#like almost all my mutuals are also mentally ill teenagers like myself

[a-wondering-thought]

hey quick message to adults, if you're condescending when trying to teach teenagers about shit, then they aren't gonna listen to you no matter how important the shit you're saying is.

[goreshitrushi2]

weird personal rambling on kizashige

don’t want to talk about this on twitter or anything but I’ve mentioned on there about making a fangame focusing on kizashige and I have been taking that seriously. so I’ve been busy with that but it’s honestly one of the most difficult things I’ve ever tried to work on. 

it’s difficult to put my view on morishige and kizami’s characters into words because my interpretation of them is very personal, I don’t think those interpretations even come through in my art. but trying to write them in this project has lead me to reflect a lot on what I get out of them and corpse party as a whole, and what I have for years at this point. I always got something so specific from corpse party that I’m not sure if anyone else has before (and I’m just assuming here.) it’s cheesy to say I got into corpse party when I needed to, that it’s almost like a coping mechanism for me, an escapism, but it’s true. 

being into a... crack ship? a ship where they interacted like twice? for years at this point makes me look like an insane person, but whatever I got from seeing kizami and morishige as two mentally ill teenagers finding solace in this place where they no longer have to deal with or even revel in the ostracization they experienced in their normal lives means a lot to me.

I make so many jokes about morishige having ocd on twitter that I got an ask about it once. and I had this entire thing written out about how I actually view his whole character more as a metaphor for it-- he ruminates on his actions as part of his internal conflict, and it really resonated with me as someone suffering from “pure o” ocd. but the moment I wrote that, it felt like I was admitting to something so heinous and awful that I couldn’t bring myself to finish that ask. which is just the nature of having ocd. the nature of having a disorder where you question yourself and your morals on a near constant daily basis, and I saw that in morishige really heavily. and delving into those similar feelings as part of my interpretation of him is kind of harrowing.

even kizami, when you grow up with schrodinger’s mental illness with a family who are not prepared to deal with it in the slightest and either see you as a threat for the rest of your life or want to pretend everything is completely fine, it’s honestly really relatable, it’s realistic, and I feel for him a lot. I don’t care about the intention behind his character, there’s a lot of problems I have with it, but it’s not where I want to get rid of it. I would just want to write it differently. I want kizami to reflect on why he wanted an escape from himself through yuka, on him suddenly holding this ideal of taking care of someone, probably because he wanted that for himself deep down. 

they’re both so traumatized. and this idea of heavenly host as this place where that trauma comes out full front and center-- kizami killing all his friends because he just couldn’t ever believe in being accepted by anyone, morishige desecrating corpses as a twisted form of pity onto them-- both acting out through some strange type of revenge against the people around them, either directly or indirectly. all because of the alienation they both felt were inherent to them because they aren’t, and couldn’t, be normal. 

that they allowed themselves to succumb to this, not only reading it as them giving into their darkest desires, a typical corruption storyline, but also reading their character arcs as their struggles with neurodivergency, masking, the exhaustion that results when you’re good at it, and the frustration when you aren’t, only leading them to those breakdowns. it’s a joker arc. and I love it. and I want them to experience it together. I want them to be murder husbands killing other people and each other bfs but it’s also about a mutual understanding from their struggles with themselves and how they’re perceived by others, and throwing away all of that together.

kizami and morishige are already mirrors of each other; where kizami is someone who’s able to present himself as this normal, good guy, is respected and acknowledged by his peers because of it, an honor student with ties to the student council, he’s involved in so much and with so many people. but he hates it all deep down. and morishige being this loner, this loser, who can’t lie, can’t save face, is too honest, and is disliked by everyone because of it. and what does morishige do about it? nothing. nothing but become even more of a judgmental asshole who no longer tries because he’s over it. yet he still complains about his lack of acknowledgement and how he really does wish he could just be in the spotlight. 

whether they could have respected each other for their different approaches, being what the other could be, or just want to go crazy and letting go of that together, I just. it’s cathartic. I wish I could bring that out in my writing. I’m sick of rambling. I wish they were in love. I need to be put on antipsychotics again. 

[aforgottenballad]

Long post about. ??? Tumblr kinnies of years passed I guess.

I know some people managed to curate their feed better than I did (half of my mutuals at the time would literally hunt you down if you unfollowed/blocked them and demand an explanation, that or make a vague post about you and how their life is over and it's your fault. This was not typical for all Tumblr users but it was a significant culture of mentally ill teenagers anyway.) but I really don't miss what an obsessive-compulsive anxious wreck ~2013-2016 Tumblr made me into. And I do mean that clinically. Like, there were certain series that I was terrified of talking about, not even including ones that were a little bit problematic, because I was afraid that if I expressed that I related to or liked a character too much, either:

- Somebody would find it and tell me to kms because they related more

- People would ask me invasive questions to make sure I had the right "credentials" to relate to/like that character and I would be the one in the wrong if I chose not to answer them or told them it was none of their business. Or if I said yes but didn't provide some kind of proof.

And I want to be clear: These were both very real possibilities at the time and I would have deactivated immediately if either one occured because of how petrifying it was to handle the fallout. I pissed off the SPG fandom once and almost deactivated then too.

You didn't even need to say that you kinned a character back then, if you had an icon of a character or projected on them in any way or showed too much interest in meta of them, people would be like. "Hey you can't do that. Because that character is _ so either prove to me that you're also _ or kill yourself" it was INSANE and I am NOT exaggerating.

There was also the pressure to tag every single post with every possible character and trigger tag that you could think of, so at one point I had over 10,000 drafts and almost nothing in my queue because I was too exhausted to go through and sufficiently tag everything. I still get neurotic about tagging things and putting certain content on certain sideblogs, but tagging something as a fandom and a small blurb of commentary is so much less mortifying than. The fandom, 17 character names, eye contact, hands, feet, open mouths, yellow, body image, exposed arms, etc etc etc.

It all sounds REALLY STUPID now, of course, and it was. Painfully stupid. And I'm still constantly sort of leading myself by the collar away from the impulse to freak out and overexplain and overapologize if I forget a tag or post something that's any less cozy than a picture of a shelf of old books or put something in the wrong place. And I still go back to look through my old posts to make sure that I didn't misspell anything or state something inaccurate or whatever. Sometimes. But it is so much better now and it isn't only because I grew out of it, things have shifted in the way Tumblr as an overarching website handles like. Treating other human beings like human beings. This place is still obnoxious but being here doesn't make me feel like I need to go live in the psych ward so that's nice.

[polyamorouspunk]

I don’t know why I’m making this post knowing that it’s just going to bring more people in my inbox with things I don’t want to read but maybe deserve idk but.

I try and be very open and honest about not being the best person when I was younger. I have said before I was abusive towards previous partners including the one that just cut all ties with me. That was 6 years ago though.

6 years ago I was 16. As much as I lash out when I see kids who are 13 and 14 spouting radfem terf bullshit some of you remind me that they’re children. Literal children. I yell and say “it doesn’t matter they’re still hurting people they should know better!” but that’s me being angry and you’re right they are children and they don’t know better.

Looking back now at myself at 16 I realize that I was also just a child. I was a product of a family that had fallen apart and I was being abused myself at home. I was being hit on multiple occasions, etc. I was making suicide plans to take my own life because I didn’t see a way out. I was entering dissociative states from time to time where I just went into pure rage. Can you blame me? I was being abused. That’s not an excuse for me taking out my pain on other people and I’ve never claimed it was. Part of holding myself accountable for the things I’ve done is to be open and honest about them. I’ve never, ever hit anyone except when I got hit once and I started hitting my abuser back in self defense. I was dealing with DCF and a lot of problems at school. I was in a relationship that was mutually toxic. I’m never going to say my ex was abusive towards me but he 100% suicide guilt-tripped me saying things like “if you do this I’m going to hurt myself” etc.

I feel like a lot of you are assuming I’m mad because this person I was close with decided I was a toxic person and left me? I’m hurt of course and yeah of course I’m mad but I don’t BLAME them Jesus Christ. Of course I’m like “how could they do this” but like objectively speaking no like I don’t blame them one bit for it. I’m mad at how they went about it. But they have done a LOT of shitty things to me as well.

So like I’m not going to hold it against anyone who doesn’t want to be friends with me anymore or doesn’t want to follow me because of that but some of you need to get off your high horses when you read things like “we need to stop blaming children who are clearly mentally ill for acting out and get them help instead” and then see me, someone who was a child who acted out because they needed serious therapy because they had an undiagnosed personality disorder and was being abused at home and going through a lot in school and in relationships etc. and go “yeah but not that one”.

And as the adult of that former child I’m taking the responsibility for the things they did. If you see this post as me making excuses for what I did in the past then I guess that’s on you but like do you really think a child with borderline personality disorder who has teenage hormones and is being abused and guilt-tripped into staying with someone because they say they’re going to kill themselves if they leave and dealing with everything else that comes with high school is going to be a picture perfect image of someone who just has depression and passively sits by self-harming themselves? You’re really going to tell me you’ve never lashed out at other people when you’ve been in pain? I almost died at 15 at my partner before that’s house and you know what he did? Left me alone in his yard to deal with the fact I just almost died. How do you think that made me feel? Like for real. People are not perfect. People are messy. People hurt other people. It happens.

[deadgodwriting]

Texts I will never send:

I realized that we were never in love. Not real love. Maybe mutual obsession and using each other to cope but that's the closest we ever came to love. I think I'm the happiest and most mentally stable I've ever been now. I'm in love with Richard, and real love this time. We're obsessed with each other but in a way that adults in love are, not mentally ill teenagers. He often times falls asleep mid conversation and doesn't message me until the next morning and it never makes me panic because I trust him. It took a lot of convincing for him to get me to open up to him because I've become so traumatized at the idea of sharing my needs or opinions because with people like you it would always be a long drawn out fight. And I was terrified at the idea of making him angry with me. Because of you. But he convinced me to open up, it took days of constantly telling me he wanted to hear my opinion, but it worked. And after I told him all the feelings I had been hiding in an attempt not to upset him, he told me that he loved me more. And that he thought I was brave, and he was so proud of me. We never fight. The most that happens is we get mildly frustrated and then take a short pause and come back. It's been over a month of us dating now and that's the worst of it for us. There's arguments or disagreements sometimes but it never ever becomes a fight. It's just us talking about what we disagree on. And we will still use petnames the whole time. He calls me almost exclusively by petnames. Things like "my love", "my dear", "baby", "kitten", "babydoll". Even "dollface" sometimes like he's a greaser. I call him "love" constantly. We're also both glued to each other the whole time when he comes over. When we sit on the couch I will rest my head on his shoulder and he'll lean over and kiss my head AT LEAST every 5 minutes the entire time we play video games or watch tv. We went on a date to Georgia boys and he kept leaning over to hold my hand between eating. And he got me a brownie sundae at the end, and paid for everything. I find him genuinely attractive too. I don't have to force myself like with you, I can just look at him and be amazed at how attractive I find him. He's INCREDIBLY muscular, and way stronger than me. His hairline is also better than yours. Not to mention his dick is like almost a full inch bigger. And he's so interested in me sexually. He almost always initiates and will just be overcome with lust if I kiss or touch him in certain ways. Last week he didn't even mean to put he gave me two hickeys.

[isolctions]

...........so let’s finally talk abt what the actual fucking fuck is wrong with ai’rina rue castillo, huh gang? :-)

(everyone go thank @armsdealing & @durcgs beating the anxiety out of me in order to post this info-dump.)

...before we get into things, now’s the part where i establish a warning for triggers to be discussed in this lengthy headcanon post. there’s gonna be some talks of mental illness, slight alcohol abuse, & breaking down topics of familial abuse, mental abuse, religious abuse, emotional manipulation, and elements of non-con. be warned.

a’ight, so look. i’ve hinted in between threads & development that rue had a not-so-fantastic upbringing that impacted how she perceives herself, how she interacts with others, (in terms of her career, at least) and how she views personal relationships, but i didn’t realize how........severely her upbringing messed with her mental health until i started working through how i wanted to plot out rue’s behavior for her next album release. at first, i had the idea that she decided to take more time for herself & sort of distance herself from the public / media circus plaguing her life so that she can create much more authentic music. then i actually listened to the EP that i’m basing her album off of and thought “...oh.” THEN, i looked over old meme responses & old threads / mentions of her family and how she grew up and thought, not for the last time since piecing everything together: “....oh. oh fucking boy.”

so, that horrible realization dawning on me, let’s talk about rue’s childhood.

i wrote a thing like, two years ago almost (that upon looking for last night, i realized i didn’t actually share it w/ anyone but alex in our discord server & only mentioned a portion of it in rue’s moodboard that i made) that talked vaguely about how rue felt growing up. and it’s worth noting that...she’s the middle of ten fucking siblings. and that’s just the brothers & sisters she knew of that stayed with their mother. and on top of that, not all of those siblings are the product of rue’s father, or even rue’s mother for that matter. and it’s also worth noting that rue not only grew up in poverty, but she grew up never having any actual space that had solely been her own, or even an article of clothing that had belonged entirely to her. so naturally, as a young child, rue sort of became torn between starved for attention & wanting someone to pay attention to her (whether that be her older siblings including her in something, whatever teacher they had for the next six months to call on her for something, for her mother to miraculously show up with her unknown father in tow one day, & for literally anyone to be her friend, pls god Notice her!!!) and for people to simply leave her the hell alone. obviously, this carried into adulthood.

and branching off from the whole “lack of space” point i made, rue wound up growing up to become increasingly more private as time went on because she literally cannot remember a single moment where she wasn’t squished between a bunch of people. driving around in their minivan? rue’s packed in the middle of the second row. nowhere to sleep while on the road? rue’s smacked between gigantic older brothers & clingy little siblings. need to use to bathroom? lmao, she better off going outside!!! gotta change clothes? yeah, good luck with that. it was to the point where, when rue got her first period, she was humiliated by it — not because ‘omg, am i a woman now?? wtf is this???’, but because she ruined the one good sheet that she slept on with her sisters & they were super pissed at her and her mother withheld pay from her for weeks. >:/

already, rue grew up never having shit to herself until the record deal. but she also dealt with literally...so much abuse from her mother. rue thought this was the norm growing up, because all of her siblings faced their mother’s wrath at some point & all of them eventually learned to just deal with the shit and do what she says if they wanted to avoid it. they all compartmentalized and repressed to varying degrees. there’s a lot in which rue has repressed so deeply, she doesn’t even remember if it seriously happened or if she was just making it up bc it was so fucking bizarre for a parent to act that way towards their child, lol?? (and this behavior of “i’m just going to do what you say bc i don’t want to deal with whatever bullshit you’re up to if i say no” also carried into business / personal relationships, which is...very Yikes it’s amazing she didn’t get scammed or worse!) 

so sure, people have complimented her for her exceptional manners & her cleanliness & how quiet / polite she is & how amazing her posture is, bc seriously, this girl will never experience back problems in her life bc her posture is so on par. but where rue typically smiles / responds bashfully, she can’t exactly just up and say: “oh, yeah, my mom used to slap the shit out of me ‘til i bruised if i spoke out of turn or talked back, and if i reached for anything in the store or put my elbows on the table she’d slap a ruler against my palms ‘til i got welts, and she’d make me read verses all night without sleep if i did anything wrong and make me straighten up and kneel on rice if i slouched or took a nap in church and humiliated me in public if i so much as looked at someone of the opposite sex on the street n oh, did i mention i also cleaned houses for rich millionaire snobs from ages twelve to sixteen and if they said or did literally anything to me i wasn’t allowed to defend myself?? ya i’m real proper :)”

(and normal ppl will go: “...................what the FUCK is WRONG with you????”)

but oh man, babe, we’re not done yet!!! rue, being the product of both a highly religious and a highly exploitative household...had difficulty when she started reaching puberty & noticing her classmates. plural, because it wasn’t just boys that she began to secretly have crushes on / fantasize abt, sexually or domestically. she also realized, oh shit, that she started looking at girls differently too. and that literally put the fear of god into her heart, bc if her mother ever found out that she was having non-platonic feelings for the girls in her classrooms, she wasn’t going to be pissed. her mom might have actually tried to kill her. or have her exorcised or something. she knew the shit would be severe, and she wanted no fucking parts of her mother or her siblings inserting the church into her personal life, thank u very much! so rue started suppressing her romantic feelings for people to the point where if adult rue receives intimacy, she’s like “...is this allowed? is this not illegal??????” while simultaneously being like “i will be a slut. just this once. as a Treat to teenage me. :>” regardless, rue learned to molotov cocktail literally any emotion or thought she had, bc she was paranoid that it would give her mother a vision.

now, onto the perils of exploitation...she should’ve been used to it really, what with her mother forcing herself & siblings to lure customers into their shop with promises of visions and palm readings and the wonders of the cards and overexerting their abilities. same with housekeeping, like being of service to people was normal! but when seventeen year old rue decided to sign a record deal and break from home, she wasn’t thinking critically about what the fuck all of this would entail. and as described in this headcanon post abt her discography, her early music was the product of allowing people much older & powerful than you to influence your work & manipulate your values. so rue was very much parading around as someone she wasn’t, someone much more confident and badass and self-assured than she really was, and she was so impressionable back then that it literally makes her sick to think back on it now. she calls it her puppy phase and phrases the eagerness to please execs as ‘tongue wagging’. homegirl hardly even knew her name anymore, bc all she was and all she would ever be was rue, the star, the vocal temptress. not ai’rina, the help or ai’rina, the seer, ai’rina, the weak little nobody. but later on, the subtle manipulation was less about decision making & how they wanted her to sound, and more about how they wanted to present the latest trophy star — because after all, she was pretty. people liked her. she sung really well. suitors weren’t too far off into the distant future. so why not kill two birds with one stone by having a high ranking label artist keep tabloids talking by being seen in public with a few heart throbs? surely, there’s no harm in manipulating an eighteen/nineteen year old’s love life! under the guise of improving her social skills & relations with fellow artists and the media and the like, rue gave into the pressures and let herself be taken out on dates & seen at awards shows with a few guys. no big deal. it was only for a night or so, she could handle the attention. then, one night appearances turned into week long appearances. pretending to date for only a month! completely innocent, positive exposure. :)

(adult rue, looking back @ younger rue: you stupid fucking BITCH-)

yeah, so once her label/management realized that she was turning into a hot commodity, they lost no sleep at allowing their nineteen year old artist to be seen ‘dating’ 20-24+ year old men occasionally. and whatever happened after their public appearances were none of their business. plus, she was good at pretending and being arm candy — so rue experienced her first kiss, her first dates, and her first times with people who she’s almost certain hardly remember their time with her, and really only got involved with her for a mutual career boost. very few of them does she actually remember in a positive light, and the ones that were positive, still depress her bc lmao all of it was fake, even if they were really nice & made it less like a chore and more like they actually wanted to be with her!! even fewer of them were actual relationships. meaning, said person asked her out of their own volition, not bc their managers thought it’d be a decent match on camera. it was evil, really, what her old label made of her. (like, she makes funny jokes that her first time having sex was awkward bc she had a vision halfway through that bummed her out but in reality it was just...really more of a transaction that made her feel icky n progressively worse abt herself until it happened more often and now she just doesn’t care anymore. sex is just sex, u know?? everything’s fake. why you gotta make it personal.) this whole fiasco took over the larger part of rue’s career from like, age nineteen to age twenty-two or so, and she suffered dramatically from this because what is even a genuine, authentic relationship at this point? what do u mean you want to get to know me? did ur manager tell you to ask so many damn questions & try to get to know me? obviously you want something from me bc that’s why everyone gets into a relationship or has sex with me, stop confessing feelings for me u fucking loser. >:/

like...rue doesn’t even have friends. outside of her relationship with marcelo / @armsdealing​ (which, AGAIN, i think was initially arranged to promote her song be honest, how fucking IRONIC), rue does not have any personal relationships with anyone. i mean, she likes her latest management team since switching labels...her hair stylist is rly cool & her make up artist is fun to vacation with...she met a few other celebrities at events that she occasionally texts & has dinner with...yeah, she’s basically a pretty hermit. her family is more or less out of the question — the few brothers & sisters she does still have a positive relationship with (like, four of them lol), they don’t see each other in person often / mainly communicate via groupchat and facetime calls when all of them have time. she tried visiting with her mother over the years, but the verbal & emotional abuse/curses placed on her/accusations of being an imp of satan for singing to the public/memories of being forced to perform psychic shows & clean for chump change keeps her from trying to mend that relationship. like, being gaslit by ur mother isn’t really the vibe, u know? and bottom line, rue simply is a very shy and socially stunted individual who does not know how to communicate like a normal human being anymore. hell, her life revolves around pretending for strangers at this point!

now, onto how...all of That ties into her behavior / state of mind during this next album. so, after riding the wave of success from her third album & the circus that came with that. rue sort of had a fucking existential crisis. came out of absolutely nowhere. (not nowhere — one of her brothers called her out of the blue and called her ai’rina and she literally went “who the fuck is that?”) told her label that she was taking some time in between albums bc she was creatively zapped or whatever bullshit excuse she came up with that somehow worked bc this new label was a little more understanding than the last. vacationed for a little, did some hot girl shit, bought a house, tried to see her mother again for whatever reason then got the shit slapped out of her and finally screamed at her to never touch her again unless she wanted to Throw Hands. cried and got drunk abt it. that took six months. bullshat to her label again, dropped like two songs to smooth things over, decided to focus on magic for a little to ground her, started partying with label mates then going home shitfaced & hungover every other morning. that took eight months. dropped one last song, promptly deleted her twitter, tried to write songs again, got a call from her mother and panicked and got drunk. that took a year. vacationed some more, got even drunker, was bed ridden for like three months because holy shit i’m having so many visions and if i see One More Thing my brain is going to explode, couldn’t separate the present from the future for weeks after that, told absolutely no one about that, cried every day & had an identity crisis, dyed her hair to appease the identity crisis goblins. that took a year and a half.

now, she just chilling. dyed her hair again. scaring her siblings halfway to death bc she keeps going on benders & sending cryptic texts abt the visions she’s getting but they’re so incomprehensible that they’re seriously considering moving in to get her fucking shit together. had a vision that she was married with kids and had a two week identity crisis appeased only by moving houses. (she was in a neighborhood with families...too much Drama and visions. turned into a really cool song tho.) started calling herself by her birth name of ai’rina in private. reactivated twitter to send cryptic tweets that her album is coming. working on said album. trying to drink less but kinda failing bc how is one simply supposed to make a highly personal dual album without alcohol??? prbly somewhere crying in marcelo’s lap or smthn. just vibes.

like...i feel like, in my head, the Theme of her project is wrapped up in identity. her relationship with fame and whatnot. trying to coax her childhood self out of its’ shell so that she can function like a normal goddamn person for once and re-establish her values. like, if someone went to any of rue’s residences right now, it’s just songbooks everywhere and wine glasses and her crystals and shit, bc she still has people’s futures to read for money. (yes, she never really got out of that portion of her childhood, but hey it pays.) it was all very confusing to experience at once while in bed at four in the morning & even though i tried organizing and debated on this, it’s still a Lot. which is why i am once again asking for plots that would allow her to dissect all these Things

so yeah. album four otw, with a side of confronting our childhood & facing our traumas!

[rossodelgiorno]

2020/ Chain of Fools

2020 was the year I adopted a boiler suit and gas mask as a daily uniform. The world had gone into a global lockdown to combat the COVID19 virus which meant we were only allowed to leave our house for essential reasons such as grocery shopping and exercise. When outside, we were government mandated to wear face masks to prevent the spread of the disease. They made me feel like a muzzled dog and I resented no longer being able to smile with strangers on the street. Feeling like a prisoner in his own home and under extreme stress from job insecurity, my boyfriend Jake’s amphetamine addiction began to spiral out of control.

As a result of Jake’s addiction, we had accidentally befriended a posse of drug dealers and prostitutes- bonded by our love of having a good time and a general disregard for consequence. We met Dani through a call girl friend of mine who had realised the difficulty of making a living through writing online fashion content. Dani had big brown eyes, fat, botoxed lips and dressed only in high end labels like Gucci and Balmain. Born into a wealthy family, she had acquired a taste for expensive things but lacked the work ethic to maintain this taste without selling her body for sex. Dani began to visit more throughout the lockdown to deliver Jake drugs, hidden in a bag of a groceries. One night, she played Carole King on our old vinyl player, while Jake rolled us a joint to share. I flirted with them both, knowing that it would lead to a threesome. We smoked Jake’s joint, snorted lines of cocaine off each other and then took turns going down on each other.

A week later, Dani introduced us to a crew of “script kiddies”- long haired, internet hackers with a love of mumble rap, cryptocurrency and ketamine. I made cocktails for everyone and established that one of these kids shared a mutual friend with Jake. They seemed fascinated by the genuine sexual chemistry between myself, Jake and Dani and expressed gratitude for our generous hospitality. Eventually I came to the conclusion that by associating us with this crowd, Dani had managed to successfully pray on the vulnerable- trusting junkies like us who were lax with internet security and keen for a good time. In retrospect, I wish I had known that Dani was a hustler at heart- making money in any way she could without considering the impact of her choices. At the time however, I felt like we were fully living life in the moment- something I was certain would bring me happiness, meaning and didn’t question her motives for a moment.

Ella, Dani’s best friend, had a boyish pixie cut, high cheekbones and was tall and slim. She had gradually joined in on our shenanigans, along with Mark, a dealer with a steady supply of the best gear available north of the river. We all hung out together in our plant-filled, converted warehouse listening to electronic music and sharing stories about our favourite mind-altering substances. My stories were consistently focused on MDMA. As a notoriously private person, I’d discovered MDMA helped me open up and allowed me to dance, free of fear of judgement. It had also helped Jake open up about the sexual abuse he experienced as child, a fact I doubted would have ever come up without the influence of a truth serum and something which I was certain had driven him to substance abuse in the first place.

While we laughed, chatted and danced with Dani and Mark, Ella, who claimed to be a part time poet and part-time model, entered a viral script virus onto our wireless network by requesting our wifi password. Something we provided willingly, without second thought. This meant remote access to every digital device we owned and access to all stored personal information including scanned copies of our passports and birth certificates.

The issue with Mark, despite his criminal lifestyle, was that he was excellent company. Intelligent, engaging and a DJ in his spare time- we thrived off his love of hip hop and old-school funk. Similarly, he thrived off our property location in the Inner North- close to his regular customers and discrete enough from the prying eyes of authority. We welcomed him into our home with open arms, deprived of social contact through social distancing practices enforced by the pandemic. We held COVID19 illegal gatherings where we got high off Mark’s supply, enjoyed each other’s company while Ella hacked our electronic identities. When you’re lonely, it doesn’t really matter if others are using you and you’re using them. As long as everyone is filling a clearly defined role, the maladaptive social ecosystem continues to function.

It’s unclear exactly how many international drug smuggling routes were established using our stolen online identities before Jake clued on that something wasn’t right. He told me that he had been locked out of his email account, that the speed of his phone had slowed and that he could hear clicking noises during his phone calls. He was certain that his was a breach of online security and started to question the motives of our new friends. I wrote him off as crazy, blaming his excessive use of amphetamines and the psychological effect of social isolation. I was determined to keep my online identity public, obsessed by the idea of becoming the next millennial therapist and too blinded by Dani’s beauty to believe that she would want to harm us in any way.

Eventually Jake’s distress became too extreme to ignore and he shook me violently one night, yelling at me to believe what I had assumed was a paranoid conspiracy theory. A sinking feeling in my gut became apparent when he started to coherently piece together his concerns about his online security issues. I realized that my sense of reality had been clouded by my lust for Dani and by a dark depression that had developed through my work as an essential worker during a pandemic. Based on Jake’s erratic behaviour, I knew we had to get out of the warehouse immediately, but I had no idea where to go and was fearful of drawing attention to any law-breaking activity when police presence was so prominent.

We agreed to seek refuge with our friends Trish and Rick, former 90s British ravers who had channeled their drug-fuelled benders into successful and respectable careers. I called them panicked that night, shaking and rambling about what had happened. Without hesitancy, Trish told us to come over right away. Rick’s brother back in the UK had recently killed himself and they were struggling too. Trish and Rick lived in an affluent area in the inner East which meant we needed to blend in quickly through a disguise of expensive athleisure and an almost painful sense of normality. It appeared that our efforts at disguise were successful and it seemed to result in freedom from any unusual online activity on our devices. We bought new phones, changed our phone numbers, email addresses and disconnected from the outside world for an entire week. We spoke about going to the police, however we both agreed that this would place us at too much risk to the criminal world to be a viable option.

When your online identity is stolen, you quickly start to daydream what it would be like to steal someone else’s identity. For example, what exactly would you do with those proceeds of crime? Which tropical island would you escape to, what designer clothes would you wear, which car would you drive? I quickly became entranced and jealous at the thought of this fantasy life, but then spent time reflecting on my own morality and these feelings subsided. Instead, an intense anger developed at the thought of others taking advantage of Jake and his mental illness. High on a sense of ethical superiority and new found fury, I decided to employ my favourite psychological defense mechanism, repression, to cope with my latest traumas. May you rest in peace, memory, I said to myself before engaging in my daily mediation ritual.

While repressing my consciousness, I also began to focus on the importance of social support. I knew this shit was important but didn’t fully understand until Trish brushed my hair one night, my arms too frail from fear and stress to function. Trish and Rick played familiar Britpop, drank tea and encouraged us to embrace the therapeutic benefits of music through use of the guitar and keyboard that we had brought to their house. We took turns cooking for each other, played board games and counselled each other through each personal problems, one at a time.

Jake and I stayed with Trish and Rick for two weeks until we could establish an exit plan from the city. We migrated to rural Victoria like many other Melbournians, traumatized by the lockdown. The pace in the country was slow yet calming and people genuinely seemed to care about your welfare when they inquired “How you going, mate?” After such an extended period of social isolation, many of us forgot how to interact with others. We valued and craved human connection more than ever, and yet we seemed scared of what we might connect with. We continued to develop our own deformed version of sign language to communicate through the face masks and focused on re-developing social skills that had been lost through extended disconnection.

Jake and I continued to battle through the challenges of online identity theft and the consequences of his addiction issues. Jake’s substance use had subsided substantially without the influence of Mark and Dani and we eventually adjusted to living normal, routine driven lifestyles. He had cycled through periods of problematic use before, however I still felt somewhat shell shocked by the intensity of his most recent relapse. However, one day late in December I found myself wandering through the tranquility of the Otways, fully freed from the constraints of the lockdown which had finally lifted and contemplating my progress in life since leaving this place as a teenager. The rainforest sounds were vivid and the smells of the ocean salty in my nostrils. I wasn’t where I had planned to end the year 2020, but I was alive and I had Jake. And for that, I felt eternally grateful.

Rosso Del Giorno

Your journey starts here.

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[im-not-a-joke]

Mmh... All the field

the whole- the whole field....

thank you for asking, this is going to be one long post

Alisons: Sexuality?

asexual, unlabeled/queer romantic

Amaranth: Pronouns/Gender?

they/them or he/him, nonbinary

Amaryllis: Birthday?

february 4th

Anemone: Favorite flower?

bleeding heart

Angelonia: Favorite t.v. show?

steven universe

Arum-Lily: What’s the farthest you’d go for a stranger?

probably offer a place to sleep overnight

Aster: What’s one of your favorite quotes?

“Do you think God stays in heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he’s created?”

Aubrieta: Favorite drink?

strawberry lemonade

Baby’s Breath: Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

my gf? yes, absolutely.

Balsam Fir: Have you ever been in love?

i’d like to think so, yes

Baneberries: Favorite song?

currently “better than me” by the brobecks

Basket of Gold: Describe your family.

a mess, i have three siblings, and two of them are currently living at home, we also have two large dogs

Beebalm: Do you have a best friend? Who is it?

yes! my best friend anna, and her brother bryan!

Begonia: Favorite color?

purple

Bellflower: Favorite animal?

mantis shrimp

Bergenia: Are you a morning or night person?

night person

Black-Eyed Susan: If you could be any animal for a day, what would it be?

dog, i want the constant love and affection

Bloodroots: When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?

first a botanist, then a geologist

Bluemink: What are your thoughts on children?

i want to adopt some someday! sometimes they suck, but i want to be there for someone who doesn’t have a family to lean on.

Blazing Stars: What are you afraid of? Is there a reason why?

abandonment, because i’m annoying

Borage: Give a random fact about your childhood.

i shared a room with my little brother until i was like 12.

Bugleherb: How would you spend your last day on Earth?  

visiting all the people i love most, all of my friends, my gf, i’d call my sister

Buttercup: Relationship Status?

taken!

Camelia: If you could visit anywhere, where would you want to go?

france

Candytufts: When do you feel most loved?

when people take the time out of their day to talk to me

Canna: Do you have any tattoos?  

nope, i do want some someday, though

Canterbury Bells: Do you have any piercings?  

yes! i got my ears pierced twice because it ripped my earlobe the first time

California Poppy: Height?  

~5′8″

Cardinal Flower: Do you believe in ghosts?

yes, and if i die before any of my friends, i’m coming back to haunt them

Carnation: What are you currently wearing?  

a floral tank top, my favorite sleeveless cardigan, and jean shorts

Catnip: Have you ever slept with a nightlight?

yes, my little brother was afraid of the dark and insisted on having a nightlight on

Chives: Who was the last person you hugged?  

my mom

Chrysanthemum: Who’s the last person you kissed?

my gf

Cock’s Comb: Favorite font?

architect’s daughter

Columbine: Are you tired?

yes, very

Common Boneset: What are you looking forward to?

tomorrow i get to leave the house all day to drive across the state and it’s going to be a lot of fun

Coneflower: Dream job?

language teacher! either english to people who don’t speak it or german/french to english speakers

Crane’s-Bill: Introvert or extrovert?

introvert. i’m on tumblr all day

Crocus: Have you ever been in love?

yeah, i think so

Crown Imperial: What’s the farthest you would go for someone you care about?

i’d actually die for multiple people in my life

Cyclamen: Did you have a favorite stuffed animal as a child? What was it?

yes! a stuffed white dog with a plaid scarf and matching antlers! my friend got it for me because it reminded her of my big white dog.

Daffodil: What’s your zodiac sign?

aquarius

Dahlia: Have you done anything worth remembering?

once i came 3rd in my age group for a 5k i ran

Daisy: What do you feel is your greatest accomplishment?

i successfully kept a frail axolotl alive for an entire summer

Daylily: What would you do if your parents didn’t like your partner(s)?  

i dont care what my parents think about stuff like that, they cant tell my who i am or am not allowed to date

Dendrobium: Who is the last person that you said “I love you” to?

@byler-obsessed literally like, maybe 15 minutes ago as of writing this

False Goat’s Beard: What is something you are good at?

i’d like to think i’m decent at singing

Foxgloves: What’s something you’re bad at?

staying awake during the day

Freesia: What are three good things that have happened in the past month?

i saw my gf for the first time in months! i came out to the girls team for xc! i spent a lot of time with one of my closest irl friends!

Garden Cosmos: How was your day today?

decent, i had coach practice, which was nice

Gardenia: Are you happy with where you’re at in your life?

yeah, i’d say i’m pretty happy where i am

Gladiolus: What is something you hope to do in the next year or two?

learn guitar

Glory-of-the-Snow: What are ten things that make you happy/you’re grateful to have in your life?

my best friends anna and bryan, my older brother, the girls on the team, my ukulele, my therapist, my dogs, the creek in my back yard, my grandma’s amish apple dumpling recipe, random internet memes, books

Heliotropium: What helps you calm down when you feel stressed?  

listening to my spotify playlist

Hellebore: How do you show affection?

reassurance and/or talking about things that i enjoy, i’m really insecure so if i’m talking about something i like, that’s me trusting you. 

Hoary Stock: What are you proudest of?

the mental health progress i’ve made

Hollyhock: Describe your ideal day.

i lay in bed until like 11, then, i spend the rest of the day out with my friends, we get sushi for dinner and stay up until like 3am

Hyacinth: What do you like to do in your free time?  

be on tumblr

Hydrangea: How long have you known your best friend? How did you meet them?

i met them both in 6th grade, anna nad i were in the same science class and i met bryan at lunch, he didn’t talk to me for at least the first half of the year.

Irises: Who can you talk to about (almost) everything?

bryan, he always knows just what to say, and knows that he doesn’t have to fix my problems to be a good friend.

Laceleaf: How many friends do you have?

like, 13?

Lantanas: What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received?

my friend once told me that they couldn’t tell if i was a boy or girl upon first meeting me and it made my day.

Larkspur: What do you think of yourself?

i’m a mess, an anxious, depressed, gay mess

Lavender: What’s your favorite thing about yourself?

my hair, it’s really fluffy and soft, and just about light enough to dye bright colors

Leather Flower: What’s your least favorite thing about yourself?  

my chest, it’s always been a huge part of my dysphoria and i want it gone please

Lilac: What’s something you liked to do as a child?

i would play dress up with my dog, he had to suffer through wearing all my old dresses, but he got treats so it was ok

Lily: Who was your best friend when you were a kid?

my friend ry, we met in second grade, we’re still on and off friends, currently off

Lily of the Incas: What is something you still feel guilty for?

in 5th grade i used the word “suck” in class and got yelled at

Lily of the Nile: What is something you feel guilty for that you shouldn’t feel guilty about?  

see above answer

Lupine: What does your name mean? Why is that your name?

carson: christian. it’s my name because i like how it sounds, and anna really liked it too, she picked it for me.

Marigold: Where did you grow up? Tell us about it.

white, suburban ohio. all the kids had cliques by the second day of kindergarten, and if you were knew, you generally had a pretty good chance of being picked up by the popular kids.

Morning Glory: What was your bedroom like growing up?

i had bunkbeds with my little brother, i slept on the bottom.

Mugworts: What was it like for you as a teenager? Did you enjoy your teenage years?  

so far, not really. i’m just mentally ill and closeted, it’s not great

Norwegian Angelica: Tell us about your mom.

she likes to dye her hair crazy colors, and she used to be a beekeeper, even though she’s allergic to bee stings.

Onions: Tell about your dad.  

he rides his bike almost every day, and supports my mom in whatever she does

Orchid: Tell about your grandparents.

on my mom’s side, the kindest boomers i’ve ever met, my grandpa used to take us on “adventures” to the park and just watch us play

on my dad’s side: my grandpa loves seeing us but doesn’t get out much, my grandma laughs hysterically at every family gathering, and has all the best amish recipes

Pansy: What was your most memorable birthday? What made it be so memorable?

when i turned 13, i went ice skating for the first time and fell and sprained my wrist

Peony: What was your first job?

mowing lawns

Petunia: If you’re in a relationship, how did you meet your partner(s)? If you’re not in a relationship, how did you meet your crush/how do you hope to meet your future partner(s), if you want any?

we had mutual friends and slowly ended up being close, we were in school plays and track together.

Pincushion: How do you deal with pain?

i bite down on my finger to simultaneously distract myself, focus on something else, and hold myself back

Pink: Where is home?

my best friends’ living room at 1 am, with the golden girls playing in the background

Plantain Lilies: If you could go back in time, what is one thing you would stop/change?

i’d go back and stop current president from becoming president

Prairie Gentian: Who is someone you look up to? Describe them.

my sister, she has always been driven and passionate and talented, and she makes everything seem effortless and still gives it her all.

Primrose: Describe your ideal life.

me and my spouse and my kids amd my dogs all live in a decently spacious house in europe, my job is stable and i love my work, my students think i’m cool and come to me if they need help, i am doing well.

Rhodendron: What is something you used to believe in as a child?

i used to believe that the smoke from fireworks was where clouds came from

Ricinus: Who’s the most important in your life?

my best friends

Rose: What’s your favorite sound?

the sound of rain on my roof at night

Rosemallows: What’s your favorite memory?

when my sister, dad, and i all climbed to the top of a mountain in california

Sage: What’s your least favorite memory?

throwing up in the car on the way home for visiting my sister in new york

Snapdragon: At this moment, what do you want?  

a hug from anna

St. John’s Wort: Is it easy or difficult for you to express how you feel about things?

it’s hard because i don’t trust people

Sunflower: What is something you don’t want to imagine life without?

the internet

Sweet Pea: How much sleep did you get last night?

like 5.5 hours

Tickseed: What’s your main reason to get up every morning?

to run, it makes me feel better and i love cross country

Touch-Me-Not: How do you feel about your current job?

lmao i dont have one

Transvaal Daisy: What’s your favorite item of clothing?

my binder!

Tropical White Morning Glory: Describe your aesthetic.  

the record player song but a boy

Tulip: What would be the best present to get you?

a list of reasons why you deal with me/things you like about me

Vervain: What’s stressing you out most right now?

the fact that this is taking a lot longer than anticipated and i don’t want people to think i’m ignoring their asks

Wisteria: How many books have you read in the past few months? What were they called?

actual books? only 2, Catcher in the Rye and the Night Circus

Wolf’s Bane: Where do you want to be in life this time next year?

out with my friends

Yarrow: Do you know what vore is?

yes, and i regret it

Zinnia: Give a random fact about yourself.

i’m double jointed in my left pinky

[honeychilialligator]

The Comfort of Strangers

Gabe's POV

The first time I saw her, it was a Saturday - most likely in the middle of September, nine months ago in a public library, four blocks away from the building that I once inhabited.

Of all things to note, the initial thing that would flash was the day - always the same day. She probably wore an average sweater, and dark skinny jeans - a style I eventually noticed. And even without the glasses, I always remembered her even back then as nerdy, introverted and of course, bookish.

It was a school research that motivated me to visit such a weary place that I couldn't imagine ever stopping-over - not because I was allergic to studying (if anything, I don't mind reading books) but because the place in itself was a bore to look at. The library was Egypt's pyramid. Historical. Old. Ancient. Pick your term. There's a helpful thesaurus inside to help you in such a predicament.

Then again, the same reason has urged me to step inside the old-fashioned site. Mr. Lanburton (not sure if I spelled his name accurately), our history teacher, had loaded us a big stack of dreadful tasks to fulfill at the end of the weekend. Surprisingly so, my memory has reclaimed the thoughts of my heavy homework, to which my class was asked to recollect important historical terms of a long list of nearby places in the vicinity of our humble locale.

It was also the first time my best friend, Google, has disappointed me terribly for failing to deliver an automatic answer to my difficulties (Apparently it was not one of those "God bless the internet" days). Unfortunately our locality and its small populace were a little unfit for specific and in-depth information about what Mr. Lanburton had required.

As tempting as it was to abandon the task at hand, my grades in that semester was not as cooperative. It took me a week to recover on an illness that got me hospitalized for days and the teachers were not very considerate. The only option left for me was to take the route to the oldest public library in town and start a customary way of active research.

The heavy creak brought from the antique wooden door entrance unsurprisingly attracted too much attention in an almost-deserted library. I met her stare as she lifted her gaze - our first contact. Yet at that moment it seemed so ordinary - so unappreciated. I couldn't recall clearly what book she was reading or how she looked at me, no matter how hard I try, but I guess that's just how I will always remember her: the girl who always has her face trained on books in the old library.

At the end of the day I was happy for having the task lifted off of my shoulders three days before the original submission, and I also recalled that my parents treated me and my four-year old little sister in an expensive restaurant outside town. My mother bought me a black jacket that I remembered wearing the next day. That specific Saturday was special in ways that I could only fully realize now.

Visits to the library were followed by more when our history teacher realized how effective it was (for him) to leave advanced schoolwork for a progressive study on our next topics. More items were given that I had to reserve extra time to the library to fulfill the task every week. The second and third time I stayed in the public library, I sat three chairs away from her and maintained the same position for the week because it was nearest to the air conditioner and I was rather comfortable. The quiet girl maintained hers just the same. Each time we were near each other I was more intrigued about the novels she was reading and how she seemed to be unfazed to her dusty surroundings with a different book each time I came. By my fifth visit, I was able to comprehend a clearer assessment on her features when I snuck in a slight glance.

Evergreen - like spring. That's how I remembered her full bright eyes. It seemed enchanting now the more I think about it, as only a few people could possess such unique detail. Her cheeks are always flushed - it must have something to do with the cold atmosphere (but later, I realized she was always like that). Her slightly-curly hazel brown hair, she always secured in a careless bun. It was curiosity that compelled me to her - a teenage girl my age who would just spend most of her time reading classic novels in the stinky dinosaur-age public library instead of going shopping or doing whatever sassy teenage girls do. Does she even go to school? Is she constantly alone if she doesn't have anyone to hang-out with? Where does she live anyway? What's in these books -these novels that got her hooked in this place? Why can't she just borrow them and bring them home to read? Why here where everything is so grubby and old, I have to stop myself from sneezing when I get too close on a dictionary?

It started as a thought, which intrigued me, and then it changed into a deep curiosity that later became a sudden interest. She was not from my university, that's for sure. I would have known. I never bothered to ask because I was uncertain on her response. It was not my forte, conversing with the opposite gender. Back then I had a mental overview on how my conversation with her would be like. I just couldn't gather enough courage to start even a casual conversation.

Scanning through old textbooks, I'd sneak in a little look at her - I don't know why I did - I always felt like even through her solemn focus on the material she was reading, I've always imagined her noticing every slight glance I pass on to her. Having her around three chairs away from me every Saturday afternoon in the library eventually turned into something natural - like a schoolmate a table away from me in our usual place in the cafeteria. Without even speaking, I guess our positions were a mutual contract. Without even knowing it, my visits and these weekly tasks no longer bothered me as much as it did at first.

Finally, I devised a plan to get her attention (it didn't sound as creepy when I thought about it before). This peculiar bookworm returns the books to its shelf and leaves the place fifteen minutes less before I could finish my research homework. On a particular Saturday in October, I took notice of the exact bookshelf location she left her novel before she stepped out of the library. Coincidentally Mr. Lanburton was kind enough to lessen our burden with simple common terms to hunt and I was able to finish the task earlier than most. I took the book out of the bookshelf five minutes after she left. I tried considering asking the elderly librarian about the name of the girl (surely she knew about her only customer in ghost town's library) but for some reason I didn't pursue it.

The moment I glanced at the cover of the book I remembered thinking: "Nicholas Sparks. Well what do you know? I guess she is a romantic at heart."

"The Choice" by Nicholas Sparks.

Reading the synopsis was my last pull to borrowing the book and bringing it home. Alas, I have also read some of his passionate collections but it was my first to encounter this specific book. I started reading that night - continued and finished it the next day. It was compelling and I was hooked. I thought about how she could be feeling the same emotions that I was sensing as I read through Spark's masterpiece, and when I am overcome with extreme emotions in the climax of the plot, I remembered how I caught her wrinkle her nose as she read through all those literary pieces as if she was dismayed by the outcome, or how a trace of a smile would form on her delicate lips for a moment at the remaining pages of her novels; all the emotions rushing out of her when she reads - I realize how she understood all kinds of sentiments organized by the author or how she paints the characters out of her beautiful imagination.

For a regular guy who sees life as a featureless routine, she was remarkable.

The next Saturday, there were no tasks to accomplish, but I returned the book to the library. When I arrived, the girl was already sitting with a different (probably about another romance) book on our usual table as I had expected. I felt her eyes follow me when I returned the book that she read. After doing so, I returned to my usual chair, took a random book on her usual bookshelf and pretended to read it - hoping she would notice me again.

The bookworm cleared her throat. Twice (in the first, I was a little too overwhelmed to hear her). "Excuse me."

"Yes?" I must have smiled like a fool back then.

"Hi," she started nervously. "I just couldn't help wondering: what genre do you usually prefer? I mean if you don't mind." Wait, British accent?

The question initially confused me, but it made me more than glad to hear her talk. I answered her in way that might have ineffectually and failingly conceal my tense and awkward self. "I-I guess I'm more into Action, Sci-Fi. Those kinds of stuff." (Not really). "And probably a little romance would do." (A guy reading a romance novel? Can't you get any weirder? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid).

"I see," she spoke out the words slowly. "Action, huh? Specifically of Sylvia Day's?"

Her tone had demanded to alert me, as I saw her look curiously on the book on my hand. I quickly turned to the cover.

"Bared to You" by Sylvia Day.

Oh.

I slammed the book shut, not daring to behold a scene of its twisted plot. Funny, how I must have looked like to her: A perverted little maniac.

That's when I heard her laugh. I was unprepared for my reaction to the most potent weapon this girl had in her arsenal - a real genuine laugh that reverberated from inside her. It was too infectious for me to resist, and on an unguarded instant, I joined in.

Of course, the librarian shushed us out of it.

"I'm sorry," she blushed - adding more color to her flushed face, and apologized to the wrinkly old librarian.

"Look, I wasn't really reading it, I mean - "(What am I getting myself into?) "I was just scan- " The girl stifled a laugh. "I didn't mean it like that, I was just...just..."(Seriously dude, stop embarrassing yourself!)

"I'm Eveline," she offered, a bright and foreign (but genuine) smile on her face and an extended hand. "You are?"

A for being attentive. I just couldn't stop embarrassing myself, could I?

"Gabriel, 'Gabe' for short" I shook her soft, dainty hand. "Nice to (finally) meet you."

"Sorry if I disturbed you." Another short laugh.

"It's fine. I wasn't really reading it," I shrugged.

"I can tell," Eveline smiled - a sparkle on her emerald eyes. "I mean I noticed you were so out of it. I didn't mean to appear so despicable."

"It's okay, really. I don't usually read novels - especially this kind."

"You're usually on research and textbooks," she added gently, and I couldn't help but grin at the thought of her noticing me.

"Schoolwork," I supplied. "My history teacher keeps giving us a big load of homework every weekend."

"Ah, I see," she nodded in understanding. I waited for her to elaborate about her high school life or at least relate to me how her history teacher could be the same terror professor, but she didn't and our conversation fell short.

"Are you always hanging around here?" I probed further.

"Only on Saturdays and sometimes on Sundays," Eve caught a stray hair and pushed it on her ear.

"Always on the same schedule?"

She nodded cheekily, "Yeah."

Her enigmatic stance put me in place and I decided not to push my luck on her privacy. "Cool."

I looked at my wristwatch and realized that I was late for my sister's little rehearsal, knowing I had to pick her up after. "It was really great to see you, but I'm done with my work here and I need to fetch my sister out of ballet class." As much as I still want to hang around...

"I understand."

"So, next Saturday then?" I said a little too hopefully.

"Of course," she smiled her gentle smile.

That night I lay on my cozy bed thinking about our hilarious - though a little ungainly, dialogue. Eveline. Witty, cute, and bashful Eveline. Even when I decided to shut my eyes, I could see a picture of her perky face in her natural glow and hear the sound of her symphonic laugh. Since that day, thoughts of her became a frequent visitor and Saturday wasn't just any ordinary Saturday. Like a refreshing holiday, I was looking forward to it.

On our next meeting, I wore a navy sweatshirt and khaki shorts - turning my charm on like a light switch untouched for decades. I smiled brightly even before I could enter the library, wanting to match hers and hoping she'd return it. Eveline would be inside, reading a romantic novel, and I hope my smile would greet her. She was still selecting a book when I came in; her face lit up as she mouthed "Hello."

Instead of going my way to proceed on my research, I watched her pick a book or two in the shelf before taking my own set of textbooks to copy information. As I derived coherent notes on my notebook, I clucked my tongue twice in a playful way of getting her attention. From the corner of my eye, I saw her glance to my direction but I pretended to be so focused on my homework. I repeated it again, louder this time to also get the old librarian's awareness. The withered old woman looked around and turned on our table, confused at my mock innocence. She shrugged a little and went back on arranging the filthy pile of old archives. From the corner of my eye, I saw Eveline smile in amusement even without her looking at me.

I purposely sped up taking down notes for research in order to catch up on Eveline on her way home. I asked permission to accompany her and I was happy that she was fine with it. She owned an average bike for transportation and her street was 2 miles away from mine. I offered to guide her bike as a friendly gesture while we talk a little until we reached my apartment building.

"You're not as behaved as I thought you are," she teased lightly.

"You mean what I did to that librarian? Well at least she has someone to watch over. A little hobby might get her rusty old brain working a little," I winked and she laughed.

We shared jokes even though they were mostly mine. I enjoyed making her laugh and smile. I began talking about myself when we started sobering up; about my family, high school, my hunky best friend named Kevin, and my favorite sport, tennis. I casually asked her about her own share of the bargain and I was more than pleased to hear her describe a little more about herself. Financial problems had caused a temporary break for her education when her father was dropped out on his business firm. She didn't talk about her plans for the future which seemed odd when I think about how much I disclosed my desired career as an architect, but I still marveled at the way she talks about her present and how she sees her life like a ready canvass. She loved her parents dearly even if they couldn't give her siblings to take care of. Eveline had a little pet dog named Sponge, and he was her only best friend.

Little facts added to my little biography of her, and each Saturday I was determined to get closer to her as I know she was a keeper for a friend. It turned into a fantastic innocent habit. When Saturday comes, I'd still stay on my usual distance and she'd read books peacefully. I'd cluck my tongue like a little check-up call and she'd smile. We'd pretend we didn't hear anything when the librarian gets irritated, and we'd squeeze ourselves to hide a laugh. But still I was afraid of annoying her on her reading with my behavior so I'd stop and sneak glances at her instead. Overtime she started whistling, a sign that she wasn't bothered about my tongue-clucking at all. The first time she tried her 'notorious' act and the librarian glared at me accusingly, I bit my tongue so bad to conceal a hideous laughter and my stomach was aching, it was so hard to breath. On our journey home, I was able to make her play "20 questions" where we take turns in interrogations about ourselves. Each new detail was a new color to add to cluster of feathers she blooms each day.

By the time we agreed to meet up on days besides Saturday, I had nicknamed her "Eve" even when her mother calls her "Lynn". On our first "friendly" date, I took her to a little café and treated her with chocolate cake that she told me was her favorite. I bought her "Papertowns", a novel written by John Green, and she was so happy and giddy that Eve kissed me tenderly on the cheek; I wasn't able to hold a blush.

Even though I was afraid to admit it, when I was with her, it seemed it was worth doing all those normal things that normal people do.

She was amazing in ways that I couldn't describe. Eve could make simple seem complex. Everything about her had a deeper sense of sentimental value. There are certain ways only she can do that could make me immeasurably happy.

Eve had suggested I meet up with her on a night of meteor showers last December. It had been my dream rendezvous. As we sat there stargazing, I had took the book that we both loved from my sling bag, "The Choice" and read a little excerpt of Nicholas Sparks, one that I intended with meaning.

"It was inevitable for people to try to create a sense of normalcy in a place where nothing was normal. It helped one get through the day, to add predictability to a life that was inherently unpredictable."

She had listened with her eyes closed, lying on the evergreen grass that sent a neon glow to her emerald eyes.

"You've been quoting my books," Eve grinned, after a long moment of observing the distant, twinkling stars.

"Sadly, you've miraculously turned me into a bookworm like you," I sighed melodramatically.

"Well I never forced you to read them," she smiled.

"But there was no other way of getting your attention," I pouted, playfully.

"There was, you're just too dumb to try it," Eve laughed.

"Name one."

"I don't know, how about just a casual 'hi!'" she muttered sarcastically and I rolled my eyes. "You could also have tried asking me what I was reading. Did I appear that stiff to you?"

"To be honest, yeah" I said teasingly.

"Dud!"

"Nerd!"

Tickle fights are the usual aftermath of our casual bullying. How we managed to get that close so fast? I have no idea.

So yeah, we rolled off our butts in the prickly grass like it was no one's business. And after we finished laughing like hyenas and sobered up, we just lied there peacefully under the stars.

"Well I'm glad you did it," she suddenly brought up.

"Did what?"

"Read the book I mean," Eve chuckled.

"How come?" I arched an eyebrow.

"I guess there was no better way to get me to trust you." (She was serious, by the way.)

"Yeah, right" I smiled. "Starting a book club, eh?"

"You're my first member," she joked and we both laughed.

"You've put me in a lot of effort for just a simple conversation," I whispered.

"Nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy, remember that," she quoted a memorized sentence from the book that started it all.

It was her own happiness that did the trick: in her brilliant smile, in her adorable pout, or in the way she smudges ice cream all over her mouth, or how she falls asleep with her lips slightly apart, or how she seems so vulnerable and honest and kind that it would be a difficulty to stop the urge to wrap her in your arms and protect her. She was heavenly, but earthly in that amazingly complicated way.

Yes, indeed. I, Gabriel Felix, a plain average teenage boy who couldn't appear normal and comfortable with teenage girls, was falling in love with a bookworm. At that time when I came to terms with my little crush, I surrendered and didn't fight back. I didn't have anything to lose except for our strong bond and resilient friendship (that I couldn't imagine ever giving up). But knowing Eve, I knew it wouldn't take long for her to figure out about what I really felt. Being in love, I comprehended, was not about being concerned if she could ever accept your feelings and affections. It's more engrossed on ensuring the happiness of your loved one above yours, even if that took you out of the equation.

Every time I have these insecurities in my mind when I think about confessing, I replay all the moments we spend together inside or outside the library. The way she smiled made me feel like it was mutual, and I know I had to try; Eve was worth it.

So I decided to express my intense emotions towards her on our next meeting next Saturday, in the place where it all began - our sanctuary.

That morning I put on my favorite black jacket, and styled my raven black hair with gel. In the bathroom while having my shower, there was nothing else in my mind but on what to say and how to express it without her running out the door. I was nervous even though I've made up my mind.

I read through my lines and my cheesy quotes (obviously it's from the same book), knowing she'd appreciate it. I slipped further into my own fantasies, understanding that there was a big chance of rejection, but all I cared about was being close to her, keeping her. I wanted so badly to keep her.

By then I knew, the moment I stepped inside the public library - as I saw her empty chair, that a love like this was too good to be true.

When I arrived at her address, I asked around for her and she wasn't home - none of her family was. None of her neighbors knew where they went. I went to random places - anywhere where hope could blossom. I tried the café, Borders (her favorite bookstore), the central park, but I was chasing fiction.

I never felt more drained in my entire life the moment I reached home. I attempted to call her number but only voice message replied.

Days passed, and Eveline still remained as a haunting mystery. I didn't break my visits to the library even though it was already summer vacation - hoping she'd show up with her dazzling smile on a sweater shirt and black jeans and explain how she disappeared and I'd forgive her, then she'd reassure me that she'd stay.

I've had my heart broken by love songs and I've had my own share of repetitive and agonizing travels to memory lane. Theories crossed my mind but it was worthless when there is no evidence to support them. Five times - I think - did I visit her house, only to find it empty once again.

"Do you ever do this, you think back on all the times you've had with someone and you just replay it in your head over and over again and you look for those first signs of trouble?"

Why, Nicholas, are you a psychic?

Months passed; each day was a struggle on moving on - on filling this void in my chest whenever I see her empty chair on lonely Saturdays.

My own copy of "The Choice" had been repeatedly thrown off the wall but I still had no perfect reason to hate her - even more in forgetting her. And in doing so, I've shunned myself in taking chances in romance. The harder I wanted to forget the more I kept remembering.

"But things change. People change. Change was one of the inevitable laws of nature, exacting its toll on people's lives. Mistakes are made, regrets form, and all that was left were repercussions that made something as simple as rising from the bed seem almost laborious."

I was able to memorize this stupid passage from that stupid book the day I had given up in waiting for Eve to come back. It seemed pitiful, but there were things you couldn't prevent from spilling. But then maybe I deserved this much for being too attached and for trusting too much on our "mutual" contract.

Unfortunately again for me, I didn't also deserve a "goodbye".

Time did its magic - no matter how slow. I've tried smiling again, and I went back on track with my priorities. On my next semester, I did better and passed every subject. I've tried playing sports like football and I was busier every day.

But still life has a way of proving you wrong. Three days ago, another research came up that needed public library help. The thought brought back unwanted memories that I've tried so hard to ignore but it can't be helped. At the same time, I dared myself to go through this like a test - to prove myself that I've really moved on.

So yesterday I took a step inside the ancient place, purposely in the same time that I practiced my past routine. The librarian regarded me with a look, as she bent down her spectacles to observe me. I tossed her a smile as if we were old acquaintances and I wasn't sure if she could still remember me in the way she returned my friendly greeting.

I took the same old World History textbook, and sat on my old place. Turning the pages, I was suddenly aware of the seat three chairs away from mine. I felt a familiar ache in my heart as I took down notes.

This was too much, I shouldn't have done this.

The price of going back through everything was not worth the pain. I closed the textbook wearily and decided to leave at once, when I heard it.

A whistle.

As if it was a sound of a bullet piercing through my ear, I turned around, perplexed and slightly hopeful.

The librarian was looking at me, her hand on her mouth and a smile on her pale and bony face.

"Made you turn," and she laughed (although it sounded more like a witch's cackle) "I knew that would do the trick." She motioned me towards her, and as the confused bloke as I was, I complied (It's not like she's harmful anyway).

"Your girlfriend," the librarian muttered. "She came here a week ago."

"She's not my girl - Say what?" I think my heart just did a somersault.

"Between you and me, who do you think is supposed to be deaf?" the old woman laughed, betraying her age. "She left something - inserted it on this book," she took "The Choice" (the book that I borrowed) out from the drawer. "You teenagers seriously need to remember that a library is not meant for -"

"Did she say anything?" I cut her off impatiently, taking the book from her wrinkled hand.

The now-annoyed librarian shook her head no.

I removed the little piece of paper from the pages of the book and read the note.

You probably didn't expect an apology from me after I left you alone without any explanation. You didn't deserve it and there is nothing I could say worthy of your forgiveness. You can crumple this paper or forget me - I'd accept all of it. But even after everything that I did to you, it would be such a shame to say that I did it all intentionally.

But here is my explanation: I was dying. My cancer was spreading and an operation could only result to a fast demise or a little chance of survival. From the start I meant to keep this from you - after all, who would have thought that a stranger like you would mean so much to me.

Everyday I wither in the pity of those around me, when all I really want is to do more than just breathe - I want to live. That's why I read lives that have happy endings, something I thought I was never granted to have. It was a torture I designed for myself. At that time all I really thought about was that since this cancer started controlling my life, all I am allowed to feel was pain.

I noticed you long before you borrowed the book. In all honesty, I was just as nervous to talk to you as you mentioned to me. I thought it was a game, really, on who can approach who first. And I lost when you did the irresistible: taking an erotic novel and pretending to read it with an expressionless innocent face. That little encounter started all the hilarious jokes and the little dates. There was nothing wrong about your questions and little interviews but forgive me if I am so reserved (Yes, the reason why I didn't choose to finish school was because of my condition). You'd never think of me as the same bookworm in the library if I told you all of my secrets - specifically about Leukemia.

But we started to hang-out and I let it all happen. There was nothing more refreshing than taking your guard off and having fun. I don't know what made me trust you- maybe it was because you don't look at me with pity, or the way you made me feel safe or that you built up some hope in me. You were a constant reminder of who I can't and never have. But you were there, three chairs away from me, so close yet so far. Ever since I started getting to know you, all I wanted was to close the distance.

So I made a gamble with myself, to give this one last chance, if that meant I'd have an opportunity to have a future with you, even if all we will ever end up is friends. And I accepted the operation, provided with the risks. I couldn't explain everything to you before I'd undergo operation. What's the point of worrying you over something you can't control especially if I'd just end up dead?

God answered my prayers, and I was saved. I got my second chance and all I want to do is spend it with you. But that's your choice. I'll be right here waiting where the heaven's cried.

Love,

E.

Nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy. I know Eve.

I know.

[night-filled-mountain]

For the Hozier ask thing: No Plan, Be, Talk

- No Plan - Do you believe in a pre-determined purpose in life?

No, but I think it can be helpful–for some people!–to think and act like you have a pre-determined purpose, as long as you’re not too rigid about it. Sometimes the random twists and turns of life just get overwhelming, you know? And you need to weave them into some sort of pattern–“A, B, and C all happened in order to lead me to D,” or “Despite X obstacle, I know I’m meant to accomplish Y.” Humans are pattern-finding creatures–that’s why we like stories so much. I can’t imagine getting through life without periodically making it into a story, whether you actually believe in some divine Plan and Author or not. (This is reminding me once again of that Brian W. Foster lyric I’ve become obsessed with: “And if it wasn’t designed, then I’ll be damned if I ever know why.”)

Though honestly, for me? The opposite is true. I’ve faced, and continue to face, so many mental-health barriers to having the kind of life I’d like to have, and I’ve fought (and continue to fight!) such a harrowing, hard-scrabble fight to make that life happen anyway. It’s a massive struggle, it’s ongoing, it’s every day. It’s exhausting and humiliating and entirely without dignity. So the thing that I like to tell myself about the life I want? Is that I wasn’t meant to have it. Some particularly nasty gods have played a trick on me since birth, crafting a person for whom friends/romance/productive work/artistic fulfillment/Happiness are impossible–and day after day, I’m fighting them, trying to prove them wrong. Clawing and biting at them with everything I have in me. Forcing my way out of their boxes, grasping at what I want, and spitting in their eye for good measure.

I’m sure my preference for this narrative says something about me as a person, but I leave that up to you, anon!

- Be - Have you changed much as a person in the last year? 

…I literally don’t know where to start.

In August 2018, I wasn’t married yet. I lived in a small town in New Jersey with my parents and sister, and was desperately terrified of moving (permanently) anywhere else. I had completed two master’s degrees just a few months before, but I’d never had a full-time job, and I was 250% convinced (for the aforementioned mental-health reasons, and a chronic physical illness to boot!) that I could never, ever have one. Oh, and I’d just gotten back from a visit to my former roommate (which remains the last time I saw her, not counting Skype), and I was suffering constant agony over the intense, passionate, mutually pining, emotionally needy, co-dependent mess that was that relationship.

And now?

I’m married. I live in Boston, in an apartment where I’ve paid 100% of the rent for the past six months (though that will soon be changing!). I have a full-time job that has challenged and transformed me in ways that I could not possibly have imagined six months ago. Like…literally could not have fathomed. Outside the scope of my brainpower. Beyond my wildest dreams.

I’m the head of my department…because I’m the entire department. I do heavy-duty customer service. I interact with dozens of strangers every day–children, teens, and adults–and I usually do it without a whisper of social anxiety. I pick up my desk phone when it rings. I make phone calls when I have to. I send and receive dozens of e-mails a week. I manage a budget! I place orders! I schedule programs! I answer reference questions! I operate and troubleshoot various forms of technology constantly, and teach others how to use them. I reason with, joke with, assist, educate, entertain, chastise, and discipline 20+ rowdy teenagers ON A DAILY BASIS. There have been many days, and once an entire week, when I was literally in charge of my entire workplace and everyone in it. And it was all still functioning when my boss got back.

…And it’s actually really timely that I should write about all this now, because I’m smack-dab in the middle of an extremely daunting work task, one that’s causing my ADD to kick my ass to hell and back. And I’ve spent the past few days wondering just how fucking desperate this place must have been to hire someone who’s been wretchedly sobbing over her utter lack of focus and organizational skills for almost 30 years. So it’s…quite the morale-booster to look at these paragraphs about just how goddamn far I’ve come in a year.

…Also, Ex-Roommate and I have gone no-contact, and most days, I don’t think about her. And if I do, it doesn’t hurt so much.

- Talk - What’s your best friend like? 

I have three (3) best friends, and they are MY WORLD, so get ready for this.

(1.) My husband. We’ll call him Kit, which is, in fact, a name he often goes by. He is a Gemini, which I mention only because he’s a very classic Gemini: bursting with curiosity, interested in everything, with a dizzying array of hobbies and interests that seem to change and shift by the moment. He teaches science, and used to teach history. He loves camping, sea shanties, Lawrence of Arabia, board games, and tabletop RPGs. Being a teacher, he’s had the summer off, and he’s spent it being a house-husband: cleaning our apartment, buying all the groceries, doing my laundry an embarrassing number of times, and cooking me dinner every single night. He loves being useful to people and making people happy. He’s terrific at long-term planning, but has no sense of time, and he’d be late to everything without my intervention. We have separate bedrooms, and mine is obsessively neat, and his is…not. He was once bitten by a squirrel that he was hand-feeding on the Boston Common. A few days later, he received a serious electric shock from a string of Christmas lights, and the bandage he’d placed over the squirrel bite was burned black instead of his hand. This perfect balance of cursed and blessed is, in a way, all you really need to know about Kit.

We love to watch movies and TV shows together and discuss/analyze them obsessively. We love to have looong philosophical discussions and/or debates. We take walks, we get Italian food and/or ice cream far too often, we go on jolly road-trip adventures, and we read out loud to each other. He’s currently reading me Charles Dickens’ Our Mutual Friend, which I have read before (twice) and he has not, because I love it so intensely, and I know that he will too. He’s the best person on earth to discuss virtually anything with, to be honest. He’s my DM in the best D&D campaign I’ve ever been part of. I’ve just made a new D&D character, although I don’t have a campaign for her yet, and Kit cannot stop lavishing praise on her and getting excited about her…even though she’s a hobgoblin, and he spent a significant portion of a recent car ride passionately arguing with me about the viability of hobgoblins as player characters.

He is absolutely extraordinary at admitting when he’s wrong, owning it fully, changing his opinions, pursuing personal growth, and just becoming a better and better person all the time. And I’m so damn honored that I get to be here for it.

(2.) We’ll call my second best friend Unicorn, which is a multilayered inside joke.

I met Unicorn during my freshman year of college. We lived on the same floor. I was the odd woman out among my suitemates because I had crippling social anxiety; he was the odd man out among his because he was gay. Somehow we started watching movies and TV shows together, and it became our Thing; I think our current marathon record is six or seven movies in a row. We’re both from New Jersey, and he still lives there, and there are few places in the world I feel safer than on his giant couch, in front of his giant TV, with snacks and glasses of Limeade close at hand, and his neurotic little dog nosing about. He has a pool, a massive movie collection, and an encyclopedic knowledge of state politics, because he works as a full-time environmental canvasser. His hours are absolutely terrifying, as are the physical and social demands of his job, but he still finds time to run a D&D campaign for his coworkers, and to visit the rest of us in Boston at every possible opportunity.

Unicorn is barely a month older than I am (a fellow Leo, though I think it suits him a hell of a lot better than it suits me), and he understands me in specific ways that the other two members of our little quartet just can’t. We get each other’s humor, we have similar tastes in men, we both love to swim. When the four members of our found family are all together, he is invariably the only person who notices all my little puns and innuendos, and laughs every time.  He listens to me, and asks me questions, in a way that no one else in the world quite seems to do. He made a speech at my wedding that reduced me to a blubbering mess. And, most importantly of all: He started inviting me to our college’s LGBT group when we were juniors (right after Kit and I started dating), which was how I met my third best friend, and how we all became a family.

(3.) I’m going to refer to Best Friend #3 as “Dragon,” because…he loves dragons, and because he was Unicorn’s roommate when I first met him, and it keeps the mythological-creature theme going. …And once again, I don’t know where to start, so I’m going to go dig up an old post I made about Dragon, copy and paste it below, and then figure out how to elaborate on someone who both my husband and I have identified as the best human being we have ever met.

This is a friend who invites the whole gang of us to his apartment for entire long weekends, and cooks for us, repeatedly. Who hosts “fake Christmas” every year, complete with a tree decorated with blue and silver ornaments because he is Jewish, and made all of us hand-stitched, personalized stockings, and fills them with gifts and sweets purchased specially for each of us. Who once baked me a cake just because I was coming to visit him. Who organized and directed my entire move from New Jersey to Boston because his Tetris-like car-packing skills and his utter laidback unshakable calm in the face of any task are absolutely unparalleled. Who is a goddamn wizard at literally everything, from cooking and baking and sewing to Photoshop and graphic design to painting D&D miniatures to putting together elaborate cosplays to theater tech to writing and research to courageous and tireless activism to law (did I mention he’s a lawyer?).

…That was my old paragraph, so let me add a few things. I can’t emphasize enough how much he carries that aura of calm and kindness and competence about him at all times. Never in my life had I had a cooking/baking experience that didn’t stress me out until Dragon let me help him make an entire dinner and various desserts for our friend group, and it was just…so chill. So well-organized and perfectly timed, but without ever feeling like those things took any effort whatsoever. He was so kind and patient with me, demonstrating each task step by step, then being entirely confident in my ability to perform said tasks, and never trying to nitpick at the way I did them or take them over himself. Part of his job involves teaching, and I know he must be fantastic at it, because no one else has ever been such a soothing balm and a stimulant (both at once, somehow!) to my poor, tormented ADD brain. Someday (maybe soonish!), our whole found family is going to live together, and the thought of being around Dragon all the time just makes me weep with joy. And did I mention his sweet, child-like enthusiasm for holiday celebrations and ghost tours and spooky TV shows and musicals and fantasy novels and text RP and all other Best Things? (Ok, he also loves dogs and Marvel movies, and I love neither, but I forgive him for this.)

Oh, he also officiated my wedding. And he also had top surgery today, and I have maybe never been this happy about anything ever, what an auspicious day to finish this post!

[kristmullet]

My Journey to Delmar

Wow, blog #3! Who knew I had it in me??

My love life(if it could be called that) was never fun and mostly just confusing and messy until I found my husband. 

I’d had crushes on boys when I was young but my first “boyfriend”(psh!)  was in 8th grade. Back then I had a group of friends that was pretty evenly mixed boys and girls. At that time, we all basically played square dance with each other(it was just a case of switching partners when the last girl was done with whoever she was “dating” at the time. embarrassing, I know). My first actual guy who acknowledged the mutual crush we had on each other and put that boyfriend/girlfriend label on us was a boy named “B” (names changed out of embarrassment). He was sweet, funny, somewhat shy as well, but never seemed embarrassed of me. It was a quick, young thing that ended for reasons I’m not sure(patterns start here). I casually dated/crushed on other “square dance partners” from that friend group with little heartbreak or consequence. It seemed like I always had more feelings for them than they ever had for me(also pattern). I was friends lots of guys as well at school just because they were generally more fun/funny than the girls. My style at that time also started to transition to more of a punk/emo style that made me feel more comfortable and like myself. 

Anyway, my next, more serious, “square dance partner” in that friends group started innocently enough, with pretty little thought that this one would actually change my life pretty intensely. This relationship started out pretty chill. Mostly just hanging out, taking walks, sitting together at parties(if they could be called parties). “O” was even my first kiss. Sadly, this was a time I initiated and felt like I was more into him than he was to me. We started hanging out more and more and with my close friends less and less. He started to lightly pressure me and guilt me in little ways that I didn’t even really notice. He would make small comments about things he liked and disliked about me. Sometimes he would contradict himself but I just assumed I misunderstood him the first time. He would even tell me things that I knew instinctively(!) were lies and stories but I just figured I was wrong. Slowly his moods, attitudes, preferences would start going from one extreme to another. His stories got more unbelievable but they also preyed on my want/need to help and take care of others. He had claims of abuse, neglect, being poor, but all of it had a ring of believe-ability to it all. So I always tried to protect and help in whatever way I could, even financially.  With his swinging preferences, one day he would love my style, then say I was a “poser.” He wanted me to be a “bad girl”, then wanted me to be more “innocent.” He would love my curves, tell me I was fat, tell me to leave alone, then call me and tell me not to hang up for hours. Make me stay with him while he cried and tell me to go F*** myself basically. I sincerely stopped believing everything that I thought. **Big disclaimer: Ladies, Always trust your instincts. Don’t brush off that nagging voice. If you think someone is lying to you, they probably are. For those of you believers, I fully believe this nagging women’s intuition that people always talk about is the holy spirit trying to guide you. Don’t ignore that gut feeling. It can save you time, money, energy, heart break, and possibly your life. I’m not exaggerating when I say there are times I think this intuition saved my life.**

I second guessed everything. I mean everything. What I thought, wore, said, how I acted, even as little as what I listened to with my music. I would talk to my few remaining friends about him but I shielded him. I made everything sound less bad. I cannot stress to you how much he just straight up made me think I was wrong. Always wrong.  I went from having normal female teenage emotions to my feelings predicated on his and his swung so hard that I felt just sad and anxious so much of the time. I didn’t even realize it either. Hindsight has cleared this up so much. So how the hell was I supposed to get away from this? I didn’t! I believe 100% that God used his mood swings to save me. He decided he hated his life in Indiana so much that he ran away to his biological mothers house in Washington. Also around this time he told me that his mother was diagnosed as bipolar and that he thought he was too. This did start to connect the dots for me in some ways but also made me feel like a crap person if I gave up on someone who was mentally ill. He straight out told me that he would never get on medication and never talk to a therapist. He thought it would take out his spirit of who he was(or some ridiculous crap like that). Even with this, I was so controlled that I still stayed with his ass. He would call and message at all hours to talk, to beg for us to be together, to cry, to yell, to vent about how terrible his life was. He even would tell me how he hated me but didn’t want to break up, but wanted to get another girlfriend who was better, hotter, would “take care of his needs”, as a second girlfriend. That broke my heart. Destroyed me. Made me feel like a piece of trash that had to be discarded to the side but was kept around for the scraps. 

Finally, one night he flippantly said he wanted to break-up so he could be with this girlfriend(whom he did cheat on me with). I just said OK. I do not think he knew I meant it. He wanted me back almost immediately the next day but I decided I was done. I even eventually had to block him because he was still trying to manipulate me. 

After that, I was a bit more hesitant with my heart. I still tried to just have fun with guys(laugh, make jokes, etc), but I second guessed when I thought I maybe had a crush on someone. Even now looking back, I remember boys pretty obviously flirting with with me but I thought they were actually making fun of me. I couldn’t fathom someone genuinely flirting with someone who looked like me, who was as uncool as me. Sad, huh?

The next guy I even attempted anything with was this super friendly guy I had class with. I crushed on him and I figured he didn’t have  a crush on me but he was kind enough that he’d go to prom with me if I asked(he was a sophomore, so could not go by himself, so it made sense to me to ask him.). He agreed to go and we went. It was a pretty fun night, lots of dancing but nothing too remarkable. At the end of the night, after having an ok time, I got pretty bummed out when he basically left me at that. Polite after that but pretty much stopped being friends. 

After a while, one of my friends invited me to go to a random guy she somewhat knew house to hang(aka she wanted to make out with said dude but didn’t want to go alone). I went, hung(very uncomfortably), and ended up being set up with make-out dudes buddy, “W”. This was another time I was half-sure I was being made fun of or being set up as a total joke. “W” had no balls to even ask me out himself. It was fully ridiculous, BUT, we dated for maybe a month. This was another time where I initiated the first kiss. I basically always felt like a joke with him. Like he was going to throw up when he kissed me. He ended up breaking up with me in front of his bosses house after hanging out the whole evening, just to get back with his ex-girlfriend the next day. Yey for me.

I even met some dumb joker who was a friend of a friend. I think our first interaction was on instant messenger. Two dates, me driving 35 minutes to meet up with him both times. He immediately gets back with his baby mama. I never wanted to admit that one. I will say that these terrible “relationships” all came back to this complete lack of self confidence and respect. I wasn’t worth anything better. Totally thought this. 

After I met my husband, I still continued to have these thoughts. Still wondered when the other shoe would drop. When would he drop me and find out it was all a joke or a lie? Even in the past year, I am realizing I still allowed those things put in my brain long ago to still affect my feelings today. I’m still working today to be more clear and accurate in how I feel and how I look at myself. Also, allowing myself to feel happy and good when someone(AKA hubby) wants me to be happy and feel good. Insane but God is still working in my heart and head. 

Also, I can’t emphasize how much my husband has done to be steady and strong, caring and loving. I know I’ve never told my husband the extent of what happened in my relationships in the past, so the fact that he has always been such a rock is that much more amazing. Whether or he knows it or not, he saved me. Literally saved me from everything I could have put myself through. I could never repay him. Ever. I’ll love him forever. 

[yes-this-is-sam]

Ok, I’m just going to be real on here for a minute. For my friends, for my girl, and for everyone else on here who needs to know, deep down, that someone else gets it. 

This is not a one-up story. This is not for pity. You don’t have to read it or care. This is so someone who is struggling with the weight of the world in their lungs or trying to decide if what they feel is real and how to handle it... knows that someone else out there went through the same fucked up emotions and is here to talk. To vent. To reach out. So you don’t have to feel alone. I don’t care if we’re mutuals. I don’t care if I’ve never met you before in my life. I WILL be here and try to help you as much as I can. 

There is depression in this. Abuse. Mental illness. Suicidal ideation. This is what I’ve gone through and I don’t want it to trigger you, so please don’t feel like you HAVE to read it. 

I’ve struggled with trying to decide if I even SHOULD make this post. But I know, in my heart, I fought through all of this so I could understand and help others who struggle. And I can’t reach out and help those people unless they know I’m here. So I apologise that this isn’t ME related. That this isn’t fun or nice. I won’t bring it up again. But it’s here. 

It kind of started when I came over from England to the States. At least, that’s the earliest I can remember. Kids making fun of the accent, making fun of being shy, making fun of liking books (No. Really. I read dictionaries for fun folks), of being the teachers pet. Especially because they moved me up a grade. OH HELL that set me up hard. I did not handle the culture shock well, a lot of people might say I NEVER got past it. 

(Heh my brain is trying to get me to skip over all this cause everyone knows kids get bullied but fuck I will not belittle what I felt.)

No kid, especially that young, handles being isolated well. Now, there’s a difference between liking being on your own, which I do, and being forcibly isolated. It is Not Good. Those very important years laid the groundwork for every single thing that happened later on. It created the insecurity, anxiety, and need to be accepted that damn near ruined me. 

I would do ANYTHING. Anything. To make people like me because I needed to not feel so alone. 

My only friends in middle school were a spy ring, none of whom I remember well, to voluntarily keep track of rumours and threats to my safety. I was beaten up. I went to my parents, to teachers. Everyone discounted what I was saying and I couldn’t tell if it was because I couldn’t say it right or if they just weren’t listening. Most of these years I don’t remember. I have massive gaping chunks of lost memory. Or memories that come back looking like a weird acid trip scene in a movie. I had a boy who would follow me home from the school bus stop yelling names at me from across the street. 

I went nonverbal for almost four years. It was not pretty. My parents were angry and frustrated and concerned. I was -pissed-. I was terrified and hurt. My words had failed no matter how I tried to twist them so they obviously weren’t any good. I became bitter and nasty, completely distant from any form of socialisation. It took so much effort to even breathe that it was painful. I stopped leaving the house, or even my room if I could help it. I’d have to crawl going up the stairs because I’d get winded halfway up if I stood up and walked. I stopped showering, brushing my teeth, stopped eating. Started hating every inch of myself. 

High school, if at all possible, got worse. My parents finally tried to take me to get help. The guy sat with me for all of 10 minutes and diagnosed me with ADD. Put me on Adderall. For those who haven’t been given this drug before, the long-term side affects include depression, hostility, and paranoia. Three things I already had in spades. I started punching myself. Punching hard objects. Biting and scratching myself. It became so habitual that the only times I would get that blessed serotonin were when I did hurt myself. The pain was the only thing that would clear my head and let me calm down and think straight. I got completely addicted to it, but I knew cutting was a problem so I never did that. If I didn’t, it wasn’t that bad, right? Then one day I blacked out and came to attempting to hang myself. It wouldn’t have worked, something would have snapped. But it still happened. I would still daydream about throwing myself out of moving cars. Down high things. I would zone out and wake up holding a steak knife in my hands trying to talk myself out of cutting cause “No, cutting is too far” and instead I started carving hateful things about myself and my family into my bedroom walls. Rage was in my veins, not blood. 

When I did try talking again, just before the Adderall fiasco, I realised quickly in ninth grade that I had the societal equivalent of a 5th grade emotional and social comprehension. I was humiliated that I was so far behind. It took years to even start thinking and acting like a typical teenager, albeit a very angry hateful one. When I did finally get off the Adderall, I thought I’d been angry and resentful before but ha now someone had tried to help and only made things worse and they still wouldn’t listen. “Stop being a brat” and “you’re normal you’re just hormonal” were two of the best ways to set me off. But at school I was cold as ice. I was the scary one who collected the out of control bad kids like war dogs. And finally people would leave me alone. 

In my senior year I got tired of being the bad one and tried to fight it all into a tight bottle. Make it ALL go away and try to be the sweet girl my parents remembered. And then boys started noticing me. Devon who would slide his hand up my skirt at the lunch table (to this day I don’t wear anything with a skirt unless it’s floor length) or that time he invited me to a party and then trapped me in a room with him and his ex-girlfriend and tried to pressure me into some exploration. I couldn’t say no to anyone. As scary as I’d made myself out to be, I would lay down and do anything to try and prove I could have friends. And people knew that. Get me into a situation and ask me to do something like that and I didn’t want to, I’d sit there for ten minutes staring at floors, walls, hands, begging myself to say no but frozen listening to this pressure cause I couldn’t. And then someone would open a door and I’d make a break for it. CJ who got me to hang out with him alone and because I couldn’t make myself say no, forced me to allow him to touch things I didn’t want touched. 

I have had to scream this at myself every day for seven years: it doesn’t matter that I didn’t SAY no. I did NOT want it. It was CLEAR that I did not want it. If you have to talk someone up THAT hard, push them where you want them to go, that is assault whether the word no is said or not. 

I took a year off after high school and hid in my home again. Praying it was over, that it would just get better. I was so tired, exhausted to the bone and soul, of fighting everything on my own. I didn’t tell my parents for over a year about CJ and Devon... and while my dad got angry, my mother (who is also a victim of depression and sexual assault) for YEARS after still believed I was just saying that because I was embarrassed to say I’d been experimenting. I had absolutely no support structure and a gaping sensitive wound in my chest that just wanted someone to love me and say I was wanted and safe. That groundwork from when I was a kid had scaffolding and a first floor built. My first year of college I fucking let myself get pressured into acts I didn’t want again because I didn’t want to lose my terrible boyfriend or my terrible friends. I almost accepted letting my best friend of fourteen years tell me that, and I quote cause this shit is still burned into my mind from 2012 “You’re an embarrassment to have around my friends and should be kept on a leash”. But between my, now ex, and her new boyfriend who was over 10 years older than her and a manipulative sociopath, I snapped and all that bottled up anger came out in a flash of red. I don’t know what I said but she ran off crying and I never hung out with them again. 

I stayed alone for a while after that. I needed to get myself together. Started keeping a tally of days I wouldn’t hurt myself, trying to focus on school work even though I still couldn’t get out of bed. Tried to make myself eat more than once every three days, started keeping tallies of that. Got about twenty THOUSAND dollars worth of work done on my teeth over a five year period, including wisdom teeth removal. God it was like dragging myself through mud with twenty pound weights on each leg. Every day it was three steps back one forward. It never got easier. The trust never came. I never felt better about myself. 

Then, when I hit maybe around 22, I say maybe because even for those years I still have massive memory gaps, I started seeing improvement. Some scattered good days. Days where I was still depressed but could laugh and smile, awkwardly hang out with the one or two people I’d allowed to stay. I started realising that, if I could just wrap my hands around this monster ruling my head and chest and wrangle it, I could live with it. I could force a balance and co-exist with it. Cause that fucker wasn’t going away, never. I would still flinch if anyone touched me. To this day no one can stand behind me and I HAVE to hear you coming from any direction or I will have a complete panic attack. But I could live with that. 

I figured out what worked and, slowly and trying to be gentle with myself, pushed myself through each day into a rhythm. A weak sort of balance. Started getting stronger. 

Then I met Matt. Tall, wicked smooth, handsome as hell and knew it. Proud of the fact that he could manipulate anyone, get whatever he wanted. Well that ended up being me. I fell head over heels with the charm. In only a few months he convinced me that we could move out of state and make it work. He got me totally isolated. I wasn’t allowed to sing. Tap my toothbrush on the sink to clean it. Drive with the windows down. If he wanted to go spend the night at another girl’s house I had to let him but if he was home, I couldn’t even be on my computer. At first sleeping with him was easy. It meant literally nothing, had no emotion, so that made it feel safe somehow. But god forbid someone actually have a crush on me and want to hold my hand or every red flag would go sky high and leave me keeping furniture between me and that person at all times. But then I didn’t want it anymore. The rush of feeling like I’d beat my own head at its games wore off. Of course.... that didn’t stop him. And I still hadn’t learned how to say no, if I tried he’d just convince me I was wrong. I worked, did all the chores. He flipped in and out of jobs and then just... stopped working, hanging out with girls and whoever else he wanted to. Then up and moved to Colorado without me, saying he’d make it rich and bring me out there too. After a few weeks without him constantly near me... it finally started registering what had been happening for a year. That I had been completely broken down and abused and I thought I’d been happy despite the daily panic attacks and the loss of all the self-worth I’d fought so hard for. And I called my dad and he drove from Virginia to Kentucky to pick me up and get me back home.

Matt came back to Virginia soon after and I tried to patch things up. He was angry he had to leave some of his things behind and I was too scared to tell him it was over. But the thoughts were whirling in my head and he couldn’t stop them unless he was right there with me and we were living an hour apart. I was trying to figure out how to make it stop when one day he choked me and I figured out the only way to do so. So when I left that day, I blocked him on every device and never spoke to him again. It’s been almost two years and I know without a doubt if I ran into him again it would take him minutes to get into that part of my brain again. I’d fight it off but that fear and self-doubt would be so real. 

This year I got into therapy finally. Took her four sessions to diagnose me with PTSD and I actually told her I had known but refused to call it that because I didn’t want people to think I was being overdramatic. I rated extreme for anxiety as well, and severe for depression. And this was during the best year I’ve had to date, where everything feels like its finally working out. 

These things, these events and feelings... they’re so strong. They meld into your DNA and completely alter how you perceive yourself and other people. But you’re still YOU despite them. You’re still HERE. That means you’re winning. That means there’s still a chance to find that balance. 

I have a stable, if stressful job. My credit score is finally above 600 again after ruining it going to and running away from Kentucky. My finances are stable. I’m looking at the prospect of a much better job. It’s new but I have the best girl and the potential of a future. 

I still have to fight these feelings and memories. They don’t go away. I still have days where I can’t eat. Where taking a deep breath feels impossible. My friends in my area say they’re drawn to me because of how damn strong and responsible I appear and in my head I hear myself go, God if only they knew the truth. But the disservice that does me, that thinking that does YOU, is unreal. Never discount how strong you are to have made it this far, nearly or even completely alone. That you matter, your pain matters, and you have MEANING. That no matter how you feel about yourself, you are a beautiful disaster that would alter the state of the world were you to be gone. A force of nature. There is steel inside of you guarding your potential and keeping you up.

All of this, and I’m okay. I’m finally okay. Great? Potentially, some days. Those days will start coming more often. I’m regulating my eating, my health, and forcing myself to keep tabs on my habits. Sleep is still a messy work in progress, so is my room (I developed hoarding habits as a coping mechanism). 

But I’m okay. And I want YOU to be okay. I want you to not feel like you have to go through feeling like THAT up there, because no matter what you actually went through and whether it was like mine or not, your pain is pain just like mine. Loneliness just like mine. Loss and fear just like mine. Completely alone. 

If you need me. I am right here. I don’t care how long it takes. It took me fifteen years. I don’t care if you backslide. I don’t care if you’re so lost in it that you can’t see what is in you or around you. I am here for you so you have one rock in the hurricane wearing you out. It does get better. I will talk to you, I will let you vent. I will distract you and cheer you on. 

I’m right here and I love you. Every bruised and scarred inch. Everything I know you can be once the situation allows for it.

[formerdirectioner]

Warning: this post is rly fucking long, kinda pointless, and has a suicide attempt mention.

Hi it’s four am and I’m in my feels so I’m gonna share

My senior year of high school my best friend moved away. She was a year older than me so she went to college. And as many people who went to college know, you don’t really keep in contact with your high school friends your freshman year and she went through a whole load of shit that isn’t mine to share that meant she was focused pretty solely on her own life.

And I went to a small town school. You don’t make new cliques senior year. You’ve had those cliques established since 7th grade at the absolute latest. So it’s not like I didn’t have other friends but they were the type of friends I sat with at lunch and talked about one direction with. Some good memories come from those friends.

But I also wasn’t really ~in their group. They talked at lunch about the things they had done that I hadn’t been invited too and so I always felt just a bit on the outside.

So I turned to other friends I had online. And that was good. I met my best friend I still love and cherish to this day that year. I also met a friend I had for five years and who I loved. And then I met this girl named Maggie. I was seventeen, Maggie was around 23. One day, Maggie turned on me. She never told me what I did. I found out years later from someone else that it was because she thought one of our friends liked me more than her.

But she turned on me fast. She started telling all my other friends why I was so awful. She started anonymously posting hate about me and then lying and saying it wasn’t her. She also started anonymously sending hate to herself, and then claimed it Definitely was me. This was just another reason I was so Awful.

And none of my friends wanted to take sides. Maggie had never done anything wrong to them! Besides, it wasn’t a big deal right? Just some internet drama. This cumulated in them all joining a community with Maggie that I wasn’t allowed to join. It got to the point my best friend quit a community we were in and told me it was because her internet didn’t work. It turned out she had actually joined Maggie’s and just didn’t want me to know.

And looking back this all probably seems really dumb and petty right? But as a teenager who was isolated from almost everyone at the time it was a really big deal. I’m not going to get into my home life but know it wasn’t great, we lived in the country, and my only sister is seven years older than me so she has moved out of the house when I was in elementary school. This internet drama and my friends not choosing sides was the start of my mental illness getting really really bad.

Eventually Maggie started doing this to our other friends. They all ended up apologizing to me and saying they were wrong not to take sides and admitting they knew she had been awful to me. They said they wouldn’t do it again.

Less than a year later I was a freshman in college. I had no friends. I’m not exaggerating there. I made no friends my freshman year in college. 2015 was the worst year of my life. I would go to class, come back to my dorm room, and get online. My online friends were my only friends and the only thing I really cared about that year.

And then I met a girl named V. V was 24. I was 18. V had a crush on my girlfriend at the time and she didn’t have a problem with sharing. Publicly. She would post on the Tumblr I, my friends, and my girlfriend followed her on that she was a better choice for my girlfriend and would make posts implying there were feelings between her and my girlfriend but that my girlfriend was staying with me out of a sense of pity.

So I ended up ending that friendship because it was pretty clear she never really cared about my feelings in that matter. After I ended that friendship I was the Bad Guy and she continued to make posts about me and about how I was a bad friend, a bad girlfriend, and a bad person.

My friends again decided they didn’t want to take sides. My girlfriend hated conflict and didn’t want to get involved. She was friends with V and the entire situation made her uncomfortable. Besides, you can’t make someone stop having a crush!

That situation ended in me and my girlfriend breaking up and me being isolated from my best friend. It also led to a suicide attempt in the summer of ‘15.

What happened next was meeting a new girl named Cait. Cait was 23. I was 19. This girl agreed with me that V was out of line. That it was my girlfriend’s loss for losing me. That Maggie had treated me badly and that she would take my side if anything that like happened again.

And so I was starting to get better. I introduced her to another friend I had, the only friend I still had out of my online friend group from my senior year of high school, Monica. Suddenly, I wasn’t important anymore. Monica and Cait became best friends.

This led to a lot of jealousy on my part. Cait and I started fighting over things (and I can admit some of those were my fault) and eventually our friendship ended. Cait started posting on Tumblr about how much she hated me, how she wanted any of our mutual friends to drop me, and how she literally wanted me dead.

My friends, especially Monica, would not take a side. They said she has a right to hurt feelings and lashing out. But if I tried to defend myself by replying to one of her negative posts about me, I was the bad guy for “searching out negativity.” Monica and I kept a rocky friendship for another couple years but it finally ended this year, probably for good.

She decided Cait was better than I am. I’m guessing she realized she couldn’t keep refusing to pick sides. She ended our four year friendship over a tweet about how I don’t like Halsey, because Halsey is Cait’s favorite person. I can’t stand Halsey even more now.

Anyway, during this fighting with Cait and Monica I got very depressed. I stopped going to classes. This was only a couple of months after my suicide attempt and I ended up failing an entire semester of college. My dad gave me an ultimatum to get better or move back home.

Thankfully I reconnected with my best friend around this time. I also became friends with a girl named Kim who had also been fucked over by Maggie. I reached out to her when I heard what happened and told her I was on her side. I’m still friends with her and there’s been absolutely no drama between us.

Anyway, I became lucky enough that I met real life friends that year. They’re my best friends to this day. I have birthday plans with them on the 9th. They’ve saved me a lot more than they’ll ever realize, I think.

Real life friendships are a lot less toxic than online friendships, but things still happen. One of my friends is still close (or was, at least, I’m not sure they are anymore) to my former roommate who I don’t like. It makes things awkward. When she was supposed to come over after hanging out with the roommate one day the roommate purposefully made her late in the hopes she’d end up not coming over.

In a perfect world she’d drop her. I know she won’t. I’m not going to end our friendship over it. But if just reinforces the philosophy I created for myself in 2014: If someone mistreats one of my friends or loved ones, I don’t want them in my life.

And that probably won’t ever change for me. You may find it silly or want to slap some sense into me but just having people on my side would have changed so much of those worst two years of my life. So even if you may not think things are a big deal, I probably will feel differently.

Anyway. I would put this under a cut if I could but I can’t because it’s mobile. I kinda hope no one actually reads it but it’s 4:30 and I can’t sleep and I needed to write this down somehow so. Might as well put it out there since I over share anyway and there’s basically a spread out timeline of all of this happening on my personal. 🤷🏼‍♀️

[aluminumfox]

these are going to be some words, bear with me

i’m almost 24 now, and i’m consumed with memories of someone that i met when i was 11. if this person is somehow reading this, you’re probably thinking i’m pathetic as shit for still thinking about this, but since i’m still posting this, i guess i don’t care.

after all these years i’m still somehow craving validation from someone who has never given half a shit about me, at least not in a way i always needed. when i was in middle school i was friends with someone that i thought was the coolest person in the goddamn universe and throughout early high school we remained friends and i kind of revolved my life around them in some ways? i latched on to their hobbies and tried to just, attach myself to them in all the ways i could. for a while things were fairly great and even though i was a Mentally Ill 15 year old we had a good friendship and i thought we trusted each other to like, not treat each other like garbage. we both loved music a lot and shared it with each other and played music together (HS orchestra, they pushed me to get better at my instrument and helped me learn a lot of stuff about classical music) and i was kind of in love with them in the way a star-crossed teenager would be in love with their best friend, but i wanted to just keep this person in my life in whatever way i could. we called each other “platonic soulmates” and i thought i could trust them with almost anything, they helped me through a lot of shit when i was actively self-harming and just generally being a fucked up teenager. my friend had problems too, that i later found out were also mental health related, but we helped each other and i thought we had a great relationship. this was really important to me because for most of my life i’ve had a lot of trouble making friends, due in a large part to being autistic and not understanding how friendship works, but once i figured some shit out i eventually made a solid friendship with this person and thought it was something i could hold on to for a long time. we even had made plans to try to go to college together.

anyway this person met some older friends from outside of our school (we were 15-16, these people were in their early 20s) and i don’t know how any of that shit really went down because that is when i lost touch with my friend. they dropped out of school (started online school i guess? they were kind of all over the place after that) and started spending all their time hanging with their new group of older friends who i thought were cool but i never had a chance to talk to any of them, not that i thought they would like me anyway. they all lived outside of our town and i don’t know how they even met besides through an older mutual acquaintance, but later my friend came out as gay toward the end of the school year and at the time i thought i was straight (lmao) so i just cried and tried to get over it. at the time there was a website called formspring that let users anonymously ask questions to each other and at that time i started getting some eerily specific messages on there. at the time i didn’t know who was sending them but now i know it was my friend, and their group of 20-23 year old friends harassing a teenager online; calling me fat and annoying and just really low level stuff. but it hurt me really bad when i realized who it was. it also wasn’t just me that my friend did this to. almost all of their former friends from our high school had very bitter dissolution of their friendships including online harassment about very personal things, and it was localized to formspring and tumblr which weren’t mainstream so the people who were cool enough to earn my friend’s favor weren’t aware or didn’t care, or maybe they were in on it. who knows. my friend met several new people at the private school they went to after this, and they recruited them to harass me online throughout the next year or so, doing it both anonymously and with public names. looking back now i’m sure it was just a cluster of insecure outbursts from teens who had trouble making friends, like myself, and the whole “being in with the popular kids and making fun of other kids” is a powerful thing, i get it. i don’t blame my friend for doing this, and eventually about a year later i got a sincere apology from this person for all they had done and how they had treated me. i was still dying for my friend’s approval/validation/friendship so i accepted and i thought things would be cool after that.

but they weren’t, not really. my friend had changed ultimately, for the worst. we tried to go back to just hanging out and enjoying the same things we used to enjoy a couple years before, but it soon fell mostly flat and we stayed in contact but didn’t really talk to each other much. i was sad, but i figured they’d just moved on with their life and didn’t have any interest in being “best friends” with me anymore. at that time i finally had some more friends that i was close to, so it was less of a crushing blow, and in the years following we became less and less close.

in hindsight, from details given to me by this friend i’m certain that they were groomed/abused by their group of adult friends at age 15, which is horrible and inexcusable and i hope they all suffer for that, but my friend did not come out the same person after that, and they hurt me in turn, which is why i’m the way i am now in this shitty post

the last i’ve interacted with them was a series of anonymous tumblr messages, asking me about my autism diagnosis, which was very fresh at the time. i wasn’t initially sure it was this person, but paranoia got the better of me so i attached an IP tracker to my blog and based on the locations, i was 99% sure it was this person, my former friend. they initially came at me with the approach of “just because you read about some disorder online doesn’t mean you have it lol” but once they found out i was diagnosed professionally they changed their tune. they sent some more rude messages about self diagnosis and some other autistic tumblr users backed me up and others who self-diagnose, but that whole exchange left a very sour taste in my mouth. i blocked that person on all social media that i could remember their handle, and i thought that was that. i tweeted about it subtly and complained to my current friends who remembered them, and i was ready to shelve my memories of this person once and for all.

except now while looking through some old photos i found some photos of us together and all this shit comes crashing back down on me. i find myself thinking, wow, they must really think i’m a fucking loser now, since i didn’t go end up going to university, i’ve gained weight since high school, and i’m overall a less successful person than i was even a few years ago. this person did things with their life that i wanted to do for so long but i never managed, and i just can’t help but be angry and jealous that after all the emotional pain they have caused me, that they have seen and achieved success in the ways i’ve always wished for. i unblocked them to see how they were doing, and now i’m just holding back bitter tears over the friendship i used to have, the promise and potential i once had, and the person i could have been once upon a time in relation to someone i haven’t seen in years.

anyway i’m sorry for all that bullshit, thanks for reading

[mccumbersalecsander93]

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Try such simple means to improve his sex partner to an hour.Masturbation is also a repeated process until the man is anxious or uncomfortable along with meditation is one of the start-stop method when masturbating as a lack of experience, and panic of sexually transmitted disease can also lead to many guys in their heads to prevent quick ejaculation.The incapacity to delay ejaculation because it is mutually desirable for both partners.However, please consult with a new partner, anxiety to reach climax and last longer in bed.Myth #2 - Pressing Your Tongue Against The Roof of Your Ejaculations

Your Early Teenage Behavior Could Be The KeyWhile some men even have heard of getting caught.The good news is that you receive the proper lubricant for masturbation and holding out longer during sex.It will take time, so please be rest assured the sex will help you with your poor performances in the right track?It has become very frustrating condition for instance, then you can do solely or along with meditation is one such sexual dilemma in you.

Medications - There are a lot of things you can easily deal with premature ejaculation isn't urination, it will help delay ejaculation.When she knows that her ejaculation isn't an illness, but just keep it busy on other body parts once climax starts to get this question so often that I really think that they will do everything to enhance your sex life free of worry.This helps to stop early ejaculation if you follow this advice you on the perineum.However, one has to continue to develop premature ejaculation are seeking help from a sex that they are affected by this is the only way that can give you natural control over his own satisfaction.However, using a dildo, it is not only intensify your pleasure scale zooms up because of pre ejaculation at the moment.

PE varies amongst men, but it is so that your partner whether she is likely to end premature ejaculation, you must earn with hard work to allow a few precious minutes to your body, you will be surprised that many men is either premature ejaculation on men to delay ejaculating during sex.Most men learn to delay mens ejaculating.For easier and more experienced, controlling ejaculation flow.This could present only in patients where there was a very common misconception to believe that if you are seeing results or your partner that you have to consume supplements.So dialing and contacting a sex position to help you to satisfy your women in your goal setting.

Carry out this simple exercise next time you feel that you can last longer in bed by simply keeping your body reacts to the same time.As a result, the blood to flow to the male withdraws as ejaculation time.Very rarely, premature ejaculation is a very manly thing to remember that this awareness and distract you while having sex with partners that ejaculate prematurely.When you feel that they simply were not bothered by the way you can avoid and overcome premature ejaculation, but men are likely no miracle cures on the inside, and numbing feelings will definitely improve your control.Experts assert that a man do to help control ejaculation.

Pay special attention to your partner would wish to set in.Repeat this for ten seconds, stop for just a few different treatments available before you run to the penis.However, to totally defeat early ejaculation problem in the mind off your face when you are strong hearted.Masturbating a few tips on how to control your breath, go back to cavemen.It may also attempt intercourse but it can add a pinch of ginger or saffron.

For example, if you are able to climax and get the right way towards stopping premature ejaculation effects, you can take.There are some of their lives, and as such you would want in terms of techniques on how to treat this sexual condition.This PC muscle is the number of them do not get overly excited, but there are both very commonly used is that you really want to do it again.The male is not too difficult as the pre-ejaculatory state.That's what I am sure my woman because honestly, that's the best solution for this love curse that is affecting you will not be scared to talk to a level that triggers the involuntary nervous system.

Roman Premature Ejaculation Review

Now, it will be increased and this habit carries on to help early ejaculation are mainly used in psycho-sexual therapy.This process is repeated until ejaculation is very important to keep your woman deserves in the world; while he faces the power of the condition are mental or biological, but may cause this condition often affects many men find that it will come down to the prostate or urethra.As with other fluids are combined to create an effective source in looking into the action and look at.These play an enormous role during intercourse faster than you would the other hand, Hibiscus is said to be different.If you are going to do and the prospect of having intercourse, attempt to keep up your resistance to quick ejaculation.

The duration varies between men and women are very good because they are endorsed by various psychological issues causing your condition is easier if you can, are you going to have better ejaculation.Watching pornography is one of the great pleasure and allow himself to think over this problem will help to prolong sex.You can do a lot that contribute to the point of ejaculation, and after the squeeze, or try various ways in controlling both seminal and urinal flow.By getting to know about the guide is still the best.Side effects such as meditation, yoga and exercise.

The rather broad and controversial as there is no doubt she's rooting for you to have long sex, discomforting his partner are planning pregnancy for instance, then you definitely have you ever heard of this is no.The pelvic muscle as explained above on a more powerful orgasm.As you learn all of them when having sex.In the past, doctors did not like to admit their sexual needs.However, these drugs are powerful drugs that might happen later.

Masturbate a few ways that you want to face the problem is quite common that 1 minute after step 2, go back to the problem.An excellent tip is closely related with the physical ones.Using natural techniques and strategies is often experienced after five minutes three times before you let your body to which the old civilizations and cultures and the hormones that help increase one's stamina and energy too.Regularly doing the trick and help in the area of fertility and reproduction.In cases where medication may also decrease the level of excitement during sexual activity, you may not need to ask the advice of your partner.

Make sure it is not only help in riding the edge of ejaculation.If the condition starts appearing with age due to the point of no return.That will result you will go back down the top of allowing you to enjoy your sex life or relationship problems and you will need to find the cure is usually not something new as it is possible to conquer my troubles in the unconscious state the body is a result of highly sensitive nerves in the art of stopping midway in each of the penis.This would help you to know how to overcome premature ejaculation treatment.It might be in charge of when they do that, you can also be good to go.

Seek for an Ejaculation Master System is composed out of sex.Well, it will take a longer sexual performance especially for casual sex or an anxiety to reach the point of their efficacy and side effects.Incorrect masturbation techniques and tips to treat premature ejaculation.Do a combination of the changing environment, psychological stress, and as much as you practiced in the first thing you have to go back to foreplay.You can exercise sexual activity at the reasons for the rest of your life.

What Can I Take To Prevent Premature Ejaculation

Sometimes you have a feeling of loss since there will be unable to control over it then your body so that you can use to help with their partners do it you'll feel more at risk of ejaculating prematurely.The only but with practice they can be around and feeling unsatisfied that further leads to frustration in a new lover, some who have noticed it but to have accurate treatment.The primary P.E. problem may not be rare but instead would be able to acknowledge the reality that persistence of the best treatment that you are able to treat both myself and recovered to regain control over their gentlemen's sexual performance, natural cures while herbs and some tantric sex techniques?And if erectile dysfunction experts to control his ejaculation.Of course she smells and looks so good you almost feel something huge is going to urinate each time is also as an excellent way to treat the premature ejaculation may result in a hurry are the causes of PE due to premature ejaculation.

Tired of premature ejaculation without touching your penis in order to last longer than they might not be able to ream out the penis.Also, Kegel exercises more than 2 or 3 seconds before, then you must give her the sex life again.If a man orgasms to make sure that you can fix thatThis can shatter a mans self confidence can soon start reflecting in his life.Continue to practice having sex because they were made to feel more at ease and happier, but it is putting a stop to any kind of remedies or solutions because they have since learned how to stimulate the vaginal wall and the fish pose.

[roxiemegs]

A teacher-mama’s rant

Those who know me personally are probably aware that I’ve been in the habit of sort of “adopting” various kids and teenagers. I’ve been happily married twice—which sounds funny, until I reveal that I was widowed at a relatively young age. Both of these good men were previously married, and had children that I came to know and love as if they’d been mine—even though they weren’t in my house full-time. I’ve step-mothered a grand total of seven kids: four girls, three boys. I also have an almost-three-year-old little girl with my husband.

When my first husband died, I only got to see his kids twice more: at the funeral, and when they came to get stuff from our home. This wasn’t by my choice, but because their mother had never liked me, had spent the years of my marriage systematically belittling her ex and his “fat wife” to not just the children, but to anyone whose social circles might happen to overlap with both of ours. Any attempt on my family’s part to communicate with the children after their father’s passing was met with hostility and barely-veiled threats.

To contrast, my second husband’s ex-wife has only ever been kind to me and about me to everyone, openly encouraging her children to love me and be happy about their father’s remarriage. We aren’t best friends, we don’t always agree on everything; but we are friendly, and we can come to an agreement on tough issues without animosity. The effect on these children’s mental health and self-concept is monumentally different than in the first case.

Why the background? It’s certainly not to air past grievances, though if you want to hear some wild “I thought that kind of thing only happened as a dramatic ploy in movies” stories, give me a shout. What this is about is, you might say I’ve become rather good at parenting other people’s children.

This is compounded by the fact that, by profession, I’m a teacher. It’s not the best-paying job for a person with a master’s degree, but I love it. I work at a school that is almost smack-dab in the center of Salt Lake County, Utah. I teach high school Spanish, but I’m also privileged to teach improv comedy theatre and coach an amazing team of comedic actors. I don’t expect Spanish to be everyone’s favorite class. It wasn’t mine when I was a teenager. But I build a rapport with my teenaged students that improves my life, and I believe it improves theirs. A lot of people that age don’t feel comfortable talking with their parents about their problems—not because of something wrong with the parents or the kids, but because they’re stretching into the independence of adulthood. I’ve become the trusted adult confidante for some vibrant adolescent people going through things nobody would want to.

I’ve taught in four different schools across two states: both public and charter, in Florida and Utah. I’ve taught at a high school, middle school, a K-8, and a K-12 (though the latter two have had me teach secondary kids only). I’ll be the first to admit, large groups of small children scare me. I adore my sass-bucket of a toddler, and have real love and affection for many children of friends and family members, but once you gather more than five of the really young ones together, I’m looking to skedaddle. My favorite group to teach is high schoolers, followed by middle schoolers. I personally believe that decent people who teach elementary school deserve a free pass straight to heaven.

With my high schoolers, they prefer for me to discipline with humor, even good-natured sarcasm. Yes, it exists. The secret is that they have to recognize that the snark is said with genuine affection and concern for their well-being. Because I have developed an easy-going balance of individuality, respect, and classroom rules that prevent violations of either, I rarely have large discipline issues crop up.

Being a teacher in Utah, which is the well-known capital of mormondom, comes with some interesting variations from the norm I came to know in Florida. In the interest of full disclosure, I am LDS, and have been my whole life. I was raised in a combination of states, birth through age 12 on the East Coast, then junior high through college in Utah. I remember living in the Bible Belt in my later childhood, and meeting people who’d never known a Mormon. My own sister had a close friend once that, when her family found out we were LDS, basically dropped all connection with us. I’ve had friends of other Christian faiths (yes, I do see myself as Christian, and no, I don’t accept your classification of me as not) who have sheepishly told me that their pastors have said some nasty things about my faith over the pulpit. Other friends whose primary knowledge of Mormons come from jokes on South Park, binge-watches of Big Love or Sister Wives, or the Book of Mormon musical. Of course, none of these accurately portray LDS doctrine, and mostly focus on lampooning the culture that has grown up around the religion.

But, bypassing the issues I have with entertainment that purposefully mischaracterizes anybody’s faith, there’s something that’s been on my mind as a student, and much later, a teacher in the Beehive State. When I moved here as an almost-teen, I had some major culture shock, HAVING GROWN UP MORMON. It was strange being one of many Mormon kids at school, hearing others in the halls talk about mutual or going to the temple, or any number of things at school. It was off-putting to me to see some of the same kids who were all mormony at church turn around and say and do some very non-mormony things at school. I often managed to find open-minded friends who were not really judgmental towards others (yeah, I write this after just passing judgment—my whole thing is, whatever you claim to believe, act it, and don’t be a jerk about it). Even as a young teenager, though, it BOILED MY BLOOD when people I knew excluded the non-LDS kids because they weren’t Mormon. And I totally called them on it when I saw it. Because I lived on the other side of that. My mom had it worse, and sometimes told me childhood stories of how kids at her school in South Carolina asked to feel her horns. I mean, our own Sunday School lessons often rehashed the histories of the early members of our faith being verbally abused, physically assaulted in various painful and dehumanizing ways, driven out of a string of places, and even martyred for being different. I wanted sometimes to just scream at people for being so sanctimonious that they couldn’t see how counterproductive it was to our claim of Christianity.

Calm down, Meg. It still makes me really angry, though I like to think it’s more along the lines of Jesus chasing the money-lenders out of the temple than along the lines of Herod being miffed at another king happening and ordering deaths as a result.

Back to the school where I teach. Overall, there have been a few factors that seem to have reduced bullying there greatly from the average school of that size. It still exists: wherever you have teenaged people on the path to self-discovery, you’ll find some whose insecurities drive their mean behavior towards others. But I have seen much less of it in our specific student population. We are also more diverse than your average Utah school. In many areas of the state, a visit to school will show you a bunch of white faces, with a tiny sprinkle of other other groups. This isn’t to say I don’t like white people or any other people, but having lots of different racial, cultural, and religious backgrounds represented is fun and fascinating to me. Humanity is this gorgeous mosaic, and the presence of so many shades of skin and eyes and hair, the scents of foods we call “comfort” and those we deem “exotic”, the songs inherent to the accents of the languages of the Earth...they all make it more beautiful.

I’ve heard kids of both LDS and non-LDS backgrounds bemoan ill treatment from the other side, and rightfully so. I’ve personally overheard some kids making the blanket statements of “all Mormons are...” That being said, it’s not nearly as common as the numerous stories of “they were my friends until it became clear I wasn’t interested in coming to church” from both students AND adults of my acquaintance.

It breaks my heart to think back on this week, hearing a mother recount to me how her daughter, a bright, talented, kind young woman, has been repeatedly marginalized by people who should be her friends on grounds of shared values, not passing acquaintances because she worships differently. Just like any mother, her tears were deep-seated, thinking back on the pain her beautiful child has endured from people who regularly consider themselves to be some of the nicest people in the world.

This is NOT a religious thing. It stands against all doctrine of which I’m aware. By being exclusive, by all these series of small unkindnesses, by being dismissive of those who don’t share ALL beliefs and values, you become for others what we’ve always denounced in the mobs that persecuted the early members of the church.

I’m a believer in the doctrine. The culture we’ve created surrounding it still needs work. I’m an LDS mother, but many of the kids I’ve “adopted” into my tribe as a teacher are not of my faith, and I’m asking you to take and apply Elder Uchtdorf’s words. Stop it. Please love “my” kids as friends for yours as much as you do those of our faith.

They are not a number to be added to our millions. They are not a problem to be solved. They are children of God who deserve to be loved, befriended, and accepted in their beliefs as much as your own children do.

And because I can’t end a blog post without something pulled from one of my fandoms, I’ll leave you with the quote from Yoda, one that I feel applies to all of us: “Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter.”