#ive had the closets friendships in high school before i failed a year

[jonny-b-meowborn]

Dude I miss the feeling of being in love. Like no one ever loved me back and I've never been in a relationship, so I can't miss that, and while I'd love to date someone, I just really miss the feeling of having a crush on someone

[idiotsonlyevent]

it actually drives me SO insane crazy how similar chie and yosuke('s problems) are.

anyone who says they aren't friends or that they genuinely don't like each other don't Get It. they just haven't had a weird high school friendship where you're so similar you sort of hate each other, but also you can't Actually hate each other, because that would mean that you hate yourself (you do) and that you want to see yourself fail (you don't). yes, they wanna punch each other; yes, they're besties; yes, we EXIST!!!

they're both... kinda outcasts? iirc chie is somewhat popular, but she def gets shit for not being "feminine enough" esp in inaba. yosuke is yosuke. junes exists.

chie is labeled as a tomboy/masculine but she doesn't really want to be; yosuke isn't "feminine" per se, but he does generally lack more stereotypically masculine interests, even his role as a "bro character" is missing junpei/ryuji's specific type of 'masculine goofiness'(??), and he is disliked enough that i wouldn't be surprised if he was seen as a (im so sorry) "beta male."

they're both jealous of their best friends, Especially as paragons of femininity and masculinity. chie because it feels like something she can't have (esp as it relates to her sexuality); yosuke because he feels that he needs to attain masculinity for social capital (and to prove that he's straight and therefore 'normal').

and they know this about each other. they have one conversation in their first year and chie has his closeted ass clocked before yosuke knows what bi people are. yosuke sees the way chie looks at yukiko and is like "i've BEEN there" < doesn't even know its gay yet

but also yosuke loves running away from his problems and denying his feelings, meanwhile chie is one of like. three emotionally intelligent people in the investigation team. but also yosuke is smarter than her. this means they are the BEST people to torment each other. they commit gendered homo/biphobic psychological violence against each other at least three times a day. but if one of them hears someone talking shit about the other?? that clown won't see the light of day. only chie can shittalk yosuke. only yosuke can shittalk chie. the rest of the investigation team is on THIN fucking ice.

this is also why theyre not allowed to date btw (to Me). besides the fact that chie is Absolutely Not At All Interested in yosuke, and he'd only be interested in "dating" her to try to prove to himself that he's straight, the only ppl ive seen ship yosuchie are straight homophobic guys who hate their wives/gfs and misconstrue their entire dynamic as "they don't even like each other, they should date" which. die. if youre a yosuchie shipper and a normal person, i salute you, you ARE gods strongest soldier.

[bemylatentdream]

Letter: You Never Loved Me

As I graduate and think about the past year, i’ve noticed the flags I let sweep under the rug from myself, you, and us. How much of a people pleaser I am, and the self-flagetion I went through when your sorries were just words to say and not actions to change. When I tried my best to change and did change when I did something that hurt you or you didn't like but you never did that for me at all. And how I don’t love myself enough because I allowed you to treat me like garbage even though I thought I wouldn’t allow someone to do that to me again. Even though I allowed you excuse after excuse and trusted your lies even though they didn’t match your actions. How much I have gone back to square one

You would tell me that I'm mysterious. I would run and ask others if that's how they saw me because I didn't want you to see me that way. I didn’t want to be that way to you. I wanted to be open with you. I didn't want you to feel like I was blocking you. I wanted to change that to make you happy. When I didn't get back to you I wanted to quiet down your anxieties I would tell you how much you mean to me, how I dont do it intentionally, how I would make it up to you because I knew how that felt. And I always tried to. And when you opened up about that insecurity I didn’t push you away, I reassured you, and tried my best to do better.

Before you asked me out, you would tell me how people would reject you. You would tell me how you were tired of waiting on when someone would like you. If someone would like you, you would say how you never would get what you want. I felt anxiety at that moment. I felt that it was a primer, that I had to say yes. And looking back I'm proud I said no. I'm proud I didn't people please for that one moment even though unfortunately through the rest of our relationship I did. I didn't want to say yes then no. And honestly, we just met and ive been so closeted for so long I didn't know what to do. Im sorry to myself and you after I talked to that guy and even after clarifying and having a detailed conversation for sending you my body. Images I can’t take back no matter how I wish I could. I'm sorry for retelling you I wasn't interested even though that was true at the time and didn’t want to lead you on. I'm sorry during our friendship when you clearly said you get over people when rejected when I shared when someone else liked me because unlike you I never ever had someone not even in high school and we were supposedly friends.

The one thing I regret about our friendship is communication but it always felt one-sided. I know I tried earlier on but I failed back in January. I was out of character but it doesn’t excuse the pain. But I also failed because you pushed me away. Instead of calling that out I made excuses. It was like you made me feel that you did all of these things but you got nothing in return which was false. Every time you got me something, I made sure you would get something back. When you picked me up I would pay for meals and food. I made sure to send opportunities and help. I validated how you felt with your dad because he's a nimrod and you deserved better. I always made sure to tell you that I don’t want you to only be getting me things. I don’t want you to think that I’m using you and to tell me if you ever feel that way I always said that when I noticed that your feelings were off I made sure to check in and instead you would lie and then moments later sometimes weeks later sometimes months later, you would finally say that something was wrong and make me feel bad about it but I allowed it because I always want to make things right. And my friends saw that you did that too. I knew how you were raised and I wanted to be there as I once thought you were there.

I wish I never allowed you to grab me and kiss me. I wish I never allowed you to finger me. I wish you never went down on me. I wish I never allowed you to stroke my leg in your bedroom. I wish I never touched you. I wish I never allowed you to grab my hand on my birthday and when we went to the movies close to my house. I wish I never cuddled with you or physically comforted you and pushed our friendship boundaries. I such I never sent you my nudes to cheer you up. Because you never cared and saw me as human. You just saw me as an idea.

When you--as you quote-- “ took my first kiss”, you would go off about scenarios about how we would be. How you wanted to be my refuge from all that I had on my plate. How you would have to be the roommate. How since I finally shared with you how I felt, it now felt like this pressure was gone. It now felt like this chase was done and you didn't want to move forward because now that I finally have feelings you wanted to make sure it was there. You made me feel like an object. You made me feel like an idea not a person.

When you kissed me goodbye and said “you may not have me but at least I can say I took your first kiss” you hurt me. A lot. Because I didn't admit feelings when you wanted me to, when I definitely should have communicated more, but you wouldn’t allow the space to do so. When I didn't want to let anyone in like that because it always leads to disappointment. When I had to fish like a fisherman to see if we were okay after these months, and you said you didn’t lie even though you were gonna live like everything was okay until May and it took me forcing communication for you to finally share your motives.

When you would get impatient with me when I wanted to hear from you first even though I just wanted you to know that I care and I didn't see you as second place or as my show. When you said I would leave you for my other friend if bad things happened between you two even though I wouldn't dare ask you that for your roommates or friends. When you made me feel bad that I had to reschedule because I was exhausted with all I had to do and you would make me feel bad and when I did that once during new years eve—which definitely wasn't right—you made me feel like shit. When I said I would make it up and it didn't matter. When you would make me feel crazy and purposely deflect instead of having adult conversations. When I told you I was feeling suicidal and you never checked up on me or anything. I never drove you around because you made me feel anxious and terrible about my driving, even with mistakes I noticed you made.

I can forget and forgive but when someone makes you feel awful to when you communicate and ask in so many different ways what’s wrong, or are honest and all you get is rejection and gaslighting its so hard. When on that Monday I cried and told you what's wrong instead of reassurance or telling the truth about your feelings you say I expect too much from you and nothing you can do is right but then treat me wrongly--something you even admitted!

I just wanted you to like me and feel appreciated and feel validated. That's all I wanted. I just wanted you to know that. I wasn't perfect. Dropping off those books unannounced wasn't good. The cryptic zodiac message from that fake Chicago number wasn't cool. Not saying things on time. Etc.

Asking for space without explaining even though you led me on with that experience in the bedroom before you moved things forward with someone else. It wasn’t wasn't cool even though you do the same and avoid conversation. I shouldn’t have been that person, and I regret that every second of the day. I beat myself up for it everyday. Everyday I'm trying to do better from that. To not do it again. Regardless of what happened to us. Because it wasn't cool regardless of my mental health status. But it feels when I make mistakes I'm a spoiled rotten piece that is terrible away from an idea of aptitude because I'm not a person to you. But when you made mistakes I made sure to recognize who you were. I thought “she's going through this” or “well I did this so she's justified” You say contrary from personal belief you care but you don't because you don't show it. You knew how important my graduation was to me and you say you have work but now you're going to Disney and other events. It shows you never considered me unless if things would turn the way you wanted them to.

You always saw me as an idea and figurement. I was never a person. I was a doll. I was a toy. If you cared, you wouldn't treat me this way. You wouldn't make me feel like shit. You would be there or try to make it up to me. You would do counseling to not only do better for us, your other relationships, but most importantly yourself. But you do none of that. And through the pain you brought me it seems like it does nothing for you and it was okay. It was like that one time you made that victim shaming and misogynistic comment, telling me that if woman would stop taking shit from men they wouldn’t be that way. That women allowing men to act that way is why these problems exist and if women wouldn’t take it they would stop. We aren’t men, especially you aren’t one but I wonder if you were low key sending me a sign about us.

They always say trust people for what they say about themselves. Not the low self-esteem stuff but the stuff about character. You would say how proud you are to be toxic. How you don't need therapy because you're a bad bitch. How you're proud to be the problem. How you would pray for folks downfall. Maybe those are deflections to not get to the root of the problem or maybe because thats what you are. I will never change the good parts of me and in fact you could come asking for help and I would still give that to you because I want you to genuinely do good even though I'm angry. I hate how deep inside I feel like I would give you a chance if you acknowledged all that happened and would do better and try. But I doubt you want that for me because how you treat me shows that you don't value me. If I share my feelings, ask you to share yours, or want to talk about us, you see that as therapyizing even though it's communication which grown adults do. I don't want someone who will use space as a weapon to not address the truth, and work through a friendship or potential relationship.

You say everything had to be my way, but I was always trying to do things for you and to go to your things but couldn’t because you wouldn't invite me to it or wouldn’t allow me to help unless i once again fished or try to come through. You would say things were my choice even though I begged you for you to have an opinion because I cared for how you felt. I always paid attention to the things you liked and love even though you barely did that for me. When i invited you to an event that I knew you would love and you agreed to go with me, you invited everyone else. And only invited me because everyone abandoned you. When I gave you things you wanted you would pull me in and then spit me out like it was nothing from material gifts to letters to words of affection/affirmations. And when i went to emo night even though I felt like shit you shamed me for not being as excited and said how since I'm an introvert I'm not meant to do those things with you and you wonder why I ask for reassurance. You wonder why I ask are you sure. But to you I’m asking for too much. I ask for too much.

I don’t want to be cold with someone else. I don’t want to treat someone how you treat me. I don’t want to yell at someone because they ask for something from the store and get yelled at because they had a bad day or long day at work. I don’t want to be insensitive to someone’s family dynamics and shame them for it even though they’re trying to break free and it’s hard. I don’t want to shame someone for not coming to my place even though they were barely invited. I don’t want to shame someone because they’re trying to break through and their career is the only way to do so.

The worst part is I still feel bad for even saying this. There’s still ideas and pieces of my brain where I say well “you did this” and “you did that”. And you did good things. And not everything is mutually exclusive. I don’t think you intentionally try to do the bad as it excuses everything especially when you never change to try to approve and get better. How I felt like I had to second guess myself and felt like I was going paranoid and that I was crazy and asking for too much. I had to calm down, and not trust my intuition And the notion that I also come to terms that I wasn’t always the greatest and apologies and change of action don’t require forgiveness or respect.

So no you never loved me.

#unsentletter #depression #negativethoughts #latenightthoughts #antihero #villian #friendships #romance #heartbreak #cruelty

[pikemoreno]

if you ever wanna be in love

Chapter IV: Plan B and Other Messes

a/n: this is my favorite so far, but it’s only gonna get better from here!

taglist is open if you’d like to be added. sorry if you asked and i missed it or forgot. please just ask again if you aren’t on there and would like to be. :’)

pairing: marcus pike x f!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: none, and i don’t expect there to really be any serious ones in upcoming chapters either. this is just fun.

If this plan was foolproof, you were all worse than fools.

It had started fine. It had been more than a week since the disastrous failure that was Plan A, and you spent the week doing some reconnaissance to keep Wendy’s brief interaction with Adrian on the top of her mind.

On Tuesday, you had asked her again about the elevator incident, stating: “Wow, that must’ve been scary. Did you have someone with you? I don’t think I remember.” She responded that there had been and that he was “nice.” 

On Wednesday, you had asked her if she had caught the name of the “mystery man” in the elevator. Did he work in the building? What department? Was he cute? She had said that she “Didn’t catch his name or his department, but… Yeah, he was alright, I guess.” Not a lot to work from, you lamented, but it was a start. You told her you’d see what you could find out and she groaned, telling you not to get into it, that she was fine. If only she knew how late she was on that sentiment.

On Thursday, you had taken the day off from bothering her about it. After all, you couldn’t make it seem like you found out everything about him in a day. Because that would have just been absurd. 

Today-- Friday-- you spilled all of your “research” to her: name, age, department, and the information that he’d been “asking about her too”-- ignoring the fact that that was only true because Marcus had been giving him the same treatment you were giving Wendy this week. Her eyes lit up a little at hearing she’d been asked about too, and you knew you had her hook, line, and sinker.

You met Marcus outside on your lunch break to debrief and discuss the finale of Plan B, sitting on a wooden-slatted bench with him underneath the slowly changing leaves of the trees in the courtyard. While an uncharacteristically cool breeze blew by, you were starting to decide that if you could just get Wendy and Adrian to this point right here, that would be enough to bring them together. It was a quiet and secluded place, a blessed change from the chaos of work on the other side of those glass double doors in the distance. There was something undeniably romantic about it all. 

With the right person to share it with, of course.

This wasn’t a romantic exchange. It was planning, organizing, talking about another’s romance, and never your own. There was absolutely nothing inherently romantic about this, certainly nothing in the way he smiled at you from the corner of his eye as you talked about how the week had gone with Wendy. There was nothing in the way you admired the light in his eyes when he grinned and how they crinkled when he laughed and nothing in the way you wanted to make sure he laughed every single day.

Oh no. Oh no no no no. 

This whole thing was about Wendy, not you. And certainly not Marcus. 

“So, what’s the plan for this evening?” His question brought you out of your daze.

“Umm,” you cleared your throat, re-gathering yourself as you poked at your lunch with your fork. “We’re gonna text them both separately to meet us at Copper Coin for coffee. We won’t be there when they arrive. We’ll be twenty minutes late and hope that they’ve decided to sit together in that time. If they haven’t, we’ll make sure they do,” you shrugged. 

“Right,” he nodded, and you returned it. Silence overtook the moment, but not in the serene way it had previously. This was decidedly more awkward. You were back in your head, doing the mental calculations of why and how there was nothing at all romantic about your friendship with Art Squad over here. That’s all it was; that’s all he was. You vaguely heard him call your name-- your real name.

“Hm?” you blinked, looking back to him.

“Where’d you go?” he murmured quizzically, his eyes searched your face in a way that undid all of the mental calculation you just went through.

“What? Nowhere. Anyway,” you stood quickly, gathering your stuff, “See you later.” You couldn’t ignore the feeling of his curious eyes still on you as you walked away.

This was not happening.

You’d be lying if you said that lunchtime exchange wasn’t at the forefront of your mind for the rest of the work day... And as you drove to the coffee shop… And now that you were sitting across from Marcus yet again, waiting on Wendy and Adrian, who still had yet to show up after the predetermined twenty minutes you were giving them before sitting inside the mahogany-saturated, hipster’s paradise yourselves. 

Plan B was most certainly not foolproof, and the four of you were the grandest of fools. Where could they be?

“They’re gonna walk in and think we’re the ones on a date,” Marcus quipped as he took a sip of his drink. You almost spit yours out from the surprise of the comment, but couldn’t help the huff of laughter.

“Oh, if Wendy walked in and thought I was on a date with a guy like you, she would probably cry tears of joy.”

“What does that mean?” You missed the warm pink take over the skin of his neck at what he was hoping was a compliment. 

A guy like him? 

How did you see him? 

“My recent track record is not great,” you stated, running a finger around the rim of your drink, “I would go on a couple of dates with someone. Never let it go anywhere. Decline any attempt to make it exclusive. Get the hell out of there. Rinse and repeat.”

“Why do you think that is?” 

You were making him nervous. It was pretty obvious to him now that he was starting to be interested in you beyond just being a work friend helping him with a “project”. But hearing your hesitance to commit in the past made his heart sink. He knew too well the feeling of being the one more invested in the relationship, of scaring someone off by going all in. He couldn’t let himself fall into that again with you. He’d have to force himself away, push down what was threatening to blossom.

“Afraid of getting hurt, I guess. I’ve seen a lot of committed relationships around me fail. People falling out of love. I don’t want that.” You shrugged.

“That’s a very reasonable fear.”

“Exactly. So I’m just… Waiting I guess. Wendy sees it as me just having commitment issues. I don’t have commitment issues per se. I just haven’t really found anyone worth committing to yet.”

“I’m afraid I have the opposite problem.” You tilted your head, questioning, and he continued, “I haven’t found anyone worth committing to, but I don’t realize it until it’s too late.” he sighed, “I was that one teenager who had one steady girlfriend from eighth grade all the way through high school and never looked at anyone else-- probably for the best, I was kind of a dork,” he laughed despite himself and you joined. It fizzled sadly, “But anyway. Everyone thought we were gonna be together forever. And I started to think so too after, you know, five years. I had it all planned out by the time we got to senior year. We wanted to go to the same college. We’d date through college, I’d propose on our graduation day... We didn’t make it past senior prom. She had disappeared for a while, and I found her in a supply closet with another guy.” You couldn’t help but gasp a little. He continued “Then I still got married pretty young, not long out of college,” he shook his head, seemingly to clear out the emotions that reared their ugly heads for what was obviously the first time in a while. You wanted him to know he didn’t have to explain himself to you. 

“Marcus, don’t--” you tried to stop him.

“I was ‘too much’ for her.” You froze at the admission. His mouth contorted into a frown that didn’t suit him at all. “I’m still not sure I know what she meant by that,” he laughed humorlessly, “Guess I cared too much? Who knows. She divorced me, and that was that.” You both looked down to find that you’d put your hand on his. There was a part of you-- maybe more than a part, really-- that decided that what he was saying sounded nice. That he would be a blessed change from relationships that never lasted longer than a month and whose conversations never reached the level of depth that you were already experiencing with Marcus after just the couple of weeks you’d known him. You breathed, letting your hand stay resting on his as you spoke truly.

“What you said was right. Neither of them were worth your commitment. I’ve seen your commitment to someone who’s just a work friend, and I can’t imagine anyone not wanting that in their life. They couldn’t have been worth your time.” His thumb reached up to brush against the side of your hand. “I would--” You stopped yourself mid-sentence upon looking at the cafe door to find Wendy finally walking in.

If only you knew that Marcus was holding his breath waiting for the end of the statement, hoping to hear you say that he might be worth that commitment. 

“There’s Wendy now.” Your hand left his as you got up to meet her, and Marcus found himself immediately missing the contact and entirely unsure of what just happened. 

“An hour late? Where have you been?” you laughed as Wendy met your eyes excitedly. 

“You’ll never guess what just happened,” she practically squealed in response, yet not answering your question.

“Probably not. Go for it.”

“I got my rebound!” You blinked.

“You-- What?”

“So right before you left the office, I received a tip on a case from the Elisabet Ney Museum. They had some priceless jewelry of hers on display. Only supposed to be up for a week. Family heirloom. It’s on display for two days before it turns up stolen. But get this: the bust of hers it was on was also stolen. Meaning this case also falls under the jurisdiction of the Art Squad. I figured ‘Hey, the more, the merrier,’ so I hopped on down to the 6th floor to talk to them about a team-up and guess who I ran into?” Your eyes widened, finally getting the point of the story.

“Adrian.”

“Adrian!” she nearly squealed again, talking a mile a minute. “So anyway, we’re gonna be teamed up on that next week.” You subconsciously shot a glance over to Marcus. Having to work a case with him? After the day you just had? “But the crazy part is that I started talking to Adrian and he’s so great, you know, now that I’m not freaking out in an elevator. Turns out he’s a recent dumpee too, and we’re gonna go out tomorrow night. Oh, and we might’ve made out in the supply closet.” The words of that last part all ran together as she tried to play it off nonchalantly. You let your mouth hang open in the flurry of words and admissions that came far too quickly for you to process fully. 

“Wow. That’ s-- That’s great! I told you he was worth looking into,” you smiled weakly, trying to get over the newest developments in this absolutely ridiculous story. “So, this case? Starting next week?”

“Monday morning, bright and early. Hey, didn’t you say you had a friend on Art Squad? The one who gave you a ride that one day? That’ll be fun, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, for sure.” You caught Marcus’s eye, and your face must have betrayed just how exasperated and confused-- and… relieved?--  you felt because the look he shot back to you was full of concern. Everything was somehow simplified and complicated in one fell swoop. 

Plan B: Success? You guess?

forever taglist: @acomplicatedprofession @hdlynn @makaela27 @space-floozy @catfishingmorales @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @princessbatears @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @findhimfives @mistermiraclee

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[petersasteria]

Younger (IV) - Peter Parker

Pairing: Peter x Reader

Back at it again with a theme

Inspired by: Younger by Ruel

PP Masterlist || Younger (I) || Younger (II) || Younger (III)

I’m so sorry for it being overdue, but I hope 1.3k words can make up for it.

* * * *

"I saw you just the other night

I didn't even recognize you Find it kinda strange, I guess that people change But I didn't expect you to"

The effects of The Blip really took a toll on Peter. He just wasn't the same anymore and he was shutting you out all the time even though you've been dating for about two years now. Before you knew it, he was moving on without you. You started to notice the little changes Peter made.

He would look at MJ a lot more and he started paying attention to her more too. This obviously upset you and the fact that MJ would do the same whenever Peter wasn't looking, upset you even more. You talked to Peter about it, but he said that you were just crazy. It made you sad, but you decided not to talk about it anymore so that you wouldn't upset Peter.

You also noticed that MJ was beginning to talk to Peter a lot more than usual. There was nothing wrong with that, but it was just so unlike her.

When the trip to Europe came around, you were really excited. You thought that it would be romantic for you and Peter to just relax around and maybe have some gelato or something. That would be a fail, though because the whole Mysterio thing happened and whenever he was free, he'd spend it with Ned or MJ. He seemed to forget that you existed because he was surprised when you knocked on his hotel room after the whole thing.

When you got back in New York, Peter started to become really really distant. He texts and calls you less and he would turn you down whenever you’d ask if he wanted to hang out. When your third anniversary came around, he was a no show even though you constantly texted him about it. He wouldn’t reply, but he’d leave you on read. So, he knew what your plans were.

He showed up at your apartment that night and he just broke up with you. He wasn’t there to say sorry for missing your anniversary. He was just there to break up with you with no explanation whatsoever..

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. It’s just not working out anymore.” Peter said.

“Are you seriously breaking up with me today?” You asked in disbelief and he just shrugged. You rolled your eyes and said, “It’s our anniversary, Peter.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’. Get out of my apartment. Have a nice life, Parker.” You said angrily. Peter walked himself out and closed the door. You couldn’t believe that after three years of being together, he would throw it away for reasons you don’t know.

When school started, you wanted a fresh start. If you were being honest, you didn’t have any friends. You only had friends because Peter was your boyfriend and he already had Ned. And as much as you wanted to say ‘hi’ to Ned, you knew he would just avoid you because his loyalty stood with Peter which you completely understood.

You didn’t have anywhere to sit during lunch time, so you just sat on your own outside by the bleachers. As you were staring at the cheerleaders while you were eating, you began to think about the things you’ve always wanted to change during this fresh start of yours. Your family was well off, so cleared out your closet when you got home on Friday and went on a major shopping spree to buy new things for yourself: new clothes, skin care products, a little bit of makeup, new bags, a few accessories and even a new phone case. You also got a new haircut which you absolutely loved.

When you arrived at school on Monday with your completely new look, everyone stared at you in awe when you walked along the halls of school.

“Dude, is that Y/N?” Ned nudged Peter. He glanced at you and he had to look at you for a while because he wasn’t sure if it was you or not. Sure enough, it really was you.

“Yeah, it’s her.” Peter said in shock.

“She has a whole new look.” Ned said. “I like it, though! She looks great!”

“Yeah, she does.” Peter said softly.

During lunch time, you were on your way out to sit on the bleachers when one of the popular kids invited you to sit on their table. You smiled and immediately agreed. You learned about typical high school gossip and you learned about which skirt looks good with a particular top. You knew that those people were only hanging out with you because of your new style, but it felt good to hang out with a new group. It’s a new school year and you deserved to start new. Peter did the same, anyway.

A few months later, your eighteenth birthday came and you invited all the seniors to your summer house. Since you invited all seniors, Peter, Ned, and MJ went. Ned got you a present and you gave him a tight hug because you missed him. After that, Peter never got to give you your present because you were dragged by your new friend somewhere.

Peter didn’t see you the rest of the night, but that changed when he saw some guy trying to kiss your neck even though you tried to push him away. You were grateful for Peter because he saved you from it and it was awkward between you after that.

“Um, happy birthday.” Peter said, breaking the awkward silence.

“Thanks.” You said shortly. “And thanks again for saving me back there. If you weren’t there, something might’ve happened and yeah. Just- thanks.”

“Yeah, s’no problem. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something were to happen to you. I mean, I already witnessed it, y’know? If I didn’t save you and something bad happened to you, I wouldn’t forgive myself.” Peter said.

“Yeah, well I’m okay now. Thanks again.”

“So, new clothes?” Peter said, making small talk. “What happened to your old ones? You don’t seem to be wearing them anymore.”

“Oh, that’s because I donated them. I figured I should start fresh. It’s our last year of high school and I haven’t done anything. So, I started fresh. New school year, new me.”

“Yeah, I didn’t recognize you.” Peter said softly. “It’s like the old Y/N’s gone. I kinda miss the old you.”

“Well, she was dying when you started shutting her out and when you broke up with her, she was pronounced dead. You don’t get to miss the old me because you left the old me with no explanation. Besides, I’ve learned to accept that you most likely left me for MJ. I understand and while I’m still bitter, I can be civil.” You said coldly.

“I just didn’t expect you to change. You were still welcome to sit with us, but you sat on your own. No one kicked you out, you let yourself out. You didn’t have to change your whole look or whatever because you’re still our friend and we like you for you. Now all you have are these fake people who like you because of how you dress yourself and because you’re rich.” 

“That’s part of the change, Parker. Deal with it.” You said calmly even though you were pissed at him for talking to you that way. How dare he? “Help yourself to some food and drinks. I have to go to my friends now.”

“Y/N, I’m still your friend.” Peter sighed. “And we’ll always be friends. I don’t understand why our friendship has to end just because I broke up with you.”

“Like I said, deal with it. I have to go and find my friends. I’m sure MJ’s looking for you. Good night, Parker.” You said curtly before leaving him standing alone.

* * * *

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @blueleatherbag​ @harryismysunflower​ @buckys-little-hoe​ @sandystoriess​ @heeeyitskay​ @slytherin-chaser​ @quaksonhehe​ @yaya4302​ @lil-mellow-bunbun​ @starlight-starks​ @swiftmind​ @alexx-stancati​ @sovereignparker​ @nerdyandproudofitsstuff​ @pearce14​ @cherthegoddess​ @chewymoustachio​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​ @parkerlovebot​ @supred12​ @peterspidey​ @givebuckyhisplumsnow​ @beverlythrillz​ @slutforsr​ 

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:  @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @allyz @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @drie-the-derp @hollands-weasley @itstaskeen  @call-me-baby-gir1 @the-panwitch @iamaunicorn4704 @geminiparkers @holland-styles @calltothewild @fancyxparker @herbatkazmiloscia @whatthefuckimbisexual @justanothermarvelmaniac @unsaidholland @musicalkeys @lost-in-the-stars03 @hufflepuffprincess24 @hollanddolanfangirl @parkerpeter24 @bellelittleoff @agentnataliahofferson @aqiise @lexirv @blairscott @hi-im-maddie @xfirstfemale-marauderx @u-rrose @speedymaximoff

[foursprout-blog]

All The Numerous Ways I’ve Failed At Curing My Depression

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/all-the-numerous-ways-ive-failed-at-curing-my-depression-2/

All The Numerous Ways I’ve Failed At Curing My Depression

Alivia Latimer

I had no idea what was happening to me. I had no map in dealing with whatever was plaguing my mentality. I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew I was going south. I figured whatever it was would go away soon enough, so I did nothing. It didn’t go away.

I spent the bulk of my days lying in bed until my mattress became indented in the center. I soundtracked this indolence with playlist chalked full of Kid Cudi and Elliot Smith dirges. I smoked bunk weed and binge-watched TV series’ multiple times over instead of honoring social engagements. I stuffed myself with high fructose corn syrup and other ingredients with scientific names and questionable nutritional value. I hid out in figurative closets, dimly lit dive bars and under unwashed duvet covers. I masturbated like I was sponsored. I felt myself getting irritated and rustled easily. I felt like my friends were a cause of my mindset and began searching for reasons to cut them off one by one until my social circle consisted of me and the four corners I imprisoned myself into. My addled mind told me they were against me and I rationalized my actions as my twisted perceptions became realities. Alienating them became the first thing I was successful at in a long time.

The pain alleviated briefly. I convinced myself that the bad memories pilling up in my decaying hometown weren’t helping and that I just needed a new setting, so I impulsively decided to quit my job and move 3,000 miles across the country. After 24 hours of driving, I parked my car in a random apartment complex in El Paso, Texas and cried in the backseat. I carried whatever was sullying my soul with me to Los Angeles.

I fell back into the same habits that maimed me back home. I got another job that I hated. I bought another mattress that I’d spend days stuck on until it began to sag too. I found myself drinking more than usual. I felt pains in my side and hoped it was cancer. I drank until I became interesting and met new people. We became allies in destructive dependency and late-night depravity. I blacked out on benzos in seedy bars. I had coked up heart palpitations in LED lit nightclubs. I popped molly and made out with strangers in underground warehouse parties. I was always hungover or coming down. I spent nights participating in wanton sport-fucking and mornings sitting in clinical waiting rooms with a curable souvenir. I inhaled amyl nitrite until my lips and nails turned blue and swallowed doxycycline until my dick stopped burning when I pissed. I necked Tramadol, parachuted Norcos, cold water extracted Percocets and snorted Roxicodone until I could hardly breathe out of my nostrils. I was always tripping over empty boxes Benadryl and bottles of white grapefruit juice. All of this made me feel better until it didn’t. I was paying damn near two bucks an mg. All of this made me feel better until I could no longer afford it. I tried to quit, but it wasn’t that easy. My sweat was sweating. My bones felt like they’d been shattered with a sledgehammer. I felt like a walking corpse. I lost my thoughts to psychosis. I popped Imodium pills that didn’t help. I felt like dying. I withdrew by myself on an air mattress that sunk to the floor a few hours after being blown up.

I let those friendships fade. I kept my distance until the relationships dissolved. My addled mind told me that they were against me. I became selfish. See also: self-involved, self-loathing, self-defeating, self-deprecating, self-destructing, self-sabotaging, self-vectoring, self-harm, and self-pity.

I spent hours scouring through depression reddits and reading articles. I realized that depression wasn’t that feeling you got after failing a test you studied hard for or watching your favorite team lose. I tried to correct the chemical imbalance. I ate salmon, avocados, and Brazilian nuts to improve the amount of omega-3 fatty acid, folic acid, and selenium in my diet. I took tumeric circumin, ginkgo biloba, and l-theanine supplements to enhance the dopamine in my brain. I popped B vitamins, ZMA, St. John’s Worts and SAM-e pills to no avail. I stood out in the sun for proper vitamin D synthetization. I logged weeks doing fundamentally sound push-ups. I bought a Perfect Pullup and resistance bands. I worked out for more than 21 days and still couldn’t create a habit. I read self-help books. I’d re-read them because I kept spacing out. I stared at myself in the mirror, giving myself boilerplate positive affirmations.

Nothing worked.

I sat cross-legged and attempted to meditate, trying to focus on my breath flowing through my Svadhisthana chakra, but straying into thoughts about cheeseburgers and Looney Tunes. I rearranged my bedroom, hoping to eliminate the negative ions in my life. I lit smudge sticks and placed selenite crystals and Himalayan salt lamps around my abode. I participated in early morning Runyon Canyon hikes, mid-day apartment pacing, and late-night sodium vapor lit walks. I attempted to quit masturbating and even thinking about sex period, but that just made me feel even worse. In a last-ditch effort, I prayed until my knees were bloody and bruised. I taped scriptures above my desk. I lit Virgen de Guadalupe, Ecce-Homo Gran Poder, and Siete Potencias Africanas candles until they burned out.

Nothing worked.

I swallowed a handful of pills and washed it down with vodka hoping to end it one day, but I guess my hearse caught a flat on the highway to hell because instead, I woke up 24 hours later feeling better than I had in a long time.

I met a guy that I loved more than I’ll ever love any man again in my life. I had a nice streak where I didn’t have my typical ups and downs or crazy mood swings. Things were going good…too good. I decided to end the relationship before I got blindsided and he had a chance to cause me harm first. I was creating chaos where there was none and getting mad about things that hadn’t even happened.

I moved back home and fell back into my depressive habits. I had a hard time even looking strangers in the face because I felt like they could see my anxiety and would feel embarrassed by it. I tried to reconnect with my high school friends. I got drunk and tried to talk to them about it until they shot off weird looks at me for letting my feelings fly unfettered. I was told to “man up” and “get over it.” I was reminded that there are people that won’t be waking up today, so I guess my feelings were invalid. I was a burden and pending wreak and they couldn’t understand the severity of it. I ghosted them for a year until they got the message.

I white knuckled it. I became detached. I heard that most people used this illness to scratch out a masterpiece. I got a job with insurance and set up an appointment with a doctor. I hopped into the world of prescription medication through a passionless doctor with a penchant for palliative remedies who barely listened to me while I was shooting off a list of symptoms. I went on medication roulette. I took Cymbalta which killed my creativity, Zoloft which made my dick useless, and Lexapro that electrocuted my brain occasionally. I tried to talk to a therapist but saw through the entire thing and blew it off two meetings in.

Defeated, I accepted that this was just my fate and told myself, “I must’ve had a hell of a past life.” I became more comfortable in my isolation. I became more familiar with my illness. I fed into it. Feeling out of place became normal. I was convinced that I’d just grow older, catch cirrhosis, and die alone.

And then, it seemingly just stopped. I was moderating mids like I usually do during more emotionally prosperous periods when a depressive episode ends, and never really dipped back into the red. I’m still not sure if everything I did to try to deal with the psych ache actually aided in my recovery, or if circumnavigating the issue altogether forced it to not become the most important force in my life. When I became content with how things were going to be, they stopped having control over who I was, or at least who I thought I was. Old tendencies die hard, and at times, I slip back into depressive mode out of a force of habit. But now, I’m better equipped to pull myself out of the dregs.

As tough as it was, I’d even say I was grateful for it. It gave me a different perspective on life. It gave me empathy. It gave me understanding. I pulled myself out of the inferno and the stars shined brighter than they ever have before.