#which is why he felt such an extreme extent of loneliness to wish for friends in the first place

[apricotheart]

Not an nsfw ask, but in Anzu's mind, how does she envision her first kiss ? Is there a specific setting ? Is it something she'd not expect or something she plans ?

( unprompted asks / always accepting !! )

Anzu, in typical teenage girl fashion, always expected that her first kiss would be terribly romantic. One for the books. Something that even the movies would be envious of. The setting always changes depending on her mood or who she envisions her first kiss with, but there's always a sense of anticipation bubbling like a carbonated soda in her chest. She's expecting it, but trying not to look too eager. Desperately wanting to experience the pinnacle of teenage girlhood.

The reality, however, isn't nearly so cookie-cutter romance.

But first, a little backstory.

Anzu was not always a good friend to Yuugi. They'd known each other since elementary school and for a long time Anzu and he were glued to the hip, until about the end of middle school when she started learning about things like cliques and social acceptability. She began distancing herself from Yuugi when she realised he wasn't "cool", and that his lack of "coolness" was reflecting onto her. She was never outright mean to him. She didn't ignore him completely. But she went to his house less often and spent more time with a group of popular girls who favoured fashion and makeup and boys over card games.

Her first kiss happened at the birthday party of her then-friend and ringleader of a group of popular girls, Hoshino Natsumi. With Natsumi's parents in the other room, she'd convinced the rest of the party goers to gather around for a game of spin the bottle. Anzu, too embarrassed to admit she'd never been kissed and too stubborn to back down, plopped on a pillow next to Natsumi and hoped that the bottle would never land on her.

It did.

Anzu's first kiss was with a boy whose name she doesn't even remember now. The only thing she remembers is the other kids hollering and cackling as he took her face in his hands and kissed her so hard their teeth clacked together. He tasted like stale Cheetos and Anzu swore she'd never go to another one of Natsumi's parties.

Coincidentally, she didn't. Not long after, they started high school and the first time Anzu caught sight of Yuugi being targeted by bullies more fiercely, she stepped in and sealed her reputation as his protective best friend. Natsumi and her cronies dropped Anzu pretty quickly after that.

[sohin-ace]

Doppio - Frog Princess

Fairy tale AU and lots of love for my small man.

Doppio dragged his feet across the garden, restless and desperate. He sighed and whined to himself, taking the opportunity of being all alone to voice his pain and concerns, something he was never allowed to do.

"Aww jeez... This prince life isn't made for me..."

He huffed again and tugged at his very uncomfortable, gold adorned collar that was almost suffocating him.

Doppio looked around him, sure enough, the tall trees surrounding him did a great job at hiding him from the potential workers on the castle grounds that could possibly be looking for him.

He could finally have a little moment for himself and sneak out, maybe to cry to himself a little bit.

"O-ow... That still hurts..." The boy whined and rubbed on his bruised fingers, the results of angry professors punishing him for each mistakes he made. "I'm no good, I can't do anything right..."

That's right. Prince Doppio was a clumsy and anxious boy who lacked capacity in every domain. He always tried his best and obeyed every and each order, he wasn't undisciplined, oh no, young Doppio was a good boy.

He was just bad. He hardly managed to keep the required straight stance for more than ten seconds, was better at petting the horses than at riding them, couldn't follow etiquette at all, or protocol, was extremely forgetful and sadly, mother nature did not grace him with the strongest physical traits a young man his age was expected to have.

"Tch... Trish was so popular everyone courted her and she was so easy to marry, but me... No one would want to marry a good-for-nothing like me..."

He angrily kicked some rock and held his back that cracked at the movement, in pain, squeezing his eyes shut and sobbing at the sore feeling. That last lesson of fencing went so terribly wrong, how did the others do it?

"I'm so tired... Why meee...?"

"Ribbit!"

"Huh?" Doppio was startled at the very sudden but intriguing croaky sound and approached its direction near the pond.

He couldn't see anything at first, but then a tiny little creature jumped out of its hiding place. Doppio's honey eyes widened and he quickly wiped his warm tears, crouching down towards the animal.

"A frog!" He exclaimed happily, almost like a small child, new to the world. "Hi! You're so tiny, what's your name?"

"Ribbit!"

He knew very well the animal couldn't respond to him with actual words, but just the feeling of having even a one-sided conversation soothed a bit of his loneliness down. He cupped his hands together to invite the frog in, and the animal obliged by jumping on them.

He looked down and observed the chubby little creature. It had the cutest, roundest eyes, almost sparkly in the dim forest light, its green color was so bright and homogenous, there weren't any marks or patterns that frogs usually had on their skin. Even its limbs were tiny and soft, Doppio couldn't help but pet it with one careful and shaky finger.

"O-ooh! Oh my god!" He squealed uncontrollably. "You're so squishy!"

"Ribbit ribbit!"

The quiet and high-pitched croak felt so pleasant to his ears, it meddled with the sound of the water next to him and made him feel so much at peace. He loved to hear that cute sound and how the frog's belly puffed up like a balloon with each croak.

"What are you? A boy or a girl? I'd say you're a girl because you're super pretty and have a tiny voice."

"Ribbit Ribbit! Ribbit Ribbit!"

Doppio gasped loudly. "D-did I get it right?! Oohh yes!! That's so cool! Well... Not like I would have minded if you were a boy... Or both... Wait, do frogs have genders? Oh it doesn't matter."

The young prince felt like this frog was currently the only thing keeping him sane. He had no one else to talk to, there was no one who actually cared for his own well-being and he had no friends.

The only real person to actually show him some kind of recognition and love was none other than the King Diavolo himself. But even his sweet words and affection seemed somewhat back-handed and laced with pressure and severity.

"You know, you're lucky, little thing..." Doppio started with melancholy. "You don't have to worry so much about your life... I'm bad at everything and I'm all alone... I don't know what to do..."

"Ri-rib, ribbit!"

"Even if a nice princess wanted to marry me, I would turn her down because she would deserve better... Sometimes I wish I could disappear..."

"Ribb-ribbit!"

Doppio's eyes softened on the small frog. That's how sad and pathetic he was. Talking his problems out with a frog.

"Why do I feel like you actually understand me...? Thank you for listening to me and being my only friend."

Without even thinking, he lifted the small frog and brought it towards his face, giving it the tiniest of pecks. He smiled at how weird the feeling was, the animal was cold and slightly humid, a bit sticky too which he did not mind surprisingly.

He sighed and looked up mindlessly before his eyes were suddenly striked by a blinding flash of light.

"Wh-what the hell?!"

The light flashed brighter and brighter, coming from the frog in his hands. What was going on?

Doppio could only drop the creature and shield his eyes with his arms desperately as the frog sparkled like a thousand fireflies and grew in size.

The boy squinted his eyes shut and fell back right onto his butt before he felt a strong weight pressing on him, the mass eventually pinning him down onto the ground.

"U-uughh..." He groaned and rubbed his head, a sharp headache from the harsh light hitting his sensitive eyes still slowly fading.

He looked down only for his eyes to widen like saucers. He couldn't believe what he was currently witnessing and thought that maybe he went blind from the flash and was hallucinating right now.

The weight on top of him revealed to be the figure of a girl laying unconscious. He couldn't see her face buried in his chest, but he could make out her beautiful hair, smooth skin tone and the very frilly green dress she was wearing.

And that wasn't just any dress either, the golden ornaments, the tulle, the silk, the lace, the satin... That was an expensive dress, was she...could she be... A nobleswoman? A baroness? A...

...A princess?

"A-aah..." The girl moaned quietly before pushing herself up, not without struggle and Doppio gasped.

"A-are you okay signori-..." The boy could barely finish his sentence and only mumbled open-mouthed nonsense.

He was beyond mesmerized at the beauty who had just ever-so-slowly lifted her face up to look at him. Her shining wide eyes, her innocent glossy lips, her rose dusted cheeks and her hair framing her perfect face made him believe he just stumbled into some sort of forest Goddess.

"Ah-I... U-uuhm.. Y-you...uh.. W-ah-...eh... I-I'm..." He stammered awkwardly, his brain melting like ice in summer as his face and ears burned a crimson red, his breath catching in his now dry throat.

"Ah! My stars!" The girl gasped as she hovered over the immensely flustered prince. "I am so sorry! I must be crushing you!"

The young girl fretted anxiously before trying to scramble over on her knees and straighten herself up to give the poor man some much needed space, but as soon as she did, she was hit with a wave of dizziness and lost balance again. Doppio was quick to sit up and catch her against his chest, wrapping careful arms around her.

"A-are you okay, miss? What happened to you? What's going on?" The boy asked worriedly, regaining his composure slowly.

"Ah y-yes... It's just... It's been so long since I've been glamoured..."

"You've been... Glamoured?" Doppio couldn't be more confused than this, but the girl explained further as she leaned back slightly.

Her name was Y/N L/N, daughter of the King L/N. Many years ago, she had been the victim of a curse cast by the one and only sorcerer Dio, who was overcome by fury and rage against anyone affiliated with the Joestar Empire, or those who refused to become one of his pets, casting spells after spells, and curses after curses.

"He turned me into a frog and swore to me that nobody would ever come to save me from my demise... But you..." Y/N looked up at Doppio's honey eyes and couldn't help the tears pooling at her eyes.

She was free, at last.

"I was all alone... And you came here... My savior..."

Her soft voice cracked with thick emotions and she stared into Doppio's golden eyes with soft ones, her vision blurred by warm tears. Doppio gasped lightly, moved by her story and she shyly wiped her tears.

"A-ah, forgive me! How shameful of me, to weep in front of a prince like this... I'm just.. So..."

"No, princess, don't apologize." He gently held her wrists to pull them away from her timid face. "You have the right to be overwhelmed... Nobody's here, besides... I cried too, earlier, in front of you. Nothing wrong with showing your emotions."

She sighed dreamily at his gentle words and soft touches, the now more confident boy stirring her heart. "What is your name, my prince?"

"Doppio." He gulped, stiff as a rock at her saccharine gaze and tone. "Doppio Vinegar."

"You're a good person, Doppio..." She breathed out, her words dripping with warm sincerity. Doppio's heart could only skip beats at each and every one of her actions.

The boy may be clumsy and bashful, he surely wasn't dense. He well knew he was deeply falling in love with this frog princess, but something in him told him she may not be completely disinterested in him either, despite his overall appearance and personality.

But maybe, just maybe, it was because she didn't know him enough. She didn't know this extent of his foolishness, how worthless of a man he truly was. This was the perfect opportunity for her to just push him away and run back home, only to never see him again.

But against all he could have ever expected, he was completely shaken out of his low self-esteem filled transe when he felt her leaning her delicate hands and head against his chest, closing her eyes and relishing in his warm hold still on her.

"Prince Doppio... I feel so safe when I'm in your arms... I'll forever be grateful for granting me my deepest wish..." She lifted her head just enough to look at his blushing freckled face, his mouth agape. "How could I ever reward you?"

Was she... Really serious? Nobody has ever told him they felt good around him. Nobody has ever felt safe around the small and skinny man that was Doppio. Could he be strong enough for her?

Well one thing was positive, he didn't want to let her go, and if he had to eat razor blades to protect her, he would do it without batting an eye.

She actually wanted to, or at least seemed to, stay with him. She felt grateful, for him, of all people!

He hoped she wouldn't hear his heart go feral in his chest. She would do... Anything for him? Could he be selfish? Could he ask the inimaginable? Would she say yes? He wouldn't force her but... He would love to think about himself only, just this once in his life.

He had nothing to lose.

He gently grabbed both her hands in his surprisingly big ones, squeezing gently and rubbing his thumbs over her soft skin, as if to want to imprint his love onto her.

"Ma-... Marry me, Princess Y/N!" He confessed with loud yet clear determination. "Please, be mine! I will cherish you like my most prized treasure, you will never be alone and feel unsafe again! I promise my entire life to you, please promise me yours!"

She widened her eyes at his sudden assertiveness and his strong, meaningful words. The pink boy in front of her shook her heart in so many ways, and she had already lost everything to Dio in the past. She had absolutely no reason to deny, now did she?

The girl smiled bright and slowly pulled her hands out of his grasp, only to immediately wrap her arms around her hero's neck, nuzzling her face against him lovingly.

"Yes! I accept... my sweet Doppio."

[imaginepirates]

The Estuary

Elizabeth

           Oppressive heat beat down on his head. James stared out into the crowd, beads of sweat trickling down his back. It wasn't only hot; it was muggy, and it was miserable. The Caribbean was always that way. He wondered why people had to wear so many layers of clothes, and what social construct told them to. One from England, probably, where all it did was rain. 

           He'd been particular about what memory he'd slipped into. He didn't want a repeat of last time, when he hadn't had a chance, even from the beginning. No, he put thought into his choice. 

           The promotion ceremony had been just as dull the first time around as it was now. James stared at the light bouncing off his sword. Its glare was blinding somebody in the audience, he was sure. How hollow it all was. Had it been that way before?

           Even as he displayed the deft movements required of him, which his fingers dutifully remembered, he felt something slipping through them. What it was, he couldn't quite tell. He wanted grasp of it, to know what was bothering him so much. 

           The feeling had haunted him. It sat on his chest late at night, threatening to force all the air from his lungs. There was a great hole where his emotions should have been, a chasm, an emptiness that couldn't be cured. 

           Can they see it? Do they know?

           The audience gazed at him with dull eyes. Likely, each man was thinking of something other than- anything other than- the ceremony. A cool room with a glass of water, probably. 

           No. Only I can. Only I can tell.

           It made him lonelier than ever before. He might not have connected with people before, but at least then, he felt like they saw him. Now, though it might have been his imagination, they looked right through him. He looked right through him, like he was watching himself from outside of his body. He wasn't ready for that sort of detachment; he never would be. 

           The ceremony ended, and people mingled. James spotted Elizabeth in the crowd, but didn't dare go to her. He couldn't have history repeat itself. Besides, the proposal had been too formal. He still hadn't come up with a better one. 

           He watched her wander off with a group of friends. He only hoped they would keep her safe. He was swept up in conversation with other officers who congratulated him, and the Governor, who never lacked some new kindness to lavish upon him. If only they knew what my goal really is. 

           The sun beat down mercilessly. James wanted it to be over, to know that when he went back to his house, which he'd missed dearly, everything would be changed. 

           He was just beginning to lose all focus when yelling came in the direction of the ramparts. Every part of his psyche shut down, but his body carried him to the edge of the fort's walls. 

           People looked to him. They wanted orders, and reassurance, and to stop panicking. There must've been something calm about his expression, or something authoritative about his voice. Whatever it was, they looked to him to sort it out. 

           Why me? His mind was whirling, and terror seeped deep into his chest. I'm frightened too! What if Elizabeth didn't make it out this time? What if Jack wasn't there? There were so many little factors that played into life. So many uncontrollable instances. And they affected everything. 

           He rushed down to the docks in a flurry of naval blue and brass buttons. To his relief, Elizabeth was fine, laying on the dock in front of Jack. Jack. That was one person James wasn't so fond of seeing, but in this instance, he was extremely grateful. 

           James immediately stepped forward to help her onto her feet. She clung to him with wet arms, hair plastered to her face. Even like this, she is stunning. He didn't hesitate to give her his coat, either. He certainly had no need for it. 

           The events played out much the same as they had last. James let them. He would much rather have everything feel familiar and predictable than otherwise. 

           Amazingly, they were. The situation hadn't changed one bit, and Jack was found in the smithing shop as expected. It was easy. Too easy. There was something James didn't know, and it was going to get him killed; he could feel it. 

           What he did know was that Elizabeth would be kidnapped by pirates, and Will would try to save her. It didn't matter. James knew where the pirates were headed, now. He didn't need to be led. 

           Still, he sent a patrol to the Governor's house. It was possible to stop Elizabeth from being taken at all. It would keep her safe, and prevent any of it from happening. 

           It did not. Hours later, someone staggered into his office, covered in gore. He was the sole survivor of James' patrol. 

           James was disappointed, but not particularly surprised. He gazed with unfocused eyes at the maps sprawled out on the table in front of him. What was he fighting for anymore? Did he really believe in a better future?

           He had, once. In the beginning, when he first went fell through the waters into his own life. He'd believed then. It was only as time continued that his faith wavered. Nothing had worked out thus far, and nothing said it ever would. He could continue on like this forever in an endless maze of depressing endings. 

           He brushed his fingers across the front of his neck, letting them linger where the rope had burned his skin. Hanging is better than being stabbed. Quicker. Sometimes, a phantom pain would come back, tearing him apart at the throat and stomach. It was worst at night, when he could focus on the pain. In the dark, he wondered if each new life was worth the loss. 

           When was anything worthwhile easy? But were worthwhile things really so difficult, so painful, so draining? When was anything easy worthwhile? And yet, the harder he thought about it, the more a new life sounded like a good plan. A clean slate. A new beginning. He could make his next life worthwhile. 

           I believe that. 

           James didn't know what would happen if he chased after Elizabeth. It was frightening; he'd always known, before. To some extent, at least. But here he was, floundering in a vast sea of the unknown. He had to admit, it was refreshing. 

           A ship was under his command once more. It was a good feeling, and for a moment, he felt alive again, and connected to himself. An instant passed where he could feel. 

           He could've cried. If I stay here, I'll be chasing a feeling for the rest of my life. 

           The Isla de Muerta was shrouded in fog when he arrived. He couldn't say it surprised him. It set the sailors on edge. The entire crew collectively held their breath as they passed through the mists. 

           James was tired. He wanted to take Elizabeth home. 

           A hidden cove was the entrance, James knew. Once a person had been to the Isla de Muerta, they never forgot the way. He split the ship in half. Half would accompany him inside, while the other half would take care of any trouble that came to the ship. 

           Surely the Governor was being eaten up by fear for his daughter. James had refused to take him on the grounds of safety. I hope he doesn't hate me. 

           Wooden boats hit the water. James made sure to be right at the front, wanting to be the first person inside the cave where the pirates were meeting. It was a bit fascinating, to be where he hadn't been before. To know something new. 

           I don't even want to marry her when we get back. I want to be left alone. 

           There wasn't another ship around. It gave James a foreboding feeling that rested deep in his gut. He convinced himself that he just couldn't see it through the fog. They were there. They had to be. 

           His feet hit the sand. Logically, he needed to stay quiet and assess the situation properly. A deeper part of him told him to run. Run, because he could only hear silence, and panicked was welling up hot and heavy in his chest. 

           Breathe. She'll be here. Breathe. Because even though he'd given up long ago on any relationship with her, he wanted her to be safe. To live. 

           He did not run. He took one cautious step after another, letting the sand muffle his footfalls in the echoing caverns. His men were waiting on him. He'd insisted on playing the part of the scout despite their protests. 

           Soft light spilled through the ceiling of one cave. It touched the rock in an eerie manner. There was the faint smell of smoke in the air. The pirates are close. They haven't left. 

           The cave was empty. A little river ran through it, and gold was stacked floor to ceiling. He picked a piece up and let it slip through his fingers. It hit the floor, the sound bouncing off the walls. 

           A great chest stood proudly atop a mound of treasure. Slowly, James made his way up to it. When he reached it, it wasn't the chest that caught his eye. 

           It was the red dress, and the crimson water around it. 

           James scrambled down the back of the mound and to the small cleft of rock that jutted out into the river. 

           He was on his knees in an instant, turning her frame towards him with a hand. She was so light, barely more than a girl. Her hair was partially in the water, wet strands clinging to the stone. The dress was stained darker in areas covered by her blood. He should've paid more attention to the gold in the chest. 

           James was aware he was crying. Sobbing, in fact. There was still warmth to her, but it was rapidly fading. Her eyes were distant, and he couldn't find any answers in those orbs. His entire body shook with a grief he hadn't known was possible. All this time, he'd looked after her, only to find her with blood running down her throat and over her body. 

           The butterfly effect. That was him. And each time he beat his wings, another person died. He was the butterfly that caused the hurricane a world away. He was the butterfly that ruined his own life. 

           He lay down beside her, holding her close. He buried his face in the material of the dress. It blocked out everything else. He didn't have to see, or hear, or think. When he wished he could feel again, this hadn't been what he wanted. He felt so much it hurt, it ached. She was so cold. 

           There was the faraway clash of metal and the firing of muskets. His men were going to die without him. Face buried in the fabric, he listened, and cried with tears that had waited a long, long time to fall. 

           He did not think, but for one final thing. 

           This will not be how I see her last. This will not be my final memory of her. 

•@bonjour-frens @tesserphantom @ilikebritsandbands

[rkpjy]

⭐️MGA 5 EPISODE 4 - SECOND CHANCE ↪ performing i want to fall in love by kim johan with @jacksxnrk version: x (2:00 - 4:00, arranged by the two of them) line distribution: x

Are you really happy at this moment?

and to think that around the same time last week, jinyoung almost expected to hear his name called for the top 3 singing performances. while it’s a competition and a lot of people have already gone home, making the prospect of winning seem more difficult than anticipated... does he really deserve to be eliminated this early? if he didn’t think he was talented enough to win, jinyoung wouldn’t have bothered applying. it doesn’t mean he believes himself to be better than everyone else, but he believes in himself and honestly, he thinks they’re wrong. no matter how he looks at it, no matter how he looks back at his performance with jeonghan and thinks of their flaws... there were duos worse than theirs. but of course, that’s only his truth. he gets no say in it, and did not hear the judges’ comments prior to taking their decision.

to be called mediocre of all things. on a show that clearly isn’t searching for the best talent, it seems a bit insulting. he waits to be given the reason why so jisub thinks that, but it never comes. jinyoung meets his fate with pursed lips and a nod, wrapping an arm around jeonghan’s shoulder for support. neither of them should be sent home right now, but here they are, after working their butts off all week. it’s everyone’s case, probably. but taking a look around him, he can’t help but feel as though the winners have already been selected, and the rest of them were just props meant to fill in some airtime since the beginning. he understands that he’s nobody. he’s no ex-idol, no ex-contestant, he doesn’t have a whole band of friends with him. he’s exactly how he felt the second week: invisible. everyone in this country knows how much these types of shows are scripted, but now that he’s experiencing it first hand, it’s worse than he’d imagined.  mnet has its picks, some that are in the top contestants right now, some who just benefit from a lot of screentime. there are others who jinyoung believe made their own path, like sihyeon who more than anyone here deserves the praises she’s been given so far. he thinks of heejin too, who is no doubt a favorite, but a girl with that much talent and star quality will always hog the spotlight. no one can blame her.

he clenches his fist. for the first time since coming here, there’s a rage growing inside him. he shouldn’t be standing here. if they want to see his true colors, he’ll throw it at them. he feels the urge to decline the second chance at performing, but it would be seen as giving up. he won’t give them that satisfaction, considering they barely notice his existence to begin with. it’s up to him to show them what they’ve been missing, and he’s greatly satisfied to learn he’ll be doing it with jackson.

this week is all about redemption. if so far he’s been a nobody to them, he can only hope to turn things around and let everyone know he’s not someone to mess with. but this could go both ways. he could be beaten down twice in a row. they could still hate it, and belittle their efforts. there’s no pity in this industry, he’s learned that a while ago. but just because they’re big shot ceos doesn’t mean they’re always right. how many times have they rejected talented people who went on to become superstars? so clearly, they aren’t all-knowing. they make mistakes just like everyone else. his talent will be recognized elsewhere if not with them. hyunbin wanted him twice. they will too.

jackson and him spend no time complaining about their situation. there’s no time for self-pity, and jinyoung honestly isn’t the type to just confide in anyone. they’re friends, but they’re not extremely close either. he shares how he’s feeling with his girlfriend, and for him that’s enough. he doesn’t avoid yugyeom at home either, and he congratulates him for moving on to the next round, but he doesn’t really... want to talk to him about what’s going on. he lets the younger enjoy himself and focuses on his own performance instead.

they soon decide on a song they’d like to attempt. it’s a nice ballad, with meaningful lyrics that don’t necessarily relate to their present situation, but tell a story they’d like to help come to life. about loneliness, something jinyoung has kept inside him for the longest time, and love. about being happy about what they have all while questioning why, in that case, they still feel so empty. but rather than only performing a simple cover, they decide to add harmonies to it that would be more fitting for a real duo. not just two people singing side by side, each having their own parts. they want to come together as one, and let their own vocal colors shine through.

they add high notes and other adlibs to the song, thinking this could set them apart and also show the judges the extent of their abilities. jinyoung is very good at emoting, so is jackson, but they also possess a technique they might not have focused on enough so far. for the past three weeks jinyoung has mostly tried to get out of his comfort zone and prove to himself and others that he can do many things and be good at it. but it’s time to go back to his roots, and belt out a powerful, emotional ballad. those are his true colors.

the set feels very empty without everyone sitting in the chairs on each side. there’s so few of them, and he looks at the other duos with a new found compassion. more than ever before, they’re all on the same boat. they both suffered a setback last week, but only two of them will be allowed to return. jinyoung doesn’t speak much, but he silently wishes them the best. the rest of the time he spends with jackson, reviewing the performance in his head. they both know what they have to do, but it’s just two minutes, and that’s very little time to impress a panel of five judges.

minhyun and jeonghan go first, and jinyoung watches his previous partner with frustration. jeonghan should not be here on this stage, he should be arriving later with the others, and so should he. there’s something so powerless about knowing just how much they’re talented but being unable to do anything about it.

once their turn comes, jackson and jinyoung make their way on stage, with their only prop being the microphone they’re each holding. there’s nothing else to focus on. no flashy outfits, no chairs, no glitter. just them and their voices. after briefly announcing their song choice and greeting the judges, they get ready, since they jump right into the song as soon as the music starts. jinyoung closes his eyes, and opens them again so they lock with jackson’s. he smiles. they can do this. they can wow them.

A life like this really seems nice I’m living a good life

it starts off sweetly, their voices resonating in harmony, and right after jackson belts out the first high note with brilliance. jinyoung feels hopeful as they go into the chorus, voices powerful but with a tenderness that shows just how much they feel what they’re singing. they don’t verse into melodrama, but if anyone in this room has ever felt lonely, they won’t be able to remain insensitive.

I’m so lonely, tears come into my eyes Loneliness comes and asks me Are you really happy at this moment?

jinyoung sings the last line alone, eyes closed as he climbs the notes one by one until reaching the final one. this song is vocally challenging for sure, more than any one he’s done up until now, but he’s a musical actor. it’s nothing he hasn’t done before. singing duets that tell a story, and not getting lost in the other’s voice. jackson is a wonderful partner in that aspect.

I answer (lonely) I’m so lonely (tears start to come) What is the reason for my existence? What is love? (what is love?) I’m so curious I am in love but I’m still lonely

the first part of this verse is jackson singing the main lyrics, while jinyoung does the adlibs. the ‘tears start to come’ is very high, and about as high as he can go without straining his voice. he’s usually comfortable in the middle range, as are most people with his tone of voice, but he can also reach unexpected high notes. and that is due to years of singing experience. he can now reach levels he couldn’t five years ago. they switch roles for the third line, with jinyoung singing the main lyrics, and they both finish together, gently, voices fading off as they let the music play.

after the very intense build up that just happened, there’s a long pause during which neither of them sings. they just let the track speak for itself, and let everyone and themselves catch their breath and return to a softer, quieter mood for the finale.

What is life? Why is it so lonely?

for a brief moment when jinyoung starts to sing, the music is silent, but it slowly picks up, guiding him through the last few notes, and jackon’s voice can be heard in the background, although very faint so it doesn’t outshine jinyoung’s. and right after it’s jinyoung’s turn to do his partner the same favor, harmonizing as jackson sings the last words.

it takes jinyoung a few seconds to get back to reality once they’re done, and after stepping off the stage he knows that this time there really is nothing more he could’ve done to prove to them that this is what he was born to do. this is him, and this type of song is what he excels at. some contestants would call it boring, but he couldn’t disagree more. there’s nothing boring about ballads, and it can capture and audience’s heart just as much. and a few people’s shitty opinions will not change the way he feels about it.

[justabouteverythingrandom]

It is a feeling of being trapped - trapped in a body, in a society, in a world where I don’t belong. Everything feels alien to me. I feel like my soul is struggling inside my body, to escape. It feels so uncomfortable that it manifests in the form of bodily pains.

I have been suicidal for as long as I can remember. I would never act on it mostly, but instead have this constant urge to not live. When I was a child, almost 8 or 9 years of age, I used to sad all the time. My father’s death had caused irreparable damage to my heart. I was never very expressive. So all adults thought I was too young to process all that was going on. Truth is, I was aware and conscious of every pain, every void that that death left. Added to that, my mother’s only brother’s death made all the pain and suffering all too real. Resulting in me constantly wishing death upon myself. I remember I would discreetly scratch on walls writing “I want to die” or scribble in this diary I had “Kill Me!”. I had dedicated pages for Baba and Sonu Mama’s birthday & death anniversaries - I would scribble how I wish I was with them and not on Earth - I was only 8 or 9 years. Teachers would ask “Arushi is always so gloomy, you are always so sad. What happened?” How about someone took the time to talk to me then? I don’t blame my mother because she was going through inexplainable pain too. But I do hold this society responsible which does find some pleasure in sob stories and loves to give their sympathies - oh, only from a distance.

Fast forward to 1or 2 years later, I had to readjust myself in a new family. Learn to live with their rules and regulations. It was a hard time. I had this constant feeling of not belonging - to either of the families. Old and new. I still do. I feel like I never belonged to my older family after we moved on to a new one and never accepted in the new one. It was like I had to prove my worth - prove that I was worth being accepted and loved by this new family. This triggered low confidence and again, suicidal thoughts to the extent when I was 14 or 15 years of age, I tried to eat baygon (ratkill). I was obviously not that courageous to go through with it so I consumed only some of it. No one knew. Actually, 2-3 of my friends knew. It later went on to be a joke. Not kidding. 

Teenage is hard and after 2 years when I was in grade 12, I tried to strangulate myself with a loofa in the bathroom at night. Had I held on for a couple of seconds more, I wouldn’t be writing this today at all and maybe, saved myself from a lot of pain. A lot. Over the years, the pain has only increased, not gotten any better. 

I went on to go to college. That was a good experience all in all. My thoughts were better. I started drinking alcohol which would lead to emotional outbursts and majorly mourning the death of my father - which I never had the opportunity to do when I was young. I was expected to be strong - strong for my mother. I also developed a little sleep problem for a year where I could not get sound sleep at all. I would keep waking up. I would never wake up fresh. I never thought of killing myself during college which was great. I did however, have this constant thought in my head - Baba is calling me to him. He wants me with him and I should go. Funny, now that I am writing I realize that I haven’t known him for as long as I have lost him - why do I feel so deeply then? Guess, something to explore. 

I moved to Mumbai after college. That was a great time for my mental health - I felt my work was valued and I just felt alive. I moved to Canada shortly thereafter. Adjustment was a problem but because it was my choice. I did see a counsellor briefly but the best advice he could give me was - have you tried having a boyfriend. Cool! Anyway, I started keeping myself extremely busy so that thoughts of loneliness wouldn’t cross my mind. Later, I transformed keeping busy with excessive partying and drinking. It was temporary happiness and a means for me to keep myself from falling into the dark hole again. Because frankly, I did not feel and still don’t that any of my friends will understand the emotional baggage I have or will understand the depth of the trauma. I don’t want to end up trivializing my mental state because that would do me more damage. 

My mental health was a rollercoaster with mostly good days as I kept myself very busy with work. It all started to crumble slowly last year as I hit the lowest low. I would picture myself blowing my brains out and how good it would feel to not be in this world anymore. I did not feel like talking or meeting anyone. I tried to be vocal about it too. I told some of my friends and family discreetly that I don’t think I am doing to well - I tried to be discreet about my real thoughts because I did not have the courage to tell them. I took therapy and unpacked a lot of those emotions. They helped temporarily but I felt even the therapist did not view it as big a problem as I do.  

This year with the pandemic and lockdown, my mental health has been the worse. I have had lots of instances of thoughts of self harm & suicide. I find it hard to be productive. I hang out with friends and laugh - but I don’t feel anything inside. It feels like a drill. It does not feel natural. I let my family know that I don’t feel good these days but again, I did not go in depth because I am scared to hurt them and I also feel, they don’t understand. 

With Sushant Singh’s suicide, I have felt especially triggered for multiple reasons - It reminded me of my suicidal thoughts, it rekindled my trauma of untimely deaths and it made me realize that most people cannot understand the pain you are going through.

A week or so before this news, a friend had caught me writing something suicidal - about how I feel like killing myself every minute of the day and shared it with another friend. It kind of ended up being a joke of how I will hang myself one day or that they’ll share it with my mother. I felt trivialized and reinforced the idea that none of them understand the years of pain and trauma inside me. Last year, I explicitly told  2 friends about how I have been feeling as well as my mother. Nobody took it serious so I felt like it wasn’t worth sharing. When I was young, I told my friends about the Baygon and Loofa, they ended up being jokes too. It took me immense vulnerability and courage to open up in the first place. But when each instance ended up being a joke, I don’t think I canbe vulnerable again - hence ended up writing here. Last night I had another of those episodes of just escaping this bodily world. The only thing that makes me weak is thinking about my parents, grandparents and sisters. They can’t take another loss of life - maybe my sisters can but not my parents and grandparents. Other than that, I dont think it would matter to anyone and this is not something I hold against them. I generally have been feeling like a major failure these days - I haven’t really achieved anything - career, friends, partner, socially. Maybe tomorrow will be better or not. I hope I will always find a reason not to take my life in my family as I always have. They have definitely been a trigger and most definitely been the ones who have pulled me out of it. I don’t know maybe this is the lowest of my lows and things will look up after this. Or maybe they just spiral out of control from here. I don’t know.

Maybe I will have the courage to show this to someone someday and seek help. I hope I do. But for now, I don’t think I have the emotional bandwidth to be vulnerable and be made a joke out of. I hope my soul learns to find peace here. Wishing this hope remains.

[papermoth-bird-blog]

New Orleans: Stranger & more familiar.

There is a Kurt Vonnegut  quote that Asa referenced the other day that has been ringing in my ears ever since. It goes something like “Strange travel plans are like dancing lessons from the universe.” Being both a lover of dancing (above most things) & a true believers in *signs*, it has been on my mind. There are so many levels to it-the trust for your dancing partners, learning to let go, making the most out of everything, forgiving yourself for the fumbles, etc. Mostly, trusting your gut.

I few days ago, I found a little bit of loneliness seeping in. Not an overwhelming amount, but as someone who really loves heart-full chats, I realized it had been some time since I’ve really talked to someone with my heart. I noted that, and kinda kept it in my brain, filling “maybe try to make friends” on my to-do list. I really like my alone time. I also really like my social time. It’s funny, that recently I kind of waver back and forth between the extremes- spending so much alone time that I start to feel lonely, and then spending way too much time around people that I find myself getting ever-so grumpy (which isn’t usually part of my demeanour). It is about balance, and I think this trip has been an excersize it that so far. 

The past few days, I’ve made an effort to slow my pace a little more. I spent one day in City Park. Which is a very big park on the “lakeside” of the city. It’s one of two big parks in the city (the other being Audubon park one the far west side of the city; which I went to the following day). City park is the home of the Museum of Art, the sculpture garden, golf course, a theme park called Storyland & a really beautiful botanical garden. Audubon park hosts a golf course, the city zoo & the most lively, filled duck pond I’ve ever witnessed. The parks were nice for sure, but the trees themselves were amazing- in particular the ones in City Park. Many of them are well over 500 years old, & my favourite one of all was estimated to be around 860 years old. I sat in the roots of that tree really trying to sink in and ground. I held on the obsidian stone Mare gave me before I left & did our grounding ritual- hugging the tree and following its roots all the way down into the earth, then to the core of the earth itself, then back again. It worked in part, but I did kind of wish I had another witch to sit in the ritual with. It did feel so, so, nice to sit at the base of that tree though. It felt like a great-grandfather I’d never met before. I felt it’s basey-vibration and felt so oddly comforted. It was like all the high-frequency, anxious energy just got absorbed & ceased to exist under the (very very wide) canopy of that tree. I sat there a long time. Even as the tour groups passed & they all kind started at me half-hugging the tree. It felt dis-loyal to leave just because of on-lookers, and so, I stayed. 

There were a few other huge oaks throughout the park as well. The other notable one is known as the singing oak, which happens to be my friend Troy’s favourite tree (it’s the first thing he told me I should do when I got here). It houses wind-chimes of all different sizes- really huge base ones, to teeny-tiny fairy-like ones. Apparently they are tuned to fill out the scale of African music. Which I thought was cool. 

The museum was also pretty interesting (Although the Ogden was still my favourite). It contains a lot of the typically expected pieces- oils from dutch masters, a mogdalini, a picasso, a warhol, etc. My favourite exhibit was actually the one being displayed in the front hall. It was  Tina Girourard’s work (in collaboration with Haitian artisans) called Bondeye: Between & beyond. It was a collection of Voodoo flags based one what to appeared to be a slightly different archana of Tarot cards. It was stunning. bright, detailed, full of thought, history. Very provoking, memorable-- and very New Orleans. 

As I waited for the streetcar (which was very late) I spotted some familiar faces in the crowd. A couple I have actually sat behind in the ride up to the park, and then again at several points in the museum. When the streetcar finally did arrive, I again, happened to have sat right behind them. The woman in the pair spun around & told me she had seen me earlier & we got to talking. Olga is from New York via Arizona via Azerbaijan, but now in LA- Not Louisiana (as she’s had to correct people), but Los Angeles. Sam is born & raised in Los Angeles, but a francophile & lover of travelling too. We chatted a bit- they thought I was a local (lol) and were asking me for recommendations, which I gave them. We talked for a long while about travel & they told me to text them when I’m LA. Which is cool. Olga also gave me a bunch of recommendations for Arizona, which was really nice, because, in terms of travelling, that’s the area that makes me a little more nervous- just because I don’t have a car. 

I actually ended up running into them the very next day at a little cafe in the French Quarter called Cafe Beignet. We again, swapped things-to-do lists. I was just coming from Audubon park & they were just going, so we parted way... But in a small place like this, I’m sure we’ll cross over again soon. I stuck around the quarter, because it was the weekend & all the busking musicians were out. Holy Moly. They are great here. I wish I could have spent hours listening to each one. Or more so, I was really wishing for a swing dance partner (but to be fair, even in Halifax I can’t always find one).  There are also other types of booth/tables set up. Especially along Royale. Tarot card readers, artists-- my favourite of all time was a lady that was live-painting.... using a marionette. 

P.s! I found my all-time favourite place for noms. The Cafe Verti, which is also on Royal (if I remember correctly). I mean, as a vegitarian, I expected to miss out on many of the New Orleanian classics-- but this cafe does a veggie version of the PoBoy called “the green giant.” It was also recommended that next time, I get the green giant with olive tempanade as well. I’m already planning on going back there in the next few days. It is a very hole-in-the-wall type of place--- so honestly, you probably wouldn’t find it unless you were specifically looking for it. It’s sooo worth it though. 

Later on, Asa & I ended up taking Kozmeaux for a stroll to Cafe Flora. Which, for those familiar with the old establishments of the northend of Halifax, is very much like The Good Food Emporium. Everyone knows everyone, or every will know everyone eventually. Of course, it has it’s NOLA twist to it- you sit under palm trees, etc. Across the street is Big Daddy’s which is apparently the after-hours hang out spot in the Marigny. We sat around talking about weird paranormal stuff & life yadda yadda. One of the humans that works there is named Sal Geloso. Apparently he was voted New Orleans best street musician by Rolling Stone magazine. I’ve never seen him play, but I tell ya he dresses like a rock star for sure. We met one of the regulars Jeremy. Who is a super brilliant mathematician & physicist. Who used to be a hypnotist. Who now does massage one the side. (!!!! um hello signs from the universe). 

Actually Asa did talk to me about the zebra races from the day before (Which I missed because my stoopooood American SIM isn’t working properly- so I missed his text). Apparently it only happens like once a year! And I only missed it by happenstance! What are the chances of that! He also told me about a fight that almost/kind broke out in front of the house the night before between drunken people outside the Hangover Club. He felt the argument really coming to a peek, so he grabbed his Ocarina & hid, softly playing. There was something about the strange melody that broke the spell of inebriated anger... and it broke up like pretty much right away. And now I know, I should always carry an Ocarina on me. Just as a side note too- Asa & Leon’s circus is called the Magic Bean Circus. They are trying to put together a ten-year anniversary of this tour they did, with a festival they are going to call BeanStock. Which sounds veryyyyy much like a cousin of white rabbit. They aren’t entirely sure where it’s gonna be yet, it seems- either upstate New York, or New Orleans. They are gonna get Odetta Hartman, Leon’s sister to kinda headline it seems. I looked her up & she’s great. If it gets proper legs, I’d definitely go if I could make it happen. 

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Last night, I stayed out late... which honestly was a challenge because I’m still runnning on what I call “farm time” which means waking up at 6:30 and going to bed around 8. Honestly, it’s allowed me to utilize my days really well. It was worth changing for this show last night tho. It was a Gasa Gasa which is a punk venue in Uptown. The line up was Nick Shoulders & they okay crawdads, Baby Tony & the Teenies, and Max & the Martians. Nick Shoulder’s band is old-country, on the susp of punk- mostly in aesthetics, but definitely comes through in the music to a lesser extent too. They did a Hank Williams-esque version of Blonde’s Heart of Glass which I was a fan of. Honestly, this band in particular was right up my alley. Female drum player. Folk-punk vibes. They had solid chemistry as a group. More importantly though. Nick’s yodelling made my heart melt. (lol) ---I mean. I loveeeeee old country & bluegrass. It’s kinda why I came down to the south in the first place. As soon as they started- I felt a wave of “oh yeah, this is why I came here”.

Baby Tony & the Teenies is a super unique duo. If I were to try to describe them, it would probably be something like “freak-doowop” or “Alien Rock n’ Roll.” B-52s would be the closest relative I’d say. It was super fun. And there were a few people that got up to dance (which---- TANGENT TIME---- people are sooooo dang good at dancing down here. I mean. I shouldn’t be surprised. This is where the two-step is alive and well. Apparently in Lousiana, they have the cajun-two step, which is a double-step one direction, double-step the other. I was so jealous though, but too shy to ask a stranger at the time. Next time, I refuse to be shy).

When I walked in I was literally the only one there. Actually. Well, besides those performing. I felt so much pressure to be engaged with the music (which honestly, wasn’t hard). It’s been so long since I’ve been uncomfortable like that. I mean, in Halifax, I go to things by myself all the time... but it never really feels that isolating. I either know the performers, or run into someone, or at the very least the venue is familiar to me. This was all freaky-fresh & so I just tried to casually lean... without unintentionally sinking in the wall beside me. After a while, more people showed up-- but they were obviously friends of the band. 

A cool card is something I don’t really like trying to carry around in my pocket. So I kinda vowed to myself that I wouldn’t leave without talking to someones--- I mean I honestly did come all the way across town (well, canada originally) to see them play. So I went up to Eli from Baby Tony, to introduce myself. Sometimes I forget I can be an interesting person. I always kinda underestimate myself in being able to bring an interesting story into an interaction (I don’t know why, honestly, my life is super strange & wonderful). Anyways, we very quickly found common ground, exchanged Instagrams & agreed out art styles would definitely get along.  Their band is finishing up a mini-tour, just coming up from Florida, then back home to Athens, Georgia. They mentioned that if I was ever in Georgia, I should message them via “the world wide web.” I said the same about Canada. It would be super cool to see them play in Halifax, but I especially think they’d go over well in Montreal. 

The show ended & I stopped by the okay crawdads to say I really enjoyed their set-- because I really did. I told Nick I was jealous of his dancing & he said he was about to ask me to dance but was feeling shy. But he then did invite me to the St. Roch tavern tonight for more country music. Asa & I are going to Preservation Hall, but I think we will go afterwards. Nick also told me to go to Country Tuesday-- which is the thing Milly is playing, so as it happens I was planning on going anyways. New Orleans is definitely a small, interwoven place like Halifax. It’s certainly nice to slowly be integrating in that way. In some part, I wish I was staying longer too, but I guess that’s part of the excersize itself. Not going to lie though, I’m having very vivid daydreams about coming back here for longer. Maybe for Mardi Gras. And maybe bringing a few friends. There are definitely some people in my life that NEED to meet this city-- I’m definitely thinking of Steph Rybczyn here, but there are many others too.  

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The Ten of Cups.

My friend Kirsti is organizing a collaborative project between a whole bunch of artists in the northend to make a Tarot Deck. We each get assigned a card that was randomly selected. Mine is the Ten of Cups.  Which is the card representing Divine love, Blissful relationships, Alignment & Harmony. More simply; joy, peace & family. Feels pretty good having that card, but I don’t know what I’m going to do it yet. My Illustrations tend to be a little darker than that usually. I am kinda looking at it as a guiding card on my whole trip tho.

It’s also nice I can start thinking about it now. I’ve definitely had my mini-sketchbook in my pocket, while I stop in the little gallery & shops, making little sketches of elements I find inspiring. I’m sure many of the sketches will make some sort of more concrete appearance in my card. 

[yuppiefail]

Sometimes criticism feels better than a compliment

Wednesday I had an early lunch with my friend Dommie Darko (not his real name). He’s a writer, and he gives amazing compliments. Like when he said a man has to love strong women to be interested in dating me. Or when I said I was insecure about my education and he told me I was extremely clever, by which he meant witty and able to very quickly suss out the meaning and importance of things.

Over fried chicken for me and a scramble for him, he elaborated on the strong women point he’d made days earlier. “You disagree forcefully with me. You don’t hesitate to tell me ‘You’re wrong,’ or ‘No, that’s stupid.’ Men are delicate. They don’t like that.” He is right. I did this to him when we were first dating, when you’d think I’d be on my best, not-castrating behavior. Obviously I still do it now that we’re not having sex and it’s even less important to me that his gonads remain attached.

He is right that men who don’t like strong women don’t tend to do well with me. But I don’t think of myself as a strong woman. I think of myself as shy and retiring and someone who has trouble establishing and maintaining boundaries. Someone who’s had sex she wasn’t jazzed about because saying no would have taken more effort, and made it awkward. But, through both luck and force of will, no one has entered my body who I knew I wanted to not be there.

I’m not strong for the same reason I’m not brave. I regularly publish my most intimate and embarrassing thoughts and feelings online. But that’s not because I’m better at overcoming my fear of doing so than other people. It’s that I feel less fear to begin with. I’m not embarrassed about the same things other people are embarrassed about. I’m not ashamed of the same things.  I don’t even find the same things intimate. I’m not courageous, I’m defective. But I’m broken in a way that I’ve learned how to turn into a strength.

What does it mean to be a “strong woman?” I think to an extent it’s male feminist for “bitch.” It’s disagreeing forcefully because I forget that people don’t like to be corrected. It’s making a face when someone says something interesting about themselves instead of trying to appear neutral because I forget they might feel judged by me.

The last thing he said about me to me, he said as we were wrapping up. It was the most interesting thing. He said he thinks that libertarians often hang out with other libertarians because they find other people hard to read. I’d always joked about “normal” people finding libertarians off-putting. And I’d assumed I socialized exclusively with libertarians in D.C. because there were just so many of them. But being in SF and having to make new friends has demonstrated that I gravitate toward people who are either like me in the way we relate to people or very tolerant toward people like me. It’s not that I can’t get along with people who also don’t remember not to tell people their ideas are stupid when they are. It’s just that it exhausts me.

I’m listening to the audiobook version of American Kingpin right now, about the life and arrest of Ross Ulbricht, the creator of the Silk Road. When I started listening to the story of how he got caught, I knew it was because he made many small mistakes which added up, eventually giving the feds enough clues for them to unravel his identity.

Listening on my walk to lunch I began to see it differently. I realized that if the contest had been Ulbricht vs any one person in law enforcement, he’d still be free right now.

Ross Ulbricht is much smarter than every government employee involved in taking him down. He had access to more money than any of them had access to. He had more to lose than they had to gain.

It wasn’t until multiple departments began looking for him in earnest that they made any real headway. And once the most motivated people from different departments began working together, they found him pretty quickly. Now I am convinced that what brought the rich, brilliant, ruthless Dread Private Roberts down wasn’t sloppiness, but loneliness. The government had pursuers working together as a team because they thought they were saving the country from terrorism. Ulbricht had employees working for him for money. Truth be told, his work life sounded so miserably lonely that I almost wonder if he didn’t subconsciously want to get caught. Some of his decisions, like not immediately going into hiding, ideally abroad, after he knew the police knew his name, seem otherwise inexplicable.

I’m not sure why DPR didn’t amass an army of loyal foot soldiers to help him evade the police. He had paid informants, but those have limits. Ulbricht is a libertarian, and the book describes him as socially very true to type. Less empathetic, more rational. Principle-driven, with a strong sense of justice. He values individualism highly, and is unconcerned about social convention.

Maybe Ulbricht didn’t have a lot of friends on the Silk Road because he wasn’t good at making them. Maybe the feds were able to trick him into believing they weren’t feds and hiring them to work for him because he’s not great at reading people who aren’t like him. Maybe he found relating to people on an emotional level so tiring that was easier to learn how to program from scratch and pay them to work for him instead.

“You need people,” Dommie said to me at lunch. “You need to learn how to read people who aren’t like you.”

Dommie’s assessment of me felt better than his compliments, because it felt more true. I find it easier to accept that I’m socially off-putting than strong or courageous. And when someone says something true about me, I feel known. I feel understood. And when it’s true and negative, I feel trusted. I feel complimented, as if they are saying “I know you want to be better more than you want to protect your image of yourself as already great.”

Dommie is on the Autism spectrum. He likes to practice pattern matching behavior and feelings, so he’ll guess what my expression or behavior means. I wish everyone would do this for me, tell me how they interpret me. But they don’t, and damn if it isn’t tiring to have to guess.

Dommie isn’t wrong about me needing people. But the thing is, I don’t have to win everybody over. Which is good, because I won’t. I just need a team. Whether I’m building the world’s safest drug marketplace or violating people’s right to decide what to put in their bodies, I just need a team to get it done. I need other people who want to accomplish the same goal, who I trust and who trust me. I can continue to be defective and succeed because I’m broken in a way that many people are broken, and together we can turn our brokenness into tremendous strength.

Sometimes criticism feels better than a compliment was originally published on