#its just like. feeling very trapped in a bad situation for prolonged amounts of time is bad?

[moranmagic]

GDS3 Essays

I didn’t think I would do this yet but everyone else is so why not. I’ve also already written a post script about what I think I did well and where I missed the mark that you can read here.

1. Introduce yourself and explain why you are a good fit for this internship. 273 words

My name is William Moran and I've been playing and thinking about games my entire life. I graduated from Ohio State University with a bachelor's degree in English and currently operate a Jimmy John's store as the general manager.

I tackle problems with a critical eye and mind—I want to analyze how the details contribute to the greater picture. What's our objective and how do the small things we do along the way affect our ability to reach it? I trained at this in college as I looked at how all parts of a text are structured in order to convey and create meaning. I use this at Jimmy John's as I set short term and long term goals and work with my team in order to make those dreams our reality. I've observed and toyed with these interactions through games played since I was a child. I understand that changing any aspect of a game will change how it plays and I care about finding out how to make changes that will make games better.

I value gaming for the unique and entertaining experience it is, the way it creates a story, and how that brings people together. Games allow us to share a positive experience, sometimes with complete strangers. Creating that experience, giving people opportunities to make meaning and build stories with each other through game play, is the more important thing I feel a game can do.

If I am selected for this internship, I will devote myself to ensuring that Magic continues to be the incredible success that brings people together by creating fun new experiences for them.

2. An evergreen mechanic is a keyword mechanic that shows up in (almost) every set. If you had to make an existing keyword mechanic evergreen, which one would you choose and why? 343 words

Skulk was considered by R&D as an evergreen mechanic contender and I know a lot of players also thought it could be a shared mechanic for blue and black. It turns out the design space for skulk isn't very big. More than that, my assessment of the mechanic is that it's an evasion mechanic and putting it in blue and black doesn't make sense—those two colors already have the most evasion in the game and don't need more. I also think they want a shared mechanic that cares about combat between creatures. But I'm not talking about a shared mechanic for blue and black here. I'm talking about how I believe skulk could be useful to a different color.

Green's only evasion mechanic is trample. While green does get the odd Charging Badger and other small creatures with trample, it makes the most sense on large creatures that have more power to trample over blockers. Green lacks an evasion mechanic that makes sense for when its smaller creatures need a way to get through. What can we do there?

I propose skulk. I would suggest using it on small green creatures for evasion. Primary in green, then secondary but very sparingly used in blue and black only if their gluttony of other evasion mechanics really don't make sense for a design. Skulk does have limited design space and while I think green can make uniquely good use of it, my suggestion can't change that limit. Shifting it to green at least puts it in a color that has yet to see it and without it being a block mechanic it can be used more sparingly here. Some prior cards could even be made as color shifted variants in green (such as a creature with skulk and deathtouch).

Green's Giant Growth effects make pumping a skulking creature after blocks are (not) declared more of a reality. Now my 2/2 skulking bear might actually be five damage to the face if my opponent chooses not to trade with their own small utility creature.

3. If you had to remove evergreen status from a keyword mechanic that is currently evergreen, which one would you remove and why? 300 words

For me there is a hands down best answer that no other current evergreen keywords can even compete with: defender. I'd drop it.

Defender is a down side mechanic that prohibits a creature that has the mechanic from attacking. By the very nature of the mechanic, you can't use it a lot in set design. Defenders just sit there and eat damage without being able to progress the game toward an end and this simply prolong the game often without advancing the board state in a meaningful way. On the relatively few cards that use defender it would be no issue simply to write out this creature “can't attack.”

The bulk of defender designs can be classified as one of two types. The first type is 0/N creatures where they have zero power and some amount of toughness. With the ability to buff these cheaply and since they are costed knowing they can't attack, these designs absolutely need “can't attack” rules. But since you don't typically put a bulk of game play focus and rules text on a literal wall—sitting there blunting attacks doesn't make for exciting games—writing out the defender rules text on these cards won't greatly distract from other important elements.

The second type is a group of creatures designed around the idea they they lose defender. Hightide Hermit is the latest of these designs. By ditching defender and rewording he ability that causes it to be able to attack as if it didn't have defender, you can actually drop a line of rules text and the design looks cleaner to me overall. I'd word it as “Hightide Hermit can't attack unless you pay EE.” It parallels Propaganda effects and I'd really want to consider this wording even in a world where defender lives on at evergreen status.

4. You’re going to teach Magic to a stranger. What’s your strategy to have the best possible outcome? 348 words

First, let's define the best possible outcome so we know what we're hoping for: the stranger should walk away wanting to play more Magic. The best way we can get that result is for them to have fun.

When teaching a game, especially Magic, it's easy to get bogged down in the trap of explaining too much of the rules up front. Having taught a few people how to play Magic, my preferred method is to play first and explain as we go. I'll grab two of the new Planeswalker decks and give a brief hook about what they'll be doing: “You're an evil dragon mastermind and you want to make my life as miserable as possible!” Then we draw seven cards.

I like to play the very first game with our hands revealed. This lets me advise them about what to play—”Start with a land. Put it on the table in front of you.”—and if they have questions they can point to a card and ask me without feeling they're showing me information they should keep hidden. “Now you use that land to cast a spell. Turn it sideways to show you used it this turn.” Ideally they're casting a creature and soon swinging with it to attack me. Their first Magic experience is that they're really playing and I've explained the bare essentials like how lands match up with the colors of mana on costs.

They don't hear about a hundred different rules and specific game terms that would distract and overwhelm them. Perhaps most importantly, they see a narrative develop. Mighty wizards build up their forces by casting spells and increasing their power supply until one of them can tip the odds in their favor and seize the day.

I want them to enjoy the world and story of Magic they get a glimpse of through the cards. I want them to have fun trying to beat me in the game. If I can accomplish those two things then I know the answer to “Do you want to play again?” will be an emphatic “YES!”

5. What’s Magic’s greatest strength and why? 277 words

Without a doubt the best thing Magic has going for it is that game after game it still remains immensely fun. It does this by immersing the player in so many ways; the art looks cool, it's a social experience, it provides a unique challenge, there are so many ways to play it, and every game you play feels fresh and engaging.

I picked up the game back around 2006 because it looked interesting. I kept playing it because I was having fun even though I wasn't really sure my friends and I were playing it correctly. New players will come into the game out of curiosity, or because their friends play it, or because they found a sibling;s old cards in a shoebox. They'll stick with it only because they have fun with it. If they don't have fun then they'll put it down and look for something entertaining.

Players keep playing Magic because it's fun. Maybe it's the lore, or grinding tournaments, or obscure rules interactions that enable silly combos, or just spending time with friends playing a game. Whatever it is, they've found the parts of Magic that are the most fun for them. If those parts stop being fun, it's only a matter of time before they ask themselves how much longer they should indulge a hobby that stopped being as entertaining to them.

One immensely difficult aspect to continuing Magic's success is determining how all these different players, from the beginner to the veteran, enjoy the game and ensuring there's enough of that in the products released each your that they all remain happy and excited about what Magic is doing.

6. What’s Magic’s greatest weakness and why? 252 words

The answer's simple; complexity. Magic is so so so complex. It's hard to learn and harder to master. That's a big barrier to learning the game and even a barrier to continuing the game—even pros have limits as to how much complexity they can handle.

Now complexity isn't all bad. It's also a strength of Magic. The game wouldn't be as rich and rewarding as it is if it wasn't also complicated. But the trick is focusing that complexity so that there's a payoff for putting up with it. I shouldn't finish a game of Magic and feel like I just did taxes, but there can be some mentally taxing situations within the game. There can be difficult things to learn and rules to be aware of.

Ideally the complexity is fun. Tracking Storm count is just tedious bookkeeping except I know the payoff is coming and that it's me one shotting you with a Tendrils when that number gets high enough. That's the secret to making complexity work for the game; always point it toward a fun result. If the player knows a payoff is coming then the act of getting there becomes less tedious and even becomes a source of enjoyment.

The players trust that if they're doing something then there will be a reward for it. There HAS to be a reward. Point them in a direction and have it fizzle out after they've spent time and effort getting there and that's when complexity is really Magic's bane.

7. What Magic mechanic most deserves a second chance (aka which had the worst first introduction compared to its potential)? 257 words

Cipher is solid as an idea but it was executed poorly. What it did well is promise free copies of spells and require players to attack to get them. What it did poorly is hamstring development since the potential copies were unlimited, have limited design space, and use wonky wording (encode?).

I want a mechanic that still delivers free copies of spells and encourages attacking, but which can be developed better—and I'm not going to use “encode” to accomplish it, just words already commonly used in Magic. I'm calling the mechanic Spellstrike—you strike your opponent and you get spells. Think of it as Rebound meets Cipher. I'd word the reminder text something like “If you cast this from your hand, exile it on a creature you control as it resolves instead of putting it into your graveyard. After this turn, when that creature attacks, you may cast this card from exile without paying its mana cost.” This successfully navigates the failures of cipher while monopolizing its best aspects.

Because the second cast can only ever happen one time, the initial payment for the spell can almost certainly be less than what we saw for cipher (I would hope spellstrike doesn't ask 2UB for a 1/1 with flying). If triggering upon attack proved too powerful, it could be adjusted to be a combat damage to an opponent trigger as well, but my hope is that this successfully expands the design space since the mechanic now works as a combat trick and thus on instants as well as sorceries.

8. Of all the Magic expansions that you’ve played with, pick your favorite and then explain the biggest problem with it. 292 words

Eldritch Moon cranked the dial on Eldrazi to 11 when some people had had enough of them at 10. I'm not one of those people. I love Eldrazi and Shadows Over Innistrad block was such a unique blend of Emrakul and Innistrad that I fell madly in love (pun intended). That block, and Eldritch Moon specifically, is some of the best Magic I've ever experienced—from limited to constructed to the art, story, and individual cards, it all rocked! Which makes it a real shame that it came right after Battle for Zendikar block and part of the audience was burnt out on Eldrazi.

BFZ block particularly agitated people with some mechanical choices (devoid for one) that soured peoples' opinions of Eldrazi. Add into that Eldrazi are already contentious because of their specific game play previously (battle cruiser Magic and annihilator) and creatively because they look unsettling and destroy your favorite plane. People were ready to move on from Eldrazi after BFZ block and there was no better way than with the best plane ever, Innistrad. With no downtime between Elrazi catastrophes, instead the perception was that these horrors went on to destroy that plane in irreparable ways.

The lesson to take from this is to be aware of how a player's perception of “it's the same thing all over again” can link disparate mechanical elements because they share some important creative similarities. The Eldrazi of SOI block and incredibly different from the Eldrazi of BFZ block. Melding Eldrazi with horror was a spectacular move. But since the block was preceded by an Eldrazi block, all four sets were viewed almost as one mega block  with shared failings when SOI block would have been better appreciated had there been some downtime between them.

9. Of all the Magic expansions that you’ve played with, pick your least favorite and then explain the best part about it. 297 words

Aether Revolts, especially draft, didn't transform the format substantially. It's not that it was bad, just that if I'm going to draft Kaladesh block, I'd rather draft triple Kaladesh instead of Kaladesh and something that feels like the set Kaladesh but isn't. What did Aether Revolt do best? Revolt!

How appropriate that the keyword mechanic that shares its name with part of the title of the set, revolt, was so dang good. I looked at revolt and though, “Seems like a remake of morbid.” And it is in part, sure. A creature dying will trigger revolt. But it's so different from morbid that it stands on its own in ways I wouldn't have guessed at first. Bouncing something back to your hand, exiling or flickering something, they all trigger revolt. I can still throw a little 1/1 against my opponent and see if they'll kill it. But I can also sac my Evolving Wilds. Let's talk about that for a moment because it highlights one of the best aspects of revolt and how it's definitely not just a morbid clone.

Typical game play with Evolving Wilds is to play it and then crack it on your opponent's next end step to search out your land, withholding the information of which land you want as long as possible while still getting it untapped to use on your next turn. But what if you need revolt active? Perhaps the best play now is to hold onto my Evolvng Wilds so I can activate revolt whenever I need to. I need to assess if the mana and fixing is more important than the revolt boost.

Any mechanic that can make me reassess a basic aspect of the game that I usually take for granted is doing some really good work.

10. You have the ability to change any one thing about Magic. What do you change and why? 282 words

I would abolish the legendary rule and make legendary simple a marker with no rules baggage.

Legendary is a negative mechanic in the rules sense—you can only control one copy of a legendary something. If you put four copies of of a legend in your deck then most of the time drawing multiple copies of that leaves you with dead cards in your hand. But on the flip side, legendary cards are usually cool and powerful cards that players will want to play even more than normal. They aren't often so powerful that a player needs to be limited to only controlling one copy at a time and the few times that is true, rules text on the specific card that recreates the legendary rule in some manner would do the trick.

Legendary creatures are things players want to play and they will be better able to play them if they can put four copies in their decks without being penalized for it with dead draws of what would otherwise be an awesome draw. Furthermore, ditching the legend rules means Magic is free to make anything a legend if it feels legendary. Why would you want to do that? Commander is such a popular format that it's snagged a dedicated yearly product slot. The best way to support that format is by printing more legendary creatures and being free to make creatures legendary especially when they will encourage a new deck archetypes in the format. If legendary is only used as a marker for cool unique creatures without rules baggage then, once again, you're free to make anything a legend if it feels legendary. Commander players around the globe will rejoice.

[lil-lycanthropy]

Belong

Words: 5,250 (or something like that)

Parings: None??? This can be read as platonic or romantic idc

Warnings: Angst, Dissociation, Anxiety/Panic Attacks, Nightmares, Flashbacks, slight Blood (nothing gory really), slight Burns (once again, not really bad or anything), Self-Loathing, Negative Thoughts, I think that’s it?

Summary: Everyone’s trying to accept Parker, and Parker is trying hard to be accepted. But the fact of the matter is, he traumatized the sides and they’re not coping well.

Notes: This is for @parkersanders​ as my SAD entry. It’s late (I’m so sorry) because I’m a depressed procrastinator who has to edit things 434753947 times and rewrite all the chapters. Also sorry it’s so long I have no self control, and go big or go home so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Anyway, hope you like it! I’m in love with your verse and hope you have a happy birthday!

Disclaimer: The fic is based on @parkersanders​‘s fic Silence and Duality (read here), and I use one quote from it in here somewhere, I think in the fourth part? Yeah. Enjoy.

Roman was lounging on the couch when it happened.

Everything was fine, until he thought about Parker. The new living situation wasn’t as fear-mongering as he thought it would be, yet there were still tensions. They were all still slightly worried as Parker settled in, but were trying to hold it together so they wouldn’t trigger anything.

Parker was...interesting, to say in the least. With all their history, it was surreal with him back in their lives now. Dealing with his absence for two decades to having him be sleeping next door felt unreal. It would have been unimaginable even a couple weeks ago, and yet that was their reality now.

Then there was the whole drama of Parker escaping his prison, only to put the other through the same hell he experienced—if only for a much shorter time span. Usually Roman was more than okay with drama, but the things that happened in there, only for Virgil to be the one to save him. It left him feeling very defeated in a way he hadn’t ever been before. The shame, the fear...

Suddenly, Roman’s breath started coming in short pants and he could no longer feel the couch beneath him, the pillow under his head, or the clothes he was wearing. He couldn’t feel...anything.

It was like he was having an out-of-body experience, except that didn’t make sense, because as facets of Thomas personality, they were not capable of such things.

He went completely limp on the couch, not having the strength or mental presence to hold his body upright anymore. Focusing on one thing became impossible, his eyes darting back and forth without taking in any information. Roman didn’t know what was happening.

Roman...

Was that even his name? He couldn’t remember. Why did he even have to have a name? It’s not like he even existed...

Roman continued thinking everything and nothing at once, thoughts crossing his mind so quickly, little bits of nonsense that meant nothing.

After a time, Logan walked into the scene—the Prince, sitting on the couch, limp except for the shallow rise and fall of his chest and his eyes flashing a mile a minute.

“Roman?” Logan said, rushing over and kneeling down.

Roman glanced over, barely acknowledging the presence of the other side. “I-I don’t—”

Logan took a breath to steel his nerves. “May I touch you?”

Roman looked confused, then gave a jerk of his head that passed as a nod. Crouching down, Logan took one of the Prince’s hands and placed it on his chest. “Okay, we’re going to go through some grounding exercises to get you feeling calmer. Can you breathe in, as deep as you can?”

A shuddering breath, then a slower exhale.

“Good. Now, repeat.”

They carried on until Roman was breathing fairly regularly, but he was still far from his normal rambunctious self. “Roman, could you do me a favour?” Another nod. “Can you name five things you can see?”

The Prince looked anxiously around the room. “Um, you, the-the TV, the, uh, carpet, table, and-and the blinds over the window.”

“Four things you can feel, now.”

“Your h-hand, my shirt, the couch, and...exhaustion.”

Logan cracked a smile. “Yes, that I can imagine.”

They went through the grounding exercise until Roman was sitting up and didn’t look quite so pale. Logan summoned a glass of water, which Roman chugged gratefully.

“I know I’m not the best at dealing with emotions, but I am curious—do you know what exactly triggered the attack?”

Roman put his head in his hands, mumbling something incoherent.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t catch that.”

Roman raised his head and said, “Parker.”

“What about Parker? I know our situation is going to take some getting used to, but what about that would cause something this bad?”

Hands now shaking again, Roman brushed back his hair. “I was thinking about, how, y’know, we did all this horrible stuff to him, and then he put us through all that when he got out, and it was terrifying. I’m not saying we didn’t deserve it, but, god—”

“Roman, please calm down. You’re rambling, and I know you well enough to recognize when it’s not coming from a place of stability. You’re right; we have done some unacceptable things in the past. We’re all guilty—”

“Virgil’s not.”

“Well, I’m not going to contradict that statement. However, we’re trying to make things right. As for what you faced in there—Parker preyed on our fears. All of us. But fears are often irrational, and even if they’re not, almost any problem can be solved in some way. As long as you remember that, your fears will have no power over you.”

Roman gave a slightly tearful nod, trying to hide the drops through a smile.

Across the room, hidden by shadows, another figure was also trying to hide his tears. Not with a smile, though—with the sleeves of a faded hoodie and the long edges of his sandy hair.

Parker sunk out, retreating back to his room. Just another day where he was to blame.

There was no shortage of those.

A crash broke the relative silence in the mindscape kitchen as Logan dropped the coffee pot, spilling its contents all over the floor.

It was still early—only 9:00, still an hour before regular scheduled time to go to bed—but Thomas had once again decided to procrastinate on a video, so it was likely they both were going to be awake for awhile yet (Roman, too—no video could exist without his input).

Prolonging the inevitable was fruitless, so Logan decided he may as well start early and get some heavily-caffeinated bean water into his system to give him the energy he would require to get through the night.

Making a pot of coffee was pretty much second nature to all the sides by now. With the amount of times Thomas stayed up late, they had all gotten used to rapid-heart rate, shaky-hands, slightly-nauseated feeling. While drinking coffee in the mindscape was more of a habit than actually useful, they all still did it whenever Thomas would be up late. It was really the only way they would function (except Patton, who preferred hot chocolate and was bubbly around the clock).

However, sometimes things go wrong. Logan was distracted, thinking about both the video and Roman. He had been better since his his dissociative episode three days ago, but it had still bothered the analytical side. He was thinking about how Roman’s own mental state might affect the quality of the video (along with the worry for his friend, not that he would admit that) when he dropped the full pot of coffee, shattering it all over the kitchen tile.

As the coffee flooded the floor, they soaked Logan’s fuzzy socks (he was going for comfort rather than appearance. Just this once. One-time thing. Definitely). It began burning his feet, but worse than that was how Logan’s breath stopped.

Being a side meant not having to shower or bathe. It meant not having to go swimming or step in puddles or going in the rain. Being a side meant that dealing with water was a complete rarity, unless one enjoyed baths for leisure (like Virgil sometimes did. Roman had found that out one day, promised to keep it secret, then proceeded to tell Logan, Patton, and Thomas about Anxiety’s guilty pleasure). The last time Logan had been in water was...

The flashback was the only thing occupying his vision. He could vaguely take in his surroundings, but his immediate thoughts were get out you’re going to drown if you do not find a way to GET OUT YOU’RE GOING TO DROWN—

Gasping for breath was a painful affair as Logan forced his lungs to take in oxygen. He wouldn’t be able to escape unless he could think rationally and come up with a solution, but no matter where he stepped, water squelched between his toes and he knew he was still in danger.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure wearing loose clothing, a hood draped over its head. His mind immediately went to Death.

As he tried to get away, his back hit something solid. He slid down, landing in the puddle on the ground.

A wall, it’s a wall, you’re trapped and you’re going to drown and now you’re cornered—

“Logan? Logan! Can you hear me, kiddo?”

Yes, I can hear you. Who are you, though?

“Are you okay? Logan?”

Please, stop pestering me with questions. I need to think of how to escape this torturous flood.

“We’re gonna go to the couch now, okay, buddy?”

He was abruptly pulled upright, his one arm draped over someone’s shoulder. Shuffling forward, he eventually dropped onto something soft—and dry.

Dry? Soft? No water, no flooding, no walls, what—?

“Can you hear me, Lo?”

Logan looked over to see a gentle face, with worried eyes peering behind a thick pair of glasses.

“Pat-Patton?”

“Yep, I’m here.”

Logan leaned forward, placing his head in his hands. He was slowly coming back to reality, but everything still felt wrong. He was the logical side! He wasn’t supposed to succumb to irrational fears! A flashback, of all things...

But it felt so real.

“I thought I was back...in the place, the one where Parker put me when he was getting out of his own prison...”

Patton’s brow furrowed, and he placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Do you wanna talk about it? Now, I know you don’t like all this ‘emotional crap’ stuff, but I’m always here for you. As your dad.”

A small smile crept out against Logan’s will. “You’re not my dad. And no, I don’t need to talk about anything. It’s stupid.”

“Kiddo, it’s not stupid. I know you think you have to be 100%, all the time, but all of us know you have emotions. Especially me. I know you, Lo.”

Logan shook his head. “I dropped the coffee pot—oh no, it probably made a mess, I should go—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, it’s fine, we’ll get it later. No use crying over spilled milk—er, coffee, right?”

At that moment, Logan realized how much his feet hurt. “I think it burned me, and I need to go remedy that now.”

“No, let me! Be back in a jiffy!”

Someone else suddenly appeared in Logan’s line of vision.

Patton spoke up. “Oh, Parker’s here, too,” he said as he raced up the stairs

Parker looked distraught, then pulled off the hood on his dark sweater. “I’m-I’m sorry. I’ll leave now.”

Logan nodded mutely, regretting opening up and being so vulnerable, not only in front of Patton, but Parker, too (though inadvertently). He felt slightly remorseful about having Parker hear what he’d said, but he was still trying to pick up the pieces.

Parker sunk out, leaving Logan alone for only a moment before Patton popped up with a first aid kit. While he could’ve easily summoned one on his own, Patton liked to have some realism in the mindscape. Said it “made things interesting”.

He flipped the top open, bandaids spilling all over the couch. “Nice socks,” Patton said, before shimmying them off.

Logan’s feet were bright pink. Patton looked them over, but it was all superficial. He slathered on some aloe vera, and put Logan’s socks back on.

“That was one of the most unpleasant things I have ever experienced.”

“Are you talking about my first aid skills, Lo?”

“Of course. But putting my socks back on after? That was low.”

“-gan.”

“Stop.”

---

Parker reappeared back in his own room, which was still almost blank, and he threw himself on his bed. Was he being selfish, making Logic’s breakdown all about him? Of course he was. Logic was the one struggling right now, all because of him.

Guilt washed over him. Even Logic was crumbling because Parker had decided revenge was better than compromise or forgiveness. At the time, he had wanted to break them, but now...

Parker knew what he did was wrong. He wished for some way to undo all the damage.

But what’s done is done. He just has to keep trying.

A couple days later, Patton was laying in bed, looking up at the fairy lights on his ceiling. The little patterns resembled stars, which usually relaxed him. He had designed his room entirely for comfort. Patton was a homebody, and his room reflected that.

However, tonight was different. His mind was replaying Logan’s little breakdown on the kitchen floor. He’d said it was a flashback.

“Triggered by dropping the coffee and getting liquid all over my feet. Roman also might’ve helped with the intensity—he had some trouble a few days ago. My best guess is dissociation. I suppose that was on my mind, distracting my focus.”

That prospect was terrifying. The most logical, grounded side falling victim to the mind’s whims? What chance did the rest of them have?

The lights dimmed as he closed his eyes, falling into an uneasy slumber.

---

Several hours later, Parker awoke to screaming coming from down the hall.

Even with Anxiety, Thomas was a pretty chill guy. Screaming in pure terror was not a very common thing heard around the mindscape, especially not this late at night.

Heart racing, Parker leapt out of bed and threw open his door.

Morality. It was coming from Morality’s room.

Parker burst in, catching sight of Morality thrashing about wildly on the bed, tears streaming down his face from his scrunched-up eyes.

“Morality, wake up!”

Parker rushed over and began desperately shaking Morality’s shoulder. “It’s just-it’s just a dream!” Tears began to flow from his own eyes.

The Heart’s eyes flew open, and he gasped in horror, shoving Parker away with a choked gasp.

Virgil appeared behind them, pushing past Parker in an urgent, but not unkind way, and gathered Patton in his arms. Usually, he was vehemently against physical contact, but he couldn’t leave Patton like that. The moral side needed comfort, and judging from how clingy—er, loving, he always was, it was safe to assume physical contact was what he needed at the moment.

Patton clung onto Virgil, bunching up the darker trait’s shirt in his hands and sobbing into his shoulder. Virgil tentatively wrapped his arms around Patton while Parker stood off to the side, looking distraught.

“Um, I got this...I think. Can you, uh, make sure Logan and Roman are still asleep? I don’t want to overwhelm Pat right now.”

Parker left gracelessly, stumbling into the doorframe on his way out.

“Hey, Parker?”

The side reappeared at the door.

“Thank you, for trying to help him.”

Parker gave a meek nod, then disappeared from view.

Virgil turned his attention back to Patton. His tears were still coming, but his breaths were at least slowing down. “I’m s-so sorry you have to see me like this, kiddo...”

“No, it’s fine. I mean, you’ve seen me during some pretty rough times, and you’ve always helped me through it. Least I can do is return the favour, y’know?”

Patton sat back up, and Virgil summoned a glass of water. He handed to Patton, who drained half the glass in one go. “Thanks, Verge.”

Virgil gulped a little, then nodded. “So, what happened? Was it, like...a nightmare?”

“Yeah,” Patton said softly after a beat of silence.

Nightmares were nothing new to Virgil. Heck, Patton knew that. Ever since he became more comfortable with the other sides, he had still really only opened up to Patton about the nightmares. He was sure Logan and Roman knew about them, but they never brought it up. But Pat said his door was always open for Virgil, any time. So Virgil had taken to going to Patton for comfort after night terrors.

Virgil leaned back, waiting to see if Pat would open up or not. Oftentimes, all Virgil wanted was some comforting after a nightmare without having to relive it. He wondered if Patton was the same.

Eventually, Pat sighed and looked up. “It was about Parker.”

Virgil’s interest was immediately piqued. “Parker?”

“Well, not Parker exactly,” Patton rushed to clarify. “Just...going through that prison again, and the others’, too. Like a mix of the nightmares Parker made for all of us.  Logan and Roman told me about what they went though, so it was like a...mega-terror-extravaganza thing. I can’t really figure out why theirs were in there, I don’t exactly have the same fears as them or anything.”

“It’s because you’re an empath, Dad.”

Patton smiled at him. “Thanks, son.”

“I’m notcha son,” Virgil said, hiding a smirk behind his hand.

“Ok, whatever you say.”

The tension was broken, and even though Patton still had drying tear tracks on his face, the twinkle that was usually in his eye had returned.

But not everyone could recover so easily from emotional turmoil.

Stupid. You should’ve done better. Helping people is easy when you’re a good person, which is why you’re still struggling with it. You only ever bring bad things to the table. What’s even the point in trying to help if everyone’s just trying to push you away?

Parker curled up as his mind realized how hopeless he was. No matter how hard he tried, he would never measure up to the other sides. That’s why they locked him away in the first place, wasn’t it? He contributed nothing. Even Anxiety had a purpose, to keep Thomas safe from harm. Thomas definitely didn’t need another side helping with that.

What exactly was Parker’s purpose now? How could he make it up to the other sides and prove he belonged?

Virgil was having a bad day.

This in itself wasn’t unusual. With him being the embodiment of anxiety, he was always feeling as if his emotions were heightened in a negative way—which is why he was almost always on edge. Then there was the messed up sleep schedule, unhealthy eating habits (whether it was a “physical” feeling or just a placebo effect, the sides all felt happiest when they stuck with somewhat healthy eating, along with cookies where Patton’s involved), and a reliance on caffeine.

He was not exactly a role model regarding self care.

Since a few months ago, after they did “Accepting Anxiety,” he did feel like he belonged with the group more. They made an effort to make him feel welcome, and it did help.

However, that didn’t mean Virgil never had issues anymore.

Today was one of the days his “issues” were making themselves known. He hadn’t slept in over 36 hours, and in that time, had been drinking coffee almost non-stop. Even his body, ever used to being heavily caffeinated, was struggling. His pulse was racing and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

The worst was that Virgil’s mind refused to stay focused, and turned to negative or intrusive thoughts rather than the task at hand. He had been flitting around all day as a result of the caffeine, but he still felt completely drained.

He remembered how Patton would cook or bake while stressed, as a way to take his mind off things.

And that’s how Virgil ended up standing at the counter, trying to slice up a red bell pepper with a giant santoku knife for his homemade ratatouille (alright, yes, he was thinking of the movie the entire time).

But shaky hands and large knives don’t mix. One wrong move, one second of attention being elsewhere, is all it took for Virgil to miss the pepper and instead slice straight into his thumb.

Blood began to flow out of the wound, dripping onto the counter. Virgil stared at it, fixated on the deep red colour.

He looked like Thomas, in a demonic sort of way. His hair was dark, yet paler than when they were young. His skin was tinted blue and the shadows danced around him like a hazy mirage. His nails were long and black like they belonged on a monster’s hand, not his. His eyes were the scariest: black where the whites were supposed to be, the pupils a deep red instead of black.

The same crimson colour that currently flooded out of Virgil’s hand.

Panic overtook him, spiralling him into the all-too-familiar anxiety attack. This one was worse than any he had ever experienced. Along with the rapid heart rate, the growing pressure on his chest, and his throat closing up, he began to feel lightheaded at the sight of the blood.

The red that looked so much like Parker’s eyes when they first met again after fifteen years...

Tears pricked at his eyes, and every time he tried to catch his breath, it was knocked out of him again as if he had been punched. He collapsed to the floor, wheezing, desperately trying to breathe. When he couldn’t, that just made him more distressed.

It was a never-ending cycle when he got like this. Alone, Virgil was powerless to stop it. His breathing would become more useless until he passed out and his body reset itself. Which wouldn’t be so bad, except when his attacks were that severe, it usually incapacitated him for days while he tried to recover.

Passing out never did seem like a good option in these times of distress. His primordial reaction was to get out of the situation, which would make sense except he couldn’t move, he couldn’t escape the situation, he was helpless on the ground. Thoughts of death always crossed his mind because he couldn’t breathe...

A slight whimper came out against his will, using up what little oxygen he had left. He was truly, undeniably going to die like this.

“Anxiety, please, breathe!”

A voice. A voice belonging to a person. Someone familiar, maybe.

Virgil turned over and was greeted with the face of Parker.

Despite Parker’s appearance being drastically different than when they first saw him a few weeks ago, it was still him. And at that moment, him was a threat.

Rather than hyperventilating, Virgil’s breathing screeched to a dead halt. A tiny part was saying Parker’s fine, Parker’s safe, Parker’s changed for the better, the larger, instinctive part was screaming danger. Absolute danger.

“No, no, no, no, no, please breathe, don’t stop, don’t—”

“What’s happening?” a new voice boomed.

“He—he—”

“What did you do to him?! Never mind, just get out and let me deal with this!”

A face appeared in Virgil’s line of vision, close to the ground. “Verge, bud, I’m gonna wrap this towel around your hand and I need you to take some deep breaths. What’s that little pattern you do? 4-6-8?”

Virgil jerked his hand away as...Roman? Roman bundled up Virgil’s hand, holding the towel in place.

“Sorry, but I need to stop the bleeding, and...Ah! 4-7-8! We’re gonna do that, okay, Finding Emo? Copy me; in for four...”

Roman counted as he took an exaggerated breath, and Virgil followed, choking a bit at four.

“Good, Verge, now hold,” Roman said, silently counting.

“And out.”

They repeated it several more times, and Virgil slowly sat up. He clutched his hand with the towel still on it close to his chest, blood soaking through the fabric.

With a flourish of Roman’s hand, a first aid box appeared next to the pair. Roman popped it open, pulling out some antiseptic, gauze, a butterfly bandage, and the medical tape.

He held out his hand, and Virgil hesitantly placed his own in it.

Roman got to work, applying some antiseptic and the butterfly bandage to hold the edges together. He wrapped it in gauze and finished by taping the edges down.

As he was putting everything back in the kit, Virgil spoke up for the first time.

“You shouldn’t have yelled at him.”

“Who?”

“It’s ‘whom’, and—”

“Ok, I’m going to have to ask you to stop hanging around Logan so much.”

“Anyway. Parker. You shouldn’t have yelled at him. He didn’t do anything wrong; he just wanted to help.”

The Prince huffed out a sigh. “Yeah, I know. I’ll go apologize to him in a bit.”

Looking displeased, but too tired to argue, Virgil nodded his assent.

After being shoved out of the kitchen, Parker had sprinted up the stairs back to his room. His knees buckled and he pitched forward onto his bed, his weak resolve crumbling. Great, heaving sobs made their way out, his chest clenching painfully.

Everyone hated him. He made everything worse, and everyone was suffering because of his actions.

The grief was too overwhelming, and Parker didn’t know what to do. His body shut down, and he fell into a deep sleep.

---

As soon as he was unconscious, Parker’s mind flashed back to all the damage he’d inflicted.

Not only on the other sides, but his host, too. He had almost gotten Thomas killed because he couldn’t control his fear. Then, after escaping his prison, forced him to go though those horrible hallucinations when Thomas had done nothing wrong.

Pitting Creativity against an unbeatable enemy, making him think Virgil was in danger, coating the prison in blood.

Giving Logic a problem with an impossible solution, drowning him in cold water with no escape.

Putting Morality through emotional turmoil, which would be so much worse for the Heart, then falling for eternity.

And Virgil...

Virgil had stood up for him. He had refused to put up a wall, and the other sides had just thrown him in with Parker. Torturing him for five long years, going through unimaginable horrors. Virgil escaping, then having to go through that same hell again to rescue the other sides.

They all hated him now. His purpose, originally to protect Thomas and give him courage, was abolished. He had changed, going from Fear to Sadness.

In reality, he was a traumatized kid that didn’t know what he did wrong, so he was punished for it. His revenge for that had been petty and cruel.

No wonder they never wanted him around.

Parker awoke with a jolt, an unbearable pressure on his chest. He wasn’t breathing, he couldn’t breathe, he didn’t deserve to breathe.

In his mind, he was straddling the border between sleep and consciousness. Enough that he could see is surroundings, but not make sense of what was happening.

He couldn’t feel his arms, or his legs, and even the vice on his chest began to seem less important than before. It was like he was floating away from his body, back into the prison, reliving all the pain he had inflicted on himself and others. The hellish hallucinations swirled around him in his mind, feeding his panic.

It was as if he was still in a dream—no, a nightmare. He wanted to disappear, and he already felt like he was fading away, being stretched too far by regret.

A voice permeated his thoughts, but they sounded muffled for some reason.

“Parker, can I come in?”

He gave no answer. He could give no answer.

“I know you’re in there, I just wanted to, ah, apologize for my un-princely behaviour. If you need your space, I’ll go, but—”

Parker let out a gasp as he choked on air, he didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t think, and suddenly his door was being pushed open by the frantic hands of Creativity.

It was like Parker was watching things happen from an outside perspective. He could hear Creativity calling his name and shaking him, but he couldn’t respond.

“Parker, c’mon, stay with me here—Pat!”

Someone thumped down the hall, and Morality appeared at the door. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I walked in and he was like this!”

Tears poured out of Parker’s eyes and he was trembling even harder. His mouth open and closed like a fish, but nothing came out.

“Oh, crap, Parker, honey, can you hear me?” Patton grabbed one of Parker’s hands. “Can you squeeze my hand?”

Parker continued to heave, making no move to squeeze Patton’s hand.

“Shoot. Can you get Logan, please?”

Roman raced off, then returned with a slightly dishevelled Logan in tow. “What’s going on?”

Logan caught sight of Parker on the bed. “Oh dear. No, that’s not good.”

“What do we do?”

Suddenly, Virgil popped up at the door. “Geez, Princey, you were just supposed to say sorry to him, what could you have possibly done—”

He was cut off when he saw the situation. Parker was spasming in bed because of how hard his muscles were shaking, his face turning blue (due from lack of oxygen, not as an illusion), and he was barely breathing. The other sides were huddled around him, with Patton holding one of his hands.

“Guys, what the heck?” Anxiety said as he rushed over. “Parker, listen if you can; we’re gonna sit you up because, believe me, laying on your back makes it harder to breathe when you’re like this.”

Parker couldn’t respond, he still felt as if he was dying, and no one was trying to do anything to help. They were going to let him die.

Two pairs of hands gently hoisted him up so he was against the headboard of the bed. The pressure eased somewhat, but his body began falling forward.

“Verge—”

“I’ve got him,” said Patton.

The emotional side wormed his way in next to Parker and slipped an arm around his shoulders, holding him up. Morality’s thumb moved back and forth in mini circles, attempting to soothe Parker’s distress. Creativity grabbed one of Parker’s hands and squeezed it, trying to ground him. Logic did the same on the other side.

Slowly, Parker came back to himself, fresh tears spilling from his reddened eyes. He sobbed, utterly exhausted and full of loathing. He took his hands away and buried his head in them, his shoulders shaking with every cry. He mumbled something through the noise, then curled in even further.

“What was that?” Anxiety asked softly.

“I-I’m so sorry. F-for everything. I was h-horrible to you, to everyone, to Thomas,” he gasped out. “I’m sorry.”

Morality wrapped both arms around him. “We forgive you, kiddo. Always.” Logic and Creativity both nodded in agreement.

Anxiety grabbed both of Parker’s hands, gently pulling them away from his face. “Look at me.”

Parker glanced up, fear in his eyes.

Anxiety placed his hands on either side of Parker’s face, and brought their heads together. They rested for a minute as Parker continued to cry silently.

“We forgive you, alright? All of us. We’ve all made mistakes, we’ve all done crap we shouldn’t have. Hell, it was a mistake on these guys’ part to lock you away, and mine for not helping you get out when I did. It’s in the past, okay? And we’ll work things out. Got it?”

“Got it,” Parker sniffled.

“And we’ll always need you. You’re not unnecessary, you’re not evil, you’re not a burden. You’re you, and that’s all we could ever ask for.”

Parker began crying harder, and Anxiety placed a kiss on his forehead. The other four wrapped themselves around them, forming a cocoon of safety.

Creativity, Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Sadness.

Roman, Patton, Logan, Virgil, and Parker.

Wanted. Good. Loved. Safe.

Enough.

[shewritesyourwrong-blog]

prologue

Gray clung tightly to his daughter Rin as the ground beneath him shook with violence, the walls that surrounded him crumbled under the force and the ceiling above beginning to crack and threaten to give way on top of them both. The hallways twisted and turned like a maze, making it harder to navigate his way out before the entire building collapsed. Just the thought of it had him holding his four year old child closer against him. His dark eyes dropped to the little red-headed girl in his arms, she only looked at him with a need of security. She was young after all, it wasn’t shocking that the loud wailing of sirens and chunks of falling debris scared her. He felt her tiny grip tighten on him causing his heart to melt. “Do not worry, Rin.” He said as his eyes scanned the various routes. They seemed to stretch further into the darkness the longer he stared down them. “I’ll get you out of here. I’ll protect you.” Could he though? He was lost within the basement of the Laboratory with little clue as to which way the exit was. He hadn’t even found stairs leading upwards, now that he thought of it, he hadn’t even seen doors. The last realization made him pause as he glanced around, the walls were bare ad white, chunks dropped off of them as they continued to crack under the pressure of its own structure. “Gray!” Came the faint shout of his partner, Dustin. He was running towards him, but he didn’t seem to get any closer.”Gray, what the hell are you doing down here?!” He continued to yell. “We need t..” The rest of the words were drowned out from the sound of crashing beside him as half the ceiling came plundering down, giving him a start. He stumbled forward in hopes he could meet his friend half way, but when he had looked up from the ground his partner had vanished from sight. Confused, Gray came to a stop as he looked around, he hadn’t noticed until that moment that the hallways around him were all darkening, even the path he took there had dissipated from behind him. “What is going on?” He asked out loud in a panic. It could be possible that the walls were collapsing, shutting out the light to anywhere other than him. He felt his chest fill with anxiety and fear as he realized he was trapped. There as no way out, the few lights left were the ones shining on Rin and himself. He couldn’t breath, his head was beginning to feel faint, he wanted to apologize to his daughter, he had failed to keep her safe. Yet, when he looked down to do so, she was no longer in his embrace, he held onto an empty jacket that was at one time, around his daughter. “Rin?” He shouted out. “You lied.” Gray’s eyes shot downwards to his daughter, she stood a good twenty feet from him, her bright blue eyes staring accusingly at him. “Rin?” He stepped closer, but paused when she retreated, her glare only sharpening. “What is it, Rin?” “You lied, Gray.” She responded with hostility. “Why did you lie?” He shook his head, perplexed by her behavior. As he opened his mouth to respond, he hesitated when he heard a large cracking sound. His brown eyes darted upwards and widened at the sight of the ceiling starting to give way above her. He reached out for her. “Rin, move!” As he lunged for her hand, the crack gave way and came crashing down.

Gray jolted awake with an audible gasp, his chest drenched in sweat and his breathing ragged from the nightmare. The room was dark, but the moonlight that beamed through the window brightened it up enough to make out some objects. He was in his room, alone, safe from that horrific event. Relief washed over him as he rubbed his palm across his cheek and sat up to look at the time. The neon light read four-thirty six in the morning, he may as well start getting up while he felt the energy. Shaking his head he moved so that his feet touched the cool wooden floor, he took a moment to rethink about the dream he just had. It wasn’t too far off from what actually had happened during that time. The ending was rather concerning for him, he could only hope he was just overworking himself. Or perhaps it was just from getting older, it had been five years since that day and he had just turned twenty-seven a few weeks prior to it. Standing, he quietly walked out of his room to peer inside of another. It was Rin’s and Nathaniel’s room, she was now at age nine. Rin was peacefully resting with the faint glow of a nightlight, she suffered through nightmares of her own, and they only thing that made it easier were the lights he’d leave on for her when she slept. Most nights he’d wake to her screams or cries for help and he’d feel so useless as he tried to console her. He wasn’t the greatest father, but he did what he could for Rin and Nathaniel. Thinking about his son, his eyes moved to the opposite corner of the room where the brown-headed boy was sleeping, one bare-foot hung off the edge of the bed while his face was squashed between to pillows. The sight made Gray smile at the boy, he was two years younger than Rin, but had a very big brother attitude when it came to her. With the same small smile he stepped away from the door and moved towards the stairs to head into the kitchen here he flickered on one of the lights. The blinding light left him blinking a few times before his groggy eyes could adjust. His gaze searched briefly and stopped on the fridge, he lazily walked over to it to open it up. Just as his fingers touched the handle, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He wasn’t alone, someone had their attention on him with enough intensity that he could feel it. It was like a thick layer of air landed on him, making it difficult to breath as a shiver went up his spin. “Take it easy, Gray. It’s just me.” The familiar voice had him snapping his eyes to the side of him, his old partner Dustin stood there. His arms were crossed over his chest and a smug smile spread over his face while a confused frown was what consumed Gray’s own. “Dustin?” He whispered in question. “Is that really.. Why are you.. Where were..” “Getting a little slow on your reaction skills, soldier.” Dustin cut in when Gray had fallen silent. “Shocked to see me?” “What are you doing here?” Gray asked as his gaze wandered to the stairway. “Has something happened?” “Not even a hello.” His friend said in light sarcasm, but once the sentence ended his face became rather serious. “I think you should sit down, we need to talk.” Gray’s eyes roamed to the dining table before glancing back at the stairs. He sighed softly as he shook his head. “I don’t think this is a good time, Dus, the kids might wake up soon. I don’t want to have to lie to them again.” Dustin’s eyes soften for a moment at the mention of them, he lowered his gaze for a moment. “How are they?” He asked, though Gray already knew it was Rin he was asking about. “Everything is fine, they are doing fine and always ill be.” He responded a little defensively. “Her nightmares aren’t as bad.” Dustin nodded a little before moving over to take a seat by the table. “I am glad to hear that, but it also has to do with why I am here.” He made a slight gesture to the chair across from him. “If you will listen.” He tensed when he gave hint as to why he had shown up, hesitating briefly he eyed his old pal. The man had barely changed, his hair was still a neat and clean blonde, his eyes a pale blue eyes still held the same amount of misery he’d witnessed in them the day they parted. Taking a breath he walked over to the empty chair and sat down on it. “Alright.” He said softly and leaned forward. “Tell me what is going on.” Dustin didn’t even sugar-coat the matter. “Gray, they know and they are on their way here.” He said flatly. Gray tensed, his gaze glued to the man before him as dread began to poke at his chest. “How?” There was no way they could of figured it out so soon. Dustin shook his head. “I don’t know, someone must of seen us that night.” He thumbed at the scar on his chin as he thought about the events. “Though, I didn’t see anyone around us.” His eyes never left Gray’s as he spoke. “You need to relocate, unless you the entire military over here.” “I highly doubt-” “You know how serious this situation is, Gray.” Dustin interrupted sharply, any trace of humor was completely gone. “They won’t hesitate to kill you, and who knows what they’ll do t-” “I know.” Gray said, unable to listen to the rest of that sentence. He had to get out of there, in a more secluded town, but where could he run that he wouldn’t be found? “I know of an island that is starting a new colony there.” His friend said as though reading his mind. “But we’d have to leave now.” He raised his brow. “The boat leaves at noon today, if we set out within the next twenty minutes, we can make it.” A new colonized island? It would lack most technology he’s grown accustomed to, but it would offer a lot of work for him. Not to mention the place would be off maps for a prolonged amount of time, leaving him free of worry for at least the next couple years. It was something he wasn’t about to toy around with, so he nodded. “I’ll do it. Let me wake the kids.” “Only take what you can pack in a single bag.” Gray heard Dustin say quickly before he had made it up the stairs. It was easier said than done, he had to think of the important things needed, and wake the children to make sure they pack the things for themselves as well, it was a lot to do in twenty minutes. Pressing the door open gently, he bit down on his bottom lip at he looked back and forth between the two most important things in his life. He moved over to Rin’s bedside and lightly shook her shoulder. “Rin, wake up, sweetheart.” He said in a soft tone. Rin shifted in her bed before rubbing her eyes and yawning tiredly. “Papa?” She asked. “What is it? The sun has not even come up.” Gray felt his lips twitch in amusement at her obvious dissatisfied tone.”We need to leave, sweetie. Grab one of your bags and start packing what you feel is important.” He paused as he thought about his words. “Don’t pack your toys, you’ll need clothes more than those.” As Rin sat up, he moved over to his son and brushed his fingers over the boys cheek. “Nathaniel, my boy. You need to wake up as well.” He said as he knelt beside him. “Pack what you can boy.” He glanced at his daughter. “Make sure you both get plenty of clothing.” He said to her before standing up and flicking the lamp on beside the bed to make sure they were doing as they were told. He slipped out of the room and began to get his own things together, he did it quickly and silently. His head swimming with questions, well, more like drowning in them. He wasn’t sure where to start, he worried about how it’d end, they couldn’t run the rest of their lives, what kind of life would that be for them. How could he begin to explain why they had to?

Rin watched her brother zip up his bag and grabbed his hand along with her own bag. It was too early for her to think straight, she hadn’t ever had to wake before the sun did. It must have been important, papa seemed serious when he spoke, and that his mind was somewhere else. Being a child, she could tell he didn’t think she’d pick on things quickly, but she held a fair amount of intelligence for one her age. “What’s goin’ on?” Nathaniel yawned as he lazily dragged his bag behind him, following his sister to the stairs. “Where is papa?” “I am not sure, brother.” Rin said softly and began her way down to the main floor where she spotted at stranger seating in the kitchen. She held Nathaniel’s hand a little tighter as she observed him carefully. He seemed familiar to her, like she had encountered him before. She must have been correct, when the man spotted her his eyes revealed he indeed did recognize her. “Rin? My how you have grown..” He whispered in a caring tone. Before she could speak, her father was beside her tugging her into a small hug along with her brother. “Papa?” Her father kissed their foreheads before standing and speaking to the stranger. “Alright, Dus.. We are ready.” He stood in response.”Alright, let’s get going before we’re late.” He muttered as he walked for the door. Following after her father with Nathaniel’s hand still in hers she wondered what was happening. Why were they leaving like this? Where to? Not to mention who was the man he called ‘Dus’? Her confused eyes raised to her father in question, she could see that he caught her look from the corner of his eye and turned his attention towards her with a smile. “Do not worry, sweetheart.” He said as they stepped out into the chilly air. “Everything will all be okay.”

[ourhealthyfoodblog-blog]

New Post has been published on Healthy Food and Remedies

New Post has been published on http://healthyfoodandremedies.com/2017/01/31/keep-bad-moods-taking/

How to Keep Bad Moods From Taking You Over

Well, it happens sometimes.

I find myself in a lousy mood. Hard to say where it started, but it certainly has something to do with not getting much sleep Saturday night. I had big plans for Sunday, but the day was compromised by my zombie state. I think my IQ shrunk about thirty points from normal, for the whole day. I did everything wrong. I cooked badly, I conversed badly, I wrote badly.

My funk cruised on through today too. Work was a real slog, even though everything I needed to do was easy. I was working outside, which I normally enjoy. I wanted to go home. I wanted some Belgian chocolate. I wanted the Sun to f**k off.

Today I was going to write a more in-depth post on another topic, but when I sat down to do it, it was like pulling teeth. I know I could have churned out something, but it would have been a crusty, callous little post. I just couldn’t resonate with what I was had planned to write about, so I asked myself The Big Question: “Given my dreams and goals in life, what is honestly the smartest way to spend my next 30 minutes?” My answer came: Write about what you can resonate with right now. So I decided to put my crap mood to good use. 

The Nature of the Beast

Low moods are a bizarre animal. They’re like a nasty drug that hijacks your thoughts and robs you of your intuition and perspective. They make bad things look bigger and good things look smaller. It’s as if they have their own demented gravity, drawing annoyances and inconveniences — not to mention the crappy moods of other people — out of the woodwork towards you. Foul moods don’t seem to emanate from any particular source, or line of thought, they just waft into your headspace when you’re disappointed and vulnerable. They cast a pervasive dullness on the people you meet and the places you visit, and the things you think about.

Mine is currently sucking the excitement out of certain upcoming events that normally thrill me to think about.  My big travel plans, my growing new blog (which is, as I type, having its busiest traffic day ever) and my newly blossoming friendships are all lending me very little joy at this particular moment. Because my mood sucks. C’est la vie.

Thankfully I’ve learned to recognize what it means to be in a bad mood, and usually I can remember what to do about it. Above all else, a bad mood means I’ve lost perspective. I can’t see clearly, and I know it.

In a bad mood, the thinking mind sticks around (sometimes it even goes into overdrive) but wisdom seems to slink away when you’re not looking. The highest properties of the mind — intuition, compassion, patience and acceptance — slip quietly out the door like bored houseguests. Today, even when I looked for them in my head, even when I knew they were exactly what I needed to get back on track, I just couldn’t locate them.

Simply understanding this “wisdom-loss” phenomenon inherent to bad moods goes a long way. It explains why everything looks so bad. Perspective becomes impaired, but you can’t actually see that while it is happening. You just have to remember that bad moods bend things towards the negative end.

Part of the impairment is that your mind tells you your negative outlook is completely warranted. When you simply remind yourself that you are temporarily missing certain important mental qualities, you can consciously defer any bigger decisions and actions until you have your whole mind working for you again.

The most important thing I ever learned about moods is this:

Your mood does not represent the state of your life, but it pretends to.

Looking objectively at the state of my life right now, it’s spectacular. I’m young, in good health, I have friends coming out of my ears, I’ve finally got a long-needed creative outlet, I’m gearing up for an epic trip this fall, I’m generally unfettered by debt, and I even don’t mind my day job. But my bad mood doesn’t care. It doesn’t see any value in those things. I feel no swell of excitement when I think about them. I still want to lay down and put my head under a pillow.

Emotionally, it feels like my dreams have plowed into the guardrail. Bottomed out and spewing smoke. Wrecked. In the past I would have trusted this feeling, and made decisions based on it. I would have pictured an unrealistically bleak future, convinced myself it was well on its way towards me, and panicked accordingly. But now I know bad moods make for unreliable assessments. Tomorrow, all the same things will look different. This I know from experience.

The Role of Physical Interference

I have learned a lot about how to be calm and patient under normal circumstances, but I find physical interference erodes this very quickly. By physical interference I’m referring to any physical discomfort (such as an upset stomach, excessive heat or cold, or hunger pangs) or any mental impairment (such as lack of sleep or the effects of alcohol.) When your body is screaming for something, patience and acceptance are much more difficult to achieve.

Have you ever had someone trap you in a long-winded conversation when you have to pee really bad? No matter how patient a listener you are normally, you probably aren’t going to be too receptive. Physical bodily distress overrides all of your other priorities. It’s just mother nature looking out for you. No time for the luxury of a good mood when you’ve neglected your body.

For this reason, I found it very difficult to be mindful and appreciative at work today because my head was sluggish and heavy and I desperately wanted to be horizontal. Physical interference will probably undermine pretty much anything you do to recover from your mood, until you can satisfy the body’s needs.

The other day I caught the end of a segment on CBC radio where they were discussing happiness. The guest was familiar to me: blogger Gretchen Rubin, from The Happiness Project. As a parting question, the interviewer asked for the one most important tip she would give people for achieving happiness. Her answer was to get adequate sleep. If I wasn’t convinced then, I am after today. The body’s fundamental needs have to be taken care of before one can hope to be stable emotionally.

Recovering from bad moods

The first step is simply to acknowledge you are in a bad mood. Here’s a litmus test: if you can’t get excited about something you are normally excited about, you’re in a bad mood. Remind yourself that your perspective is currently limited, and that your faculties of wisdom are currently impaired or dormant. Remember that any visions you have of the future are going to look unreasonably bleak, any assessments you make are going to be distorted towards the negative. As a bonus, other people are going to seem more annoying than they really are. So take all your judgments with a grain of salt.

Attending to your body’s needs is a sensible first step to responding to a bad mood. Understand, though, the difference between what your body needs and what your mind wants. Your weary body might want sleep, while your flustered mind wants Häagen-Dazs. There is a fine line between mental wants and bodily needs, but it can be hard to see.

To determine what your body is asking for, focus your attention on the physical sensations in your body: observe what your stomach feels like, what your breathing feels like, what your head feels like. Scan the body by closing your eyes and noticing the sensations. Any needs should become apparent, and while your attention is on your body, your mind will be quiet.

A Warning

It is very tempting (and common) to treat bad moods by indulging one’s wants. The Häagen-Dazs approach is self-comfort, not self-love. Beware of this phenomenon: bad moods make you wanty. I say wanty instead of needy because often wants masquerade as genuine needs.

In my experience, bad moods usually spawn a very strong want for comfort. This can be a spectacularly intense desire — it is crucial to handle it sensibly. If we choose to respond with some sort of indulgence, addiction is a very real danger. Most of us have a favorite way of responding to this comfort-lust, and depending on how conditioned we are to it, it can be a killer.

Some people shop themselves into hopeless debt. Some drink themselves into ruined health and relationships. Some eat until they are ashamed and sick. Some throw tantrums and punch walls. Some stare into the television for four hours straight. All of us do something to respond to the desire for comfort, and most often it has some sort of cost.

Once a pattern emerges, it can become more and more insidious and even completely derail someone’s life. The shame of indulging in a comfort habit can reinforce a bad mood, and very often it becomes self-perpetuating. Lives can be taken over and destroyed by it. Watch an episode of Intervention if you don’t know what that looks like.

Think about how you normally respond to the desire for comfort. What does it cost you? What could you do instead that doesn’t have such a cost?  Bad moods will come and go your whole life. Don’t let them rob you each time. There is no limit to the number of bad moods you can have, so there is no limit to the amount of money, physical health and self-respect you can lose.

Find another way to behave in those situations. Take a walk, visit a friend, pick up a book, work out, go learn something… anything but give up money or health to this bad mood. In any case, indulging the lust for comfort usually just prolongs the funk by making you feel like you need more of that indulgence to push it away again.

Ugly moods pass more quickly when you acknowledge them, let them visit you for a bit, and avoid chasing them away with indulgence. Remember some guidelines: Defer big decisions until you’re in a better headspace. Take all of your assessments — of people and of situations — with a grain of salt. Do not trust any visions you have of the future, or any assessments of your ability, worth or potential. There is just so much there you just can’t see. Beware of assigning blame. Similar to “Don’t drink and drive” is “Don’t fret and decide.” Wait until you sober up. Sleep it off.

The main rule of thumb is this: know it will be gone soon, and do as little harm as possible in the mean time.

And now I feel fine again. Look at that.