#i struggle with memory loss because of depression and shit and i thought wow yOU KNOW WHO ELSE STRUGGLES WITH MEMORY LOSS???

[beanghostprincess]

Sabo still struggles with memory loss. He had his childhood back, of course, he remembers Ace and Luffy and everything they did together. But he doesn't remember some stuff. Some anecdotes Luffy tells oh so excitedly? He can't recall that those happened. And if he does, it's all blurry and never at all like Luffy says. But he never says anything because that would break his brother's heart, to know his older brother isn't fully back with him, so he nods and smiles and pretends he knows what Luffy is talking about every time.

His room is filled with Post-it notes. Stupid, really. Dumb stuff. But he has all the meetings he needs to remember and the missions he has to do, along with everything he wants to write down at some point properly. The walls are covered in pictures of the people he loves (Luffy, Ace, Koala, Robin... All the others that have ever meant something to him because he refuses to forget somebody again).

He keeps writing dumb stuff down. Anything. He refuses to forget. He denies the possibility of doing it again.

But he forgets. Sabo keeps forgetting important dates. Important parts of his life, like his past with his brothers (he forgets a random adventure they had that he swore he had talked about the day prior) and crucial things he has to do. He has a hard time picturing his memories. Putting them in his brain. Turning them into images. Saying it's frustrating is a huge understatement.

Koala helps him out, of course. She's hard on him so he finishes his paperwork, but she knows it's difficult sometimes. She's his personal calendar and diary. She informs him of what he has to do during the week and always tries to talk and talk about anecdotes that she knows he still remembers but knows he loves to hear again.

His mental health isn't the best either, but he refuses to acknowledge it. There's a revolution at hand, he can't stop working. And fighting. And doing more and more and more. But sometimes it's just too much. Sometimes he goes into depressive episodes he can't control, and the medication is either addicting or the worst thing that has ever happened to him. Sometimes he's a bit too intense. Koala says he needs to calm down, that he has a problem with his fixation on the revolution and his past. Sabo keeps saying that it's fine. But he sometimes forgets or has blurry images of the fights and the people he has killed, filled with energy and excitement and like he has the power of a God. He doesn't like those. Enjoys the moment. Hates to forget it. Hates to know what he did during it too, even if it was for a good cause. Despises the look Koala gives him, also. Makes her promise not to tell Luffy about all of this.

But it's fine, he keeps saying. Sabo will keep trying to never forget anything ever again.

[syndianites]

The After; The Athar: Chapter Four

Chapter 4/?

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 [Here] - Chapter 5

AO3: This Chapter - Full Fic

Summary: Post Season 2, non-Mianitian Compliant. Wag escorts Martha to Jordan’s house and decides to have a day out with Sonja.

Relationships: Sparklington (end-game), Marthlington (temporarily), Sparkanite (Spark x Ianite) (past, mentioned), Motanite

Content Warnings: Death Mentions, Implied Depression, Implied PTSD, Self-Deprecation, Breaking up a Relationship (Marthlington)

AN: It’s Wednesday, totallyyyyyy. Just a little late haha, but here it is! Chapters 1-4 already written out. That means I actually need to finish chapter 5 and continue onward. I mentioned this before, but I’d been sitting on this since September of last year, and had chapter 4 done in... December? Of last year.

——————————————————————————————

“So, did you actually come to talk, or did you need something from me?” Jordan was looking towards the town now, legs crossed. With his arms splayed across the back of the couch, chin up, he looked like the perfect picture of nonchalance.

 Wag knew that that was far from correct.

 However, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, drawing Jordan’s eye. “Well, I did actually come to see if you knew where Martha was, and if not Martha, Spark.”

 Jordan gave him a thoughtful frown.

 “Not that I didn’t want to talk to you,” Wag added in, “It’s just that I really need to see Martha. Rip the bandage off as soon as possible. I’m, uh. Breaking up with her.”

 Jordan’s face crumpled into a harsh discomfort, like someone had just doused his socks in water and told him all his other socks were missing.

 “Ah. That’s. Unfortunate?” He winces. “I’m sorry about your loss. Eventual loss. Yeah.”

 Wag shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. “She’s not dying, Jordan. I just realised that we- well, it didn’t matter what I realised. We’re better as just friends, if she’s okay with that.”

 Jordan nodded, lips pinched together. “I’m afraid I don’t recall where she was going today. Spark, however, should be at Town Hall handling some paperwork. She might be with him, might not. I’d ask him.”

 Getting up with a stretch, Wag replied, “Thanks. The faster I do this the better.”

 Jordan stood as well, following Wag to the front door. They stood there. Wag shuffled his feet. “I, uh. I’m not sure where the Town Hall is. Could you show me?”

 He had a fair idea, but not a sure one. The Town Hall was a building Wag often forgot about. But not because he didn't care to commit it to memory.

 To start, it looked like all the other buildings around it. Acacia based, a foundation of sandstone that peaked up from below the ground, and an easy, sloped thatch roof. It gave the buildings a log cabin feel, while still fitting in with the landscape. The edges were built with acacia logs to bring in a nice neutral gray which held it all together.

 Now, if it just looked like every other building that’d be fine. But it also had no marker to identify it as Town Hall. Or, rather, the marker it had was easily mistaken for something else- an open book with a quill. For example, it could be the symbol for a courthouse, or the symbol for a law firm. Or the Records Hall.

 Wag didn’t know where the Records Hall was either.

 Add in the fact that no one really went in there since the majority of citizens specialized in fishing and you have a place that is forgettable at best.

 That being said, Wag would rather have some company on his death march to breaking up with Martha. Using his unsureness of where, exactly, the Town Hall was would be a good excuse to keep talking to Jordan. At the least, it would help with his nerves.

 Jordan looked off to the side. “Isn’t it right next to-” He cut off. Thought for a second. “Yeah, it’d be better to just show you.”

 Wag smiled. He swept his hand towards the path and gave Jordan a shallow bow. “After you, my dear.”

 Shaking his head, Jordan began to lead the way, Wag trailing along just behind his shoulder.

 They descended the hill in comfortable silence. Jordan was clearly thinking about something, looking for a good moment to bring it up. Wag welcomed the change from thinking about his future.

 He side-eyed him. “Got something on your mind, my good fellow? Want to talk more about how the world has it out for us?”

 Jordan rolled his eyes. “No, I think that’s enough of that depressing topic for now.” A beat of silence. “I was just thinking-”

 “You’ve got to be careful with that.”

 “-Thinking about Tom.”

 Wag gasped. “Thinking about another man while we take such a romantic stroll together? How dare you.”

 “Yes, walking over to the Town Hall so you can talk to the man who looks like an older version of me and has a superiority complex is so romantic” Jordan wrinkled his nose. It’s not like he’d know much about romantic. Between Jordan and anyone else that was ever interested in him, the other had done more work. Jordan’s idea of romance was probably ‘let’s build some complex contraption together’.

 “We could always detour,” Wag suggested, lightly elbowing Jordan’s arm. “Take it across the beach, pick up shells that we’d think the other would like, hold hands and go barefoot to walk in the waves. Call it a date.”

 “I beach you it’d be a good time, but I’ll have to wave the idea off. I do have things I want to get done today.” Jordan turned to him with a glimmer in his eyes and a bashful, yet impish smile.

 “Wow.” Wag blinked a few times. “That was forced and you know it. ‘I beach you’?” He fake gagged. “So cheesy.”

 Jordan turned away with a huff.

 Wait.

 “Oh, my gosh, wave was also a pun. That was a double pun. I don’t know whether to be impressed or appalled.”

 “Thank you, I’ll be taking cash donations for my genius.”

 “I’ll be taking cash compensation for having to hear that with my own two ears.”

 Jordan laughed, a lovely, quiet sound. It was breathy, and just off of squeaky, but it made Wag’s ears burn.

 Weird.

 “I’m afraid,” Jordan followed up, “That we have a no refund policy. Once heard you can’t get your investment back. It was on page 8 of the contract you signed upon meeting me: ‘You accept any and all amazing, lovely puns that come out of Jordan’s mouth.’”

 “Wow. 8 pages? I don’t remember 8 pages. What I remember was, ‘Hello, I am most likely going to be inside, at home, for most of our friendship. And this is to say I’m not avoiding you, I’m preparing the most intricate, strong things imaginable for when shit inevitably goes to hell.’ That’s not even a page, it was a sheet of paper torn in half.” Was that overly accurate about Jordan? No. But the dig was worth it.

 Jordan shook his head, indignant, “I don’t stay inside that much! How dare you assume I’d be able to stay cooped up inside for so long. Clearly, if you wanted to be precise, I would have written ‘I’ll most likely be working on cool and awesome things that make me super prepared to help My Lady in any way possible.’ Inside versus outside means nothing in that regard.”

 “Ah, my bad. Let me rephrase that, ‘I am so loyal to Ianite and her existence that I will breathe balance, eat balance, and become balance. People will look at me and think ‘Wow, that guy sure is the epitome of balance. Almost enough to rival Ianite herself.’, except I’ll just look cool and be a good champion.”

 “Ok, ok, let’s back up here.” Jordan turned to look at Wag. To look up at Wag, more specifically. Shorty. “Going that far makes me sound like Spark, and I am nowhere near as bad as him. Like, c’mon, he was so dedicated to Ianite he married her.”

 They were in front of the Town Hall now.

 Jordan lowered his voice, like Spark could hear him. “He honestly needs a hobby.”

 Wag shook his head, stifling a laugh.

 “Well,” Jordan’s voice rose back to a regular volume. “Looks like we’re here.”

 “Looks so.”

 They stalled for a second.

 “I better get going,” Jordan started. “If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. I’ll help you with anything.” He side-eyed Wag, a joking look in his eye. “As long as it’s reasonable.”

 “That means a lot to me.” Wag smiled. “I promise that my next visit will actually be for you. It’s only fair, especially since you’re a dear friend of mine.”

 With a huff and a returned smile, Jordan pushed him along. “You don’t have to promise that.”

 “I want to. Since it’s you.”

 Wag turned and began walking up the steps into the building.

 Jordan felt his heart beat just a little faster. He tried to convince himself that that didn’t mean as much to him as his heart said.

 It really wasn’t that deep.

 ---

 The Town Hall was one of the first non-residential buildings placed in the town. In the time that they’d all been gone, there had been some remodelling to the valley.

 The first, most prominent, in Wag’s opinion, change was the removal of the Dianite statue head thing. If it was still there, Wag would not have built his tower right next to that. No siree.

 The rest of the changes were fairly mild: the paths around were fiddled with to give access to the beach and town buildings, the farms were cleaned up, and so on.

 Now, the Town Hall was delicately placed between the farms and the Tea Pot. The Tea Pot which was left standing. In all the revisions that were made to the land, someone looked at the Tea Pot, looked at the space it took up, and decided it should remain.

 There was a goddamn Tea Pot next to Town Hall.

 And Wag still struggled to remember where the Town Hall was.

 Needless to say, Wag head inside, giving a wave to the secretary. While there was no official “Mayor” of the town, there was a general administrative body made up of some of the townsfolk. It was a democratic setup, which leaned towards a more free-market, socialist style of living.

 Quite the turn around from Ruxomar.

 Spark, it seemed, had either learned from the eventual disaster that was Ruxomar- not that he was there to see its final collapse- or wanted a change of pace, seeing as he founded Dagrun under a monarchy. To be fair, there weren’t many people around to start a kingdom.

 After Wag exchanged conversation with the secretary and was waved towards the back, he found Spark. His office was small with a full window alongside one wall and a desk with neatly organized papers set up in multiple stacks. He sat behind the desk, pondering over a sheet laid before him, reading it with careful eyes.

 He looked up at Wag’s entrance, a polite smile forming on his face. “What brings my daughter’s favorite wizard around today?” Spark stood, moving around the desk to offer a handshake in greeting.

 “Oh, only Martha’s? Not yours?” He took the hand, trying to give a firm shake despite his nerves. “I came here to see if you knew of Martha’s whereabouts. I have something I need to talk to her about.”

 Spark took a step back. “Ah, she just stepped out to grab some records from the Record Hall. She’ll be a few minutes at least.” He moved back to his desk, motioning for Wag to sit in one of the guest chairs.

 Wag sank into it quickly.

 If Spark could see he was nervous, he said nothing. But Wag was sure it radiated off of him, from the way his fingers drummed against his legs, to how he would look at the door every so often, to how he kept shifting in his chair. He’d thought the walk and quiet pondering over the town’s brief history would help.

 It didn’t.

 Still, they sat in silence. Outward silence. His thoughts fought to be heard, to break out from the delicate prison he’d pushed them into when he steeled himself to potentially see Martha here, next to Spark.

 “Can I ask you something?” Wag blurted out. Spark looked up. “If you’re- if you’re not busy, that is.”

 He set aside his pen- something he’d carried from Ruxomar- and gave him an inviting wave.

 “What’s the difference between loving someone and being devoted to them?”

 Wag bit his lip as Spark mulled over an answer.

 “That depends,” he said, after a moment. “What kind of love and what kind of devotion?”

 Wag could see in his eyes that Spark knew what he meant, but was giving him space to elaborate on his issue.

  He has to know, right? What I’m about to do.  

 “Devotion to,” Wag took a breath, “To your goddess versus the love you have for her.”

 Spark stretched and sat back in his seat, relaxed. “It’s based in different things. Devotion is based on a shared belief, a shared idea. I followed,” Spark swallowed hard, “My goddess because I, too, believed in the balance she stood for, and the peace it upheld.”

 He swiveled the chair half-way around to gaze out the window. “I loved her because of who she was. Her laugh, her smile, her energy and joy and spirit and how she’d get that sparkle in her eye when she’d see me, a mix between something soft and something loving and-”

 He clears his throat, clearly holding back emotion. “I loved her because she was everything right in the world. In my world.”

 Wag did not mean to open up something this heavy for Spark. But he wasn’t done with his questions.

 “Did being in a relationship affect how you followed her?” He shoved his hands underneath his thighs to stop from fidgeting.

 “Yes. And no.” Taking a moment to compose himself, Spark swept his eyes across the landscape, the solid silhouette of Jerry’s Tree in the background. “After getting together, I was devoted to her in the sense of any typical boyfriend; I doted on her, did romantic things with her, the whole shebang. In terms of being her follower and champion, I knew when to be professional and to act upon our shared belief system. It took practice to not let one bleed into the other, but I made it work.”

 Though Spark wasn’t looking, Wag nodded.

 “How.” He cleared his throat. “What would be the best way to... separate that? To pull apart your devotion and your relationship so they don’t affect each other?”

 Spark turned back to him, his figure highlighted by the glow from outdoors, creating a regal picture of a tired, broken old man. “Separate them? You don’t. You can’t. It’s impossibly hard to have the maturity to stop your feelings from changing how one part of your relationship goes.”

 “To be a lover means to be ready to defend your partner at all costs, just as you would a champion. To be a champion means to love your goddess to the ends of the world, just as you would a lover. Devotion and love are centered from different places, but once your feelings in them cross they cannot be unlinked.”

 “But they’re not the same.” Now Spark was starting to get confusing and muddled to Wag. “

 You just said so! Loving someone can come in different forms. You can love your goddess and not be in love with her.”

 “But you still love her, regardless of which side you love through. Champion, partner, it's all love. If you let them slide together, they die together. What’s the difference? What creates that gap?” Spark had a glint in his eyes, now, something removed from the quiet, tender sadness from before.

 “There’s a big difference!” Wag freed his hands to gesture wildly. “To love your partner is to cherish every moment with them, to be apart and still, somewhere in the back of your mind, be thinking of them. You see sweets, or goodies, or just nice things and think about if they’d like them, or you see the soft purple of lilac and think of their hair, or wander past a library and think of spells and sitting up late at night pouring through books. Or-”

 He threw his arms up. “Loving your goddess is different, I think. I’ve never followed one before this. I followed a god without any care for that god. I didn’t even really follow him, we followed something adjacent to him.”

 “And,” Wag breathed, “loving your goddess is like seeing the value in what they preach. Like.” He was frustrated now. Didn’t he just tell him that love and devotion came from different things? If that was the case, how did being a champion in a relationship with your goddess stop that from being different things? “Like how you devote yourself to an idea!”

 Spark raised an eyebrow. “So? You devoted yourself to the idea of being in a relationship with her, you crossed that divide and filled it in.”

 “But I didn’t! I just built a bridge over it and tried to figure out which side I was on.”

 “Which side are you on?”

 “I don’t know!” Wag was starting to breathe heavily. It was like every moment he had built up his confidence to cut it off with Martha was being uprooted like grass in a plowed field. “I just don’t want to be in the middle anymore.”

 Spark watched him silently. He wasn’t going to give Wag a break this time.

 “It’s terrible.” Wag continued, quieter. “Being stuck between the desire to stick by her side and protect her and the desire to be right beside her and love her, and hold her, and be the one person who can always make her laugh.”

 He looked away, towards a wall with an older oil painting. “But that’s the thing. I don’t have to choose. We chose on our own without knowing. We drifted away, lost to our own problems and grief. The bridge back to her side is broken and torn and I don’t think I have the strength left in me to repair it.”

 “Don’t have the strength, or are scared to?”

 “Both! Neither? Fuck, I just.” Wag shook his head, trying to rattle his thoughts enough to make sense. “I can’t promise that if I do fix things they won't break again, weather down and fall away under my negligence. And I’m afraid of what would happen if I let things get that bad again.”

 “Fear is natural.” Spark eyed him up and down. “But you can’t let it get in the way of your life.”

 “It’s not. I swear it isn’t. But we feel fear for a reason and that’s to stop us from making poor decisions.”

 “But sometimes fear is a knee-jerk reaction, what you feel when you’re uncertain or when things change around you and you’re not ready for it.”

 “I’m not,” Wag whispered. He cleared his throat and tried again, louder. “I’m not ready for change. And that’s ok. It’d be better to take a step back and see what I need to do to be ready and to adapt, rather than to try and go arm deep into whatever mess comes my way because I’m afraid of losing everything I love.”

 “Even if that means losing your relationship with Martha?”

 “I’d rather be friends than nothing at all.” And that was the truth. For all he cared about her romantically, he also cared about her as a friend. As someone who’d been through hell and back with her. You don’t just leave people like that behind.

 Spark nodded. “Then you know what you need to do.”

 Now that wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. “Wait.”  Did I just get lead on? “Was that whole conversation just a way to make me figure my shit out?”

 “I wouldn’t say it like that,” Spark was smoothing out the papers on his desk. “But yes, I did pull the conversation in a way that made you think about your decision. I wouldn’t contradict my own words without purpose.”

 “I doubt anyone does.” Wag rolled his eyes. “So you approve? Of me choosing to break up with Martha?”

 Spark looked up at Wag, already having grabbed his pen. There was a beat of silence. Wag started to sweat.

 After all of that, surely he does?  

 Silence.

  Right?  

 He felt like a kid that got sent to the principal’s office. Getting stared down by the head honcho that doesn’t want to see you in front of them but also doesn’t want to let you off easy.

 Still, he was scrutinized.

 Holy shit man.  

 Finally- finally!- Spark looked back down.

 “I’m impartial,” he said at last. “To be honest, it’s not my issue. While I do want the best for my daughter, she is a grown woman. You are a grown man. My approval shouldn’t matter here.”

 Wag relaxed. He had a point.

 Spark shook his head, signing off on a document and moving it aside. “I had the same doubts about my relationships when I was your age. That was before-” he coughed. “-you know, and when I still fancied this lovely lady from my hometown. We’d been going strong for a while, but I was dedicated to my faith and she was not interested in faith at all.”

 He tsked. “We wouldn’t have worked out at all, no matter how much I cared for her. Still kept in touch until,” Spark gave a pointed look around, “This happened.”

 “Okay, grandpa.” Ah, yes, he definitely wanted to hear about Spark’s love life.

 A thought struck him.

 “Now wait a second, when you were ‘my age’?” Wag glanced over Spark. “I’m older than you.”

 Spark chuckled. “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m sure we can both see I’m older than you.” He tilted his head to the side. “See that gray? That’s age and stress. Enjoy your youth while you have it.

  “I’m a wizard.”

 A narrowing of the eyes.

 “I’ve been a wizard.”

  He sat back in his chair.

 “I’ve been a wizard for a long time.”  

 Spark turned his gaze back to his documents. “You must be pulling my leg.”

 “No, sir, I am not.” Wag was fidgeting again, this time bored. “I think I’m a little over a century old? Maybe more.”

 “I can understand you being a wizard, but there’s no way minor magic- non-divine magic- could extend your life.”

 “I killed a god to become a wizard.”

 Wag stared Spark down with a straight deadpan. Spark’s mouth worked at a response.

 He’d never get one.

 “So I didn’t find any proof of purchase document for Lichens- ah, hello Wag.” Martha stopped dead in the doorway, face stuck between surprised, pleasant, and a flicker of discomfort. “To what do we owe the pleasure of a visit?”

 Well. It seemed Martha found him.

 Now that they were both staring at him, Wag felt far too exposed. He tugged at his hood. It was already as low as it could go on his head. That didn’t make him feel any better.

 So he opted for a smile instead. “I needed to talk to you about something Martha.”

 She exchanged a glance with Spark, who had a thoughtful look in his eyes. It was the kind of look that said they’d talked about him before. And, based on the look he gave Wag in turn, it was not a very positive kind of talking.

 Oh dear fuck.

 Martha gave him a shy smile. “Can it wait? I need to wrap this up real fast. Then, after that, I should be free for a bit.”

 It couldn’t. If it did, it would never happen. Wag knew it wouldn’t. From the way his heart stuttered to the way his hands shook, he knew that if he gave himself the time to back out he’d take it. And as much as he didn’t want to make an ass out of himself by saying no, wouldn’t trapping them both in this be worse? Keeping the two of them together to pretend that things were going well?

 No, it couldn’t wait.

 The words, however, stuck in his throat. He shook his head. Took a breath. “I’m sorry, it really can’t.”

 Martha took it in stride. “Alright. This must be important to you, let me set this down and I’ll be right out.” She motioned him to wait outside the door.

 Wag took the opportunity. Once safely in the hallway, alone, he ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

 Calm down.  

 It wasn’t like he was signing his life away. Or like he was telling Martha he killed her dad. They were just breaking up.

 But it felt like it was more than that. It felt like he was betraying her, like all those promises he made were for nothing. Hadn’t he said he’d follow her to the end of the line? That he’d be her champion? What would become of that if he broke up with her?

 Where did devotion and love meet and where did they separate?

 Wag wasn’t sure anyone knew. It was a challenge to be in love with a goddess.

 The sound of the door swinging open caught his attention. Martha stepped out, smoothing her shirt out. She caught his eye and sent him a smile. He gave a shaky one back.

 “Gee, Waggles,” That nickname hit something soft in his chest, “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were going to break up with me.”

 Fucking shit.  

 He sat silent as his mind fell down a flight of stairs.

 Martha caught on. “You, you are, aren’t you?”

 Her eyes were wide, now, and Wag wasn’t sure how to follow that up. This was not going as he’d planned. Except, he hadn’t really planned it so much as made a vague idea about how he was going to.

 Get your shit together man, now's the time.  

 “Yes.” His voice strained and he cleared his throat. “I am.”

 Before she could get in a word, he pushed onward. “And it’s not because I don’t love you. I do. I love you so, so much. I’d follow you to the ends of the world, spread your name as your champion until my voice ran out, I would-” He stopped himself. This was supposed to be a break up. “I would do a lot for you.”

 He took a deep breath.

 “But I’m not what you need.”

 His heart was free falling, bouncing between his hard and fast love for Martha and his desire to be loved. Between knowing they weren’t good for each other- not anymore- and wishing that they could be.

 “What are you talking about?” Martha’s voice, though she kept her volume level, was thick with emotion. “Of course you are. I love you so much Wag, what would I do without you?”

 “I’m not!” He swallowed heavily. “You don’t love me the same. I don’t love you the same. Haven’t you seen it? How we never see each other? How we can’t be around each other without walking on eggshells? How it feels like there’s someone missing that I could never replace?”

 Martha had loved Steve so much. And she’d loved Wag. But after everything, he’d realized that they’d grown apart. That for all they loved each other, they didn’t.

 Wag took a brave moment to look Martha in the eyes. Her tears were held back by pure willpower and rapid blinking. Her mouth was set in a thin line. For all she was trying to keep her cool it was breaking at the seams.

 She was quiet. Wag could practically feel the storm of thought and emotion rolling off of her. A whisper. “You’re right.”

 He held his breath.

 “You’re right. You can’t replace him. No one can. But you don’t have to. Why can’t I just love you and him both? What’s wrong about that?”

 No, no, no. That wasn’t his point at all.

 “You can.” His voice was just as low. “Of course you can, there’s nothing wrong with that. But you’re letting your love for him get in the way of us. Your grief, your longing, your bone deep aching for him is all you see when you’re with me, isn’t it?”

 “No!” Martha looked away. “Yes. Kind of. No. I don’t look at you and see Steve. I look at you and see you and I think about how much it would hurt to lose you. Like I lost Steve. How much you mean to me, how much he meant to me.”

 She had closed her eyes now, putting her hand over her mouth.

 “I miss him so much. Sometimes it’s all I can think about. There are days were I long to go home and see him, to be able to hold him again. But I remember that he’s not there. The thought of going home without him feels awful.”

 Wag was torn, again. He felt awful to make Martha talk about this, to make her relive every time she missed Steve, mourned Steve. But on the other, this was where they were falling apart.

 “I’m not innocent in this, I must admit.” He started slowly. She looked back at him, tears on the verge of falling. “I feel like I’ve lost everything. My old life, my fellow wizards, the world I used to know.” Wag couldn’t meet her eyes on the next sentence. “My powers. They haven’t come back.”

 “And I’ve drawn away from everyone and everything. Even you. And as easy as it would be to blame you for us falling apart, that’s not fair to you or to your grief. But we can’t keep killing ourselves like this.”

 Martha had wrapped her arms around herself now. She pushed her chin up. “You’re right. Again. This dance we’ve been performing, it’s gone on long enough hasn’t it?” A wet laugh. “We can fix this now, fix,” she gestured between them, “Us. Now that we’ve pulled the facade away. That’s the first step, right? Taking down the act.”

 Wag shook his head. He wanted to. So badly. To let this be the start of something better, to remake what they had. But the roots were rotten, not just the tree. Even if they cut off every dead branch, they’d only die out again.

 “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m not ready to try again.” His voice wavered. If he could cry he would.

 All he had were tears of blood, ever streaming.

 She was quiet. Then she bowed her head. “I understand. And I’d need time, too, if we were to try again.”

 The conversation fell off, but it didn’t feel resolved. Wag pushed up the energy to ask one last question.

 “Will I- will I still be your champion?” It was a dangerous question. And yet, still not the one he needed to ask.

 Martha appraised him. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how to deal with my champion being a recent ex.” Nonetheless, she gave him a watery smile. “I’ll let you know when I make a decision.”

 Wag nodded. Already, she was piecing herself back together. Faster than he ever could.

 She went to turn away, opening her mouth to say one last thing, but Wag interrupted her. “Will we still be friends after this?”

 A laugh, real this time. “Of course.” She shook her head fondly. “Goodbye Wag. Until we meet again.”

 “Until we meet again.”

 Martha made her way back inside, most likely about to tell Spark the news.

 He felt detached from the world, thoughts echoing farther and farther away with each step Martha took. His eyes tracked her, watching how her hair moved, the grace in her stride- even has her body shook with hurt. Her neatly pressed and clean clothes, changed up from what she had worn in Ruxomar. A breathable, white silk long-sleeved shirt and dark leggings.

 From the way her fingers curved in an elegant arch against her thighs to how her shoulders had slumped ever so slightly before the door closed behind her. In his head he could see her eyes sparkling, a lovely lavender to match her hair. He could hear her laugh, her voice, see her radiant smile that he always sought to draw out.

 Wag could feel the floor disappear out from under him, feel himself sinking into the void. Empty, empty, empty. A chapter of his life was over, now. And it was by his own hand. For all he had feared change, he had caused it.

 Was this better or worse?

 A quiet, muted drip caught his attention. The world blurred back in. Wag looked down. A tiny, pink-ish speck on the floor. Another joined it with a plop. A shaking hand rose to his cheeks. Still bloody, but when he pulled it away it was also pink-ish. Runnier.

 Tears.

 He wanted to laugh. Instead, he strode out of the Town Hall, finding the familiar path home in a daze. A pink trail of bloody tears followed him.

 He was going to miss her.

[roomalthoughts]

09.23.2018: a year and one month later

10 songs that helped me get through 2017: 

1. Ready To Go (Get Me Out Of My Mind) // Panic At The Disco 

2. Confident // Demi Lovato 

3. This Is How I Disappear // My Chemical Romance 

4. Hard Times // Paramore 

5. Somebody Else // the 1975 

6. Shades of Cool // Lana Del Rey 

7. Miss Missing You // Fall Out Boy 

8. Waiting For The End // Linkin Park 

9. Volver A Comenzar (To Start Over) // Cafe Tacuba 

10. To Be Your Loss // The Morning After Girls 

Quotes that helped me get through 2017: 

“But sweetheart, you are a wolf. No need to howl over the loss of weak men who are incapable of accepting you.” 

“The reason why God allowed him to walk away is because you prayed for a good man and he wasn’t it.” 

“Don’t be afraid to love again...not everyone is your ex.”  

“Not everyone you lose is a loss.” 

“Learning to pick yourself up after going through shit is such an important thing that no one ever teaches you.” 

“To the woman reading this with a restless soul and an aching heart I want you to know that sometimes you have to break down in order to break through.” 

A year and a month later after the breakup, I am beyond happy. I won’t mention it as an incident anymore because I am no longer hurt or disturbed by what happened. I know I have dodged talking about my past relationships, but there is a reason why I waited so long to talk about it with an open heart and honest mind...because before, I was still mourning for a very long time. I did care about this person for the longest time until I saw their true colors. That is when I realized what kind of person they were...it was heartbreaking seeing that...believe me, I am the type of person who sees the good in everyone that I encounter. I believe that deep down, there is some good left in everyone. I don’t know why I am that way, but it’s a trait of mine that I sometimes wished I could erase it. 

Now, I will say this. It took me about eight months to get my pieces fully back together. Those eight months were hell because I was battling my demons and when I received the thirty page letter (yes, it was thirty pages) from that person (I will not mention them by name or as “my ex” because they were never mine to begin with and I no longer have an emotional attachment to them), I was stunned. I was angry and every memory that I thought I had buried deep down came up and I started crying out of anger. I was not happy, I will be honest. I was furious because I thought this person would leave me alone for good, considering that they brought someone else along when they moved back to the town that I live in. I was furious because I wanted nothing from that person and I made sure they couldn’t see anything, but I failed. I failed at not realizing that I would be outsmarted. I was angry for eight months and for a few more months. 

I was angry because that person literally fucked me over. I will say how it is. That person never took my feelings into consideration about many things and I was hurt more than I would like to admit. That person never crossed the ocean for me like I did...nor cared as much as I did. Most importantly, never loved me back like I loved them. All that love that I had for that person, who should have realized they were the luckiest person in the world, turned into hate. I allowed that person back into my life (the biggest regret I have made so far) and let them follow this blog. I took them off because I realized that I no longer care about that person. Heartless, right? Yes. 

I had every reason to be heartless and cold toward that person. Why? Because that’s how they treated me. I may have forgiven them by heart, but I will never forget how they made me feel. In the letter that they wrote, they were trying to explain their actions and about their new spouse. I had no interest and truthfully, I threw it away. I threw away the book that they sent me because I didn’t want to know about their “new” spiritual and Christian life. I knew deep inside that they are not trustworthy and considered pathological liars. I found out that one of their exes was trying to hook up with them. I was beyond furious and angry for not realizing that I was not the only one. 

I was angry for the longest time because they were never honest with me to begin with. I was taken advantage of because I was too naive to not see their true colors. I was only 20 years old and it was my first “serious” relationship. I thought I was in the clouds until the truth came out after the breakup. I was angry because they were never honest with me while I showed that person my most vulnerable side of me. I was pissed that they didn’t care when I was depressed and suicidal. I was the most depressed and suicidal with that person because they would brush it off and never text me back. Even though that person claims that they still care about me, I know deep down inside of my fragile heart, they really don’t. I know it. I’m sure of it with my soul and heart. I know they never cared. 

They write about their spouse and how they saved their spouse from their “demons” and how how they struggle with anxiety. I was furious because I struggle with anxiety and depression...and they never bat an eye. I was left alone in the dark to fight off my thoughts. They don’t even know that I was close committing suicide around February 2017. Why? Because they never asked and I knew that if I died, they would move right along. They were always cold with me when I would sit beside them. They were in another world when I was talking to them...One of their friends told me that they wanted to break it off back in December of 2016 because I was too committed. 

Yikes, that hurts. I was crying when their friend told me that while they held me and let me cry. 

The love I had for them was dying slowly around May. I knew it wasn’t going to last...

Why? 

They were slowly distancing themselves away. I knew they had someone else in their mind. It was no longer me and it was never me. Never. I don’t care what the other party says, they never loved me. It hurts to admit it at first but now, I am totally fine with it. 

Why? 

Because I know that no one else will ever love me on the same depth as I will. No one will ever fucking do that. I have became so heartless towards men in general because I was hurt by one so badly to the point that I have made a complete 180 throughout 2017-2018. I am still traumatized from the past relationship because I don’t want to get hurt ever again. I know that sounds nearly impossible but I would much rather be single than be with someone who takes advantage of my love and kindness ever again. 

You would think I would be dating by now, but I have decided that I don’t want anything related to it. I’m still hurt. I’m still scared by getting hurt once again. I do not want to go down that path ever again. I don’t know what is holding me back, but I have had a few crushes lately, but I would never make the first move because I am reminded on how I was treated in my past relationship. I freak out and forget about it for a while and then I find someone interesting and it’s the same stupid cycle all over again. I will back out and freak out and forget about it. 

“You will find someone who will appreciate you.” Is what that person’s mom told me when I told her that it was game over. I cried because I knew it was true. I knew deep down that she was right. I will always hold that statement close to me because I know, when I’m over the fear of falling in love, I will find someone who will appreciate me. 

Now, you’re thinking: “Well I thought you said you want nothing about relationships?” 

Here is the thing: I have to fiercely love myself so much that no matter what people say about me, I will laugh and go on with my life. I want to love myself so much that I will be glowing in confidence and never let anyone tear me down emotionally and mentally. I want to be so happy with myself that the next person who comes along says, “wow, she’s great.” and actually fucking mean it.

It will take a few more years until I am completely healed. I am getting there, but there is a few pieces left to glue together. I’m doing so much better ever since that person walked out of my life. I have unfollowed them on this website because it was the last step I needed to take. In order to move on completely and be happy with the past and how it went down, I had to cut the last tie. I cut it and it was an immediate relief. It was like I took the weight off my shoulders. 

However, I do not wish them the best. I wish them what they deserve. I know it sounds cruel, but I do believe in karma. I believe every inch of it because I have seen it happen with other people. That person is in a relationship and I hope they feel the love I felt for them...so when that other party breaks it off, they will feel the pain I felt for almost a year. I want them to feel what I felt when I got my heart shattered into pieces. 

I may have faltered a few times but I know that I’m still on the road of recovery. As many of you have seen, I wrote five parts about my recovery in hope to help others who are struggle. I am putting my emotions and struggles about mental health on here because I want everyone to know that they are not alone. I am human. 

So are you. 

I wanted to talk about how I faltered in 2017 because it was one of the reasons why I was so depressive and suicidal. I wanted to talk it out by typing it out and letting the world read my thoughts. I wanted to show that I’m trying to recover by just writing my thoughts. I would have never guessed that I would inspire a few people in my close circle. I know I’m not a great writer, but I do enjoy writing my thoughts down and let my creativity play the game. I let my mind wonder in places that I would have never guessed...even though at night, I am terrified by my own mind. 

Breakups may suck, but it is not the end of the world. It’s the beginning of a new era. The outcomes from a breakup can be something so precious and wonderful that you start to think: “It was the best thing that could happen to me!” And I did see it that way eventually. I told my counselor back in October of 2017 that the breakup was the best thing that could happen to me. I had a job, I was finishing up my last semester of college and everything was falling into place. I was so happy with my life (and still am) because I was catching blessings here and there and I didn’t realize that I was winning every single time I was getting blessed. 

I came out winning in the end because I created a better version of myself. I found myself. I started loving myself. I was not defining myself by my mental health rather by who I am truly. I am loving, kind, extremely caring and a beating heart with a splash of romance. I am a romantic person in every way possible and I care about the world. I care about people on this site. I really do. When I comment or like one of their posts, that’s a way of me saying, “hey, great post and I care about you. I’m here for you if you need anything.” I’m honest (sometimes a little too honest) and creative. I have a tight relationship with my family. 

I didn’t have to jump into the dating scene to prove to the other party: “Hey look at me! I’m doing so much better without you! It’s your loss that you lost me!” Rather, I traveled more, I fell in love with more strangers and their faces took their place in my mind. I am using my camera as no other to take pictures of Mother Nature and fall in love with the skies when the sun peeks through and when the sun waves goodbye for the day. I jumped into once in a lifetime opportunities that changed me into the person that I am today. I have a stronger relationship with God because I wanted to restore my faith in him. 

Most importantly, when I love...my love runs deep as the ocean. It may seem never-ending but it is a love that you will rarely find. I never lost that fire and passion in my heart. I thought I did, but once I found myself, it came back. Roaring like the lion when he wakes up, I knew that the person that I was created to be came back. I am wiser yet a little bitter but a lot more sweeter when it comes to family and friends. My priorities no longer involve a relationship, rather more time with family and friends. Why? 

Relationships can wait. 

Family and friends come first. I changed my attitude to be more aware when someone has different intentions and I know I deserve better. I will not rest until I find someone who has the same values as me. I will not look nor beg...because I learned that the hard way. 

Breakups are wonderful, I must admit. A year and exactly a month later, I’m more happier and content with life. 

[machinehead]

MORE CORNELL

Below is a collection of the most interesting replies to my General Journal inbox and our Facebook page. There are many, many, many more great/fantastic replies in the FB thread here: https://www.facebook.com/MachineHead/posts/10154745571783823 But these are the ones that hit me the hardest for whatever reason. Reading everyone's replies made me realize that it’s been a very difficult thing to process for many of us.  I appreciate the well wishes from everyone.  Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.  Yes, it triggered something dark inside me, something closer to the surface than I realized.  Writing/talking helped me process it. Talking about it on our group-text helped a lot, talking about it with my guys at practice helped a lot.  Writing the journal helped a lot, reading you’re replies helped a lot. And so I’m sharing your replies to hopefully help anyone else struggling with this. It needs to be discussed. His suicide, depression, mental health, whatever we want to call needs to be addressed. We need to get over our uber-macho, alpha-male-society, and be able to talk about these things.  For ourselves, for our kids, for our future. My oldest son had heard Genevra and I talking about Cornell. Driving him to school 2 days ago, he asked me how he died.  I told him. He didn’t understand why someone would do that. It was tough conversation.  And my first thought was to not tell him what it meant, but then my larger fear went to "what if he feels this way already?”  And before you go, “oh kids don’t feel that way, kids are just happy all the time”, I have 2 friends who are going though it with their tween/teenagers.  So we spoke about it, and I told him "I hoped that him and Wyatt never felt that way because THAT scared me even more." It was heavy… How any parent lives through that I’ll never know. Back when the news broke, the band/crew were talking over the group-text, Phil shared something amazing with us.  It was a post from our long-time friend Steffan Chirazi.  He had posted his eloquent thoughts regarding Cornell's suicide (written before suicide was confirmed). If you read only one of the replies below, scroll to the bottom and read his. It’s well worth your time. ——————————— From: Paul Miller Subject: Re: CHRIS CORNELL To: The General Journals Yeah man. I know that's not a formal way to start a reply, but that last line, "Listen, Honor, Remember Chris Cornell"... that's the truth. Did so today.  Soundgarden was one of those bands that I listed to and enjoyed, but I didn't run it into the ground.  It was great music, and I didn't want to burn myself out on it.  It would rotate, but I'd save it for special occasions.  When "Black Hole Sun" hit MTV, I'd find myself turning the tv so that I wouldn't get sick of it, but it became unavoidable for awhile (at least here in Indiana). I appreciate your words.  They ring true here, too.  Never got that low, but my thoughts have been dark enough.  It scares me, too.  But, I want to forge ahead for my 5 year old - she is what keeps me runnin'. All the best to you, and thank you for the music through the years. I'm sure you hear people say that your music helped them through rough times.  I believe it.  It kept me focused on doing something personally productive to develop my chops as I wore out the cassette of 'Burn My Eyes' while learning to play your riffs!  So, thank you for that. Take care, Paul From: Rochelle Mangan Subject: Re: CHRIS CORNELL To: The General Journals Thank you for this, I loved reading it and am enjoying re listening to a lot of the songs and albums you mentioned with a different perspective on them (this is something I enjoy doing with music a lot, listening to things after people have told me their ideas and opinions on them etc). I just want to say though that I hate the "they had so much to live for" type comments. Even if it's done from an emotional, irrational state, I can't not say something about it. I will find it hard to express concisely and over email the many reasons why but one of the main things is this.... Mental health is hard to deal with because it's invisible, it's so easy to feel like you're a flawed person somehow rather than recognise you are actually unwell. This can mean that experiencing severe depression or whatever when everything in your life is "going great" can (in my experience) often make it so much more confusing and distressing. I'm definitely not saying it's harder to deal with if your life's great! But, if things aren't great - you've lost your job, you're struggling with a relationship etc it's easier to sort of say to yourself "well of course I'm struggling".  I feel like it's also sometimes easier for others to empathise with you if they can see some logical reasons why. It's also easier to get help from public health services (in NZ anyway). When I'm in a bad patch and I have good things happening in my life I ALWAYS find it harder to not do damaging behaviours because my external things are so at odds with what's happening internally. It's like a big war going on and it is so confusing, so exhausting, just one massive dangerous mind fuck! Anyway I hope this doesn't make you feel worse than you may already be feeling, I don't mean it to. I just feel that it's important to say these things sometimes. I know suicide can be confusing to people but as you may know, when you're there, it's not. Thank you for your ramblings and your even more amazing music. It has definitely kept me alive in a big way numerous times. Rochelle xxx From: Anita Hoeve Subject: Re: CHRIS CORNELL To: The General Journals Even though I'm a Machine Head fan from the start, and I really enjoy your journals, I don't normally respond to them. Surely you have better things to do than read all the comments, but wow, this day really sucked, didn't it? I was utterly shocked to hear about Chris' passing. Even more to learn it was suicide. Feel so sad that he felt this was the only way out. I love his voice, his music, listened to Superunknown just last week. Between all the social outpourings I read today, yours really stood out. Thank you for your story, your memories. For really taking the time to share them with us. They got to me. Take care Robb, give your kids and Genevra an extra big hug tonight. Love, Anita From: "Kondalski, Joe" Subject: RE: CHRIS CORNELL To: 'The General Journals' I was at the Fox Theater last night to see Soundgarden, here are a couple of pics from the show. We were in the front row and Chris gave us fist bumps and was very engaged  with the fans during the show. Ps- these are cell phone pics, I will send some pics from my camera later. Feel free to post this pics anywhere. From: Fábio Gil Subject: Re: CHRIS CORNELL To: The General Journals From a 34 year old fan boy trying to play it cool: if you need help, go and search for it and solve your shit, man. We all have demons and hard things we can't handle by ourselves, sometimes. So, for this fanboy, and millions around the world, for whom your TALENT and music inspires so fucking much, put yourself together and "headup". I have a band and we are looking for a proper singer for a time now, maybe a year... And you, dear Robb, your vocal approach, your melodies, ressonate in my head, pushing me to break my barriers and fears and step to the mic (I play of the guitars). This is how much you inspire me. And I'm... just one. Imagine what you do daily to your legion of fans. Is there anybody out there? Yea. There is. Always. From Portugal, with MUCH MUCH love, Fábio Gil. From: Jean-Baptiste Collinet Subject: Re: CHRIS CORNELL SPOTIFY PLAYLIST To: The General Journals Thanks for the playlist, Robb. Great choices, many almost-unknown songs. Great. Well, I tought about dropping a serious line about how Chris somehow "changed my life" (I know, that's so cliché, but I'm at loss for words, damnit). But I was too down last time you wrote about him. Not only did Chris, as a human being, kinda "redirected" me on a safer, healthier path… even if we never met (if there's heaven or hell, we may meet sometime. Let's be a hopeless optimistic-pessimist!) His music... Boy, it's just gut-tearing to think about the loss of the man who opened my mind and my ears enough to stop my technical frenzy and stage thirst for a huge while, and made me start listening instead of merely hearing. I even put aside performing for years, and I just started again maybe a few months ago. Not as a Swedish Melodeath drummer and guitarist, but as a viola da gamba soloist. Talk about a ride. It doesn't look like it, but both worlds share much more than one may think. Not sure I would have made it so far without Chris. Chris had this ability to quickly grok and understand the world and music in an unbelievably holistic way. If that's not inspiring, I don't know what is... I could go on and on, rambling. Enough. Chris has still much to "teach" us, even if he's not "there". He made me wonder if we're not the dead, wrongly thinking we're alive. How can we dare think we're right? What if the ones we think of as dead/fallen are the ones alive? Anyone has an answer to this? Jean-Baptiste Collinet @Rich Hoit I both love and hate this. I love the passion, the honesty, and the wish to not shy away from the raw and heartfelt feelings towards a fantastic front man, singer, musician, friend and man. So much respect for that. I hate the fact that it had to be written so soon 😢 Bravo, Machine Head, a great piece and a great sentiment. And thank you, Chris Cornell. @Ashley Merritt You're strong as fuck Robb because you actually wrote how you feel honestly like this, helping anyone struggling with mental illness.. it helps to know that you're not the only one and the way you feel frankly is exactly the way I do. What a trip. Being open and around good folk means everything, there's always an up after a down. Always. @Theresa Alaimo Very proud of you, Robb Flynn, Machine Head, for this tribute to Chris. A s a journalist for my magazine, Black Planet, in New Mexico, I ran for over 15 years, I too am grieving for Chris Cornell, that beautiful man with an amazing voice. During the Voivod Tour they played at a club a few blocks from my work space apartment and the promoter asked if I could steam the crab legs for Soundgarden at my place. Delivering a plate of steaming hot crab legs to the beautiful Chris and looking into his eyes, made my legs steam as well. I believe I said, "Your Majesty, I present you with steaming hot crab legs" and bowed. I was such a dork, but I was so overwhelmed by his aura. I was also at the Foundations Forum where I saw Soundgarden and met you and other great guys. I interviewed you and we all became friends and hung out with Pantera, Biohazard, Exodus, STP, Lemmy, Pearl Jam, Iron Maiden and up and coming new bands for a weekend. I still have my Scorpions beer mug they handed out from their helicopter flight, it was a great experience. Anytime you are feeling sad or depressed Robb, try to remember that you are a talented musician, a beautiful man and maybe not every woman in the world wants to fuck you, but be your friend and will listen if you need to talk. I might not ever know if you read this, Robb Flynn, but at least it's out there. We all love you and need you to stick around. We've lost too many, Dimebag, Peter Steele, Wayne Static, Scott Weiland, Layne Staley, Lemmy, just to name a few and when we barely catch our breath, then we lose another. We can't lose you too, our hearts are already broken. @Matt McDonald "And I think I'm strong, but I'm not. I'm not as strong as I project, and I'm not sure if I'm stronger than depression. Because I sink into it sometimes. And it's black. I hope I am. I need to be for my kids. For my wife... for myself." God damn that shit hit me. So personal, so profound, and so relatable. Counseling, medication, therapy... none of that is a guarantee. Whether it's a bout of sadness or full on throes of suicidal depression, sometimes the hardest part for overcoming it is simply reaching out. Be it pride, shame, guilt... find a way to overcome, find something that helps you out of the funk. Music can be so powerful, so thank you for still being here to share your deeply personal thoughts and feelings, and for continuing to make music. You never know how much it could help even just one person, I think that's reason enough to continue. Thank you! @Jennifer May It can be really hard to admit, you worry that you'll be labeled as an attention seeker or told that you just need to cowboy up and try harder to be happy. Medication is still really stigmatized and expensive, and talk therapy can seem intimidating. I'm very, very lucky and grateful that my mama works in mental health so I've had someone to help me navigate the system. RIP Chris, we lost one of the greatest today. @Phil Stein No matter how much one tries to capture the range of emotions evoked by Chris Cornell's vocals, the description falls short of what he could do and what he could convey. Let alone the beauty, poignancy and power that he could generate. It was like hearing a 5 course gourmet dinner from appetizer through dessert - it was varied and more than that delicious vocally. Thanks for the great description and memorial For Chris Robb. It's so on point and fitting. Perfectly stated!!! @Mark Garcia It's the asshole in me but I will never grieve for someone who takes their own life. I can appreciate all the words from fans and I may not have been a fan of sound garden some of the songs were worth listening to. This band as well as the grunge "sound" never resonated with me so maybe that's why as well. @Jimmy James Brute honesty again from mr Flynn. Bravo this is why we love you and machine head. Depression does fucking suck and you don't shy away from talking about it. RIP Chris Cornell! Man I was actually a big soundgarden fan back in the 90s before discovering metal. @Siri LH Thank you for your honesty and reflections! Highly interesting to read. I can relate to the sadness and the mind fuck. Soundgarden was the band that sparked my love for heavy music. I've been depressed myself and always felt comfort in listening to Chris Cornell's voice. It resonated with my mind. The darkness felt lighter when I put on a Soundgarden album. I was comforted, like someone got my mood. Whenever I've felt lost, I've put on some Soundgarden and found myself again. Soundgarden feels like the essence of my being and I will always be deeply grateful for their music, and for Cornell's voice, lyrics and mood. I've seen them live once and I smiled the whole show through. Eternal love for Chris Cornell and Soundgarden <3 My heart goes out to his loved ones. @Austin Kokel I saw them on Lollapalooza '96, and I'm glad to hear you say what I felt at that show. I was only 15, but I had Badmotorfinger and Superunknown and I absolutely loved both and was right up front. The band was definitely in a funk, and the bassist was an asshole, spitting on and insulting the crowd (and bot in the fun Ramones way I experienced an hour earlier). I try to explain their set to people now, and I can't. I'm glad to hear my 20+ year old sentiments echoed. That said, I always wondered about him after that day, but I never saw this coming either, not this far down the road. Thanks for your honesty and insight, Robb. We love you. We love Machine Fucking Head. Be strong. @J Ake Hess You've expressed so many feelings and thoughts rattling around in my head today that I just couldn't find words to put to. Cornell will always be uniquely amazing and in a class​ by himself. I was listening to his cover of Prince's Nothing Compares 2 You just last night and letting myself become entranced by his unique sound and incredible voice. Today I am sad, angry, and a bit enthralled with my own mortality. Nobody is immune and sometimes the struggle is too much for even the people with everything to live for. I can't imagine what his family is feeling today. Beyond tragic… @Steffan Chirazi No-one can be sure why he is dead, and when it is appropriate, we will know. But depression is a very, very real thing. It is a part of life, but for some, it carries deadly lows and utterly crushing weight along with a gravitational pull into darkness that many of us cannot fathom. I sometimes fight the rabbit hole. I see it, I feel it, I flirt with its edges, but then I bury my head in the dog or hug the cat or take deep breathes and get outside and find a piece of mental architecture to grab hard, fast and haul myself out. I am very lucky. I am slightly brushed with depression and anxiety, but fortunately I am always able to find the light. Fortunately I still retain enough of my natural mental antibodies to find the path out quickly and efficiently. There is no doubt that age makes that path harder to find sometimes, as a consequence of both the physical being and some of the inevitabilities which come with your 50s (such as more people in your circle dying). Others are not so lucky. It isn't because they 'don't want to' or 'aren't trying hard enough' or 'don't love their familes' or anything remotely like that. It isn't ever for the lack of trying. It is because depression (and anxiety) are a crushing, debilitating disease which this country, this planet, seems largely unable to recognize. We push people to the outer regions of anxiety and depression with no care that there are some who fall headfirst into a rabbit hole tornado and only through regular (and possibly unrecognized miracles) find themselves hurled into the escape bunker as opposed to the abyss. Yeah. Imagine that. A tornado that escalates within minutes from a slight, chilly breeze, a tornado that offers no pattern as to when it will appear. And imagine that the only help which can come your way is a bunker miraculously opening up beneath your feet and drawing you to a womb of safety until the tornado passes… ...Often, people with clinical depression will self-medicate. Not because they 'like to fucking party' but because there is no other way out. It's 'easier' to take a swig, take a pill, take a hit. It keeps the darkness in the distance and the tornado (when it pops up) is smashed into smithereens by the 'medicine’. Let me, by the way, be VERY clear. I am NOT saying he was doing ANY of that. He had his dances back in the old days, ones he has been very open about. But I thought he had left that behind. I honestly don't know but feel he had for some time. Whatever eh? Because we judge anyway. Yet we judge. We judge in all senses and all ways. Why do they do that? Why do they behave that way? Who do they think they are? Why can't they just cheer up...? Why are they being such an asshole? Yeah, cheer up will ya? You're handsome or pretty or rich or famous or successful or ALL of those things. Come on. All you gotta do is think about how much worse so many other people have it. Who do you think you are? There are people with 'real' problems out there… I heard the same shit about Cobain and Staley. Listen, does anyone really believe that they wanted to go? That they didn't with every sinew wish in their more lucid moments that they could find a way out? Of course not. Pain is one thing, emotional pain is a whole other ball of wax, but add that to a chemical equation in your DNA that can (without warning) turn your colours to black and white, your peripheral vision to a short, narrow tunnel and which leaves your light feeling cold-negative and it is clear to see that this disease is both monstrous and potentially crippling. The thing with tornados is that when you're in one, they don't afford you the 'luxury' of contemplation. Especially when it is your own chemicals, your own imbalances through no fault of your own, which rise from nowhere to envelope you in that tornado; I never heard of anyone caught in one who was able to see straight, let alone reason with themselves. Fortunately some find their way out. They discover a regular path out of the fog, and they can stick to it. That is not to judge people who cannot; every situation is different. But some simply can't. They try and try and try again. Maybe they achieve success in escaping dark moments, and maybe they eradicate self-medication and triggers from their lives with the help of great local support. However there are never guarantees. Again, I don't know why he died. I spent a little time with him here and there, enough to know that for years, there was a dark moodiness which expressed itself via his generally quiet way and rich lyrics. Later on he certainly spruced himself up, chucked in the deeper self-medications, and seemed a lot more comfortable with life than when he wrote the semi-self-ridiculing "Jesus Christ Pose" but what did I know? Apparently not much at all… ...If you see a friend struggling, if you sense or feel a friend or family member is drifting near a rabbit hole, please, check-in with them. However you have to, either directly or just create an excuse to see them, to talk to them. We are so emotionally guarded that we perhaps see it as 'intruding' or 'sticking our noses in'. Know your friends. Know your family. Be kind whenever you can with them, have a laugh or crack a shit joke. But touch base. Do it today. Much love to everyone who suffers and is either marginalized, trivialized or simply ignored. Much love to those getting assistance in their ongoing battle. Subscribe to The General Journals: http://thegeneraljournals.hosted.phplist.com/lists/?p=subscribe

[confessionsofagoldenheart]

wow. so I just spent a good amount of time looking for pictures of you and her. I needed confirmation. I needed to see how and if you all were as happy as I thought. it seems like you are. I didn’t see what I knew would hurt me but what I seen kind of stung enough. maybe…this isn’t what I thought it was. maybe I should just pull back while I still have some dignity left. maybe I owe myself that much. if you want me come find me. I swear at times I just want to dissociate. I struggle between giving you more of me and completely cutting off all supply. I know you will fiend for me. maybe I deserve to be in control of my own feelings. the truth really does hurt. but I think I’m coming to realize that I need to detach myself from you. from the dream you’ve been selling me when you’re currently fulfilling hers right now. happily. but I have to wait? I have to wait for you to grow into some man you claim you’ll be? but what if you don’t? another hurt. another loss for me. I’m alone. but you’re starting a family with her. all the while you’re coming to me and telling me things are not what they seem. that I should wait for you to be the man I deserve for you to be. but where is he? what if he doesn’t exist? I feel myself on the edge between settling and rising above. between wanting to just start a life with you so we could share that type of love. it was always supposed to be you. but you’re doing it with them. and giving me the little bit that’s left. I can’t stop getting numb because it sickens me to think about. the higher I get the less I can think about the anxieties I’ve gained as a result of you being in my life. but alas, I don’t regret you. you showed me a capacity of love I wasn’t even sure I was able to express. wholehearted love. genuine friendships. lots of laughs. amazing sex and hella adventures. for the experience, I will forever be grateful. sometimes I convince myself you’re my soulmate and we will always find our way back to each other. but I know that you will continue to change and grow, as will I. and promising forever and futures are empty promises, because we don’t even know what tomorrow will bring. I’m tired of being hopeful. I’m tired of waiting and wishing. I’m tired of wondering and being jealous. I’m tired of feeling insufficient. I’m tired of feeling like I am on the outskirts of your life. like you are living a complete fairytale that I can’t be apart of. I’m tired of the late night phone calls and early morning sex. I’m tired of not hearing from you for days at a time and having images of you and your pregnant girlfriend being happy. it makes me feel miserable. I’m tired of feeling miserable. I feel like I am suffocating from the maybes and sometimes and the coming and going and never being able to contact you but jumping at your every call, every text, every request. you’ve diminished me. and all the while you knew. you kept shit from me. you smiled in my face. it’s like you kept twisting the knife in deeper and deeper. love truly is blind. I want someone that is for me and only me. I deserve to be treated like I am the only girl in the world. only I can offer a love such as mine and if I’m so irresistible, what is keeping you from me? you have me questioning if I’m good enough. and that alone is unhealthy. you put my heart on the bottom of your shoe and begged me to understand that sometimes life just happens. but life stopped for me. the minute I let you in. the sorrow outweighs the good times we had together because they’re all old ass memories that don’t mean a whole lot. and you’ve created far more meaningful ones with her, clearly. I used to feel special. but I’m not special. and for that I will have to love you from a distance. I can’t keep stringing along as a secret person you’re in love with. I owe myself more. but I haven’t been able to accept or even see better because all I’ve been able to see was you. I haven’t been able to breathe. I’ve been dead on the inside for damn near a year. a year. I’ve been numb. send me a picture. baby send me a pic. I can’t wait to see you. I miss you. broken record. broken promises. broken truths. everything has been cloudy for me. for a year. but the sun is finally beginning to shine through the clouds again. I’m beginning to see that I cannot expect you to be anything less than human. forever changing and contradictory. what’s meant for me will always be for me they say. but what if I don’t even want you? what if I don’t what the baggage that comes with you? what if you never grow out of your ways and stay in the hood? would I be shrinking myself for you? what if you’re…not…meant for me? for the past year I have felt like a prisoner of my own mind. emotionally traumatized. depressed. impulsive. unable to connect with the world, with people, with life. as a result of my anxieties and insecurities. as a result of the embarrassment yet another person I trusted has caused me. I felt so small. I became someone I didn’t even know. I think you were my downfall. maybe this entire time God has been trying to tell me that you are not meant for me. maybe he is saying not right now. I loved a little too boldly for you. I expressed my opinions. I let you know when I was upset or I was sad. I appreciated the same. I’m a talker. I’m an adventurous soul. I’m impatient. I’m a brat sometimes. I’m sensitive. everything that pushed you away from me are things that are just a part of me. and I’ve been in the process of trying to understand what she has that I don’t. what could make you choose her over me. but it’s that. she’s what I am not. and that is what you ultimately prefer. it’s 11pm, I was supposed to hear from you around 8. you’re probably rubbing her stomach and kissing her goodnight. or rubbing her feet. who knows. I can’t keep thinking about it. you two are engraved into my brain. I want to hate you so bad. only recently have I learned what things between us have been. as I said, I have been blindly in love with you.