#i do not want to overshare but like. i am not always the happiest person. i have plenty of issues

[girljimmyenjoyer]

My reaction to this kinda says something about me. Maybe I should try to socialize in real life more.

[slickfordain]

How long is waiting?

Aether,- a mere traveler who has been commissioned multiple times by random people; even the Archons; and yet, in return… He got nothing. Until… Well. He met you.

It’s not hard to say that Aether has favorites and that he despises everyone else, he finds comfort in you… When you and Aether first met, you were confused of who he was,— and treated him like a normal person, which was what caught his attention.

Being honest, even if you did commission him he’d still fall heavily for you

Aether was now peacefully cuddling you under the dark blue sky by the beach, the stars being above despite being… Fake, and just an illusion for everyone to see, like how wanderer claimed it as beforehand when he was a Fatui.

“… You know.. I… I never got to be held like this by such a sweet person…” Aether started, holding you close, as you hummed out a “Mhm”, your tired half lidded eyes gazing up slightly.

Aether’s breath hitched lightly, before looking down with flushed rosy cheeks…. It wasn’t… Often, that he’d feel a familiar feeling of… Love, but somehow, you made him the most happiest hero he could ever be…. And that was.. Certainly enough for him.

“… You know… [N]… You’re really… Humble, oddly..” Your ears perked up at this, confused and lost of what the traveler meant. You’ve never really seen him speaking to you like this… He seemed.. Hesitant? “… I am…?” You murmur slightly, in a questioning tone which Aether could understand why.

He just gave a faint smile, before sighing and nodding… He’s trying to recollect his words, finding the right ones to describe how horrible he felt all those times…. But… He’s scared of oversharing; because nobody has ever willingly listened to him.

“Would you… Listen, just once?” Aether asks in hopes you’d understand, and unsurprisingly, you nodded. Aether’s eyes lit up slightly… That was one thing he loved about you, and that was your nature to listen. It was so heartwarming… He wished he didn’t need to do this stupid traveling..

With another deep sigh escaping his throat, he hesitantly tries using his words he’s been thinking about to use. “It’s just… I’ve.. Always wondered, why did I start searching for my sister…?” He began, making you stare rather surprised by his question…

You also started wondering why, but feared he wouldn’t like to share the thoughts of it with you.

“Throughout my adventures, with Paimon, I still found no value in life itself after all those times…”

…

That was very pitiful and saddening to hear… Having a traveler so depressed, you didn’t think it would go so deep as this…

You tried consoling him, even though you absolutely suck at trying to comfort or even cheer someone up; you offered him some food in your hands, catching him off guard slightly.

“… Food..?” You mumbled out, saying one word each time. It wasn’t odd, it was pretty normal for you to do that,— actually. As you see, you use either 3-4 words, or just end up saying nothing. You weren’t much of a talkative person, and Aether respected that full-honestly. It’s like a fresh of breathtaking air… Something that he has always valued in a person, and he loves it. Because it’s you.

“… Thank you..” He smiled warmly, before it fades once he took a bite of your offered gift… “I..” He trails off again. “I haven’t given you anything in return, all this time… After you’ve done so much for me to find my sister…” He shares out, his grip on you becoming tighter, making you shift slightly and tried being in a comfortable cuddling position.

“.. You don’t need to…” You dismissed his worries, brushing it off like a wave that was one to ignore, but to Aether… It meant everything to do something for you. He wanted to do something for you, and it’s ironic because he never offered someone to help… That’s just… What’s special about you.

Aether wanted to offer you something… Perhaps.. Explaining about his old home would be a great value? “You know, I…” But he stopped. Right when you looked at him, he was thinking…

No.

It wouldn’t be enough talking about his old home.

There had to be more about it…

After a moment of silence, Aether continues…

“… I’ve never… Told you my name, have I?” He gave out a soft chuckle, realizing that the greatest gift could be both about his old home and his name. And you instantly got excited, your eyes sparkling just a tiny bit, giving Aether those feelings once more that had his heart pounding— as if it’ll tear out from his chest so much…

“I’d like to know…” You immediately said, getting in a bit too close— that had Aether slightly stammering over his words, his chest beating rapidly. If you kept this up, he might not be able to restrain his feelings.

But, he gave a small laughter, ruffling your hair in a gentle way possible, before he continues. “You’re the first person who’ll… Ever get to know my name, honestly…” Aether sheepishly says, his face becoming more rosy-red than usual. “But, consider this as a thank you gift.”

…

“My name is Aether..” He introduces himself in a gentle way possible, your eyes sparkling in admiration that he even considers you special enough to tell his name. Nobody in Teyvat ever knew his name… He always went by “traveler” or, well, the titles he receives every now and then when saving a nation…

“Ae-ther…” You tried spelling out, like some little baby learning a language. It honestly made Aether want to squish you and kiss you to death— because oh dear heavens, have mercy on him with your soft-spoken voice.

“That’s right…. Aether…” He smiled warmly still, being happy and content that he finally revealed his name to someone he could trust. And that person, was you.

“Aether…” You repeated slowly, smiling gently as you think you could get used to it… “Very lovely…” You complimented, as in return, Aether just softly laughs again. He found pure hope with you… It felt Ethereal… “Lovely, yes? I think yours is the loveliest….” He nuzzled against your cheek with his own, stroking his fingers through your [Hair color] hair, your own cheeks burning up— holding onto him which made you look a little… Clingy. But Aether didn’t mind… By Gods, he didn’t mind at all…

“I wish I could go home…” He utters as a starter… You, looking at him, a bit saddened that he wanted to go home.. Until he added more to his sentence. “I wish I could go home, with you…” He continued on, your eyes gazing, slightly widening. You didn’t expect from the traveler to be… Wanting you near him.. But at this point? You shouldn’t be so surprised anymore…

You’ve always felt loved and safe, when it came to Aether.

“I could’ve shown you so many things my world had in store… We could fly together too.” Aether explains, before looking down at your face, seeing that you were visibly confused by his last sentence.. He must’ve meant the Glider.

Right?

…

“I suppose I could explain that when I finish my journey..” Aether grinned, seeing your pouty face, wanting answers from him now…. But Aether wanted to keep it for the end, because he has a long way before he can get his powers back— to go back home.

“Just wait for me…”

“Alright…?”

I had no WiFi and went insane

[onwriting-hrarby]

my siesta

i started sleeping an the alarm of the neighbours went off. my friends came to look for me, and we went to see if there was a burglary. there wasn't, so i came back to the bed and we tried to sleep some more.

the alarm went off again. pitchy, squeaky. i called my dad, see if he had the neighbours' phone. he didn't, and he said it sometimes went off like that. we closed all the windows and doors and prayed for it to stop. it did.

after that, peace.

but i couldn't sleep anymore, so i laid in bed and i kept thinking about my relationship to fandom and to writing fanfiction. i came to the realization that i had to permanently delete wattpad and asianfanfics (after my stories were transformed into epubs and uploaded in a page there's no way to denounce, i hid them, but i never deleted the account). it has been somehow liberating, freedom.

i've had a pretty rough first six months of the year. i am reflecting on how i want to begin this new semester—while writing and fandom and interacting has been the thing i needed the most, and i'm grateful for that, i can't help but feel that i've been neglecting real life quite a lot. i never knew how to properly handle my online presence. i've struggled with oversharing in the past, with being in a fandom in the past and making fandom friends in the past (they were my best friends at one point, when the fandom died, our relationship did, too). and when i remember the time in my life i was the happiest, it goes from 2012 to 2018—when i wasn't in fandom. maybe it has nothing to do, maybe it does. when things get hard, i get obsessed with fiction. i've always done. and it has saved me countless of times, and i think i'm doing better in this relationship with fandom now as i did before (i don't beat myself that much for not being productive anymore, and i've learnt to enjoy the "banality" of things). but it worries me that when i spend a weekend out with my best friends i feel so happy, so utterly alive, and when i'm in front of the computer, not so much.

damn, bearing myself open right there. but everyone has their struggles, and i admit, i've always had problems with technologies and social media (i don't even own a smartphone, and i deactivate my personal twitter from time to time!).

thinking, reflecting a lot, basically. thank you siesta.

[whisperlullaby]

Ukulele

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Music shop AU)

Warnings: Talk of death (no major characters or spoilers), fluff. That’s it. Fluffy flirty Bucky because it’s what we deserve.

Word Count: 1449

Summary: You need to get a ukulele for your niece’s birthday and head right into Bucky’s music shop

A/N: 2 oneshots in one week?! Who am I? Special thanks to @river-soul​ for always amping me up and reading my stories. Forever grateful for you! If I missed any warnings let me know.

Tags: @syntheticavenger​ @quxxnxfhxll​ @immatr3x​

This was your last resort. You had to find a ukulele for your niece that wasn’t over your budget. It was astounding to you how expensive this tiny instrument was online. People were probably upselling it. You were fortunate that your friend pointed you in the direction of a local music shop that carried various instruments, records, and supplies. You don't know why you didn't think about it in the first place.

You saw the neon open sign and ran into the shop out of the pouring rain. You planned on staying for a bit until the rain let up and as you were shaking off the cool droplets you heard a low gravelly voice behind you, “Good morning, is there anything I can help you find today?”

You turned around and were met with the most handsome man you had ever seen. His clear blue eyes had you wishing the rain clouds would go away so you could compare them to the sky. He was wearing a tight white shirt, black jeans, and a black leather jacket. His hair was pushed back into a bun and you could just imagine running your fingers through his long hair.

You shook off your shock like the rain and cleared your suddenly dry throat, “I’m just browsing for now, but thank you.” Hoping that your non-committal answer would allow him to let you stay in the shop long enough for the rain to stop.

“No problem, I'm Bucky if you have any questions I’ll be right over here.” He went back behind the counter and started strumming a guitar. The melody was so soothing you almost forgot why you had come to the store in the first place.

“Hey what are you playing?” You wondered from across the empty store.

“Just a song I’m working on. If it’s bothering you I can stop for a bit. I shouldn’t be playing music during business hours anyway but the owner lets me get away with it.” He threw you a sly smirk.

You let out a breathy laugh, “No you don't have to stop, it sounds really beautiful. The owner sounds like a pretty great guy letting you practice during business hours. Is he around often? Or does he stay home on rainy days.”  

Bucky smiled at you, “I was making a joke dove, apparently a pretty bad one. I’m actually the owner.”

You slapped your forehead and flushed red. You were an idiot, your friend told you the owner Bucky was really helpful. Which is why she had suggested it in the first place. 

“Oh my god I’m an idiot I knew you were the owner. I’m so sorry, my name is Y/N” You sighed, “actually if you could help me I am looking for a ukulele for my niece. It’s her birthday tomorrow and everything I found online was either too expensive or too cheap.”

Bucky set down his guitar, “Follow me. We don’t get a lot of ukulele requests so I keep that stock in the back.” You moved to follow Bucky to the back stockroom. 

As you entered the back room Bucky held out his hand. “It’s a bit tight back here so you’ll have to follow close. I would hate for you to trip over something and get hurt.”

You grabbed Bucky’s hand as he led you through the cramped stockroom with ease. You could feel yourself getting heated the longer you held his hand and prayed to every single deity you could think of that he did not notice your palm begin to sweat. 

“So how old is your niece going to be?” Bucky stopped at a section of shelving that contained several different boxes.

“She’s going to be 12. After her dad died last year and all she wanted to do was play music. She says it makes her feel like he’s still around. He was a high school band teacher and loved his string instruments. It’s been really hard on her and my sister is doing her best to make sure she honors his memory.” You paused and looked at Bucky. He was staring at you with such sorrow. “Oh my gosh I am so sorry I just completely overshared didn’t I? I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Bucky let out a long sigh looking down. “Don’t worry about it Y/N. It’s kind of a similar reason why I got into music. Why I opened this shop. Growing up my house was always filled with different music, every morning my mom would put on a record and then play along on her piano. All different types of music too.” Bucky paused and looked back at you “When she passed away 5 years ago it was like all music just lost it’s meaning. It took about a year before I picked up a guitar again and I still have a hard time looking at a piano, but when I did I remembered that music is what made me feel the happiest. I feel my ma around me when I’m strumming along to a song. I opened up this music shop to honor her too.”

Bucky shrugged off the jacket he was wearing and showed you the sleeve of tattoos running up his left arm. Black and white piano keys surrounded by blue, purple, orange, and red music notes and frets. 

“I got this to remind myself that music is a part of who I am.” You reached out to touch the inked skin and traced the piano keys up his bicep. It was so beautiful you hadn’t realized how close you had gotten to him until you looked up and his face completely filled your vision.

You cleared your throat and stepped back only to collide with another shelf causing Bucky to cage you into the shelf while boxes of guitar strings fell to the ground around you.

 “I am so sorry I am such a clutz.” You were whispering having lost your voice at the proximity of Bucky once again. 

“It’s okay dove, are you hurt? Nothing hit you right?” Bucky was concerned, his hands rested on your hips as he looked you over. You were sure he could hear your heart drumming in your chest. The rain outside was beating on the roof in perfect harmony, and the soft sounds of the air conditioner seemed to play on key. A beautiful symphony.

 After he was content you weren’t hurt, his eyes met yours before briefly looking at your lips. Your tongue darted out to swipe your bottom lip unconsciously. Bucky’s hands tightened at your waist as he leaned in and met your mouth with his. The kiss was soft and tender. When he pulled away, Bucky smiled and let go of your hips.

 “We should probably get you that ukulele.” He shrugged back on his jacket and pulled down a box. He opened it to show you the beautiful teal ukulele with orange and yellow painted flowers.

“Bucky this is perfect! How much?” Bucky ignored your question and started leading you from the stockroom back to the front of the store. He led you through the door with a hand at the small of your back all the way to the cash register.

“Let’s see, so normally this ukulele runs around $250.” Your face dropped, that was way too expensive for you, but Bucky continued. “But when you apply the birthday discount, the amazing kisser discount, and the going on a date with the owner discount. It comes out to $75.” Bucky smiled devilishly at you.

You crossed your arms and threw him a coy smile. “Going on a date with the owner you say? I don’t remember that conversation happening.” 

You tapped your forefinger on your chin like a metronome. “Even still don’t you think that’s a pretty steep discount? You’ll be losing money.”

“Well, maybe you’re right, but I am the owner so I guess I can sell the merchandise how I see fit. We could talk about it over dinner tonight?” Bucky mused.

You took your bottom lip in between your teeth thinking about his request.

 “Well lucky for you the only thing I had planned for today was getting my niece the perfect birthday present.” You reached into your bag for the cash to pay for the gift and a business card with your personal number on it. “Text me with the details and I’ll meet you there.” 

Bucky handed you the box and took your business card. As you left his shop, the pouring rain now a light drizzle, he picked up his guitar and started strumming the beginning of a new song he hoped you would like.

[whaleofatjme1920]

You keep reminding me that I, at some point, have to choose what I want to study ;-;

To be honest, I just finished school and everything is so overwhelming. I definitely want to study, but like, WHAT. There are so many interesting options!

Do you maybe have any tips on how to settle on one first option? I know that you can change it if it doesn’t suit you, but it still just seems like a life-changing (or defining?) choice.

Sorry for rambling, but that rant built up over a very long time. Hope it didn’t disturb you! If I cross any boundaries/overshare, just tell me please.

Hope you have a good night! Or whatever time of day it is for you right now!

🍁-anon

Hm, well, I always knew what I wanted to do. And it's not because of like some holier than thou thing, it's because that how I was raised and the person I am now. I set my mind to something, and see it through until it's done. Sure, I flip flopped a few times, but ultimately I went with a major and am now looking at gradschool based on what makes money, and what makes me happy. Psychology is that weird niche even though my father is disappointed I didn't go into chem teaching like him *eyeroll*

I find it very, very unfair we make young people choose what they want to do for the rest of their life at such a young, formative age. If I was smarter about this, I would have gone to community college and save up, getting a lot of classes out of the way before sinking 14K a quarter at a name university bc it's stupid and all I'm paying for is the name. I genuinely mean that. For my friends that didn't go to uni like me, needed more time to figure it out, they went to community near us (Chicago has some great ones!) and figured out at a much more leisure pace while not breaking bank in order to figure out what they wanted. And there's nothing wrong with not knowing what you want to do, how could you? There's so many fascinating things to learn about in the world we call home, it's only natural our wanderlust would go bonkers at the possibility of choosing our future.

Changing majors is INCREDIBLY common. I knew many people who changed majors during my time at uni simply because they gave something a try and found they didn't have the ultimate passion for it! That's okay! There's nothing wrong with knowing when to bail! For you, focus on what makes you happiest and what makes the most practical sense, and try that out. Look at community if you feel that's more financially sound and see what floats your boat right now.

Try something first, and see if it makes you happy and makes sense in the world we live in. Can it ultimately sustain you? I hate dogging on majors, but English is such a saturated field, and so would be like, what ancient Roman history? You can always have a major AND a minor. Hell, I almost minored in chem bc I know pysch is dodgy.

Take your time with it, and try not to overthink.

I didn't even know what college I was going to, I just blindly started applying. Now I'm at a well known uni! You'll do just fine.

[ninamontagutbordas]

HOW CAN I KNOW WHO I AM IF SOCIAL MEDIA DICTATES WHO I SHOULD BE?

The first time I joined Facebook, I was thirteen years old. It was 2008 at the time and none of the existing social media platforms were a big thing in Spain yet. I had a total of seven facebook friends and I only used it to talk to my sister, who introduced me to the social network, while she was away during the summer. Actually, facebook was just a great solution to connect with people traveling or living abroad.

I didn’t understand the power of social media then and, to be honest, it’s still difficult for me to have an accurate understanding of how its power can affect people. It sure has affected me countless times to the point where social media was controlling the way I felt and, it still controls me sometimes.

I am about to turn twenty-five and I am very happy with who I’ve become this past decade. Obviously, I had to go through all the faces the majority of kids go through between the ages of fifteen and the mid-twenties (hopefully I’m not the only one!): I was a stupid teenager at times (to be fair, sometimes still am), there were moments were I behaved as a bad daughter, a bad sister, a bad friend, a bad girlfriend and as a bad “all the roles that a human being can possibly be”, but, still, I am very happy with who I am today and I have forgiven myself for all the damage I may have made.

During this past decade, I’ve managed to create different abilities that helped me understand a bit more how to navigate the awkward early twenties, such as pushing away toxicity, standing up for myself, accepting constructive criticism, and facing mistakes as soon as possible.

BUT, what if social media is dictating what’s toxic and what’s not, when do I need to stand up for myself and when I don’t, which criticism is constructive and which is not and which are the things I should see as mistakes and which are not?

It got me thinking.

I feel like the power of this digital “era” we are living in (is it even an era anymore or at this point is just our reality?) has brought us a lot of good, but also a lot of bad. There have been moments in my life where I found social media was actually very dangerous for me and reflecting on it now, I think my experience may be helpful to some of you as well.  

At the beginning of this crazy 2020, I was in a very bad place. I had just quitted a job that was very damaging for me, I wasn’t comfortable with the way I looked, and I felt very isolated from the important things in life. I have suffered from severe anxiety since I was twelve and had to learn to manage that at a very early stage in my life, but it had never been as bad as it was in January. First world problems? Indeed. I totally agree, but it was a very dark period of time for myself and there was nothing I could do to feel better -or at least I thought so-.

I have the most amazing parents and the most amazing family, a great group of friends who have always supported me no matter what and I had a great loving boyfriend who not once made me feel non-deserving of a happiness that seemed impossible to reach at the time. My support system wasn’t the problem.

SO, why wasn’t I happy?

I knew I had to stop complaining and start doing things that would make me feel better, which would make me heel. Had I known at the time social media was a key element to get there, it would have been a lot easier.  

My body had changed a lot during the past few years, I wasn’t exercising, and I handled my anxiety by eating literally my feelings. My pants didn’t fit, my body was way different than my friend’s bodies (yeah, I know, “don’t compare yourself to others” and “all bodies are beautiful” but still, we all know how it works) and I felt very insecure in general. I never have had the patience or the strength before to beat my laziness and it’s safe to say I had zero trust in myself then, but again, it was time. I had to do something.

I decided to start a severe diet.

If you know me, you know I have had a terrible habit in the past where I start things and never finish them, so of course, I didn’t think I was going to go through with an entire diet. I didn’t see myself capable.

It took me six months and nine days to finally feel healthy and good again, but I did it. (Two out of six months I was quarantined at home, which was not great neither mentally nor physically for the process I was going through). I discovered a lot of myself during that time though.

However, not everything I discovered was actually good, believe it or not. I discovered a lot of bad stuff and not necessarily was I aware of all the negative inputs I was receiving from the internet. One of those things was the social media strategies to engage with users in the wrong way and how that can control a person’s feelings. I was a victim of social media.

During the lockdown, I had to beat my anxiety in different ways so that none of them lead me up to interrupting the diet-plan my doctor had provided me. I had a commitment to myself and the more I proved myself wrong, the better I felt. I’m not a quitter and I wasn’t a quitter back then, but I just didn’t know it yet.

One of the ways to beat my anxiety, strangely enough, was sitting home to my computer and lose myself on social media, as many of us did during the quarantine. Without even noticing it, I ended up falling into a rabbit hole: Instagram food accounts.

Isn’t it so paradoxical? I was doing a diet but still, I was spending my hours looking at thousands of videos of people baking cakes, cooking pasta, and reading recipes I know I couldn’t have as long as I wanted to keep doing this.

Some said I should be proud of myself - being able to look at these videos and not once cheat or interrupt my diet is a great way “to train my strength”. I fully disagree. To me, this was not about strength, to me this was about how the channels in my brain had been educated to think this was normal behavior. It was not. Social media was tempting me.

What I’ve realized through this process is that, it wasn’t actually my choice whether to stop looking at them or not. The less I wanted to see, the more videos I had access to because of the complexity of the social media algorithms. They decided I needed to see that kind of content.

Social media was proving myself and it became an interesting yet dangerous dynamic for me, which is why I find myself writing down this essay. For months, I’ve been having conversations with my parents and my friends about the danger of social media.

BUT, where is the real danger?

In the months that followed, I was starting to feel better. Actually, I was feeling pretty good. Not just physically, but also mentally. I was better than ever and people around me started noticing the inside glow I was feeling.

The problem is that feeling good and being in charge of your own life are two very different things. I was happy but my life was not under control, quite the opposite. I wasn’t in control. Social media algorithms were controlling me.

That’s when it got tricky for me – How could I be the happiest I’ve ever been but feel so frustrated? Was I really happy? Was I pretending to be happy because everyone else seemed so happy? Was I really being myself or was I just pretending to be somebody who I wasn’t? Was social media training myself to think I was happy? Was social media LYING to me?

All of these questions were hunting me, and I just did not know what to do. I was back in shape yet all the pictures I saw on Instagram of these beautiful women in their amazing bikinis during their amazing vacations made me feel self-conscious about myself.

Why did I do this diet? Did I do it for myself or for the benefit of a social network that had thousands of pictures of myself where I could prove to people graphically I had lost a lot of weight?

Social media has an interesting way to make people feel bad and create this interesting millennial feeling of FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) – the problem is, we only share 10% of what’s really going on with us. That’s why it was important to me to share this story – I wanted to use social media in a different way. Maybe I’m oversharing, but at least I’m oversharing in a true and authentic way, not in an unrealistic scenario.

A while ago, I decided I would delete all the pictures on my Instagram page and I was only going to leave there the ones that captured the moments where I was really happy and really present. From around 600 pictures I had posted over the years, I chose around 20. They could stay. Twenty-something pictures that reminded me of the important things in life, at least the important things to me. But then I said to myself: “Did I just chose when I felt happy because I deleted some Instagram pictures? This makes me so sad”.

Going through these old pictures, I could clearly tell how my body has changed “for the better” this past nine months but I realized very quickly something very unexpected - I was really happy back then. For sure I had that puffy face and a bigger body, but I was really happy and really secure. And that’s when I realized, social media was dictating what should I do and who I should be. Not because I decided to, but because I allowed it to. 

The thing is that I don’t feel threatened by social media itself. I feel threatened by the way we consume digital content without even thinking of the impact this can have not only on ourselves but on others. 

We get carried away because we don’t use social media in a smart way. We use it to compare ourselves and our life with others, directly or indirectly, whether we like it or not. We don’t consume media to complete ourselves with information and use it for our own profits. We consume media to fill the blanks we are missing in our journeys. 

I’m scared of how fast the world is evolving and how fast digital progress is happening. Let’s see where my relationship with the internet stands in five years when my twenties are over. Until then, I’ll try to use social media for the benefit of the people around me. I feel like we all have a responsibility and, I’m going to commit to it.  

The question is, are you?

[lovedeluxe92]

okay so i started working at jimmy johns in early febuary of this year. i needed a job rlly bad and money desperately, just something to keep me afloat and to afford food. what i experienced...i was not at all prepared for lmao. i was sexually harassed, verbally harassed, had my hours fucked with, had management and even the owners of the company who could give a fuck less about their employees, had to deal with my fellow coworkers AND managers being on k2 and other drugs, and the final fucking straw which was getting my tip money stolen from me OUT OF THE SAFE BY A MANAGER. i started working as a delivery driver. which was INCREDIBLY stress inducing at first bc i worked at the one right downtown. i had to deal with

i started working as a delivery driver. which was INCREDIBLY stress inducing at first bc i worked at the one right downtown. i had to deal with

traffic, pedestrians NOT LOOKING WHERE THE FUCK THEY WERE GOING DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MANY PPL I ALMOST KILLED CAUSE /THEY/ DID NOT LOOK, we have ‘parking police’ and i legit got about 15-20 tickets during my time there bc that asshole was out for blood and anytime he saw my car, even if i wasnt parked illegally (oh did i mention we had like 3 parking spots all on the street and all with a 2 hour limit (: ) or hadnt been parked in a spot for the full 2 hours. so there was that. 

see when i first started everything was fine. we had good employees who worked hard and did what they had to do. they were all stoners, but whatever i could care less about that. SO. our assistant manager, he was a mess. racist, homophobic, rude, loud. the worst. we would do dabs out in his car (yeah i know but i worked at a fucking jimmy johns) and he would just say the most questionable shit. i remember this one time he saw my phone background was a pic of me and my bf and was like ‘oh you like black guys? what’s your sex like? i bet it’s really good’ and im not gonna go into too much detail here, bc it upset me and its racist,  but he kept going and said some REALLY creepy shit i was like wtf and told him to never speak to me like that again or i would report him for sexual harassment (side note: one time he thought i did report him for sexual harassment and was like “who are you gonna buy weed from now?” LITERALLY ANYONE YOU PIECE OF SHIT.) he would always be like “DAMN THICK’ whenever i would bend over and do everything. I TOLD MY MANAGER AT THE TIME. she  didn’t do anything. AND the owners of the franchise definitely knew bc like...there’s cameras and they can hear everything we say? but no one did fucking anything. and i needed the money bad so i had to stay. of course i told him off constantly. he was white and always saying the n word. just a piece of fucking shit. 

i think the happiest day of my life was when he FINALLY got fired. my manager had to go to another city for a week and help out that jimmy johns bc i guess ALL the employees and managers did a walk out (yeah this happens at all the jimmy johns owned locally in my area i wish i was kidding) and left his inept ass in charge. it took him 5 mins to make sandwiches (FREAKY FAST hello????) he was just a poor manager. but THEN he started using k2 again. and he was a zombie. there was no point of him even being there bc like he would just go to the back of the store and just stand in front of the freezer door staring for like 10-15 mins at a time.i was a driver and didnt know how to make sandwiches yet and this bitch seriously was just standing there cracked out of his mind on k2 in FRONT of customers (and i will say our customers were SO nice at least) takking phone calls slurring his words. it was embarrassing. i rememeber i had 2 customers who had waited almost a HALF HOUR for ONE sandwich bc i was having a panic attack and losing my fucking mind trying to make their sandwiches while he was in his truck getting high and refusing to come in. one of the customers actually gave me a tip and told me i was doing great and the other one was like ‘im so sorry this is happening to you, that guy is  fucked up’. anyway, he passed out on k2 in his truck one night and got the cops called on him and got banned from the property :) i still saw him from time to time and he looked disgusting & miserable and it made me so happy. 

mostly we just had grown ass employees, fucking 30 year olds, just acting like children. always on drugs. i had one coworker pretend to slap my ass and i called him out and he was like ‘it’s a joke im not apologizing’. people would try to take deliveries from me. AND LET ME JUST SAY, not even to fucking brag even slighly but i was the best worker there my entire time there bc regardless of where im working i am giving my 100% every day and no one else there would. but ppl always tried to step over me and did not respect me. we had one coworker who had 3 felonies and one day like 4-5 cops came to our store to tell us to call the cops the next time he showed up for work (surprise surprise he fled bc they took an hour to get to the store despite the fact we were literally like not even 4 blocks from the police station) and he was always high on k2. forever late. day after day no call no show. he had his friend get hired on who would go down to subway and talk shit about subway in his uniform??? lmao and subway called us one day and was like ‘can yall not?’ he also threatened to burn down the store and then my manager (who was always on a power trip if we’re being honest) purposefully withheld his paycheck to fuck with him, because he was fucking with her, so we dealt with him WAY longer than we should have? 

then this one bitch that became manager, SOMEHOW, we were seriously always that desperate for staff and we hire anyone bc the managers are overworked af and just want to take the load off. anyway, SHE was always high on k2 as well. and she would always overshare rlly traumatic personal things from her life to me and all the customers and its like....girl we dont wanna hear that pls try and get some help. she was not currently being abused, i wanna specify. she was talking about things from her past. i sympathized with her but like im a victim of dv too lmao i dont wanna see your bruises without being asked first. and then i remember one day i left my money bag there (i kept my tips in it and had like $37 in there or something) and this bitch who was making MORE MONEY THAN ME seriously fucking went into the safe (we caught her on camera lmao) and stole that money out of my bag and left a few bills to make it seem less suspicious i guess??? lied about it to my face? then quit bc she ‘wasnt gonna sit there and be accused of something i didnt do’ like ok lmao

then to top it all off at one point my old manager just stopped giving a fuck and the store went to shit and we got complaint after complaint and she started being so rude to all of her staff, including myself (and we were like besties so i was devastated) and she cut my hours when she was submitting our work times for the checks because i would clock in early to help out....LIKE SHE ASKED? and it was just everything i said to her...her response was just the most rude and hateful voice and just....it was so rude. i cried every single day after work. she eventually got replaced and then quit 

but then this new manager, whom i loved, was very depressed and just had a lot wrong with him mentally but he was still very....drama starting and attention seeking. he would talk about suicide nonstop 24/7 and not to be callous but it just made me so uncomfortable and triggered me so much? they did overwork him and i will attest and agree to that and he had a lot on his shoulders but he couldve gone to mcdonalds literally any day and gotten a job with better hours, better pay, and better benefits. i kept telling him over and over to leave bc he had so much managerial experience he couldve been hired anywhere! all resteraunts down here are perpetually hiring, especially for managers! i would know bc i was looking for another job lmao. but he’d text me every night saying things like ‘well lets hope i drink myself to death’ ‘suicide is painless’ etc. and it was just......VERY uncomfortable for me, as someone who has attempted suicide and still struggles with ideation from time to time lmao it was just the most triggering environment ever 

like idk how i lasted that long but i worked my ass off, saved up my money, have a good paying job and im trying my best to forget this entire experience (honestly i did have some good times) but i really dont....think i can lmao 

ON A POSTIVE NOTE: we had some of the kindest and most caring customers ive ever had in my life. i was shocked. but the amount of times i had a shitty customer in my entire time there i can count on one hand lmao like....even when they were shitty they were like ‘im sorry i know yall work hard and everything’ like i miss my customers SO MUCH because we actually had relationships with them and shit and ugh god. if the customers were shitty tho i would never have kept this job lmfao 

i stayed at this job simply bc i made enough money for rent and my bills perfectly and it was one of the few jobs where i was paid an hourly wage + tips. and i wanted my next job to be a job in my field. that’s why i stuck around so long, it took some time to do that.

so yeah theres my mess i love anyone who read this and you can have my first born and be the beneficiary to my life insurance when i die

[writtenbyalex-nicole]

The Missing Dot (An Epistolary Short Story)

by Alex-Nicole Edwards

To: jordanavery@yahoo.com

From: taylor.blake@gmail.com

Date: December 24, 2020 at 11:59 PM

Jordan. This is ridiculous. I know that you’re upset, but things aren’t gonna get any better by ignoring me. You didn’t need to block my number. Or all of my social media accounts. Just let me explain what happened! It’s almost Christmas, I want us to be happy. I love you. You have to know that. Please, call me back.

– Taylor

To: taylor.blake@gmail.com

From: jordanavery@yahoo.com

Date: December 25, 2020 at 8:13 AM

I have to say I really wasn’t expecting an email like that to start off my Christmas morning. I mostly just get things from my old college asking me to donate money I don’t have, or newsletters I can never seem to unsubscribe from. As interesting as your email was, I’m sorry to say that you have the wrong email address. It also seems as though you have some relationship problems. Luckily (or not), I don’t have any plans for today. And I’m invested in your story now. So, fill me in and maybe I can help?

– Not The Jordan You Expected

To: jordanavery@yahoo.com

From: taylor.blake@gmail.com Date: December 25, 2020 at 9:29 PM

This is embarrassing. Apparently, I missed a dot in the email address. In my defense, I was very distressed when I sent that email. I debated all day on whether I should respond to you or just pretend this never happened. Eventually I decided that I should, because I don’t really have anyone else to talk to right now. And since I’ve already revealed so much about myself, why not reveal some more? It’s not like you know who I am.

My life is a mess, but you know that already. Jordan, who apparently has the same first and last name as you, accused me of cheating and blocked me. (For the record, I would never). I ended up spending Christmas alone. It’s not the first time we’ve had a fight like this, but it’s never been this bad. Jordan’s the love of my life, and if we’re not together. . . I’m not really sure what to do.

Now that I’ve shared something way too personal for a stranger, it’s your turn. It’s only fair. Also, Merry Christmas. Even though it doesn’t seem very merry at all.

– Taylor

To: taylor.blake@gmail.com

From: jordanavery@yahoo.com

Date: December 26, 2020 at 7:46 AM

I agree, this Christmas hasn’t been very merry. I’m sorry you spent it alone. If it’s any consolation, so did I. I don’t really have any family around anymore, and I never had too many friends to begin with. It sounds like your Jordan isn’t as invested in this relationship as you are. I couldn’t imagine letting the love of my life spend Christmas alone. This is a bit of a heated question, but are you sure this is really love?

As for my own way too personal for a stranger story, I’ve never been more depressed in my life. I got laid off from my job earlier this year and was unemployed for months. I found something recently, but it’s the kind of job I worked when I was a teenager trying to save money for college. I’m 33 now. And I have a degree that I went into debt for. But I’m back to making minimum wage. I thought I had life all planned out, but I guess you can never really plan out life. The same way I didn’t plan on speaking to you. I hope this doesn’t scare you off. I could use someone to talk to.

– The Jordan Who Overshares

To: jordanavery@yahoo.com

From: taylor.blake@gmail.com

Date: December 28, 2020 at 1:15 PM

I read your email over and over again. And got angry. And then sad. And then I just felt confused. No one’s ever asked me if I was sure I was in love. But I think I needed to be asked. Because the truth is, I’m not sure.

This is the only relationship I’ve ever been in. Me and Jordan have been together for a decade, since we were in middle school, and I always thought we’d end up getting married and living happily ever after. I thought we were destined to be together. But what if I’m wrong? What if wasn’t destiny that brought us together? What if it was just coincidence? I’m not sure what that would mean for my life plans. But like you said, you can’t really plan out life. And, as it is now, we still haven’t talked to each other.

I do think it was destiny that brought us together though. That missing dot was fate. We both need someone to talk to right now. I understand why you’re depressed, and I want to help you out of it. I’m as invested in your story as you are in mine. Tell me more about it.

– Taylor

To: taylor.blake@gmail.com

From: jordanavery@yahoo.com

Date: December 28, 2020 at 9:35 PM

Thanks for writing me back. I also read my email to you over and over again after I sent it. And regretted every word. I thought you might just delete it and move on. I’m glad you didn’t.

As for me, I don’t think there is anything that can help me now. But I want to help you. If you’re not in love, then you need to leave your relationship. It sounds like you haven’t really explored who you are outside of it. You should. On top of that, if none of your friends have ever asked you that question, then maybe you need new ones.

– The Jordan Who Gives Great Advice

To: jordanavery@yahoo.com

From: taylor.blake@gmail.com

Date: December 29, 2020 at 8:22 AM

I don’t think it’s too late to help you. You can always change your life around! What are the things outside of your job that make you happy? Maybe you need to focus more on those?

Me and Jordan have been friends with the same people since we’ve been together. It’s a small town, there isn’t that many people to befriend. I guess they never really thought to ask me that question because me and Jordan were always endgame. It just seemed so obvious. But not anymore.

– Taylor

To: taylor.blake@gmail.com

From: jordanavery@yahoo.com

Date: December 29, 2020 at 10:23 PM

I know I told you before that I needed someone to talk to but, really, I needed someone to talk to me. I decided a few months ago that I needed to help at least one person before the year ended. And I think that I have now. So, you’ve already helped me. Thank you.

I think you need to get out of your small town and see the rest of the world. It’s not all the same, there’s so much to discover. And you’re still young.

– The Most Thankful Jordan

To: jordanavery@yahoo.com

From: taylor.blake@gmail.com

Date: December 30, 2020 at 11:41 AM

I might be young, but you’re not exactly old. Shouldn’t it be the same thing for you? And why is there a deadline for the end of the year? What happens then?

Also, I don’t really feel like I’ve helped you. I haven’t even given you any advice yet. But I’m taking yours. I’m going to travel somewhere next year. I don’t know where yet, but I’ll figure it out later. Maybe I’ll make some new friends there. And maybe, one day, we can even meet each other? It seems like you’ve been a better friend to me than the friends I’ve known for years.

– Taylor

To: taylor.blake@gmail.com

From: jordanavery@yahoo.com

Date: December 31, 2020 at 1:39 AM

I’m really happy to hear that Taylor. I think that may be the happiest news I’ve heard all year. I feel like helping you with your life has helped me with mine. This will be my last email to you. I think you got it from here.

Thank You.

– Jordan

To: jordanavery@yahoo.com

From: taylor.blake@gmail.com

Date: December 31, 2020 at 10:41 AM

Jordan, please don’t let this be our last email! I really enjoy talking to you. And you’ve really helped me. I want to help you too!

– Taylor

To: jordanavery@yahoo.com

From: taylor.blake@gmail.com

Date: January 1, 2021 at 12:32 PM

Jordan?

To: jordanavery@yahoo.com

From: taylor.blake@gmail.com

Date: January 3, 2021 at 8:19 AM

Jordan, I’m worried. Please write me back.

To: jordanavery@yahoo.com

From: taylor.blake@gmail.com

Date: December 25, 2021 at 12:00 AM

Jordan,

It’s been a year since we met. I miss you. It sounds crazy because we only knew each other for a week and never saw each other’s faces. But you changed my life. You were right about me needing to leave my relationship. It wasn’t love (or healthy). I made some new friends this year. Real friends, who actually care about me. And I’ve travelled, a lot. For once, I feel like I’m my own person. And you helped me find who that was. I hope that, wherever you are, you’re happier now. And that someday, we’ll meet again. Merry Christmas.

Thank you.

– Taylor

[hi--ily]

when we first met you were 13 and i was 12 and i didn't know a single thing about love

i was, however, determined to be your friend.

you struggled remembering my name but now the memory makes me smile because of the time you told me you were happy to have a friend.

you were something new; you had no idea who i was or who i would be, i felt that with you, i could be who i was always destined to be.

and i was so happy that you accepted me.

the days flew by faster than i would've ever imagined; the warm sun on our backs as we walked home from school, giggling about boys while we sipped our iced tea.

(your house is still only a street away from mine but somehow it seems further.)

we exchanged smiles in the dark when we declared each other best friends and i was so happy to have someone again.

despite not being a very sentimental person, i could always tell you cared.

i knew you always had my back and i was certain i would always have yours.

all i wanted was to take on the world with you; i felt that i could. as long as you were there, i could overcome anything.

i lost count of the nights we stayed up talking, of the times i would whisper insecurities and you would say you loved me.

i lost count of the times we would go on adventures; those are some of my happiest memories.

(we hiked mountains, saw shooting stars, and i don't doubt we made some almost regrettable decisions)

i was afraid, always terribly afraid, that the words i said would reach you more than the words i didn't.

because i am someone who makes mistakes and oversteps boundaries,

i am someone who cares too much and does not know what to do with her love besides mixing it into something unclear,

i am someone who wishes she could take back all the sour things she's said, wishes she could leave only the sweet.

you are someone who always made me wish i was sweet.

i become too trusting, and then i overshare, and then i talk too much, and then i start to lose the sense of confidence i had.

i am someone who lets go too easily because i am afraid i am the only one holding on.

so i am sorry if it seems like i am letting go.

(when i love too much i am afraid that it will not be returned,

so in that case,

isn't it better to be alone?)

we grew together.

i saw you blossom into a beautiful person;

and when you were 16 and i was 15 i realized what love was.

and it shattered my heart because of course i had to fall in love with the one person who could never love me back:

you.

i didn't know what to do with my heart.

i tried to have hope: i would hold your hand, maybe kiss your cheek, but i knew you were not someone i could ever have.

i tried loving other people, tried to feel strongly for someone else, but it always came back to you.

meanwhile, you were falling in love with someone else.

i always asked you "how do you know?" and i'll admit it was sneaky of me, i refused to believe you could possibly love someone as much as i loved you.

you said "you just do" and although there is some truth to that, i believe it is a little more.

i love you.

i love you because you like driving places, your ridiculous music blasting as you most likely go at least ten miles over the speed limit.

i love you because you like decaf black coffee, the complete opposite of someone like, always getting the most complicated latte.

i love you because you rarely show your emotions, because you always make everyone happy, even if you're angry yourself; i've always wanted to be the person who you trust with your heart, who you trust with your most vulnerable self.

i love you because your favorite color is blue and mine is red but i would give anything to get to call your ocean eyes mine.

i love you because despite not understanding my emotions, all the bad and good things i feel, you try.

i fell in love with you because you were my best friend and made me feel invincible.

and it's been a few years since then and my heart is the same.

but i am worried,

scared,

that your heart has changed.

you would never want me as a lover but now i am afraid you would not want me as a friend.

and i am not one to talk, i always leave people behind because i am weak,

but i never thought that you would be someone i would have to reach for.

distance makes the heart grow fonder, and it did for me, but you are a seven hour drive away, and i wonder if your heart ever misses me.

and it makes me wish we were kids again.

just twelve and thirteen.

it makes me wish i could fall in love with you again

and maybe this time i would do it differently.

instead i am left wishing i had tried harder,

wishing i had been someone better,

wishing i was still someone you wanted to call your best friend.

i am afraid i am someone who cannot be loved because words mean nothing in the long run.

i wish i could use my words better, and that i was stronger so that i could love better.

i remember when we watched the meteor shower,

you were looking up for any flashes of light and every time there was one i could see it in your eyes,

and i remember all the times you drove us around in your car,

the way you laughed at my jokes and how the sun made your hair golden,

i remember your hand in mine as we watched a horror movie,

my heart was beating so loud and i was never more happy that i was in that moment.

i have loved you for so long.

and perhaps i'm a romantic, writing a soliloquy to you,

but i don't know what else to do with my heart.

in some universe, maybe you are mine and i am yours.

maybe on the day when we've completely drifted i'll show you this poem.

when that time comes,

i hope we will both have found ways to be happy,

even if we are miles and miles apart.

[savemefromfallingdownfarther]

10 Short Letters to My Exes (updated)

Bradley: You were the first. I’m not even sure if this can be considered dating. You came out a lot more handsome than I did pretty. I hope you’re more stable now. You deserved better than me, I hope you’re happy now.

Jonathan: I saw you just last weekend. You’re very kind, even if you do overshare. You tell my friends you’re still in love with me. What makes me so special? I feel bad for your more recent girlfriends if you’re still stuck on me. It’s been three years, and we only ever kissed. I realized I couldn’t be with you forever when I saw how hairy your fat ass was. No offense.

Voldemort: This is just an alias, obviously. I’m not sure if you even belong on this list. I sure did love you, but you were never really mine. I tried to make you love me, but it didn’t work. I’d never experienced someone not falling when I turned on my charms. You taught me an important lesson when you sexually abused me. You taught me to never trust a man again, not that I realized it at the time. Someone close to me attempted to murdermurder me, but I have PTSD from out 6 month encounter, not that. You ruined me, but I’m healing now. I hope you burn in hell.

Eddie: You were young and innocent and sweeter at this time. I wonder what happened to you to turn you into such a thing. I wonder sometimes what it would be like if I’d stayed with you. In the end I’m happiest without you. Maybe I should’ve kissed you more. Oh well.

David: I broke up with you because I could never understand what you were saying on the phone. You overcame a lot. I didn’t know you well enough, and for that I’m sorry. I never learned how to trust you.

Connor: I didn’t like you nearly as much as I liked the idea of you. You were a shitty boyfriend, but I was a shitty girlfriend. I didn’t know how to be what you needed. For that I’m sorry. That doesn’t make you less of a dick.

Eddie: I wasted a year on you this time, but we were only together for about two months. You’re a self-serving dick, and I realized that. You broke my heart. I forgive you, but I’ll never forget. You ruined my life, and dragged me along til I was broken and bloody. What turned you into this? You weren’t always so cruel. I know I wasn’t in it when we dated again when your birthday crept up on me, sorry for that.

P.S. I want my cape back, asshole.

Jonathan: I’m not sure you belong on this list either. I had to choose between you two. Everyone pushed me towards you, but my heart was never in it. I’m sorry I led you on. I guess your passage is mostly here as a public apology. I’m sorry. I thought you could make me happy, but my heart was with him already. You’ll find someone better for you than I ever could’ve been.

Aaron: I didn’t realize I was afraid of you until I was worried you would hit me when we were breaking up. I’m sorry I hurt you, but I couldn’t bear to keep hurting myself by staying with you. I didn’t love you anymore. I hope you’re happier now. I’m glad you’re in school. I was hurt when I heard you moved on to a girl with the same name. Which of us had you really been in love with the whole time? Almost two years, and I still don’t know with any certainty. But I’d bet it had always been her name on your lips, not mine.

Dustin: I’m not sorry for how I hurt you. I’m worried about the cat I left behind with you, you never took care of her properly. I would worry more about how I hurt you if I hadn’t spent two years of my life being hurt by you. I lost friends, I grew apart from family, all because I kept picking you. In the end, I’d made up my mind before the ultimatum. I’ve never been so emotionally conflicted. You chose alcohol over me, but I was hoping I could leave and that would make you choose yourself. You chose alcohol, which is sad, but not my obligation to sit through. I’m a different person than when I started this prose. I am a grown woman. I am unapologetic. I am growing. I am learning. Hear me roar.

[visionsofalife]

tag thing

i was tagged by my wonderful pal @cyberspacedisgrace! your blog is awesome and so are you, thank you!!! (pls tag me in more stuff that goes for everyone else as well you all know how much i love  oversharing honestly) let’s go! (this is going to be a long one i’m so sorry)

rules: answer these questions, then tag some pals to do it too!

what is your idea of perfect happiness?: spending time with my friends & not having any responsibility or anxiety - just laughing until my stomach hurts at memes and having a general good time. that, or wrapped in a blanket immersing myself in any universe that isn’t this one, preferably with popcorn.

what is your greatest fear?: i’m scared of a lot, but i think the pointlessness of the universe is a big one. i believe the meaning of life is to find your own meaning, so i guess i fear that i’ll never be content with my meaningless life and i’ll always want more - nothing’s ever enough.

what is the trait you most deplore in yourself?: self-doubt and a general fuck-ton of insecurity. the fact that the majority of it is irrational doesn’t make it go away.

what is the trait you most deplore in others?: malicious bigotry, discrimination, selfishness, hatred. which living person do you most admire?: i truly believe lin-manuel miranda might actually be the shakespeare of the modern age. i also love emma watson for using her voice to battle gender inequality, and hazel hayes / dodie clark for being constant creative inspirations and all around lovely, smart, kind and amazingly talented women on youtube. what is your greatest extravagance?: i save a lot and tend to spend little, but concert/theatre tickets are pretty damn expensive what is your current state of mind?: i just finished an essay and have been scrolling tumblr non-stop for an hour, so this is about as content as i get, not counting the ever-present feeling that i’ve never done enough hahahhahhahah

what do you consider the most overrated virtue?: being perfect in order to be considered desirable. on what occasion do you lie?: i used to lie a lot about liking stuff so other people would like me, but luckily i haven’t needed to do that in a while. i’ll lie if someone close to me has asked me to and i think there’s a good reason for it. otherwise, i prefer to just tell the truth.

what do you most dislike about your appearance: my height and body shape make me look like a hobbit.

which living person do you most despise?: anyone who fuels hate, anger and fear. what is the quality you most like in a man?: a good sense of humour, great taste in memes and a general kindness/empathy for other human beings i guess.

what is the quality you most like in a woman?: same as above, really which words or phrases do you most overuse?: is this the section to bring up i started whipping ironically a lot and now it’s a serious issue i can’t stop also “what to heck”, “literally”, “honestly”, “i’m going to shit” and “crippling depression™

what or who is the greatest love of your life?: you underestimate how much i adore garlic bread.

when and where were you happiest?: tatinof manchester, october 11th 2015. it’s the first place that comes to mind and still my happy place to this day.

which talent would you most like to have?: i wish i could sing better but unfortunately i tend to sound like an asthmatic walrus being sat on. and that’s on a good day. 

if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?: if i charged a penny to anyone who has either told me i’m short like i somehow haven’t already noticed or made a height joke at me, i could afford an nintendo switch. so i’d either be taller or i’d have more chill. what do you consider your greatest achievement?: tom(ska) put my art in one of his videos and said lovely things about it, which was amazing. overcoming social anxiety to talk to some of my favourite creators at sitc last year was pretty cool too. if you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be?: i’d be a tortoise honestly, they seem pretty chill. or a sloth cause i’d actually have an excuse to be lazy. where would you most like to live?: i have no idea. not where i am now, but most likely still in the uk. it would be nice to live in brighton since i was born there and it’s a really great place but it’s so far away from everything and everyone i know.

what is your most treasured possession?: my signed mine turtle, blimp, or my laptop/phone. every story i’ve ever written and many stories i’m planning to write are on my laptop, so i wouldn’t part with it in a hurry. what do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?: days where i do fuck all. i’m at my worst when i’m not productive. what is your favourite occupation?: i just want to tell stories please what is your most marked characteristic?: creativity and kindness, i hope.

what do you most value in your friends?: the same sense of humour and taste in memes. kindess, empathy, and a laugh even on bad days.

who are your favourite writers (musicians, artists, poets etc)?: i adore everything rainbow rowell has ever written. bo burnham, rebecca sugar, alex hirsch, dodie clark, hazel hayes, jack & dean, pj ligouri, tom ridgewell are all amazing creative people and massive inspirations of mine. i also love p!atd, top, bastille, paramore, muse, glass animals, fob, atl - bands that i’ve fallen in and fallen out of love with over the past two years but still adore anyway. finally, the holy trinity: dan, phil, and lin-manuel miranda. d&p have been a massive part of my life for three and a half years, and hamilton is one of the best pieces of art i’ve have ever experienced. 

who is your hero of fiction?: i have many many fictional heroes, but this post is already too long so i’ll keep it down to three - peggy carter, princess leia, and rey. all wonderful, amazing, strong ass-kicking women who i aspire to be more like every day.

i’m sorry this was so long! i’m tagging @starlitfandoms, @@trash-can-so-do-i, @higayimmom, @houseofglitter & @tinyplanetxplorer because they’re the first five blogs i saw in my notes lmao, none of you have to do it if you don’t want to but yeah <3

i hope you have a wonderful day/evening/whatever the fuck timezone you may be in and that things are good wherever you are ^-^ - sian 

[fishtac0z-blog]

August 9, 2019

I’m trying to be off my phone more. My screen time almost reached 3 hours today but it didn't. That’s amazing considering my screen time yesterday was literally at almost 8 hours. I cut my screen time by 5 freaking hours in just one day. That’s really good, I’m proud of myself. I used instagram and twitter a little bit today but hopefully I can cut that off cold turkey soon. I hate comparing myself to others and those apps make me want to compare myself to everyone and just copy everyone else on either a pose or a theme or a tweet. It’s actually kind of dumb that I do those things.. everyone does that though. I just really needed a break from it. 

It’s well known social media has become an addiction so I started thinking: Is it just like a drug or alcohol addiction? If you abuse substances, you're addicted for life. Even if you go sober for 50+ years. The second you have another taste of that alcohol or drug, you're back to being an addict. I wonder if social media is the same way. I am on it too much for my own good just as everyone else is. If I go cold turkey on instagram, twitter, snapchat, etc. for lets say 3 years, will I become dependent on it after a 3 year break? I want to believe I won't but honestly I don't know that. The chances of that happening are, in my opinion, very likely. If that really is the case, then that makes me sad. The concept of social media is great. Being able to share your thoughts, videos, pictures, etc. with the world. The downfall is what it has become. It’s become a whole new world of competition where everyone is competing on who gets the most likes or comments or who lives the happiest life. If you're ACTUALLY being yourself on social media, people think you're weird and talk badly about you. You can't post a picture of you crying because you will be criticized by everyone for it. 

Not really sure why I had to go on a rant about social media after asking an actual, psychological question but it felt somewhat nice to get that off my chest. Lately I've felt the need to distance myself from people. Not in a bad way, I just want to close myself off a bit more. I overshare with people sometimes and I can feel myself doing it but can’t stop. I just feel the need to keep to myself much more. Have a nice, closed circle. I just want to do what I need to do. Literally going to hate myself for saying this but the best way I can describe what I want is to “move in silence”. I hate when people say things like that because they always tweet it and want people to know they're moving in silence? Which means people actually now know they're making moves and it’s no longer in silence????? Makes no sense to me but whatever. The only reason why I don't feel hypocritical saying it is because nobody knows about this page or this post. So even after this is posted onto the internet for the world to see, nobody is going to see it. With the exception of some employees from Tumblr, Facebook, Amazon, the FBI, and more. Because they're actually keeping track of every single little thing we ever post. But it doesn't matter because this won't entertain a single person at those places and they will discard of this and keep it moving. 

Anyway, today was a great day. It felt amazing to type all of that out. Writing it in my journal would've given me carpal tunnel. I’m grateful for the life I live, the people in my corner, and the positive experiences I have today and everyday that passes. Even on the bad days. I love me, and I love my life. I am forever grateful.

[timdontknow]

In planning to write all of this, I contemplated a few things.  First, who gives a damn?  Writing a long essay about myself and my year is such an act of self-importance.  Relative to everything going on in this world and every other person on the planet, I’m not even a blip on the radar.  Also, what am I even attempting to say?  I have had an extremely difficult time collecting my thoughts in a cohesive, coherent way for a number of months, and constantly living with that is not easy.  What makes me think doing all of this is going to result in me having something meaningful to say?  To answer these questions briefly, I don’t know.  I don’t know who gives a damn.  I don’t know if anyone is reading this right now.  I don’t know what I’m trying to say.  I don’t know if this will accomplish anything.  

What I do know, however, is that all I have is my experiences and my perspective.  That is all any one of us has.  We can try to learn about other people, but we are not capable of fully understanding a life that we are not living.  However, that does not make our own individual experiences without value.  Why else would we get up every morning, go get an education, go to our jobs, surround ourselves with people we love and do things we love?  And, while no two of us are the same, there are experiences that we all share.  That sharing is the beauty of interpersonal relationships.  So yes, this may partially be an exercise in self-importance, allowing me to vocalize, organize, and broadcast my past few months, but if this year has taught me anything, it’s that I can use a little bit of work on that interpersonal development.  Anyway, two paragraphs of administrative bullshit is down.  Let’s get to business.

From an outside perspective, I started this year on top of the world.  I was in the middle of my first season working my dream job at twenty-three years old.  My income had tripled.  I was living in the city where I had envisioned myself living and thriving since I was a teenager. I was taking care of my body in the most respectful way I ever had. Everything was going right, and in those regards, mostly everything is still going right.  I am still working on my two favorite shows of all time, now living comfortably in a stylishly decorated one-bedroom in the gay enclave of West Hollywood.  I took a three-week vacation between gigs and spent my time driving up and down the California coast, following my favorite musical artists to see their concerts.  I had no problem broadcasting all of this.  And I did.  Is it a little showy?  Of course, but I don’t think you should be ashamed of your accomplishments, especially when the people you are connected with are supposed to be the people that care about you and support you.  It’s never my intention to diminish the lives of other people when I share about my life online, which is how I fear it comes off at times.  I just like to broadcast the things that make me happy, and I think we all should.  I like being happy, and I like seeing the people I choose to surround myself with be happy.

The flip side of that, though, is that I am the first to acknowledge that the way I present myself online is extremely manicured.  I mostly share the good, and when I do share the bad, it’s always with a wink or some self-deprecating humor.  In reflecting, I guess there’s a few reasons for this.  One, I don’t expect or want a pity party.  Everyone is going through their own shit, and I know and understand that my shit is so unbelievably minor in relation to that of other people’s.  Second, as harsh as this may sound, I find myself cringing at people oversharing.  Not always.  People who share intimate and vulnerable aspects of their lives are extremely courageous, but some people take it to an extreme of laying out every intimate detail of their lives on a daily basis, and I personally do not want to be that person, as I like to maintain a modicum of privacy.  In a sense, you could say that I’m jealous of people who are that open online, but I do think that there is a balance to be achieved.

So what problem or problems am I even talking about?  If you know nothing else about me, you know that I am a bit of a…life virgin?  Don’t drink, don’t do drugs, never have, never will.  That’s another conversation for another day.  In regards to all of this, though, I had never been on a date until this year.  My close friends who I do actually talk to about these things never heard the end of it.  Since I was about 14 years old and realized that I was gay, I have been desperately wanting a relationship.  There is a brilliant scene in Love, Simon, that to this day I can’t get through without choking up, where Simon is talking to his mother, played by Jennifer Garner.  Garner’s character made the simple, yet astute observation that being gay is something you have to go through alone a lot of the time, particularly in the beginning.  It sucks.  All throughout high school and college, I was chasing after cute boys in my head, as to not go through all of this alone, but not chasing them in reality, and every time it got to a point where I realized nothing was going to come of it, my heart shattered.  But, with time, my heart rebuilt, I collected myself, and I moved on.  Such a fun cycle, right?  Well, there is another part of that scene where Simon’s mom told him that staying closeted was like he was holding his breath, and that now that he was out, he could finally exhale.  I had never heard the experience described so simply and so perfectly.  While that was true of my coming out experience, it also applied to finally entering my first relationship.

I guess I should clarify that we never really explicitly put that label on it.  All I know is that whatever it was, was all I ever wanted.  To rewind, I was on a weird schedule towards the end of May and had Monday and Tuesday nights off, and one fateful Monday went to grab drinks (in my case, fountain cokes) with a friend.  The bartender was just about the cutest thing I’d ever laid my eyes on.  My lack of social skills reached new heights, trying desperately to have an organic conversation, but at the same time thinking about how I was coming across as a dick with every line coming out of my mouth.  Despite that, somehow, we both knew that underneath the nervous facades we were putting up, there was a connection.  The next week, I went back to relive what I was sure was just a short fantasy of me actually, you know, talking to a guy.  As the season wrapped up, I kept going back and back, and back and back, each time with different friends, figuring out another piece of the puzzle of whether or not he was interested, until we concluded, yes, he was, and I scribbled my number and a horrifying smiley face on a napkin that I wrapped in his bartending tip.  The next morning, I woke up to a text from him.  The rest was history.

We could talk for hours on end, about everything, about nothing.  That exhale that I had mentioned?  He was my exhale, nine years in the making.  Someone, finally, who understood me, who shared my interests, and who most importantly, I felt completely comfortable around, comfort the likes of which I had never experienced.  I fell really hard, really fast.  I knew I was probably being extremely naïve, but I did not care.  The one piece of my life I always thought was missing had arrived.  I was walking around with a massive smile on my face.  Friends noticed my new demeanor and were taken aback by it.  It was that intense.  And in those moments, those were the happiest few weeks of my life.

As you could probably deduce, this does not have the happiest of endings.  Things started to get complicated, primarily that he was not making time for me.  We were hanging out at most once a week, and sometimes, even that promised once a week fell through.  I started with gentle nudges, which over time would turn into full on fights.  I knew what I deserved, and it wasn’t being given to me, and it hurt.  But what also hurt was knowing that he had his own issues he was going through, which he was very guarded about.  With that, I made excuses for him, because I saw the amazing person he was underneath all of that, so I would let it slide over and over again.  That is until he went three weeks without following through on any plans to see me, despite still always talking to me, and bailing on me on my birthday, which was the final nail in my coffin.  I dumped him.  On my birthday.

I called up a friend, sobbing my eyes out, having them walk me through what to say and how to say it.  No part of me wanted to follow through with it, but it felt like an act of self-preservation.  I couldn’t continue to be strung along, only to be disrespected time and time again.  As much as I had wanted a relationship for almost a decade, I always told myself that I wouldn’t be in one at the expense of my own self-worth.  It was toxic.  I know, intellectually, that I did the right thing.  Intellect seldom wins in the battle against the heart though, so less than 48 hours later, I went crawling back.

It’s been nearly two months since that break up, and to this exact day, I have tried through every means necessary to rekindle what we had.  Trying to say the exact right thing at the exact right time to get him either to have a serious conversation with me or hang out with me in person.  I’ve even gone to the bar during his shift several times, just so I could steal a glance of his eyes, his smile, his personality, and his heart, as much as I knew that it would make things infinitely worse should it not work out.  What have I accomplished in these past two months?  Nothing but constant confusion, anger, and sadness.  The cycles that brought us here in the first place have just been repeating.  Broken promises of seeing each other.  Broken promises of serious conversations.  I’ve sent multiple of what I thought were ultimatums that he ignored, told myself I was done, and then completely melted back into him when he would send me a meme on facebook.

This begs the question, what the hell is wrong with me?  A very fair question.  This guy is clearly not going to change.  I have been trying to get him to put in the effort for five months, because in spite of his bullshit, I just like him so much.  When you’re too picky, scared, or unsure to pursue someone for 23 years, and you finally meet the person that makes all of that go away, you want to fight for it, no matter the cost.  The cost has been rough.  I have kept myself largely cooped in my apartment since things started to go south while we were still together.  I’ve stopped taking care of myself.  I’ve let relationships with friends slip through the cracks.  I’ve entered a cycle that is impossibly hard to escape from.  Over a boy that didn’t even treat me right.

I sent one last message to him last night, pleading with him to tell me what he wants.  Where his head is at.  Anything that will give me some semblance of an answer.  I told him what a toll these past few months have taken on me mentally, physically, and emotionally, and said that I was prepared for any answer, but that I just needed an answer to start to heal.  All that I got was another non-answer.  He said that he likes me, but doesn’t feel the need to say that he’ll hang out with me, because he’ll just hang out with me at some point, and that he doesn’t have the time for a full on relationship right now.  What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?  He’s giving me a semblance of hope and then basically saying but not right now.  So, does that mean it may work in the future?

Of course not.  All that was was a “no” shrouded in some bullshit, that I am eating right up.  I know what the answer is.  As I responded to those messages, I knew what the answer was, but I searched high and low around that answer and pulled out the part that would bring me right back into the cycle.  I woke up today, stayed curled up on my couch waiting two hours for his answer, and then spent another two hours curled up on my couch processing that response.  So here we are.

I guess now that I’ve spent the better part of two hours writing all of this down, I’ve reached some conclusions.  First, nobody is exempt from going through shit.  I have been, to my detriment, put on a pedestal for practically my entire life.  I’ve expected nothing but excellence out of myself, and, to my standards, have achieved that so far in nearly every facet of my life.  However, the higher you are, the harder you fall.  When there is one thing that you desperately want, and you finally get it after so long, only to have it crash and burn, it can really suck the life out of you.

The second thing I guess I’ve come to realize is that if you spend your entire life chasing nothing but perfection in every part of your life, you are going spend your entire life being sorely disappointed.  I have let one bad relationship diminish and damage all of the beautiful things in my life.  Achieving life long goals at 23, living in my dream city, meeting my idols, having amazing people around me.  That’s a damn shame.

The third thing I realized is that you rarely see the people immediately around you talking about their shit while they’re going through it.  Usually, we feel brave enough to broadcast our most intimate struggles once we have gone through them, processed it, and made it out stronger on the other side, and don’t get me wrong, there is beauty in that.  But I am not there yet.  Not even close.  If anything, I’m sure I’m going to keep making these exact same mistakes for the foreseeable future, and knowing that makes things even worse.  We go through trials and tribulations as humans, though.  We make mistakes, we experience loss, heartbreak, confusion, anger, and sadness.  These are all a part of the human experience.  We don’t need to just pretend that we’re not feeling these things until they’ve passed.  As bad as self-sabotage is, containment isn’t much better.  So, I guess if one person going through their own shit is reading this and feel like they’re in an inescapable shit storm and realizes it’s ok to live through this rough patch, that’s great.

At the end of the day, I know who I am.  I am a strong, talented, funny, charismatic, resilient, independent person.  I don’t need pity.  I don’t want pity.  I am still largely a happy person.  I really get to wake up and go live one of my dream every single day, and when I’m in those walls, I am so happy.  I’m working on making new friends on my kickball team, and when I do have the energy to meet up with the people important to me, things pick right back up where they left off. As different as these circumstances may feel right now, I know that one day, whether it be a month from now a year from now, or many years from now, that I will come outside of this on the other side with a new arsenal of lessons and experiences to carry with me through life. Life has been potentially undeservingly kind to me thus far.  That’s hard to see right this second, though, and I know I have to be the one to reclaim my life and put in the effort and steps to get to that point.  What are those steps?  To refer back to the beginning, I don’t know just yet.

[themeltedheadaches]

All the artist questions!! Unless you're too busy with midterms!!

HELLLLL YEAAAAAAAAAH also midterms are in like 2 weeks for me so im ALL GOOD

Picasso: Do you remember your first word? What was it?

i don’t but i’ve been told it was “mama” because im a mama’s girl, what can i say

van Gogh: Would you rather become famous after death or famous in life but forgotten after death?

OH LORD hhhhhh probably famous after death, whatever allows me to help and/or impact more people?? even if i’m not around to see it??? as #selfless as that sounds i s2g it’s genuine rip

da Vinci: Do you have many talents or one thing you’re really good at?

i have like 2 talents and they’re moping and complaining. JK i’m good at writing, knitting, playing instruments (or i WAS), gardening, cooking, and also moping and complaining LOL

Monet: What do your parents want you to do for a living?

WELL my father probably wants me to do something that’ll make me money LMAO but my mom and step-dad don’t give a FUCK, my mom wants me to do whatever will make me happiest especially because she went into a profession she wasn’t crazy about to impress her parents, and my step-dad built a log cabin and lived in the woods of montana for like a decade before starting his own business so i don’t think he’s really intent on me being pinned down lol. they’re both hella supportive of my writing and want me to pursue something that’ll make me happiest in the long run, because they’re the best.

Dali: Do you have strange dreams?

who doesn’t??? last night i had a dream that my ADORABLE art history professor was cast as a character on american horror story so he had to leave the university and as a replacement professor we got my friend’s crazy-scientist dad and it was awful. i woke up in a cold sweat. 

Warhol: Have you ever had surgery? What for?

nope! i mean once i got my little toe bones reset bc they healed wrong but that doesn’t count. OH WAIT i got all 4 of my wisdom teeth taken out but i don’t think that counts either RIP

Magritte: Would you rather fall in love once and have it last forever (while wondering if there was something better) or have many relationships (but never settle)?

oooohhhh mmyyyyy godddd okay okay okay i THINK i would rather be in love once and have it last forever, like i think when you’re in love you have to take that chance bc there might be someone stereotypically “better” but to be with someone you have to have someone you can grow with and be yourself with, and i think that if it IS “forever” love than there isn’t anything that could be better, if that makes sense, because to have that you have to trust your decision and the other person and yourself blah blah blah. so i don’t think i could let myself wonder if there was someone better. i do like casual relationships and crushes but my heart is a very homey heart in which i like to nest and settle and curl up.

Titan: If someone could give you a title, what would it be?

Supreme Oversharer 

Kahlo: Do you want to have children? Why or why not?

i used to think Hell No but now i think………Maybe

Renoir: What has influenced you most in regards of your character?

my family, my friends, time

Rousseau: What is your main philosophy in life?

turn the tap off when you brush your teeth, separate out your laundry, always be kind and honest when you can, stay hydrated

Klimt: If you have any; are you very close to your siblings?

YES very close! i need to text him back lmao i’m the worst!! he inspires me daily to be better than i am and i would like to protect him from the world even though he’s 3 years older than me and giant!!

Matisse: Does observing other people influence your style?

yes very much so! i wrote my very favorite poem so far after binging ross gay’s poetry, for example. 

Kandinsky: How far would you travel in order to study your favorite subject?

VERY FAR, i want to study abroad and travel etc! not necessarily intertwined with academics but i would love to study writing or teaching in a different context or culture than i am used to because that’s so incredibly valuable!

Chagall: What ‘style’ or 'clique’ do people typically associate you with?

i think maybe……….i tend to use images a lot, and a lot of pop culture references, but my poetry tends to be really soft OR really angry; very metaphorical OR very direct. it’s hard for me to incorporate that all at once. i don’t usually use stanzas unless i’m enumerating something, and my voice is really distinct. i write directing at “you” a lot, too….

O'Keeffe: What is your favorite flower?

right now it’s either crocuses or snowdrops or daffodils because they’re everywhere on campus and i LOVE IT

Rockwell: Did you know from a young age what you wanted to do with your life?

lowkey yeah before i could write by myself i used to sit at the dining room table and dictate stories to my mom for her to write down for me

Pollock: How do you define 'art’?

any genuine expression of emotion meant to inspire emotion or reaction in others

Donatello: Do you feel like you’re stuck in someone’s shadow?

it’s really easy for me to get intimidated by other writers. like i have very high expectations for myself and so do others, and it’s easy for me to get bogged down in others’ successes even if i have No Idea who they are or how hard they’ve worked, which is something i need to remind myself of! i’m very quiet about my writing (but i’m starting to share it a lot a lot more which is so so good), and getting recognition shouldn’t be a priority and nor will it happen overnight. sooooo not reallystuck in someone’s shadow, more like a little foggy about how to sort my own expectations in relation to how i think about success and how easily i get intimidated by others. also LOVE how this question is titled “donatello” lol 

Botticelli: What would you say your 'trademark’ is? In either appearances or personality.

BOTTICELLI MY BOY i’d say my trademark in personality is vivacity and my trademark in appearance is definitely my eyelashes or eyebrows (because both are flawless)

Dürer: Do you take a lot of selfies?

i used to! i haven’t much this semester tho :(( my new phone’s camera isn’t super great 

El Greco: Have you ever wished that you could grow a mustache?

nah 

Bernini: If you could work under a political official, who would you work under?

OH LORD no one’s, politicians make me squirm and not in a good way

[raisingawarenesserasingstigmas]

Chrissy Teigen Opens Up for the First Time About Her Postpartum Depression

This post originally appeared here.

by: Chrissy Teigen

When Glamour first told me I was going to be on the cover, I was freaking thrilled. Seriously. As a longtime reader, I couldn’t believe it. I’d always assumed that wearing swimsuits (or half a swimsuit) or having the occasional nip slip (or bit slip) wouldn’t make me the go-to choice for a women’s magazine I not only love but respect.

Yet here I am! Next they asked me to write an essay. I was super into it, but then cringed every time I opened my laptop. Topics? I quickly realized I have truly talked about everything possible. I guess that’s the dilemma one faces when they…well…can’t shut up. I’ve been a chronic oversharer since birth. So I decided I’d talk about something no one really knows about me, mainly because I just learned about it myself. What is it? I’ll get there.

Let me start here: To a lot of you, I think, I seem like the happiest person on the planet. I have an incredible husband—John and I have been together for over 10 years. He has seen my successes and failures; I’ve seen his. He has seen me at my worst, but I will say I don’t think I have ever seen him at his. He’s exactly as compassionate, patient, loving, and understanding as he seems. And I hate it. OK, I don’t hate it. But it can certainly drive you nuts sometimes when you’re as cynical as I am. If I weren’t me, I would politely excuse myself to make the most epic eye roll of all time if a woman talked to me about her significant other the way I just did to you.

When John and I got together, I found my love for cooking. On one of our earliest dates, I took him to Daniel (four dollar signs on Yelp, ahhh!). I drank a $40 margarita, ate salmon rillettes (fancy salmon spread), and prayed my card wouldn’t be declined. I couldn’t afford to take him out to more dinners like that, so I started cooking more and more at home for us. I started with my own version of that salmon spread, then roasted whole branzino, osso buco, chipotle BBQ chicken. When my first cookbook came out, I finally felt proud of my work. I feel that same pride in Lip Sync Battle, where I get to work with LL Cool J and watch Channing Tatum and Jenna Dewan go head-to-head as Beyoncé and motherf-cking Paula Abdul. My job, essentially, is to have the best time humanly possible.

And a year ago, in April, John and I started our family together. We had our daughter, Luna, who is perfect. She is somehow exactly me, exactly John, and exactly herself. I adore her.

I had everything I needed to be happy. And yet, for much of the last year, I felt unhappy. What basically everyone around me—but me—knew up until December was this: I have postpartum depression. How can I feel this way when everything is so great? I’ve had a hard time coming to terms with that, and I hesitated to even talk about this, as everything becomes such a “thing.” During pregnancy, what I thought were casual comments about IVF turned into headlines about me choosing the sex of my daughter. And I can already envision what will be said about me after this admission. But it’s such a major part of my life and so, so many other women’s lives. It would feel wrong to write anything else. So here goes.

I had such a wonderful, energetic pregnancy. Luna sat inside me like a little cross-legged Buddha facing toward my back for nine months. I never saw her face in a sonogram, just her butt or the back of her feet. Every time we kinnnnd of saw a nose, she would quickly dodge, and I was left guessing again. John, my mom, and my sister were all in the delivery room. John was DJ-ing. Luna, fittingly, popped out to the song “Superfly.” The first lyric is “Darkest of night. With the moon shining bright.” I immediately put her on my chest. And she had a face! I was so happy. And exhausted.

After I had Luna, our home was under construction, so we lived in a rental home, then a hotel, and I blamed whatever stress or detachment or sadness I was feeling at that time on the fact that there were so many odd circumstances. I remember thinking: “Maybe I’ll feel better when we have a home.”

I went back to work on Lip Sync Battle in August, when Luna was four months. The show treated me incredibly well—they put a nursery in my dressing room and blew up photos of Luna and John and my family for my wall. When Luna was on set, they lowered the noise levels. They turned down the air so she wouldn’t be cold. Only the most gentle knocking on the door. Pump breaks. I mean, there was no better place to get to go back to work to.

But I was different than before. Getting out of bed to get to set on time was painful. My lower back throbbed; my ­shoulders—even my wrists—hurt. I didn’t have an appetite. I would go two days without a bite of food, and you know how big of a deal food is for me. One thing that really got me was just how short I was with people.

I would be in my dressing room, sitting in a robe, getting hair and makeup done, and a crew member would knock on the door and ask: “Chrissy, do you know the lyrics to this song?” And I would lose it. Or “Chrissy, do you like these cat ears, or these panda hands?” And I’d be like: “Whatever you want. I don’t care.” They would leave. My eyes would well up and I would burst into tears. My makeup artist would pat them dry and give me a few minutes.

I couldn’t figure out why I was so unhappy. I blamed it on being tired and possibly growing out of the role: “Maybe I’m just not a goofy person anymore. Maybe I’m just supposed to be a mom.”

When I wasn’t in the studio, I never left the house. I mean, never. Not even a tiptoe outside. I’d ask people who came inside why they were wet. Was it raining? How would I know—I had every shade closed. Most days were spent on the exact same spot on the couch and rarely would I muster up the energy to make it upstairs for bed. John would sleep on the couch with me, sometimes four nights in a row. I started keeping robes and comfy clothes in the pantry so I wouldn’t have to go upstairs when John went to work. There was a lot of spontaneous crying.

Anytime I was seen out, it was because I had already had work or a work event that day. Meaning I wouldn’t have to muster up the energy to take a shower, because it was already done. It became the same story every day: Unless I had work, John knew there was not a chance in hell we were going on a date, going to the store, going anywhere. I didn’t have the energy.

Before, when I entered a room I had a presence: head high, shoulders back, big smile. Suddenly I had become this person whose shoulders would cower underneath her chin. I would keep my hands on my belly and try to make myself as small as possible.

During that time my bones hurt to the core. I had to go to the hospital; the back pain was so overwhelming. I felt like I was in an episode of Grey’s Anatomy: These kids were around me, asking questions. Maybe it was a kidney infection? No one could figure it out. I saw rheumatoid doctors for the wrist pain; we thought it might be rheumatoid arthritis. I felt nauseated all the time, so I saw a GI doctor. I wondered: Am I making this all up? Is this pain even real anymore?

By December I had started my second cookbook. With the first, I was in the kitchen the whole time. I stirred every pot, tasted everything. Had genuine excitement for Every. Single. Recipe. This one came at the height of my losing my appetite, and the idea of having to test and taste recipes actually made me vomit. I was still on the couch a lot.

Before the holidays I went to my GP for a physical. John sat next to me. I looked at my doctor, and my eyes welled up because I was so tired of being in pain. Of sleeping on the couch. Of waking up throughout the night. Of throwing up. Of taking things out on the wrong people. Of not enjoying life. Of not seeing my friends. Of not having the energy to take my baby for a stroll. My doctor pulled out a book and started listing symptoms. And I was like, “Yep, yep, yep.” I got my diagnosis: postpartum depression and anxiety. (The anxiety explains some of my physical symptoms.)

I remember being so exhausted but happy to know that we could finally get on the path of getting better. John had that same excitement. I started taking an antidepressant, which helped. And I started sharing the news with friends and family—I felt like everyone deserved an explanation, and I didn’t know how else to say it other than the only way I know: just saying it. It got easier and easier to say it aloud every time. (I still don’t really like to say, “I have postpartum depression,” because the word depressionscares a lot of people. I often just call it “postpartum.” Maybe I should say it, though. Maybe it will lessen the stigma a bit.)

I wanted to write an open letter to friends and employers to explain why I had been so unhappy. The mental pain of knowing I let so many people down at once was worse than the physical pain. To have people that you respect, who are the best in the business, witness you at your worst is tough. Even though this was something I shouldn’t have to apologize for, I did want to apologize. Because on a set, people depend on you. A lot of people are coming together and all you have to do, Christine, is put on a unicorn head and shoot a money gun. Editors are wondering what the f-ck happened to the girl they gave a book deal to. This shit was flying through my head and I felt horrible.

I actually did write my executive producer on Lip Sync Battle, Casey Patterson. She is one of the most amazing women in this universe and I never doubted she would understand. She told me she had noticed and was always here for me. I had to postpone my second cookbook, but my editor, Francis Lam, and publisher couldn’t have been more understanding. To go from discussing layouts and recipes and shoot days to a complete “off” switch was, I’m sure, not a great thing to hear. But, again, I cannot overstate how lucky I am to work with these people.

Before this, I had never, ever—in my whole entire life—had one person say to me: “I have postpartum depression.” Growing up in the nineties, I associated postpartum depression with Susan Smith [a woman now serving life in prison for killing her two sons; her lawyer argued that she suffered from a long history of depression], with people who didn’t like their babies or felt like they had to harm their children. I didn’t have anything remotely close to those feelings. I looked at Luna every day, amazed by her. So I didn’t think I had it.

I also just didn’t think it could happen to me. I have a great life. I have all the help I could need: John, my mother (who lives with us), a nanny. But postpartum does not discriminate. I couldn’t control it. And that’s part of the reason it took me so long to speak up: I felt selfish, icky, and weird saying aloud that I’m struggling. Sometimes I still do.

I know I might sound like a whiny, entitled girl. Plenty of people around the world in my situation have no help, no family, no access to medical care. I can’t imagine not being able to go to the doctors that I need. It’s hurtful to me to know that we have a president who wants to rip health care away from women. I look around every day and I don’t know how people do it. I’ve never had more respect for mothers, especially mothers with postpartum depression.

I’m speaking up now because I want people to know it can happen to anybody and I don’t want people who have it to feel embarrassed or to feel alone. I also don’t want to pretend like I know everything about postpartum depression, because it can be different for everybody. But one thing I do know is that—for me—just merely being open about it helps. This has become my open letter.

As I’m writing this, in February, I am a much different human than I was even just in December. I’m over a month into taking my antidepressant, and I just got the name of a therapist who I am planning to start seeing. Let’s be honest though—I probably needed therapy way before Luna!

Like anyone, with PPD or without, I have really good days and bad days. I will say, though, right now, all of the really bad days—the days that used to be all my days—are gone.

There are weeks when I still don’t leave the house for days; then I’m randomly at the Super Bowl or Grammys. (This is cringeworthily unrelatable, and I am very aware of that—it’s giving me anxiety.) Physically, I still don’t have energy for a lot of things, but a lot of new moms deal with this. Just crawling around with Luna can be hard. My back pain has gotten better, but my hands and wrists still hurt. And it can still be tough for me to stomach food some days. But I’m dealing.

I’m grateful for the people around me. John has been incredible over the last nine months, bringing me my medicine and watching horrible reality TV with me. He is not the goofiest guy, but he has gone out of his way to indulge my sense of humor. When I was having a good day, he would go to Medieval Times with me and put on the crazy period hat! He sees how much my eyes light up when he does that stuff, and he knows that’s what I need. I know he must look over at times and think: My God, get it together. But he has never made me feel that way. He wants me to be happy, silly, and energetic again, but he’s not making me feel bad when I’m not in that place. I love John and Luna more than I can imagine loving anything, and John and I still hope to give Luna a few siblings. Postpartum hasn’t changed that.

More than anything, I always want to have enough energy for Luna—to run up the stairs with her, to have tea parties with her. As she gets older, she’s becoming more and more fun. Her eyes are getting so wide, and I want to be there for those wide eyes. And I will be.

Phew! I’ve hated hiding this from you. XX, Chrissy

Postpartum depression is a common medical condition and, as Chrissy notes, symptoms can vary. Click here for information on diagnosis and treatment. To read more stories from women who have struggled with postpartum depression, click here.

Photograph by: Miguel Reveriego

[i-am-very-very-tired]

Chrissy Teigen, 31, is many things: a Sports Illustrated cover girl, a New York Times best-selling cookbook author, a host of the Emmy-nominated TV series Lip Sync Battle and the soon-to-be designer of a fashion line with Revolve. But she’s best known for what her husband, John Legend, calls her: “smart mouth.” She opines on everything from politics to stretch marks, 140 characters a time on Twitter. And her commentary is often so “you took the words out of my mouth!” that all you have to do is hit RT and add the word “PREACH.” What women love about Teigen is that she is, as she admits, “an open book.” She will show off a perfect seared duck breast—and tell you she accidentally sliced off her fingertip on a mandoline. Ask her about the wildest place she’s had sex? She’ll answer. (An airplane.) She approaches any topic with that same raw, real candor. But there’s one thing she hasn’t shared yet: After giving birth to her daughter, Luna, last April, Teigen developed postpartum depression, a condition affecting one in nine women, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. In this exclusive essay for Glamour, she talks about her experience, why she kept it private, and how she’s doing now. And she is as raw and real as ever. Over to you, Chrissy. When Glamour first told me I was going to be on the cover, I was freaking thrilled. Seriously. As a longtime reader, I couldn’t believe it. I’d always assumed that wearing swimsuits (or half a swimsuit) or having the occasional nip slip (or bit slip) wouldn’t make me the go-to choice for a women’s magazine I not only love but respect. Yet here I am! Next they asked me to write an essay. I was super into it, but then cringed every time I opened my laptop. Topics? I quickly realized I have truly talked about everything possible. I guess that’s the dilemma one faces when they…well…can’t shut up. I’ve been a chronic oversharer since birth. So I decided I’d talk about something no one really knows about me, mainly because I just learned about it myself. What is it? I’ll get there. Let me start here: To a lot of you, I think, I seem like the happiest person on the planet. I have an incredible husband—John and I have been together for over 10 years. He has seen my successes and failures; I’ve seen his. He has seen me at my worst, but I will say I don’t think I have ever seen him at his. He’s exactly as compassionate, patient, loving, and understanding as he seems. And I hate it. OK, I don’t hate it. But it can certainly drive you nuts sometimes when you’re as cynical as I am. If I weren’t me, I would politely excuse myself to make the most epic eye roll of all time if a woman talked to me about her significant other the way I just did to you. When John and I got together, I found my love for cooking. On one of our earliest dates, I took him to Daniel (four dollar signs on Yelp, ahhh!). I drank a $40 margarita, ate salmon rillettes (fancy salmon spread), and prayed my card wouldn’t be declined. I couldn’t afford to take him out to more dinners like that, so I started cooking more and more at home for us. I started with my own version of that salmon spread, then roasted whole branzino, osso buco, chipotle BBQ chicken. When my first cookbook came out, I finally felt proud of my work. I feel that same pride in Lip Sync Battle, where I get to work with LL Cool J and watch Channing Tatum and Jenna Dewan go head-to-head as Beyoncé and motherf-cking Paula Abdul. My job, essentially, is to have the best time humanly possible. And a year ago, in April, John and I started our family together. We had our daughter, Luna, who is perfect. She is somehow exactly me, exactly John, and exactly herself. I adore her. I had everything I needed to be happy. And yet, for much of the last year, I felt unhappy. What basically everyone around me—but me—knew up until December was this: I have postpartum depression. How can I feel this way when everything is so great? I’ve had a hard time coming to terms with that, and I hesitated to even talk about this, as everything becomes such a “thing.” During pregnancy, what I thought were casual comments about IVF turned into headlines about me choosing the sex of my daughter. And I can already envision what will be said about me after this admission. But it’s such a major part of my life and so, so many other women’s lives. It would feel wrong to write anything else. So here goes. I had such a wonderful, energetic pregnancy. Luna sat inside me like a little cross-legged Buddha facing toward my back for nine months. I never saw her face in a sonogram, just her butt or the back of her feet. Every time we kinnnnd of saw a nose, she would quickly dodge, and I was left guessing again. John, my mom, and my sister were all in the delivery room. John was DJ-ing. Luna, fittingly, popped out to the song “Superfly.” The first lyric is “Darkest of night. With the moon shining bright.” I immediately put her on my chest. And she had a face! I was so happy. And exhausted. After I had Luna, our home was under construction, so we lived in a rental home, then a hotel, and I blamed whatever stress or detachment or sadness I was feeling at that time on the fact that there were so many odd circumstances. I remember thinking: “Maybe I’ll feel better when we have a home.” I went back to work on Lip Sync Battle in August, when Luna was four months. The show treated me incredibly well—they put a nursery in my dressing room and blew up photos of Luna and John and my family for my wall. When Luna was on set, they lowered the noise levels. They turned down the air so she wouldn’t be cold. Only the most gentle knocking on the door. Pump breaks. I mean, there was no better place to get to go back to work to. But I was different than before. Getting out of bed to get to set on time was painful. My lower back throbbed; my ­shoulders—even my wrists—hurt. I didn’t have an appetite. I would go two days without a bite of food, and you know how big of a deal food is for me. One thing that really got me was just how short I was with people. I would be in my dressing room, sitting in a robe, getting hair and makeup done, and a crew member would knock on the door and ask: “Chrissy, do you know the lyrics to this song?” And I would lose it. Or “Chrissy, do you like these cat ears, or these panda hands?” And I���d be like: “Whatever you want. I don’t care.” They would leave. My eyes would well up and I would burst into tears. My makeup artist would pat them dry and give me a few minutes. I couldn’t figure out why I was so unhappy. I blamed it on being tired and possibly growing out of the role: “Maybe I’m just not a goofy person anymore. Maybe I’m just supposed to be a mom.” When I wasn’t in the studio, I never left the house. I mean, never. Not even a tiptoe outside. I’d ask people who came inside why they were wet. Was it raining? How would I know—I had every shade closed. Most days were spent on the exact same spot on the couch and rarely would I muster up the energy to make it upstairs for bed. John would sleep on the couch with me, sometimes four nights in a row. I started keeping robes and comfy clothes in the pantry so I wouldn’t have to go upstairs when John went to work. There was a lot of spontaneous crying. Anytime I was seen out, it was because I had already had work or a work event that day. Meaning I wouldn’t have to muster up the energy to take a shower, because it was already done. It became the same story every day: Unless I had work, John knew there was not a chance in hell we were going on a date, going to the store, going anywhere. I didn’t have the energy. Before, when I entered a room I had a presence: head high, shoulders back, big smile. Suddenly I had become this person whose shoulders would cower underneath her chin. I would keep my hands on my belly and try to make myself as small as possible. During that time my bones hurt to the core. I had to go to the hospital; the back pain was so overwhelming. I felt like I was in an episode of Grey’s Anatomy: These kids were around me, asking questions. Maybe it was a kidney infection? No one could figure it out. I saw rheumatoid doctors for the wrist pain; we thought it might be rheumatoid arthritis. I felt nauseated all the time, so I saw a GI doctor. I wondered: Am I making this all up? Is this pain even real anymore? By December I had started my second cookbook. With the first, I was in the kitchen the whole time. I stirred every pot, tasted everything. Had genuine excitement for Every. Single. Recipe. This one came at the height of my losing my appetite, and the idea of having to test and taste recipes actually made me vomit. I was still on the couch a lot. Before the holidays I went to my GP for a physical. John sat next to me. I looked at my doctor, and my eyes welled up because I was so tired of being in pain. Of sleeping on the couch. Of waking up throughout the night. Of throwing up. Of taking things out on the wrong people. Of not enjoying life. Of not seeing my friends. Of not having the energy to take my baby for a stroll. My doctor pulled out a book and started listing symptoms. And I was like, “Yep, yep, yep.” I got my diagnosis: postpartum depression and anxiety. (The anxiety explains some of my physical symptoms.) I remember being so exhausted but happy to know that we could finally get on the path of getting better. John had that same excitement. I started taking an antidepressant, which helped. And I started sharing the news with friends and family—I felt like everyone deserved an explanation, and I didn’t know how else to say it other than the only way I know: just saying it. It got easier and easier to say it aloud every time. (I still don’t really like to say, “I have postpartum depression,” because the word depression scares a lot of people. I often just call it “postpartum.” Maybe I should say it, though. Maybe it will lessen the stigma a bit.) I wanted to write an open letter to friends and employers to explain why I had been so unhappy. The mental pain of knowing I let so many people down at once was worse than the physical pain. To have people that you respect, who are the best in the business, witness you at your worst is tough. Even though this was something I shouldn’t have to apologize for, I did want to apologize. Because on a set, people depend on you. A lot of people are coming together and all you have to do, Christine, is put on a unicorn head and shoot a money gun. Editors are wondering what the f-ck happened to the girl they gave a book deal to. This shit was flying through my head and I felt horrible. I actually did write my executive producer on Lip Sync Battle, Casey Patterson. She is one of the most amazing women in this universe and I never doubted she would understand. She told me she had noticed and was always here for me. I had to postpone my second cookbook, but my editor, Francis Lam, and publisher couldn’t have been more understanding. To go from discussing layouts and recipes and shoot days to a complete “off” switch was, I’m sure, not a great thing to hear. But, again, I cannot overstate how lucky I am to work with these people. Before this, I had never, ever—in my whole entire life—had one person say to me: “I have postpartum depression.” Growing up in the nineties, I associated postpartum depression with Susan Smith [a woman now serving life in prison for killing her two sons; her lawyer argued that she suffered from a long history of depression], with people who didn’t like their babies or felt like they had to harm their children. I didn’t have anything remotely close to those feelings. I looked at Luna every day, amazed by her. So I didn’t think I had it. I also just didn’t think it could happen to me. I have a great life. I have all the help I could need: John, my mother (who lives with us), a nanny. But postpartum does not discriminate. I couldn’t control it. And that’s part of the reason it took me so long to speak up: I felt selfish, icky, and weird saying aloud that I’m struggling. Sometimes I still do. I know I might sound like a whiny, entitled girl. Plenty of people around the world in my situation have no help, no family, no access to medical care. I can’t imagine not being able to go to the doctors that I need. It’s hurtful to me to know that we have a president who wants to rip health care away from women. I look around every day and I don’t know how people do it. I’ve never had more respect for mothers, especially mothers with postpartum depression. I’m speaking up now because I want people to know it can happen to anybody and I don’t want people who have it to feel embarrassed or to feel alone. I also don’t want to pretend like I know everything about postpartum depression, because it can be different for everybody. But one thing I do know is that—for me—just merely being open about it helps. This has become my open letter. As I’m writing this, in February, I am a much different human than I was even just in December. I’m over a month into taking my antidepressant, and I just got the name of a therapist who I am planning to start seeing. Let’s be honest though—I probably needed therapy way before Luna! Like anyone, with PPD or without, I have really good days and bad days. I will say, though, right now, all of the really bad days—the days that used to be all my days—are gone. There are weeks when I still don’t leave the house for days; then I’m randomly at the Super Bowl or Grammys. (This is cringeworthily unrelatable, and I am very aware of that—it’s giving me anxiety.) Physically, I still don’t have energy for a lot of things, but a lot of new moms deal with this. Just crawling around with Luna can be hard. My back pain has gotten better, but my hands and wrists still hurt. And it can still be tough for me to stomach food some days. But I’m dealing. I’m grateful for the people around me. John has been incredible over the last nine months, bringing me my medicine and watching horrible reality TV with me. He is not the goofiest guy, but he has gone out of his way to indulge my sense of humor. When I was having a good day, he would go to Medieval Times with me and put on the crazy period hat! He sees how much my eyes light up when he does that stuff, and he knows that’s what I need. I know he must look over at times and think: My God, get it together. But he has never made me feel that way. He wants me to be happy, silly, and energetic again, but he’s not making me feel bad when I’m not in that place. I love John and Luna more than I can imagine loving anything, and John and I still hope to give Luna a few siblings. Postpartum hasn’t changed that. More than anything, I always want to have enough energy for Luna—to run up the stairs with her, to have tea parties with her. As she gets older, she’s becoming more and more fun. Her eyes are getting so wide, and I want to be there for those wide eyes. And I will be. Phew! I’ve hated hiding this from you. XX, Chrissy Postpartum depression is a common medical condition and, as Chrissy notes, symptoms can vary. Click here for information on diagnosis and treatment. To read more stories from women who have struggled with postpartum depression, click here.