking about is how they watched paint dry for five hours or how rude the lady at the grocery store till was.  There’s nothing you can do to help them, they just need a witness to their day…another soul to validate that that day: they were alive.  Clearly the fact that they’re talking to me must mean there really is no-one else around who has the time to listen.  All I ask is that for ONCE when I want to talk a bit more, go a bit more in-depth about how my day went that who I’m talking to would give a man a chance to just speak – just do a man a solid you know? Most times I’m good, but it would be nice every once in a while for my thoughts to be heard and not brushed off or shut down as if they’re small fry and have no place standing next to your gargantuan end-of-the-world dilemmas and therefore not given two seconds of your valuable time.  Anyway, I’m just venting in the only place I know I can.  

I mean goodness man! I listened to a sermon on joy today, about bringing it back given by Pastor Joel Osteen and I enjoyed and agreed with what he said – I even laughed a bit while listening.  I agree, it’s good to laugh and I enjoy it thoroughly though I know I don’t do it enough usually because I’m focused on how much I suck at everything and that depresses me so it’s hard to laugh at silly crap.  I don’t even feel qualified to share jokes with guys at work – I don’t find their jokes funny for the most part or between guys it’s usually a pissing contest (with girls now too it seems) about who has the smartest comeback in terms of banter and I never have anything quick or smart to say so they always shut me down.  It frustrates me because I feel less than them and I’m sure they feel as if they’ve owned me and that I’m pathetic or boring.  When I feel this way, belittled and depressed the anger builds and I feel like swearing at everyone or breaking something or punching a wall because I don’t know how to be, socially.  I struggle to keep up with regular folks’ interactions, I just don’t have the confidence or I don’t want to be rude or don’t want to say anything bad especially if they come back with something worse that I don’t have an answer for, that would truly bog me down mentally.  

I’m always feeling some type of way about something and find myself caring about how I feel about everything and less about doing anything of any value…as long as I feel good that’s all that matters it seems.  Is this all there is to me?  

Can’t be Lord, can’t be.

I dunno.  I hate having to force interactions with people, I hate small talk, I hate chit chat, but it seems that’s the only way to make connections – I almost feel that if I was born in the time of hand letter-writing as the only form of communication I would have enjoyed being alive, but alas I know (because of my faith) that I was born here in this time for a reason – what that reason is still baffles me no end…hopefully Jesus will reveal it to me before I die.  Please Jesus, throw a man another bone man, asseblief.

I’m so angry and disappointed in how my life has turned out up until now, I feel as if I’ve let everyone including myself down.  I get ticked off by the smallest little things.  I’m trusting in the Lord and hoping that days like these will become less and less with time.   I’ve never felt more isolated than I do now, even when surrounded by so many people – it seems as if I don’t fit in anywhere…to add to that I removed myself from Facebook five years ago, deleted my LinkedIn profile last year and installed and then removed Instagram not long ago, so other than a barely active Twitter account: this is my only ‘real’ connection to social media.  My physical youth is fading and I have yet to experience what it is to be ok in my own mind and body which is why I cling tightly to my faith through YouTube church sermons, church on Sundays and my Bible.

In all honesty it would be cool to have the type of conversation I used to have with my first Love, I miss those true, honest, two-way conversations.  I think I was really dumb having asked her out when perhaps I was confused by her authenticity and kindness toward me, there was no-one before or since that I’ve been able to connect with so naturally and so deeply other than kin-folk who have known me since day one.  I would have had a friend for life if only I was more mature when I met her…she had always had many close friends, both guys and girls.  My ex made me feel strong even if it was for a brief period before I let her deeper into my dark heart – no-one has entered in and hung around. Even though it’s kinda depressing, I’m so grateful that the Lord allowed me the opportunity to meet her and spend time with her for the times we did – each day that passes I think ‘How the hell did I get lucky enough to meet such a quality person?’  Someone who had an active, healthy lifestyle long before it became the cool thing to do because of social media pressure, also someone whose company the people around me now would have enjoyed so much.  I’m also so grateful for my immediate and extended family, they’re sort of stuck with my sombre ass.  My bro-cousins are champions though: they’re the few okes I can manage to keep smiling with as long as I’m around them.  Anyway, I digress.

My venting is over.  

I know I’m outwardly blessed, but I lack the willpower to battle through this funk in my mind right now. I’m trusting in the Lord…he’s probably waiting on me to make a move. Ai.  I know my problems aren’t even proper external ones out of my control like dread disease or the great affliction suffered by Job in the Old Testament or like those of any disadvantaged person in South Africa really today – I’m lucky enough to have access to a PC to vent my thoughts, bladdie lucky in fact.  Imagine what would happen if circumstances changed for the worse or I ended up on the street, there are much worse struggles being faced by many others out there every day, of course I acknowledge this…I’m lucky to have what I do and to be where I am.  

Sometimes it’s just good for a person to let off steam and gain some perspective again.

I hope like when Jesus healed the paralyzed man and told him to get up, take his mat and go home in Mark 2:11, one day when I’m healed of this depression and self-doubt: these Tumblr posts will be evidence (as TD Jakes explained) of the incredibly tedious slog I went through before finding peace and confidence.  These posts will be my proverbial ‘mat’, the proof that will bring glory to God and prove His (and only His) ability to fix even the most seemingly irreparable people when all is surrendered to Him.

Thanks for your time internet.

Peace out.