#or like get really depressed but i think that mania is more fun and profitable

[butchboromir]

playing a fun game called am i restless just because i'm restless or is this a Greater Sign

[dreamylyfe-x]

what is your unpopular 11.06 opinion we want to hear more 😎

Ahhhh. I really don’t know how this one is going to go over. Part of the problem in conveying it is that I know my reaction is deeply rooted in my own childhood. Which was not standard. And the people who disagree with me might have their own non-standard childhoods which feed their opinion. So no one’s not valid, but... I haven’t seen anyone say this, so here goes. 

Regarding this exchange in 11x06:

Mickey: Well, Frank wasn’t a homophobic psychopath who tortured you for years. 

Ian: No, he’s just an emotionally abusive alcoholic who stole my money for drugs, broke my nose, tried to profit off my mania... 

Mickey: I guess we both had shit dads. Let’s get the fuck out of here. 

I’ve seen people say Ian shouldn’t have said this -- like very angry that he did -- because Frank doesn’t compare to Terry and I guess it minimizes Mickey’s experience for him to point out the ways that Frank sucks. And the pushback I’ve seen is that Ian can absolutely say that because Frank and Terry both suck. 

I get that. But I also don’t think that's what Ian is doing and I don’t think that’s how Mickey hears it. 

I think I need something like the Vicky Mendoza Diagonal to explain what I mean here, so for that sake and that sake only -- let’s say there are only two kinds of families. There are families where the parenting is acceptable-to-great, and then there are families where the parenting is poor-to-terrible. Basically you have your “authorities won’t get involved” families and your “authorities SHOULD get involved” families. Ian and Mickey are both in Group B. 

But. Everyone who watches the show knows this. What has stuck out for me about the conversation about this particular exchange is that I haven’t seen much talk about how profoundly alienating can be to be from Group B. First you have the fun stuff that accompanies a traumatic childhood: instability, anxiety, depression, PTSD, complex PTSD, compromised coping strategies, a lack of support, a general uncertainty about what is and isn’t “normal” for most people... the list goes on. 

But you ALSO have to deal with how Group A interacts with your more public trauma. And, armed with that information, the way they act can be bizarre. And I realize I’m getting personal here, but I feel like if you DON’T have a publicly known trauma you might honestly never experience having people say things to you like “You help me remember how lucky I am.” 

(I have honestly heard that so many times. I truly do not know why people say this to me. It is not helpful. I am not helping them remember that they are lucky on purpose. I am just having weird/bad things happen to me within their view.) 

So. Here is Mickey have a very emotional moment on the street in front of the house and three whole Gallaghers. The one with tact and a Terry-Milkovich-fathered-ex ducks behind the ambulance to give Mickey some privacy. And Ian, his husband, reaches out. He touches his shoulder and Mickey is like iron. He asks him if he’s ok and Mickey doesn’t tell him to fuck off. Instead Mickey, who never talks about this father, says it’s “weird” to see Terry like that. And then lists various acts of revenge he could visit on Terry while nearly vibrating with suppressed emotion. There’s a lot of anger, but there’s something else there, too. It could be a lot of things. I read grief. There is some kind of loss for Mickey in what’s happened to Terry. Not because of anything Terry ever gave him -- maybe because of things Terry never gave him that now definitively never will -- but whatever it is, Mickey’s feelings surrounding Terry in that moment are complicated. 

And who is going to understand those feelings? Or help Mickey make sense of them? None of these other Milkoviches are Terry’s son. Mickey is the only person from that immediate family left in Southside. He is really going through this moment alone. 

But. He has Ian. Who knows more than almost anyone what Terry is like. Who has witnessed some of the worst things Terry has done. Who knows Mickey doesn’t like to talk about his father and respects it. And who, in this moment, validates Mickey’s grief -- the far less comprehensible emotion to Mickey -- over his anger. And then, when Mickey pushes back with the reason he has to be angry at Terry in a way that isolates himself from Ian, Ian responds by pointing out what they have in common. Terry’s worse, but they both are from the Brotherhood of Men With Bad Dads. Ian doesn’t share Mickey’s trauma but he knows the shape of it. He knows how to interact with Mickey about it better than anyone. Ian understand insecurity and scarcity and violence in the home, and in that moment Mickey understanding what he and Ian share is more important than focusing on what no one can share with Mickey.

Not everyone is going to feel that way in Mickey’s shoes. But we have pretty heavy indications that this is how Mickey feels, because of how the rest of the episode unfolds. Mickey never loses it with Ian. Ian lets Mickey decide what they are going to do, and only intervenes -- gently -- when he thinks Mickey is going to suffer for his actions. This provides the space where Mickey gets to work through his feelings -- mostly silently -- and eventually make his choice about how he’s going to deal with it.  

There is our trauma, and there is our shame about our trauma and then there is the weight of people who will judge both those things with no real context for them. Those three things together are exhausting. In that moment, I think there was real value for Mickey in having his experience normalized just that little bit. Just that whatever else he was dealing with in that moment, he was not standing next to someone who didn’t understand hating your father. I think Mickey wants this to be a thing he and Ian have in common. It’s part of why they can belong to each other so totally. Ian isn’t here to tell Mickey what makes him a freak. He’s here to give him space to feel however he needs to feel. And I truly do get why people don’t see that moment that way. I do. But I see more value for Mickey in what Ian did rather than what he didn’t do. 

[crackcrocs]

DEATH WILL ONLY BE THE BEGINNING #3

3. Transformation Central

the entities of my personalities would like to come together in one voice that speaks through me, we or I call this collection of words from the mustiest corners of my brain to this note page to voice something that might come close to what I feel underneath the skin I wear. In all my unorganised words- I might even go as far as to call this a poem, titled:

‘TRANSFORMATION CENTRAL’

sub characters in my head would appreciate if this could be visualised & understood through as deep a lens as humanly possible. even I confuse myself so if you can decode or relate to any of this, wonderful. If not, I’m locked in my own mind, swallowed the keys to my soul.

SIMILARITIES & INTERCONNECTEDNESS BETWEEN HUMAN & PLANT CONSCIOUSNESS EXIST! if you look closely at my nose freckles you’ll see the resemblance of the constellations above. if you look at the human veins & the layout of a tree, this is further proof.

{VISUALS THROUGH A SEPIA WINDOW STARING @ THE AUTUMN LEAFS; IMAGINING THE SEEDS UNDERNEATH, THROUGH NUMB ROOT VESSELS THAT PERMEATE THROUGH EVERY MEMBRANE OF MY EXTERNAL TO INTERNAL ENVIRONMENT}

~FEATURING THE VICIOUS CYCLE OF DEPRESSION & PERFECTIONISM.

here goes:

What is this part of my mind ?

If you want; delve inside-

I may look sweet like Alice,

but underneath it all

I deteste looking in the mirror

-cos I see the mad hatter.

my inner child needs a platter-

full of care not distortion & abuse pls.

less fibbin would’ve been a breeze.

now following the dead fish in the stream!

HOW on EARTH do I fit with the cod & the Haddock?

I’m the rainbow fish- beat & battered.

dim my own light cos I’m too afraid to shine.

alone.

thieves tried to steal my shiny scales.

I sat and watched them grow.

In the sea realm they were mean gargantuan selfish whales, with poisonous shark fangs & alligator tails. scorpion hands. (gremlins)

and still they make me feel like the alien-

I cant take it.

Make it make sense ?

I can’t.

controller in my hand-

Off balance stance.  

anxiously I move round like a wobbly jelly.

where’s the button to balance my chi & shut out the ego ?

the teLLIE telling lies to our vision!

change the channel aura terracotta orange- daily dosage of vitamin D & C.

catch me sun gazing by the sea

head buzzin like a bee.

speaking from a dusty box

stuck on top of a forbidden shelf

cos I dunno how else.

I’m tryna delve deep but forgot how to dive

How can i visualise? scenery foggy-

the establishment man with the glue gun got me xD

inner monk burning but at peace

Cos I refuse to believe

If the only way is the American dream

Interconnected; like the frog in science -let’s dissect it!

down to every floating atom spirit neighbouring your door

subcategories & divisions, it’s more!

than the rich and the poor -prism that’s been built

do we all feel like a performance monkey on stilts?

will my data be extracted & used to mould a robots personality some day?

well obviously not.

does the price of our lives all amount down to slave ways?

LABOUR YAY!

but morals & values it seems we’ve forgot.

sO If i don’t speak its cos I’m lost.

or maybe i’m enlightened-

Standing at the edge of the porch;

watching TRYING to understand how the flowers grow.

questioning eVERYTHING man made!

I’ve stepped out of the perfect picture frame

I can see the coal pollute the sky

I need to hop on the train-

but I’m comfortable

Sunset to sunrise statue standing still.

what’s the ingredients to life’s yucky pie?

I’ve exceeded mental lotteries.

Sanity n universal peace would be a trophy.

TIL then I’ll be crafting & shaping a solid pottery reality,

with a few pence, gum, and a bandana of belongings tied to stick.

thinking one day I’ll be laying the bricks

& building a kingdom of bliss.

guess for now I’ll use the intricate delicate materials in my tool box- that’s all I’ve got.

might have a long way- maybe worth a shot.

I observe, cruisin in the sky.

dunno why..

I jus look @ the hills.

Only time & history reveals.

no thanks mr men-

I don’t want your prescription pills.

there’s enough propaganda as it is.

I won’t jump on the merry go round-

til my core trusts & envisions we’ll actually feel safe!

I don’t want to take part in this faux fur, sweet nothings & a jack in a box punching blur, so called future.

oh and genuinely thanks quarantine-for once again, I can hear bird sounds!

guess this is me tryna speak out loud!!!...

it’s not thrilling

system  time killing everything-

mother nature’s oxygen

everything is nauseating

clock ticking, I better start creating.

they should write a book on how to be free when the system set us up to believe that we’re tied to the cut down trees that gives them a currency of greed that they breed.

If blindfolded, I don’t wanna eat what they feed.

Whilst they profit of us -tell us smile and the bandits don’t wanna see us happy.

they’re too busy robbing all our hoods.

In exchange for the silence, they’ve granted us with a 21’st century fashion garment of a slave muzzle! labelled conform.

More delusion to add to the already desensitised norm.

zootonic diseases, welcome covid 19 to your plastic kiddy tea party!- apologies for questioning your motive!

Been handed too many hot plates with a post it note saying HOLD THIS.

we’ll be okay just hush.

Same Shan message told to every generational seed.

If we don’t TRY overpower-

we’ll never succeed!

it’s getting even more scary.

Artificial intelligence.

Societal negligence..

my canvas isn’t clear-dunno am I schizo ?

finger painting, cos it makes more sense.

struggling to blend.

borderline conspiracist pretending to be fine;

moving the goal post, hovering above the race line.

who made the chalk? who set the lanes?

I wanna know it all, maybe¿ far past insane.

I can fit all I need in the palm of my hand,

Maybe even less! cut a finger off not sure it’ll even add stress.

hi from personality Peter, even sober- always away with the fairies.

Pass the pixie dust, I’m in a rush

Found shelter in the comfort of pan physicists timer, no not the one on your phone!

Ring ring, skeptical! is it my demon or my mommy on the phone?

I’m stuck in the airspace of an infinite glass filled with beach particles trying to form myself standing up still attempting not to slip through the hands of my very own discovery.

time is running out & ill go when I go.

I’m sitting inside the fly trap -

stardust, chakras can you feel the sensation colors like a starburst.

deep emotion is a curse.

still entrapped in the sand dune of nothingness-

flipping a domino monopoly of solidified thoughts as I sway with the wind.

I’m the trapped sandbox in the playground & the slipping sand in my own hands.

Inhale chronic but I wanna enter the quiet realm of white noise

-color of a wife beater vest, calmer than the ease in ignorance of a red neck.

sadomasochistic, messes.

but oblivion, seems like less stress.

Unfortunately I can see, with all eyes

empathetic paralysis, gets me vexed.

Punching truth into the core of your chest!

It’s not funny, neither is the one on the receiving end..

My limbs are numb

& im done playing octopus alchemy.

I want minimalism & life can be simple,

Evil entities have made it hard.

Maybe I’ve got stars above my head like an old cartoon character.

But I can’t make it make sense, are they out to get me. worse all of us? Or have I bottled myself tryna re mesh the broken shards,

I feel glued to the floor cos there’s a pretty price to pay if you want more.

I see life through a different lense, maybe born downside up, Benjamin button I came out the back door-

Outside looking in, digesting confusion.

Is to be a product of environment a sin?

rummage through my messy brain.

personalities sardine packed in this tin

I’m the wizard of my mania

Scaring & attracting the black crows-

they’re my friends.

Sometimes still a cowardly lion

Roaring pain & true riddles at the wrenching wicked witch posse of the west.

will my voice ever be loud enough to shed light wit my words and grate the sweet zest

In to the cake i’m baking?

Probably not.

Got more thoughts than the autumn leaves collected by the garden rake. alone.

gathering & storing the pains of yesterday.

sometimes I stay in line

Other times in my head Im on my hands juggling out of time.

but I really don’t mind if I lose or win.

we all have a pace

I jus don’t want the 1% to win the race.

It’s unfair!

Humanity does anyone care ??

Half lady

half fairy

Good  MOOrning-

from my anagrams.

no I’m not a cow.

twister fidget spinner brain in the flesh-

form of expression this time around lyrics.

feel I’m jus a silly rubix

& still mourning

I don’t like dairy

pass the oat milk.

Are you aware the industry are sabotaging our diets?

we want peace!

the powerful elite-

perceive & deceive

the scene they want us to be.

chuck the narcissistic psychopathic pie back in our face-

every time we almost found & addressed the Programme & Control man in the maze.

evil & extroverted- he said that the anarchists have to be the cause of riots.

working isn’t class. I said let’s switch roles- he said pass.

It’s piss! Who’s got the bomb & the guns?

Who got the land? off wit OUR heads 4 fun!

it’s pure scary.

Pharmaceutics handshake.

with the cooked up suppliers, also crooked wack liars.

I’d rather shot a gallon of bloody blubbery infused slaughter house milk

If it meant we didn’t use cocoons for silk.

why not add a drizzle of bleach to the concoction & maybe that’s a reach.

every time I guzzle fakeness, it taste peak.

I want real fruit, what next-

a seedless peach ???

what’s the difference between a weirdo & a freak?

layers & levels to the shit.

Magnifying tapping the window of society, I’ll be puffing green til I get to the land of Oz.

sponge soaked soaking up emotions

Suffocated by deduction of care in life

feel entrapped in this paradigm

what am I thinking ?

got the verbs & a cuppa tea

It’s mixed with torment & desire to be free.

I’d rather be awake than asleep

When I get too comfy I feel weak

Demons they reap

underneath

rip the seems as I bleed

Concrete

Solid

Emotions

Is all you’re getting

It’s all sad scenes in the imagery I’m setting

people need care we seem to be forgetting

why are we in debt wit

a posse of clowns

pay the price so we can get a frown

here’s some seratonin

quit ya moaning

life is all sound

aw yeh¿  if you’re not an over thinker!

product of environment- Sirius flickers

theyve done a ritual like it’s Wicca

now here’s your gold sticker..

for managing to co operate.

In this world fuelled off of evil n hate

waking ups a bloody disgrace

I am not amazed.

Man I love my fam n my friends

Just hate this part of my brain that feels the need to play pretend

sometimes I feel insane

but I’m calm

need to escape so I don’t do harm

Gold lioness in the sky by the sea

with puff the magic dragon

fire out my mouth, fuel helps me breathe

I will shine bright

Promise imma be alright

even tho I’m not sure why

I function like this

I wanna be myself

It’s just hard to find the comfortability

To feel happy and pretty

Lay me down on a bed of roses

Ring around sing about overdose emotions

Sorry dunno how to communicate

Heads in a constant debate

Should I go or should I stay

My head clashes

Burnin the next ciggy as my thoughts become ashes.