on topic of my emotions regarding Idiot Steve…
He should be terrified, but he isn't, not in that moment. In fact, he doesn’t feel anything as he stares at himself in the mirror of his en suite bathroom. He doesn’t know where the panic went, seeing as nothing has been resolved, nothing has changed. Except, well, he has a plan now. A plan that got derailed the very second he saw himself and another piece of reality has settled. Or unsettled. He’s not sure yet.
He gets stuck like this sometimes. Is fully aware of it, but that doesn’t make it any easier to stop, doesn’t make the comments any easier that get flung his way, sniding words from the genius kids or his genius soulmate — Platonic with a capital P. Just one more thing in the Idiot Steve Harrington collection, but this one doesn’t feel like it’s his fault. Actually, it never really does.
this one doesn’t feel like it’s his fault. it never really does
Now, though, it’s staring him in the face. It’s almost comical. We expect you to be great, Mother said where other parents would have written words of love and kindness. 'We expect you to be great. The next few years will leave you traumatised to all hells and back, you will almost die several times and find friends who let you care for them but maybe don’t entirely reciprocate that. We will never hear about any of that and we don’t really care. The last hug you got from me was April 1979, and that was only because I was grieving and you were there. Be great, Steven. And have a pizza for your troubles.'
and find friends who let you care for them but maybe don’t entirely reciprocate that
me writing the time travel au, or just about anything steve-centric:
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Cancelled the in person interview for today after discussing phone interview with Mum and Housemate last night (and the numerous red flags and cost of the lyft there and back for a job that ultimately the place wouldn't be able to convince me to take if offered, bc the general consensus was 'this is literally likely to be as bad as the current job BUT with the added cost of lyfts back and forth that they wouldn't be paying enough to offset, why on earth would you (me) take this job lmaooooo')
Which works out good bc the ongoing Mum trauma stuff is hitting hard as soon as I've woken and maybe I can get the Big Cry out today. Or write down any of the memories that have been playing on repeat in my mind
(with all this said, yes, I still asked and do legitimately care abt my mum's opinion and experience with jobs despite this; yes it feels weird; no I don't know how healthy that is or not lmao but I'm gonna lean towards Not Healthy bc im discovering that the work my previous doc did certainly uncovered this codependency and trauma which absolutely was a great help but like...we didn't actually really untangle any of it so I could try and untangle myself from my mum, even from 1600+ miles from one another. So. probably not healthy.)
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me, full of ongoing scrupulosity abt microplastics and also a vague sense that it would be good for me to take another crack at incorporating running into my life for 'holy shit i desperately need endorphins' reasons, scouring the shorts market for anything natural-fiber but also functionally/aesthetically fit for purpose and coming up almost* entirely blank: what if i bought another one of the merino-tencel tanks whose fabric i'm in love with (or‚ you know‚ sourced similar fabric somewhere that wasn't already a different garment‚ but like‚ that would involve learning things about 'where to get specialty fabric' in addition to the 'how to sew it' part) and turned it into running shorts? surely it couldn't be that hard??
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* in fairness, icebreaker does make some that tbh are probably ideal except for cost but like. do i want to go running in basketball shorts? not really. and the tiny (women's) version only comes in black which is so dreary. i keep hoping they'll come out with some other colors but so far no dice! also an extremely crunchy-granola company makes some weird little gym shorts in a hemp knit which. i'm sorry, i grew up in manhattan and i'm dubious! they might be great but! 🧐
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i'm realizing more and more how bad my depression was, bc at the time i was "functional" and no one ever actually approached me to ask me if i was okay so i kept being on the fence with myself on whether i was actually depressed or if i was just Bad at Living and everyone just had more energy and enthusiasm and passion and care than i did. even when i recognized i was legitimately depressed, that i "deserved" the label or whatever, i was like "but i'm not Severely depressed, like i get out of bed and do my work and everything." okay but i also never responded to emails and i skipped so many classes and didn't wash up or change my clothes for days sometimes and i avoided everyone except only five friends and i would constantly hate myself bc i thought there was something wrong w me because i wasn't a Better, more capable person like everyone else seemed to be, and about once a week i would have the intense panicked urge to kill myself and freak out alone in the animation studio at 2am or in the bathroom silently while my roommates waited in the common room to make a crack about how long it takes for me to shower. and it got marginally better when i started weightlifting but that was so fucking insane that i didn't think i deserved to be taken seriously. like sometimes i reread my journal entries from that time and i feel so sorry for my past self because it was fucking brutal back then
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my mom, noticing i'm very tired + fell asleep on the couch for an hour & a half, only to come downstairs & lay on my bed w the door open: oh honey go take a nap :(
my hell brain, to me: you are such an asshole. how dare you make her worry about you. as punishment you're not allowed to do that
me to my mom anyway: ...yeah okay
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