#im a different person now and that old draft haunts me

[pbpsbff]

20 Questions (for fanfic writers)

got tagged by @fieldsofview :)) (and probably someone else. i have a draft of this from november. oops.)

1. how many works do you have on ao3? 47 as of yesterday:)

2. what's your total ao3 word count? 190,927

3. what fandoms do you write for? i've bounced around a lot of fandoms since i was like, 10, but since august 2022 i've been strictly writing for mcu spider-man (technically more leaning toward irondad, but. u know). with this in mind however, i have a couple 9-1-1 wips and am about one bad day away from writing big time rush fanfiction

4. top five fics by kudos: Peter Parker's Guide to: Texting, Twitter, and Tony Stark (2,110 kudos)

Everything's Coming Up Potatoes (439 kudos)

Is That a Potato in Your Pants, or Are You Just Happy to See Me? (422 kudos)

If You Give a Guy a Potato, He's Going to Ask You on a Date (401 kudos)

be mean to me (if you need to be mean) (331 kudos)

5. do you respond to comments?

...

i try my best. i genuinely have no idea how it's gotten this bad (if i ignore your comment please don't take it personally—i forgor)

6. what is your fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? oh god i don't have anything w/ a sad ending posted LOL i'm too much of a sucker for a happy ending. (i do have mcd in my drafts tho!!!)

maybe 15. There It Is Again, That Funny Feeling? It's more of a hopeful ending, but considering the context of the story entirely, it's pretty sad.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? every single fic in the series All's Fair in Love and Potatoes. this series is my happy place amongst all the death and despair on my account

8. do you get hate on fics? besides the hate i receive from sapoteylx? no

9. do you write smut i do! it'll never see the light of day but i do!

10. craziest crossover: i hate crossovers sorry guys. on my old ao3 tho i wrote a heathers au hamilton fic and that's probably the closest i'll ever get to one (unless we're counting r&r? since it's technically twd universe?) also this one time (i was 11. keep this in mind) i read a fic that was tagged jacob sartorius/bob duncan and i think about it daily

11. have you ever had a fic stolen? i hope not???

12. have you ever had a fic translated? NO but that would be so cool. i have some regular commenters that tend to comment in spanish and i'm always wondering if it would be easier for them if i had it translated but i only speak engish. idk fic translators are gods gift to writers i fear

13. have you ever co-written a fic before? i cowrote a hamilton chatfic in 2018. next question

14. all time favorite ship? every peter parker ship ever (excluding all the minor/adult ones). big sambucky and pepperony fan too tho

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? i have this wip that's like, peter agrees to go undercover for a mission because they need info from some big bad guy and peter is obviously the least recognizable of the bunch, but he gets kidnapped and all that good stuff. idk if i'll ever get around to finish it, because it's like 9 planned chapters and that is SO ambitious for me.

also my cellist!peter au? i've been trying to write it but the words haven't come to me idk

16. what are your writing strengths? ooooo i think i'm good at realistic dialogue and character dynamics—i have spent hours of my life on fandomwiki looking at different character's quotes and watching videos of their interaction with other characters because that's something so important to me.

i think i'm good at balancing angst and humor too?? idk the walking dead really shaped my writing style because u can have a silly scene and then 2 seconds later someone is dead on the floor. hope to carry that vibe through everything i do.

17. what are your writing weaknesses? i am so bad at describing settings and character actions. i can always see the scene in my mind but on paper it turns into they are at a house. peter sits down in the chair, and is sad. and it gets to a point where i just give up on trying to fix it

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language? ough if i ever write dialogue in another language i'll be consulting someone who speaks said language (which is what i actually have done!!!! i have a fic coming out soon w a spanish title and i asked aster-argent for help:)). or doing the thing people do where they just put the text in italics and write ," he said in spanish or some shit.

idk for the most part i stay away from it (ignoring the throwaway, casada harley joke i make in my parkner series) because at the end of the day i am a white girl who learned how to count to 10 in spanish because of dora and took 3 years of german.

19. first fandom you wrote in? ok so. i was 11 and on quotev, writing a chatfic about the bands twenty one pilots, panic at the disco, my chemical romance, and fall out boy. the fic is still up and it makes me nauseous to think about

i think technically i had an ldshadowlady fic out on wattpad before that but it was a blatant ripoff of another fic so. i don't count it

20. favorite fic you've written? i think this answer changes every day, and will change when i get my next group of fics out, but as of right now—

i'll put down my roots when i'm dead i'm just so proud of it idk. first time i've ever really met a deadline and probably the most passionate i'd been about getting a fic out since r&r began? i just love the whole thing.

Is Close the Closest Star? this one is definitely a tie with the several other angst oneshots i put out around the same time, but idk something about this fic is so special to me. it's like 6 months old and i know my writing's improved since then, but i'll always go back and reread

okok last one sorry ur making me pick my favorite child. Unrotting Your Insides, Unrooting Your Limbs i am such a sucker for recovery fics sorry. i've written several fics about bulimia but this is my fav because it's just. so soft.

tags

oh god i don't have enough writer friends uhhh @norahdevore. if u have not done this already. i am holding a gun to your head and making you do this (and anyone else reading this. please guys)

[ghost-in-the-stalls]

What are ur tilda hcs?

Okay im finally gonna answer this!! Thank you so much for asking!!! I love receiving asks and I love sharing my headcanons. Sorry again it's so late ❤❤❤

This isn't gonna be nearly as well worded and eloquent as I originally planned. The first time I wrote it it basically became a drabble about her life. And then I lost that whole draft. Lmao

I just don't have it in me to recreate that whole thing again but I still wanna share my headcanons about her because I do have a lot!

I also wanna say this is in no way to like... excuse her behavior or try and redeem her. She was a terrible person. But people aren't born terrible. And I like taking 2 dimensional fictional women and making them make sense. So this isn't to excuse but instead to explain? I guess?

cw for all the shit you expect with the minyards by now, but specifically drug addiction and statutory rape. Also this is LONG so its going under a cut.

So first of all, I imagine her and Luther as being half siblings. Their father was a preacher or something- someone with a big role in their church's community and a big reputation of being a reliable, wise, holy man.

When Luther was maybe around 3 years old, there was this teenage girl in the congregation who would often come to Mr. Hemmick for advice, guidance, comfort, etc. She didn't quite fit in in school, wasn't great at academics and struggled to keep up with her siblings achievements, and was overall going through a lot of the turmoil thats unfortunately common for teenagers.

So she, like many people in the congregation, went to Mr Hemmick for guidance and ended up seeing a lot of him. She felt listened to and believed in with him. She felt like he treated her as more mature than the way her family treated her. She trusted him. He abused that.

If you asked her at the time, she would have said it was consensual between them. But she was 16. And when she became pregnant, he turned on her REAL fast lemme tell you. He made her promise not to tell anyone that he was the father, and he only told his wife. And of course, when he told his wife, he talked at length about how this 16 year old girl tempted him to sin; how he regretted it and only hoped she could learn to truly find God.

So he took the child in upon being born as a way to "attone" for what he'd done, but the whole community (not knowing he was the father) just saw it as an act of good will. And of course he'd tout off a lot in his sermons about how he'd be able to give the baby a much better, holier lifestyle than a teenager who turned her back on god by having sex.

So he and his wife end up raising Tilda from birth, but they make sure she knows from the beginning the circumstances of her birth. They drill it into her that her mother was a dirty sinner and that she herself is tainted as a result. She is raised always feeling like she needs to be twice as good to even be considered half as good as her brother in her parents eyes.

Naturally, she stops trying pretty early. In middle school, I imaging her being one of those bullies. The really nasty ones who get violent at their victims for even looking at them wrong. Idk about anyone else, but in my schools growing up the fights between the girls were always way bloodier than the ones between the guys. And I imagine those as the types of fights she got in- especially when one of her victims decides to stand up for themselves by throwing her own baggage back in her face.

By high school, she was thoroughly committed to the role of problem child. She would do everything she could to upset her family and get herself into shit. She'd do drugs, skip classes, show up to school drunk, stay out late, etc. In addition to all this, she would purposefully find whatever guy seemed like the most trouble and take him home. Whether this was the school drug dealer, a boy who got expelled for some rough shit, or college boys who caught her eye at parties.

So she's basically dug this hole for herself where she's committed to actually being the child of sin that her family has always seen her as anyway. The few people who tried to reach out to her wouldn't get far. She would push and push at them to see how far she could stretch their patience (to see how long it took them to give up on her like everyone else).

She even had one teacher who never did give up on her. But she outright told Tilda that she can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. Those words would ring in Tildas ears for years to come, even if she never found it in herself to put the concept into action.

So eventually she'd graduate- just barely because she rarely put in effort in school- and she'd be left to suddenly have to find a place in the world when she previously never even thought she'd have a future. She started batting heads with her family even more (which no one thought was possible at that point) but it became less antagonistic on her end. She was still a shit stirrer, don't get me wrong. But she was getting tired. The fights were less about her being intentionally aggrevating and aggressive and more about her continuously being unable to live up to their expectations.

Luther already had a promising job as a cop at this point, meanwhile she was still living at home and bouncing between jobs that barely kept her afloat and boyfriends that barely made her feel worth something. She'd gotten into drugs in high school, and the habit only got worse now that she was out. It was the only thing that made her feel something other than misery or numbness. She could lose herself in the drugs and the boyfriends and the late nights out. She would come home to see her parents less and less and would speak to them only when absolutely necessary.

Eventually Mr. Hemmick died fairly young (heart attack or something equally as tragic. Whatever I dont care about him enough to pick the details) and his wife followed soon after by suicide. The house was left to Luther, who moved back in immediately and said there'd be changes in the household. He basically told Tilda to quit the drugs and go back to church if she wanted to stay in the house. He also had other rules like keeping a job, dumping her current boyfriend, giving her a curfew, etc.

So she left. She took her shitty beat up car an ex had fixed up for her and headed to California. A friend from high school lived out that way, so that's where she headed.

During this period in her life the drugs got a lot worse. This is also when she realized that she had become addicted. Mainly this is because, even after being away from her family and having freedom, she was still miserable. She didn't know how to get through a day sober. The constant variation between numbness and misery was too much to bare, but she wasn't ready to help herself. She wasn't ready to commit to her own healing and health.

She was in and out of therapy and rehab as quickly as she'd change jobs and partners. She wouldn't commit, and as soon as she had an out she'd take it. Had to miss an appointment for scheduling? Didn't make it back to the shelter in time to claim her bed for the night? Forgot to call back one of the few people who tried to reach out? No going back.

This is my main thing with Tilda. She was a shitty person who had a shitty life. But she never found the strength and commitment in herself to put in the work to be better. She instead let herself fall further and further down the hole because it was easier than pulling herself out. Because part of her still believed deep down that she had succeeded in living up to her birthright- that she wasn't deserving of ever healing or being better.

It was in one of these rehab facilities that she met the twins' father (and this part is absolutely inspired by Luke and Joey from the haunting of hill house). He was a guy with a similar past to hers- always sure he was meant to be bad so he committed to the role and never learned to commit to anything else. The difference between them, though, was that he was ready to get better.

They became fast friends and leaned on one another a bit while in rehab. She didn't see him as anything other than a friend, but he unfortunately became set on this idea that they would heal and move forward together. She knew he had feelings for her and enabled him (she didn't love him back but had never actually felt cared for like this before). He believed in her even when she didn't believe in herself, which was a lot. Unfortunately for him, he also ended up being more committed to her healing than she was. When she eventually started spiraling again, all other feelings for him were overshadowed by the part of her that just saw an opportunity.

She took advantage of him. She slept with him, took his money while he was sleeping, and bailed to get high and never see him again. Now I'm not gonna say she was just a devil who entered this poor man's life. He saw her more as a potential for an ideal life than a person. He was more in love with the dream he had of them getting better and starting a life together than he was actually in love with her and who she was as a person. Bad match all around.

So she never saw or heard from him again. When she found out she was pregnant, she went home to Luther and his wife and son. She didn't tell him right away that she was pregnant. Instead, she pretended she was just finally ready to commit to God and turn her life around. She played the part alright for a while, went to church with them and got sober and everything, but tried to leave and move into a women's shelter when she started showing. Luther found out and brought her home.

At first he was actually super supportive- mainly because he just genuinely thought she wanted to find God and stop "living in sin". But when she finally told him she didn't plan to keep the child, he turned on her.

We know the story from there. Personally I think the night that she stole the money and ran as her point of no return. Years down the line, when she knew she was being a terrible mother and person, she'd remember that night. And she'd think to herself how this is who she was always meant to be. How she doesnt deserve to be any better than how she is. And she'd dig the hole deeper.

-----

So yeah thats my take on Tilda Minyard. Sorry it was so long. I like the idea of giving depth and complexity to female characters- even the bad guys and the ones I don't like. I have a similar lengthy life concept for Mary Hatford as well, but it isn’t nearly as long. If anyone is curious lol

Thanks again for asking!

[panickedvulture]

Found this in my drafts, so I’m posting it with no shame to give this blog some life while I’m busy trying to deal with post-endgame feels in the mcu sector of tumblr:

So I had a dream last night that made me realize I spend too much time on this site because it included some of my mutuals and people I enjoy like @theuriearchives ,@yagirlcammmm ,@i-think-im-ready-to-go ,@canyousevmyheavydirtysoul ,@dunjosephurieimagines , and @andbeingblueisbetter to name a few.

I have very vivid dreams and since I write all of them down I figured why not write it here where everyone can see it.

The genre for this dream: a mystery.

The setting: A beautiful cabin (apparently mine) plucked straight out of a “Visiting your SO’s family for the holidays” or a “fake-dating for a visit to your frenemy’s family” AU, my personal favorite. And there was a snowstorm going on outside.

I should also mention everybody had their own appearance. Usually I attach someone’s name with the face in their profile pic, meaning about everybody in this I previously imagined as Brendon Urie at different angles and in different lighting. But thanks to my brain randomly generating faces for everybody, I will be greatly confused in the case that I ever learn what you actually look like.

So, the topic at hand is, as it always is, Brendon Urie. Everybody’s cuddled up on the couch and on the floor in their pajamas drinking hot chocolate, eating dessert, and writing/giving ideas. In the background AFYCSO plays on an old record player, the fire is flickering beautifully alongside some black and white videos of old Panic! performances playing on one of those old big-backed TVs with lines across the screen – at this moment I feel like I am once again a preschooler laying on my stomach and watching movies in a pile of other preschoolers at my old after-school program but I digress–

Then somebody has the audacity to break into my house.

Me being the host of this gathering, I feel obligated to check on the noise. It doesn’t help that literally everyone stops what they’re doing to push me in the direction of the mysterious noise before going back to talking about the size of Brendon Urie’s dick (a conversation brought up by i-think-im-ready-to-go, just thought I should mention that).

So I get up, the second my back is turned nobody cares and I go into the bathroom only to find it flooded because this intruder flushed literally everything it could down the toilet.

To name a few things, it flushed:

1) The monstrous dildo linked on a post by beautiful-tragic-fallout (i don’t mean to call anybody out but its been on my dash with every damn refresh for the past week), who i-think-im-ready-to-go and theuriearchives make a point to explain is out of the house buying us more chocolate-covered strawberries.

2) Every single piece of Pretty. Odd. memorabilia I can imagine because someone just has it out for that album.

3) For those of you who have seen Monsters Inc, the toys Boo flushed down the toilet in that one scene.

4) An entire manuscript that my mind recognizes as smut written by @xxip-smut

5) And pink, fucking, crocs

So I walk back into the living room and round everybody up, declaring we’re on a manhunt for whoever the fuck had the audacity to break into my house, and with that we separate into groups. Accompanying me is Cam who wields a flamethrower while wearing pastel yellow pajamas with baby elephants printed on them.

Eventually after getting tired of Cam pointing the flamethrower at my head even when in ‘resting position’ and scaring the shit out of me, we go into the basement only to find everybody else chose to search the basement and the rest of you have been arguing about who actually gets to search the basement.

Long story short, the basement doesn’t get searched.

Instead to deal with the tension, dunjosephurieimagines suggests we all go back to talking about Brendon’s dick. So we go back to talking about Brendon’s dick.

We sit on the floor in a circle in this basement not realizing its dark and creepy as hell, and if you’ve seen That 70s Show the ‘camera’ moves around in this circle to focus on the face of whoever’s talking. The conversation adds up to smut, theuriearchives pulls out a blunt and i-think-im-ready-to-go pulls out a gun, we start playing russian roulette. Out of guilt for not writing a request sent to me months ago because I suck, I give andbeingblueisbetter a free shot at me. Being a saint they don’t take the opportunity yet.

So anyway, being high and creative a thought comes to us all at once. This thought…where the fuck is @loverontheleft ?

Now we’re all mad and sad and scared and alone because where, the fuck, is cece? Everybody starts asking everybody if they’ve seen her, we conclude the answer is no and we all start freaking out.

Then we realize canyousevmyheavydirtysoul (codename: Sev) is being really quiet.

We all turn and just stare like “So um….whats up?”

Flash-forward, this is all of us trying to figure out cece’s identity, sev is just sitting on the floor smiling and reacting to everything we say with reaction gifs they pull up on their phone, meanwhile we’re all screaming running around, we’ve made a literal office out of this basement and we have glasses and slip-on ties on top of our pajamas.

Then there’s a noise upstairs because we forgot there was someone who broke into my house.

Y’all turn on me and push me up the stairs to my death, I realize this is the cabin that appears in the bodyguard series at one point (wonderfully written by canyousevmyheavydirtysoul, binge it), and in front of me is the super fancy dining room table. There’s mail on it, some envelopes, and I’m like uh no and turn around to come back downstairs.

But you’re all at the bottom of the stairs staring at me and threatening me with your knives and Cam’s flamethrower – where you got the knives I don’t know. I hesitate in turning around for a second so andbeingblueisbetter shoots me.

But I’m like, you know, walk it off. So I do and I go to the table. I’m terrified, break out into a nervous sweat, but it’s fine.

I go and open the folder.

And O - fucking - kay

If you haven’t read the bodyguard series or ready to leap I’m not gonna detail any spoilers, just the main plot given right away, and even if you have it probably won’t help this make any more sense. Here….is the story:

Our beloved Cece started off as a teacher, right? But not just any teacher, Ms. fucking Milton, who started a relationship with the music teacher of her high school, Mr. Urie, who in this case is in fact Brendon Urie of our universe and lead singer of Panic! at the Disco. But the deal with him is that he got tired of the fame and through extensive work he managed to get rid of all the files that legally point to him as being Brendon Urie of Panic! at the Disco. And for the first few years of his teaching, all the kids knew he was Brendon Urie I mean come on, but eventually the whole school and town settle on the idea that this is just one of those situations where twins are separated at birth and coincidentally given the same exact name. So boom, they do what they do – but newsflash, Cece is Y/n from the Bodyguard series and knowing Mr. Urie’s relationship with Ms. Milton, S.H.I.E.L.D pulls a Hydra Bucky Barnes situation in order to train Brendon into the best damn bodyguard the world could imagine because Cece is a valuable asset that needs the absolute best protection. Canyousevmyheavydirtysoul was like a journalist or something for S.H.I.E.L.D and witnessed all of this go down, knows every little thing about these two. So they get trained, they get close, drama happens, then they’re all put under-cover. Brendon goes back to being Brendon Urie of Panic! at the Disco, Sev and Cece are assigned to live their current lives and specifically assigned to write their stories for this Tumblr community to get everybody off their trails.

And then I look up. And there’s cece and I think…

“She is about to fucking, kill me.”

I try to throw the folders at her but for some reason I can’t throw anything in my dreams, so I get frustrated that my arm just won’t work, Cece in the meanwhile uses this time to approach me. My mind can’t even generate her an appearance and I think that she’s wearing a disguise because she’s like a spy or something that did after all break into my house to clog my toilet with dildos.

We maintain eye contact for what my dream-self recalls as a long time. I feel this energy in my soul I have never felt before and it is not fun, I don’t like it.

She takes the folder from me and gives me a red one.

And with her eyes piercing my soul, I get this feeling that literally has my skin vibrating even after I wake up, and I hear this voice that’s like “I know you know. And I’m watching you.”

So I woke up in a cold sweat obviously and tried to suppress this whole thing but it kinda lingered in the back of my mind all day. Then the weird tiny details came back to haunt me when I saw the elephants at the zoo. 

[monolid-monologues]

TMI meets TMO. (as in, sharing Too Much Info will Talk Me Out of heartbreak, maybe?)

#6.

And yet another week flies by..with nothing to publish. because i haven’t been writing over the week.

Actually, plenty of writing, but, very personal writing. Where it was not happening: my tinyletter drafts. Where it was: my yellow moleskin journal i lug around everywhere. And THESE DAYS I really mean everywhere every day because…………….. well………………… WELL. WELL, HERE:

Let’s start with some context.

My last Mainstage production at UC Davis before graduating was the great beautiful and miraculous The Bluest Eye. I kid you not, I felt in my BONES how much this production would affect me. I needed to be in it. I had conflicts with another show overlapping rehearsal/show times. I got cast (joy!!!!!), then dropped (NO!!!!!!!). I caused a lot of ruckus and trouble lol. I insisted I NEED TO BE A PART OF THIS. My gut was one thooooooousand percent right. I wish this kind of ensemble experience for every student theatre artist. In this show, I enjoyed the presence of the most colorful mothafking cast i’ve ever seen in a play. We understood the importance of our work and the importance of each other in this work. We threw ourselves into shared purpose. We created and held a treasured space for love and chaos. We brewed so much love it was like a drug in a league of its own; we gave and received so much energy together we were all bonafide high off each other’s presence.

This show was selected to participate in a festival and compete for national awards and recognitions. Like 1 of 30 across the country. Part of me cannot believe a theatre production from UC Davis Major University for the Sciences was invited to this robust/artsy-theatre-program-school-type-shit festival. But also, part of me knows how special what we put on was, is, will be. The life-sized puppets, the ensemble work, the story, the purpose — we shared something rare, relevant and powerful. White Theatre Be Shooketh.

As you can tell, i’m fiercly in love with this production. And the point of this context is that we are now reuniting to put this show back together and take it to Oregon for 1 week this FEBRUARY!

and i’m getting to my point now....

That spring, i told you, i knew being in this show was going to impact me beyond words. But what i could NOT have known. What i never expected. What has been haunting me for months: Falling in love with someone in this show. I couldn’t have known that someone I’d never known before this show was going to shake. me. to. my. core. In meeting this person, knowing this person, falling in love with this person, and letting go of this person, i have undergone and am still getting through a terribly overdue re-awakening of my independence.

It gets really messy okay. For me to go INTO it, i need to go into my my open relationship, my relationship with my then partner of nearing 5 years (who was set to move in with me in the end of spring, closing the gap on our LDR), and my trapezing around town with this person I just met. The short version is this: I was careless, reckless, and naive; ignorant of my partner, ignorant of my needs, and of my own spiritual well-being. At that time, with just that person by my side, i felt fucking invincible. But I was being real clumsy.

Fast forward to the end of that spring — my partner moves back in with me, i tell this person we need to just be friends now, and everything feels wrong. I’m lying in bed with my partner, crying my eyes out because i hate letting go of this person. My partner is finally back home with me and I’m crying my eyes out because the truth was i have never felt for anyone what i felt for this person, and that included my partner. This is, of course, when i realize my partner and i need to break up.

I’m dumb in love with the most awful timing — it is absolutely not the right time for me to “be with someone” — and the most obstinate hubris — “I can handle the drama”. The relationship between me and this person is becoming increasingly tumultuous. I feel distance; I feel coldness; I feel confused. I keep biting my tongue; I keep second-guessing myself; I keep killing my impulse. I keep telling myself this is what I want! I want HIM! But what the fuck do I know about what i need? I haven’t been single in 5 years. I can barely recognize myself. There’s so much self-discovery to do. I had no business trying so hard to be with someone, when i didn’t even give myself the chance to consider what it meant to be alone.

I was absolutely in need of time with myself. Time for myself. time alone. alone. alone. alone. alone.

I understood this when I spent the following summer in Vermont. off grid. in frequent solitude. and the fellowship of a beautiful few.

I nearly forgot it when i came back from Vermont, and started trying to be with That Person. Dare i admit i became desperate? I opened myself wide open to you, in such haste, that I nearly hallowed myself of all my hard-earned and beloved sacred energy to make any kind of space i could so that you would fit. so that i could maybe possibly somehow someway make it fit, make it work. Obvious spoiler: it didn’t work.

When i was trying to make it work, i was someone different. My best friend had never seen me in such a state: so in love with someone, and so unable to get a grip on myself. Sitting across from me, or soothing me on the other end of the phone, she is shocked to witness me so paralyzed, so fearful, so insecure. She wants the best for me and i don’t care, i just want him. As I run this back through my memory, I am shocked too. I’m a little embarrassed but mostly deeply empathetic towards myself then: i needed to be alone, but i couldn’t let go. Whatever i was trying to have…Whatever i was holding onto…was suffocating my life. And I insisted on being choked and being fine.

How did this become the cliff notes to my love life? I want to share with you the magnitude of this person’s affect on my heart, so that when i say: I HAVE TO SEE HIM AGAIN FOR THIS FESTIVAL

you understand

the

storm

resurging

in a place i thought was healing.

I was healing. I was letting go molecule by molecule. I was steaming off the memories layer by layer. I was cutting myself off from dangerous dwellings. I was doing my god. damn. best. to thoroughly leave this person in the past where this whole thing belongs.

Yet, The Bluest Eye is reviving for at least one more stretch in February. I’ve just come back from Davis (last night Sunday); we had our first full meeting and puppet rehearsal. This is to say, i saw the guy, in the flesh, and spent the whole week prior bracing myself for it. In the spirit of self-effacing honesty: i nearly didn’t go. But i decided it is a test of strength and it is a test of independence and it is allowing my craziness to overcome my insecurities. I was going to be in a room with this guy for 5 hours and dig my nails into myself, stay loyal to myself, and be Who I am unyieldingly. I felt really good about it when i left. I proved to myself that i could be the open and loving person i am even if the guy wrenching my heart is 5 feet away. 

Being so distracted and confused by the pain and longing that i missed the opportunities to exchange energy with the rest of the room around me would have been my biggest regret. 

As i said, i left feeling quite good, proud, and at peace with my vulnerabilities.

Maybe i’m not 100% recovered, but i’m clearly, very clearly, in the THICK of recoverING, and i am truly growing, and moving forward step by step by step. 

In Davis, my good friend tells me: “if it’s not good for you, it’s not love”. Before I left for Davis, my best friend reminded me: “you’re trying too hard to fill in the blanks.” I’ve learned: “You can’t give what you can’t give.” (More familiar is the saying: you can’t give what you don’t have.)

To be completely honest, this beautiful show getting this beautiful chance at national recognition has ripped open such deep, old, ill-healing wounds in my heart. with a GIANT sigh, i am re-facing re-surfacing emotional ghosts, hurled back into combatting some very volatile mood-swinging emotional crises. In my personal journal this week i worked up a motherfkn STORM. My journal may as well be dripping from all the gel pen.

and meanwhile, my tinyletter’s been blank blank blank blank empty dusty blank………… and somehow, addressing my lack of tinyletter-ing, has revealed a very private part of my life. it is true: i was very busy private journaling, i didn’t have steam to write for the blog.

now i feel kind of sick this is the story for this week, i mean this is what came out, but this is all “VERY PERSONAL TERRITORY KEEP OUT”’. it’s honestly sort of unfortunate that this week’s letter has be to about my love life.

well there we go anyway.

Wow, Well, To leave on a more caustic, casual note~

THOUGHTS I KEEP COMING ACROSS AS I USE HINGE............

so many Del Playa/Newport, suit wearing, beer touting, IM ON A BOAT white bro motherfuckers (this is the first demographic i kept seeing on my recommended. happy to say hard passing each and every one of them has changed the algorithm).

why tf is pineapple on pizza such a hot topic lmao

BUT WHAT’S THEIR ENERGYYYYYYYYYY LIKE??????!!!!!!

But how old are these pictures man *scrutinizing any available time stamps*

Oh, :O HE’S………not the cute one in the pic………….

Pictures say 33 but profile age says 23, iooonnooooo sir

weird flex weird flex weird flex

if you think they’re 20 miles away from you, always add 20 more…………..

am i having an averse reaction to your profile because you remind me of someone? ~_~

am i really attracted to your profile because you remind me of someone? ~_~

ARE THESE SHENANIGANS THE BEST USE OF MY TIME???????????

It seems this is what comes out of me when I have nothing prepared to write about...

Nothing like rashly revealing too much info to motivate a better, more though-out next week. LOL. 

wish me luck, and see you then.

* * *

i’ve committed to being vulnerable in writing every week. if u want it straight shot to your inbox: https://tinyletter.com/rose-artrat

previous letter:  #5.) God Bless a Good Mess

for random thoughts, random questions //

http://monolid-monologues.tumblr.com/ask