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banditthewriter · 5 years

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Dirty Work - Billy Russo - 6

I’m really sorry that I’m so late getting this up. Taking care of Le and trying to take care of myself. It hurts really bad to look at the screen but I’m pushing through because I don’t wanna keep you guys hanging.

I’m out of town until tomorrow late afternoon so I probably won’t get another part up until either tomorrow night or Saturday. Sorry ahead of time for that!

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif is mine*

Enjoy!

*****

Billy immediately ducked down beside his rental car, pointing his gun in the direction the shot had come from. His eyes darted to the side to see the slumped form of Y/N on the ground.

He hated the fear that coursed through him at the sight. He hated that he cared, knowing what he knew now.

In the distance he saw someone walking up with a slim bag over their shoulder and a smaller bag hanging from one hand. He didn't seem to be armed other than that. There was probably a sniper rifle in the one bag. He could only guess what was in the smaller bag.

"Don't come any closer!" Billy barked the order out as he looked around, judging if there were more.

"You can come out. You aren't my target anymore."

Billy didn't like the sound of that. He shot one last look at Y/N's unmoving body before he stood up. The shooter looked bored, shifting his weight purposefully so that Billy could see that the bag obviously held a rifle.

"I decided I didn't like the girl digging into my shit. Figured if she wanted the hit off you, I'd just move it to her. Two birds, you know," the guy said in a conversational tone.

He tossed the smaller bag across the distance. Billy had an urge to dive as if it was a grenade.

"That's the money she paid for your hit. I kept what she paid for the cancellation. Consider it a freebie."

Was this guy completely off his meds? Billy didn't edge out from behind the car, kept his gun pointed at him.

This guy tried to kill him, almost killed one of his guys. He shot Y/N.

"What's to stop me from putting a bullet in you here and now?"

"Don't be stupid Russo. If I die, my contracts go to the next guy. And I haven't canceled your contract officially yet."

So Billy would still be in danger. His eyes darted over to Y/N and widened slightly before he looked back.

The guy shrugged a shoulder and turned to leave. There was a perfect shot and Billy could make it in his sleep, but he hesitated just long enough for the guy to dart out of sight.

"Fuck," Billy swore as he ran to her body.

There wasn't any blood which meant the bullet was still in there. But he'd seen her hand twitch, could see the ragged breathing. He unzipped her jacket and looked at where the blood had stained her shirt. It was near her sternum. An inch in either direction and she'd die messy. This way she might survive.

Billy swore again as he stuck his gun into his holster. He'd get her into his car and get out of here. He needed to get her somewhere for medical attention.

If anyone was going to kill her, it was going to be Billy.

------

You expected more pain. You remembered the shot, remembered falling. Even then you couldn't bring yourself to look at Billy and the gun that had killed you. That wasn't what you wanted your last memory to be of.

But you weren't dead. Or if you were, the afterlife smelled like antiseptic.

"Try not to move," an almost familiar voice called before you felt a hand press to your shoulder. "You've lost a lot of blood."

It took a few tries to remember the name. Curtis. It was Billy's friend. You struggled to peel your eyes open but soon you were faced with Curtis Hoyle in what looked like a makeshift hospital room.

Or the kind of operating room you'd find in a horror video game.

"Wher–"

"Billy is moving your car. Didn't want someone to find it."

Billy? You wanted to shake your head because you definitely weren't asking where Billy was. You wanted to know where you were.

But it did give you a little insight. It meant that Billy would be back. To finish the job?

"Shit, Y/N, stop trying to sit up. Billy's okay, I promise, but you've been shot. You need to lie down."

Of course you'd been shot. Billy is the one that shot you. You could feel tears gathering in your eyes. And there was a certain pain in your chest.

"It wasn't bad," Curtis said when you stopped fighting him. "The bullet bounced off some bone, bounced around a bit. Had some internal bleeding but we got that fixed up. Nothing permanent except a pretty gnarly scar."

Something to remember Billy by.

You closed your eyes and Curtis took that to mean you were resting again. Instead you were trying to figure out how to get out of here—wherever here was—before Billy got back.

------

"Shit," you moaned as you pressed a hand to your chest, under your breasts. You had to admit, you thought Billy would be a better shot.

"You shouldn't be moving," a voice called from the other side of your makeshift hospital room.

A very familiar voice.

You looked over at where Billy was standing, propped against the wall as if he didn't have a care in the world. You hadn't heard him come in but you had fallen back to sleep at one point.

When you woke up, you had gone straight into survival mode. That’s why you were sitting up and half leaning over to try to put on your shoes. A button up shirt that smelled faintly like Billy’s cologne was on you when you woke up, mostly buttoned. Your shirt and bra and jacket were missing and your jeans were caked in blood at the top.

"Curtis will kill you if you ruin his hard work," he continued in a conversational tone that cut like a knife.

"Tell him to get in line," you rasped as you stood up, holding on to the table you had been on for support.

You slid on one shoe, but your other leg felt like lead and you couldn't lift your foot to get it on.

"The drugs aren't out of your system. You're not going anywhere."

Why not? You wanted to scream, wanted to cry. The pain was starting to push it's way through the haze of the pain meds you were apparently on.

None of this made sense.

You felt your knee buckle, but there wasn't anything you could do. Your upper body strength had disappeared after you stood up. Without a doubt, you were about to crumple on the floor and there wasn't anything you could do about it.

A pair of arms wrapped around you to keep you steady. You were gently lifted and carried over to a chair. Once you were settled, Billy stepped back a few feet.

You could see blood on his shirt and pants, his hands bore the red tinge that said he hadn't washed his hands good enough. His hair was a mess, but pushed back as if he was trying to look put together.

He didn't look angry. He didn't look upset. He looked numb. You wished you could share that sentiment.

"Are you going to kill me?"

That got a reaction. He looked startled by your question.

"Why do you ask that?"

Your hand went to the bandage that covered your wound, fingers shaking as you did so.

"Because you missed."

It was the only thing that made sense. He had to have missed when he fired at you. He was a sniper, but even snipers were human, right?

You watched as confusion gave way to realization after a few moments. He had figured something out. You watched as he took a few more steps backwards before he turned away from you.

"It wasn't me that shot you." He marched over to a small bag that sat on the counter. He brought it over and dropped it onto your lap, none too gently. "The guy you hired to kill me wasn't happy with you digging into his life so he transferred the hit to you. That's the money you paid him with."

You opened the bag. Without counting, you had to admit it looked like the right amount. You looked back up at Billy and frowned.

"So why did you help me? He was doing you a favor, wasn't he?"

Billy's mouth moved as if you had taken him by surprise with that. He shook his head and started to walk away, but he stopped and turned back to look at you.

"Take that money and get out of New York. If that guy finds out you're alive, he'll come after you."

And with that he turned and left the room.

You looked at the bag on your lap, the money nearly spilling out. It didn't make sense that Billy would save your life when you're the one that put the hit out on him. You pressed your hand against your wound and looked around once more. You didn't know where you were really. And the pain in your chest wasn't lessening.

If Billy was gone, maybe you'd stay here for a little longer. You could go home and figure out your next step from there.

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#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #my writing #dirty work

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revengeisalwaysanoption · 6 years

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[Skam Italia] Internal Monologues

So yeah, I was just saying 3 days ago that I didn’t feel like translating Nico’s POV from Italian to English, but today I changed my mind. To @skamsnake who wrote the most beautiful collection of pieces from Niccolò’s POV ever, to @crucios who makes me love Nico even more every time I read her posts and to @minttobe-treehill <3 Credit to @silenzio-assenzio for the headcanon, I blame this fic on her ;D

17th Semptember 2018 - 07:59 a.m. This year will be a blast. Yeah, right. This year will be slightly better than the last. Now, that’s more likely. This year we have only to get to the state exams without taking one too many sick days, to keep a high average so that mom can get off my back. We are not here to make friends. Mingling is okay. Preventing classmates from talking behind our back is cool too. Can we get more than that? Should we? We’ll see.

The closer they get to me, the more likely it will be that they start asking about what happened at Virgilio... But I don’t wanna talk about it. I didn’t even want to get out of bed this morning, to be honest, but if I knew that if I missed the first day then my parents would start talking about sending me to a private school again.

Okay, Niccolò, let's survive this day. Don’t start worrying about the next.

8th October 2018 - 1:04 p.m.

I’m so fucking bored. So, so bored. BOOOOOOORED. I can’t take this for 8 more months, I just can’t. The school itself is not that bad... I mean, I’m surrounded by tolerable people - apart from Covitti, who’s being a whiny bitch because he’s not the star student anymore? I don’t know what he’s got against me, really, and I don’t even care - and the teachers are decent enough, but... It’s like there’s no chance to get to know people better aside from those fleeting moments at recess. No opportunity to get rid of those fucking school-work interchange hours, either. No afterschool club in which, by sheer luck, I could run into that beautiful freckled boy. The one who is always surrounded by at least two other friends, who ain’t that bad themselves - especially the one with those baby blue eyes.

Dream on, Niccolò. Dream on. He must have better stuff do with his time...

... than spend it with the kids from drama club. Which might be awesome, but not the right fit for me. I already play the part of a sane individual everyday, so thanks but no thanks.

"Hey... Hello! Have you ever thought of hosting your own show on the radio? "

No, you never thought about it. Who the fuck is listening that radio, anyway? Nobody. But you’ve got plenty of time to kill and you’re looking for ways to make your days a bit more varied, right? It’s still better than cleaning toilets at McDonalds, isn’t it? Or than listening to Maddi drone on about her day at Uni. To have her remind you that had you followed her advice, had you taken your meds and went to see your therapist when you were supposed to... Then you wouldn’t be stuck at high school for another year.

It’s not she does it on purpose. She doesn’t say it out loud, but you can read between the lines.

When are we gonna dump her, by the way? The 4th of never seems like the perfect day to do just that. Who is gonna listen to us when we are feeling sorry for ourselves, who’s gonna tuck us in when too exhausted to get up? Who has always been there for us, Niccolò? You know who. Go and break her heart come on. I dare you to.

11th October 2018 - 5:43 p.m.

THERE HE IS HE. IS. HERE. OH FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK. COME UP WITH A PLAN. DO IT FAST, NICO. YOU’RE GOOD AT THINKING ON YOUR FEET, AIN’T YOU? Okay. First of all: don’t freak out. Then: you shouldn’t look at him, he cannot not know how desperate you’ve been to see him again. Let’s pretend he doesn’t exist and that we can’t feel that he’s staring at us. He doesn’t know that I’m paranoid enough to always think that people have nothing better to do than stare at me.. That I never really got over that intrusive thought, but that I learnt not to let it get to me and tell myself either ‘well, if they’re watching let’s give them a good show’ or ‘let’s bore them to death so they will move on”. I think I’ll go with the second, today. Don’t meet his eyes. Don’t stumble on the chairs, on the desks, and please don’t choke on the cake. Keep a modicum of dignity, please.

Greet the girls. Analyse with great interest the pattern of your plastic plate. Turn to the blackboard. Good, Nico. You’re doing great. Keep this cool and mysterious attitude... Let him come to you.

OI. OI. OIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII. NO. STOP THERE YOU. NOPE, NOT TALKING TO MYSELF NOW BUT TO THAT NICE GUY WHO STILL HASN’T GOT A NAME. You don’t you expect me to follow you around, do you? Or to sit in a dark room, listening to you fucking around and telling your imaginary audience how to grow weed in their closet. That's exactly why I'll do it. To turn this into something special. Something memorable.

I’m not even sure what this is. I out of my depth when I realize how easy it is to be around this guy, how I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not and put a fake smile on my lips and fill the awkward silences with inane chatter. For once in my life I’m not striving to impress, so I send a little prayer to myself: please, Niccolò, do not fuck everything up as usual by reading too much into this. Let's try to get to know him better. Let’s see if he’s really into you - maybe he’s just curious about the new guy, maybe it’s the first time an older boy talks to him... who knows? - and if there’s something we can work on.

Work on... and then what? There’s still Maddalena. Haven’t forgot about her, have you? No, I haven’t. Now, let’s not get ahear of ourselves. Nobody is daydreaming about making out with this lovely boy - you still do not know what’s his name: how hard can it be to ask, Colino? - on the school terrace. In the bathrooms. On the table, in the radio booth. Nobody is doing that. Nope. No day dreaming going on. At all. Zero. Zilch. Me and him are more than happy to share nothing more than longing looks and a cigarette, today. To forget about the world, for a minute.

And then, of course, the spell is broken. I’m not one to dislike people on principle alone, usually... but she just rubs me the wrong way. Perhaps it’s how comfortable she is with my fellow deserter, how she addresses him as though they have been friends for years... Do you know each other? Are you together? It’s really none of my business. I can tolerate her just because she gives me the opportunity to introduce myself, even if he has yet to do it. But, hey, you could get a clue and fucking understand when people are subtly telling you to get lost, couldn’t you, Emma? You don’t. Well, what could I expect from someone named Covitti, really? 16th October 2018 - 11:55 a.m. Do you wanna smoke? Yeah, why not. Let’s choose a random rendez-vous point to meet our newest ‘friend’ - one of the few you kinda like, in this shitty school - like... the balcony that overlooks IVB. Maybe you’ll get to see Marti. Marti would be Martino Rametta, from what you read on attendance records at the radio club... But you’re free to call him however you like in your head, so yeah, he’s ‘Marti’. Be cool, Niccolò. Walk like you own the place, like you know that you’re the finest guy everyone has ever laid their eyes on. Believe it, and maybe Marti will believe it too when he sees you. He might not, but just in case he might... Well, well... Look who’s there. And guess who has just totally been uncool and hit their teeth with that fucking cigarette, too distracted by a stream of ‘Ain’t I the man of your dreams, Martino? Look at me, come on, look look look LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOK!’ playing in their heads, to actually realize what they were doing? It could have been worse, I could have put it up my nose. And I made him smile! I’D CALL THAT A WIN, WOULDN’T YOU? I love to make him smile. Maybe I can ask to come over, someday - tomorrow? the day after tomorrow? it needs to be sooner rather than later, doesn’t it? - and make him smile even more? Maddalena! Stop acting as if she’s not in the picture, Niccolò! Why don’t you worry about making her smile, instead? She’d lose that ‘woe is me’ attitude she got lately, which is understandable given what you put her through in the last 3 years... and okay, why don’t you ask her out on Friday? You can go to the movies, have a double date with Matteo and Elisa - you don’t want to go out with her alone, and that should tell you something... shouldn’t it? Yeah... you know what it tells you? It’s: blah blah blah, fuck it all, as the Bard would say - and try to be the boyfriend she deserve, can’t you? Okay, now let's go back to Martino. Who’s been distracted by Sana, and that’s too bad. He’s gonna regret it as soon as he’ll turn to the window again and he won’t find anyone there anymore, for sure.

19th October 2018 - 2:22 p.m. Martino? What are you doing here? I am 100% sure I have never seen you take this bus to go home. And you aren’t following me. I would have noticed if you did. What is he watching on that smartphone? Has he got any texts from Covitti? How can that be more interesting than me?

Minding my own business is overrated, and I’m sick and tired of it. Since you weren’t raised in a barn, Niccolò, you know what you’ve got to do now. Greet him, trying not to get distracted by his eyes or his lips - a difficult but not impossible task - and lean over just enough to get a glimpse of his screen. Or be cheeky enough to blatantly look at it. Sana. Who isn’t giving him the answer he hoped for, it seems. Maybe I can help? And you’re giving me the perfect excuse to ask you to come over, aren’t you ,Marti? Of course I’m gonna advantage of it. When will I get another chance to find out what music you listen to, what books you read, to worship the sight of you chilling on my couch and think about how much I would like kneel at your feet and... No. Let's keep those fantasies for us, Nico. Don’t scare him off by going too fast. Let's enjoy this Friday afternoon together. Focus on your heart, so full and yet so light. Beating so heart that you it feels like it could burst out your chest any minute, now. I have never felt this way before, for anyone. Maddalena? Who’s that? 19th October 2018 - 7:30 p.m. Maddalena. Maddalena, yeah. I do remember her. Not that clearly, though. I want to tell Martino about her, but I don’t know how. It’s not like I can say 'Oh, I nearly forgot but there’s this girl I’ve been dating for the past three years. It’s nothing serious, really. Tell me you want me and I’ll dump her ass straight away, I swear.’ out of blue, when I am not even sure he does want me. I mean, I can tell that we’re flirting but am leading him on? Does he actually want this flirting to lead somewhere or we are just teasing each other for the sake of it? If I get up and kiss him, after I got rid of the taste of this shitty pasta - which I’m still proud of having cooked, because Marti seemed really amazed by my creativity in the kitchen! - by drinking some beer, can I be 100% sure that Martino won’t get up and leave? No. So why talk to him about Maddalena? There is no point in doing that. I'll find the right moment to...

Oh. Great. Seems like Maddalena herself found the right moment to show up and be introduced to Marti. Of course. You do rememember you are the one who asked her out, don’t you? No, you don’t because you were too busy trying to get the brightest smiles out of Martino and to feel good about making him feel so relaxed and cheerful. And I know it's a dick move to make out with her like that, right in front of front of his eyes. Without even telling him that I had a girlfriend in the first place... but you know what?

It’s good that he sees that I’m a shitty person, let’s not have him think otherwise. And let’s see what he’s gonna do next. If he’s gonna walk away for good, or if he’s still gonna be willing to give us a chance. Let’s wait and see. **************************** A/N: I know it’s quite confusing but I noticed that I never address myself as “I” when I have monologues, I shift between “you” (singular) or “we”, and sometimes I throw in some thought using the “I” as well... So I wanted to Niccolò to do the same ;D They’re not linear and a they are a bit hard to follow, sometimes, I know... they are thoughts, internal monologues as the title says, not really a narration.

#skam italia #niccolò fares #nicotino #translation of an Italian fic #my writing

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doomedandstoned · 5 years

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Closer to the End

Depression is my nemesis. Eventually it will kill me.

...if I let it.

By Billy Goate

Art by RusoTsig (@rusotsig)

Life's falling away from me. The visual evidence is all about. Unopened mail builds up at random spots around the room like mini Towers of Babel. Even things that normally give me great delight -- a recently delivered set of vinyl records -- lie undisturbed in their brown cardboard packages. Meanwhile, my email continues to multiply exponentially: 200 unanswered today, 400 tomorrow, 800 on the day after that (for the curious, the tally stands at 2,359 today). The very thought of opening my inbox makes it equivalent to walking out into open traffic, so I avoid it like the plague.

Meals have become simplified these days -- if it can't be eaten out of a package, forget about it. And all those empty wrappers? They, too, join the general disorder, decorating the landscape of my solitary hovel. Eventually, messages from friends and family go unread. Bills go unpaid (even when there are sufficient funds). The yard turns into a veritable jungle of tall grass, weeds, and sprawling bushes. Clothes go unwashed and hygiene is neglected for days at a time. Weekends are spent pouring over regrets about what might have been, brooding about the end of days.

As any doctor will confirm, these are classic symptoms of depression. What they can't tell you is how hopeless hopelessness can feel.

Karl Briullov - The Last Days of Pompeii (detail)

Black Sabbath’s final show in the Pacific Northwest. Usnea's album release party. Saint Vitus reunited with their first singer, Scott Reagers. The return of Sasquatch. Once in a lifetime small venue appearances by international bands, such as Cult of Occult. A rare hometown gig by Yob. Visits from Goya, Primitive Man, and countless others. Ceremony of Sludge. Even events with the Doomed & Stoned's own name stamped on them. All of these are things I've missed out on in the past year or two because of depression.

It's not that I was too down to even consider going. On the contrary, I was actively planning to go. I RSVP'd, bought tickets, and even checked out the camera equipment to film the shows. In most cases, I'd gotten dressed and readied, even told people to expect me, but for one reason or another I fell under the unyielding grip of depression and came up with an excuse for why I couldn't go. Then one day I just got tired of making excuses and stopped going out altogether.

In one case, I was halfway down the road on a two-hour trip to see Saint Vitus and Witch Mountain perform at Star Theater, when suddenly a wave of grief washed over me from head to spine. As soon as I spotted the nearest overpass, I exited, turned around, and returned home. Even shows I knew would be cathartic (Bell Witch playing their titular Mirror Reaper at a local watering hole) just couldn't cause me to drive a couple miles down the road. The few times I managed to go out, it was because I absolutely forced myself. I practically fought with my inner man all the way there, too -- teeth clenched, hands tightly gripping the wheel, rehearsing in my mind a myriad of reasons why I should just turn back and stay home.

For me, Alice in Chains captures the frustration perfectly in "Excuses":

Everyday it's something Hits me all so cold

Find me sittin' by myself No excuses, then I know

Depression has robbed me of so much. I've missed opportunities to collaborate with musicians and artists because of it. I've pushed away friends and family, until contact between us has become more and more scarce. I've even stopped celebrating my birthday. I have become a shadow of a man.

What's worse, there's been a new development: anhedonia. I remember only casually looking up the meaning of that word when reviewing Undersmile's album by the same name. Anhedonia basically means that you stop finding pleasure in life. As I browse through my friend's timelines, I find it difficult to relate to their happiness. I think quite often of the emptiness of it all, of being alone and growing older, and the ultimate futility of human pursuits. I often feel more of an observer than an actor in the great drama of life.

As you read all of this, bear in mind that I've managed to hold down a steady, full-time job for decades, right up to the present day. You see, some cope by drinking, others by eating, and others still chase the fleeting high of romantic love, but I found my copacetic in work (as absurd as that might sound). I’ve damn near worked myself to death over the past couple years, too, taking precious few "mental health days" or vacation. At one point, I stopped accruing paid time off, because I'd reached my limit and my boss had no choice but to mandate that I take two days off per month. Can you imagine? I’d been known to come into work on the weekend, rather than spend it alone with my thoughts. At least at work, I can stay distracted with something I feel makes some kind of difference.

I can't feel my life Makes me want to cry How bad i feel inside Like I wanna die

Destination unknown Wreckage in tow Depression grows I have no home

Lately, all I've wanted to do on the weekends is sleep. When I'm at work, I'm fine. I'm in the zone. I have purpose. Things make sense. I'm needed. When I'm home, I always have a list of to-dos, but no matter how busy I try to make myself, I find myself suffering with a lonely, aching feeling. It hurts to be alive. That's the only way I can describe it. So I go to sleep early -- and sleep and sleep and sleep -- without so much as the aid of melatonin. All I want to do is go to sleep and forget and wake up the next day and start fresh, hoping all of the oppressive feelings of darkness have left me. I'll sleep 9 hours, 10 hours, 12 hours is not unheard of, then curse when the alarm wakes me up to face the day. I haven't slept so much since I was a teenager.

At least some of my depression seems linked with sunlight. While the sun is out, I'm mostly okay. When I'm taking my meds, I feel possessed with purpose and I'm busy chipping away at a dozen assorted projects, networking with bands, record labels, and PR reps around the globe, auditing new records, editing submissions from my team, and occasionally summoning enough nerve to write an album review of my own. But when the sun sets and darkness takes hold, bathing the landscape in its sinister shadows, everything changes.

In the heart of winter, there is an existential dread that overtakes me when the sun sets. It's almost primitive. There seems to be no rational basis for feeling this way, unless we factor in some kind of code passed along in the evolutionary programming of the reptilian brain over the millennia. You know, that thing responsible for our fight or flight response -- the urge to either take a swing or get the hell out of Dodge.

Loneliness is not a phase Field of pain is where I graze

Saw my reflection and cried So little hope that I died

That cryptic note of horror hints at what happens when our coping mechanisms stop working for us. For me, it was burnout. I worked and worked and worked, and then I came home and did Doomed & Stoned in the evenings and weekends until I inevitably reached a point of absolute and total system overload.

We've seen a spate of deaths in recent years in the heavy music world stemming from depression. It seems to be the creative person's curse. Chris Cornell of Soundgarden. Linda Nygren of the Wounded Kings. Dozens more artist deaths are listed as "N/A" in Metal Archives, but you always wonder. Even an accidental drug overdose can owe its underlying cause to depression. Often it's hard to untangle addiction from the need to escape acute emotional pain.

Though it is tempting to buy into conspiracy theories linking suicide to pharmaceuticals, chemtrails, fluoride in the water, gangstalking, and covert government ops, it's important to recognize that suicide is nothing unique to our life and times. Narrowing the focus more specifically to musicians and other artistic types, we've had many historic instances of depression. Think Beethoven, Franz Liszt, and Tchaikovsky -- three people who pioneered much of the musical language that doom metal utilizes for expression. Each experienced prolonged periods of melancholia for various reasons, from physical malady and loss-fueled grief to unrequited love and the utter rejection of society. Arguably, Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky died at his own hand.

Perhaps it won't surprise you that many of us who have an affinity for doom metal (though certainly not all) are also at risk for suicide. A recently published study by the University of Manchester found a correlation, though not a causal link, between members of "alternative subcultures" and "the risk of self-harm and suicide." There was no definite conclusion drawn from the piece, other than to point out that a problem exists (no kidding) and that more long-term studies are needed.

I've got a notion as to why heavy music draws the heavy-laden: misery loves company. We're drawn to the mysteriously compelling ability that doom has to commiserate with our feelings, from lyrics that deal so honestly with sadness to the solace of sharing a joint with those who are on a similar path.

But sometimes depression is so severe that you don't want to go out on the weekends at all, not even for your favorite band. Before I get too deep into my own story and how I'm treating my depression, some of you may wonder why I am writing this piece and have decided to share it publicly. I can assure you, I have nothing to gain from this. I'm not crying out for help (I'm too stubborn to ask for it when needed, anyway) and I'm certainly not trying to sell you on anything.

To be truthful, I've been chipping away at this piece (currently standing at 53,726 characters) for two years. I revisit it when the depression hurts the most. It acts as a kind of release valve for me and since that's at least providing some relief, I'll keep scribbling words upon this page. So before you leave thinking this was all just a self-indulgent slab of depression porn, stay tuned. There really is more to the story, including some valuable insights I'm learning about dealing constructively with my depression and its underlying causes -- physical and psychological.

To be continued...

★ Read Part II

☆ Read Part III

Here I sit writing on the paper Trying to think of words you can't ignore

See the cycle I've waited for It ain't like that anymore

#Closer To The End #Depression #Suicide #Doom #Metal #Alice in Chains #Jerry Cantrell #Doomed & Stoned

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aquarianlights · 5 years

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Life is great, guys. :) (It really does get better.)

So I just wanted to talk about this for a minute coz for those of you who don’t know, this blog isn’t like an aesthetic blog or whatever; it’s a personal blog. I’m usually flooding it with verbose text posts, vlogs, selfies and whatnot. I haven’t been able to do that since finally pursuing my passion of medicine because the field is all-consuming. But I’m back for like another week or so, kind of. Lol. I’m going to be writing up an update on what’s going on and why I disappeared for so long and all that because I’m doing some REALLY COOL STUFF! :D And I’m excited to share it with everyone! :) I really missed you guys and I missed my blog. I may not get that text post up tonight, but here’s this one. Lol.

I know I have said I beat my depression before, but even now as I have slipped back into a depressive state and even seriously had points where I considered suicide, life is still really great. I even had a night where I relapsed for the first time in 2 years and gave myself exactly 3 cuts and had pills laid out ready to OD and you know what? The decision to text my next door neighbour (who is turning into a good friend) to come over and chat instead of going any further with all of that was SUCH an easy decision to make.

You all know how impulsive I am. I’m on the extreme end of the borderline personality disorder spectrum. I’m as impulsive as they come. Even as depressed as I can get sometimes, overall, I’m still happy. And I want to illustrate how that can be so that everyone with depression can understand exactly HOW it gets better and what you have to look forward to in life.

There was a time when I was having a total breakdown on my closet floor. Like, panic attack and all. Couldn’t breathe, felt like I was legitimately going to die, had my phone on 911 with my thumb over dial because I really did feel like I was dying from the panic attack. As I laid there, sobbing and gasping for air, torn between “I wish I would just die” and “I should call 911 coz I feel like I’m dying”, my panic attack began to subside. As it did, I laid there sobbing unable to get up, unable to even move. But what was the very first thing my mind thought at that moment as my mind began to clear? Normally, I would think “God, I just want to die” or maybe thinking of ways to kill myself or ways to justify killing myself. But no. I didn’t. The very first thing I thought was “Wow, I’m so glad I’m alive. My life is the best it has ever been, it is so wonderful and I am so happy. I wouldn’t want to lose it.”

In that moment, after a horrible breakdown, all I could think about was how happy I was and how great my life was.

And even now, despite me being more depressed and suicidal than I have been in 2, maybe even 3 years now, I feel more motivated, driven, content, in control of my own destiny, powerful and like I really enjoy the life I’m waking up into than I ever have in my entire life. For once, I don’t mind waking up into *my* life. Sure, I would change it in a fucking heartbeat if I could. I think everyone has at least one thing about their life they would change. But I’m now one of those people that wakes up and feels motivated and excited to take on the day more often than not, instead of waking up with pain and this unbearable weight holding you down in bed not allowing you to even get up. I’m no longer that person that wakes up and just instantly bursts into tears and does everything in their power to go back to sleep. Those days are finally over for me... I dare say for good.

I don’t know what I did to deserve being happy. . . but I’ve worked so goddamn hard to get to this point. I’ve taken all the right steps over all these years and I guess it has all paid off. I’ve gone through a decade worth of finding the right combination of medications. I’ve finally found the right psychiatrist/psychologist team for med management and therapy. I’m exercising every day, I’m starting to do a bit of yoga, I’m trying to eat right and *trying* to learn to cook (even though it isn’t going well lol), I’m not starving myself anymore, I’m going to physical therapy once a week, I’m keeping myself busy, I’m exercising my mind constantly, I’m doing all the “homework” my therapist sends me home with every week...

After ALL the trial and error of sorting through therapist after therapist... I FINALLY found which “kind” of therapists work for me and which don’t so I can INSTANTLY tell from almost the very first session now if they are going to work for me or not. If I can’t tell, then by the end of the month, I’ll know for sure. I know all the coping mechanisms in the book and I now utilize every one that works for me. And when my therapists ask me what I need from them, I know exactly what to tell them.

I have worked SO. GODDAMN. HARD. ...and it has paid off. It has FINALLY paid off.

I Pavloved my brain honestly. And it worked.

See, my VERY FIRST psychologist as an adult told me I had “Learned Helplessness”, which I did, due to my mother, who is still trying to inflict it on me. It had caused a *LOT* of my depression. This psych had suggested to me that I do corrected thinking, which I’m sure a lot of you are familiar with.

It’s where every time you have a negative/bad/degrading/those kind of thought(s), you *immediately* correct it in your mind and if possible aloud, as well. I thought that was stupid back when I was 18. I thought everything was stupid back then. That psych tried so hard with me and kept me for a year before she finally had to discharge me for noncompliance after I refused to speak for like.... 10 sessions. Idk why she tried so hard for so long, honestly.

Fast forward like... at least 5(?) years from that time.

I was living with my parents after one of those many traumatic break ups I had. Idr which one. But it was one that reminded me of my learned helplessness. And I was in with a new psychologist and they told me the same thing and I was like “oh”. So I started doing it.

Fast forward like a year later. It’s now a habit. I’m now doing it subconsciously without me even realizing it. But the bad thoughts are still the primary thought and I’m still having to correct myself. It’s just that I’m not consciously doing the correcting anymore.

Fast forward to that moment in the closet. That was the first time I realized that my negative thoughts are no longer the primary thoughts anymore. The corrected thoughts are now the primary thoughts. Those were things that I had been telling myself over and over to try to convince myself to believe it. “Fake it till you make it.” My psychs had always told me “even if it isn’t true, if you tell it to yourself enough times, you can make yourself believe it”. Now, studying medicine, I know why. It all makes sense now. Conditioning is so real. And it works. It changed the entire way I think and go about life. My outlook on just about everything has totally changed and the way I do things has just flipped. Things that would have sent me to a psych ward for a suicide attempt in the past in like 0.2 seconds are now motivators for success for me and give me reason to keep doing what I love. It’s unreal what positive conditioning can do if you just change your entire outlook by devote yourself to correcting all your negative thinking every single time until your brain starts doing it on its own.

I’m going to buy a clicker that they use on dogs and click it every time I feel motivated because that’s something I still sometimes struggle with more than happiness and I need motivation more than I need happiness, honestly. (I had to pick one or the other; Can’t pick both, you have to focus in on just one when doing this.) So I’m trying to sort of...bottle motivation, if you will. If I can just click it every time I feel a rush of motivation, which is at random throughout the day multiple times a day, in about a year or two time (I hope, maybe longer), I’ll be able to click it and get a rush of motivation from the sound. :)

ANYWAYS.

I know I post a lot about my journey with mental illness, so I just wanted to let you guys know that, uh... it hasn’t changed. My “it gets better” posts are still happening. It did get better. It stayed better. Just because I feel suicidal or depressed sometimes doesn’t mean it isn’t better anymore. It is still very much better and I am still very much as happy as can be. I am allowed to feel suicidal and depressed within my bubble of overall happiness. That’s what a lifetime of major depressive disorder and suicidal ideation can do to someone. I still feel like I beat depression even though it is a bit more prevalent in my life now than it has been in a long time. I feel I beat it because I can deal with it so much better than I ever have been able to do before. It’s so much more than sadness, but it’s not something that is going to ruin me and kill me like I was in danger of prior to this transformation, if that makes sense. I’ll kill it before it kills me.

So.

I’m going to write up that update post on what is going on in my life. Why I just disappeared off the face of the planet all last month and a little before that and a little after and so on and so forth. I’M DOING SOME REALLY COOL THINGS, YOU GUYS, AND I’M SO EXCITED FOR THE COMING FALL SEMESTER!!!!!! :D

Be sure to read that whenever I get it posted up! ...maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. Idk. Probably tomorrow, honestly. [shruggy emoji] I’ve got a lot going on right now, but everything is so much slower paced than I’m accustomed to at this point so I feel like I have so much free time. Haha.

Anywayyyyys...

It gets so much better, you guys. Just hold on till it does. And if you ever need anyone to vent to, just hop on in my inbox. Anon is always on! I don’t wanna lie, but chances are, I probably won’t answer you for like... weeks to months at a time to be totally honest coz I’m hella busy, but know I’ll read them! I always do. :)

-KQR

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takealottodragmeawayfromreddie · 6 years

Text

Filling the blanks - Chapter 6

Pairing: Richie x Eddie x Bill (Reddie at the start).

Summary: During his last moments, Eddie realized he had something to say, but before he could finish the sentence, he was gone. Now he’s stuck between life and death and he knows he won’t be able to rest until he takes care of what he started. The only person he trusts enough to help him is Bill.

Or: The ghost AU where Eddie’s spirit can get inside of Bill’s mind to ask him for help to tell Richie he loved him.

Warnings: Canon Divergence (IT actually kills Audra) and, of course, death of major character. Some really heavy internalized homophobia in this chapter. Like, really heavy. Even some use of the F word that isn’t “fuck”. So, yeah, please be careful, the whole point of this fic is to make y’all have a good time, not triggering you <3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

AO3 link

Playlist on Spotify (mostly songs about Heaven and duel related stuff and 1980s hits)

Special thanks to my stunning beta @golden-marauders. I know you’re going through busy times and I just wanna say you’re doing amazing, sweetie. This thing would be nothing without you. Or at least pretty hard to read xD

Eddie can’t say he didn’t think about canceling the date. Actually, canceling the date has been the only thing on his mind since he and Bill left the bed. He spent the whole morning contemplating the idea, trying not to be too loud, since his friend needed to put all his effort into looking wrecked and lonely for the eyes of the producers. He didn’t even hear the conclusion of the meeting, and he felt afraid of asking. The last thing he wants is to make it seem like he doesn’t care about Bill’s problems.

He built up a few excuses, too. Lying to Richie shouldn’t be that hard, and he was already reluctant about the ‘new scary, weird thing’, so he wouldn’t insist or ask for any further explanation. Bill could get sick, or devastated after discussing his wife’s death, or Eddie could simply have come to the conclusion that he doesn’t love Richie. At least not as he thought. He was confused, that’s all.

He doesn’t even need to cancel. He took care of his unfinished business, he’s allowed to leave whenever he wants. And, to be honest, he could use an eternal nap after everything he’s gone through. Richie will wait for him and, when he finally realizes Eddie won’t come, he’ll go home and start to forget.

Richie said he wanted to forget. He said he wanted to get over Eddie’s memory and death. Eddie not attending their lunch would be the best thing that could happen to him.

And, damn, this is not just about Richie. Eddie himself isn’t sure if he wants to go back into the dating scene. He thought he would get away from it forever when he got married, and he can’t help but think he shouldn’t be doing it at his current age. He went out with a few girls when he was younger —always during his short seasons of ‘I’ll become strong and independent and I’ll show my mother I can live without her’— and everything he can recall from that dark era is awful.

All different from the others: tall, short, blonde, brunette, curvy, skinny; but all of them with the same demanding, enthusiastic voice, going on and on about their lives and wanting to find out more and more about Eddie’s. Asking, digging, questioning. Did he have lots of friends while growing up? He couldn’t remember. How many ex-girlfriends? None, they never lasted enough to earn that title. How could someone like him still be single? Sonia Kaspbrak, that’s how.

The most voluptuous ones would lean towards him, their giant breasts spreading all over the table, making him think about cows and lose his appetite for the rest of the night. The most demonstrative liked to casually play with his pinky ring and put their hand on his shoulder while acting like his jokes were super funny and bat their eyes while smiling sweetly at him. The shyest ones barely made any eye contact and they usually had a friend who called pretending a relative of them had a car accident, just in time to save them from the silence when it became unbearable.

But all of them had something in common. They expected to be taken home, and held, and kissed, and, sometimes, made love to. That was the concept Eddie couldn’t stand. And God knows he tried to explain it without hurting anyone’s feelings. Some took it well, but the ones who would cry and tell him he didn’t like them were the worst. He ended up putting his hands on their cheeks, making them look at him in the eye and talking about how they were amazing and deserved better for hours until their ego was restored.

Yeah, you deserve better, he thought. Preferably anyone but me.

I’ll call you, he’d say, and he’d never call. He didn’t give them his number because he was too scared of his mother picking up the phone. The only time he felt like he could trust someone with such personal information, was a ginger girl he met in college. She was nice and funny, and Eddie felt randomly willing to keep seeing her. Of course, he later concluded he only liked her as a friend, but the connection was there. He always connected with ginger girls, even though he couldn’t put his finger on the reason behind it.

When Sonia found out about her, their house almost exploded. She accused him of not loving her anymore, of trying to leave her. She cried and screamed that he had changed, that he felt like he was too good for his mother.

“You use people and then throw them away,” she sobbed, “I dedicated my whole life to you, to keep you safe and healthy, and now that you think you can take care of yourself, you want to get rid of me as soon as possible. But you’re wrong. You’re sure you can make it on your own but you’re wrong, Eddie. You’d be nothing without me.”

That was their biggest fight and the only time he decided to remind her about the fake meds. He was convinced it would make him win the argument and his whole life. However, it only made it worse. By the time she was crying in his arms, telling him she loved him and she didn’t want to lose him, he had already promised he would never date someone without letting her know again.

And he kept that promise. The next one was Myra and their relationship barely touched the dating phase. They got married by inertia and he acted like he loved her till the very last day.

So Eddie isn’t a professional on dating. He didn’t enjoy it, and somehow, going out on a date with Richie doesn’t seem right. What would they do? Sit down and eat their meal and pretend they don’t know everything about each other? Will Richie try to flirt with him like he would flirt with the random, hot women he’s used to date? How does a first date work when you already admitted you’re in love with the other person? Does Richie expect him to hold the doors open for him and pay the bill, like his previous romantic interests? Or will Richie do that for him? If that’s the case, how can he make it clear that he doesn’t want to be treated like a lady?

Fuck, how does gay dating work, anyway? Eddie hasn’t even considered that word yet. He just knows he likes Richie, he’s attracted to him and he doesn’t like women, which, by default, should make him gay. But the term isn’t something he’s accustomed to. He tries to act like an expert for Richie, because he understands that Richie is going through a lot and he needs someone to guide him. He makes an effort because Richie needs him, and that’s what finally convinces him that he can’t just cancel their date.

Richie needs him. Yes, Eddie loves him and wants to be with him, but that’s not the most important part of the deal. If he leaves the world and Richie falls for another man —or even a woman— and gets married and completely forgets about him, it won’t matter. Hurting and mattering aren’t the same thing. Essentially and most significantly, he will be happy for him. He doesn’t mind if the true love of Richie’s life is someone else. The only thing he cares about is that Richie accepts himself.

The confusion on his face and in his voice the night before, made Eddie’s heart shrink. He knows that doubt, that guilt, and he doesn’t want that for Richie. He wants him to look at himself in the mirror and, regardless of who’s in his bed that morning, feel no shame about liking both men and women and realize nothing can change that. After years of denial, Eddie knows the best gift he can give to someone he loves, is helping them to get to that point of awareness and freedom.

No, he won’t cancel. He can’t. His unfinished business might be completed, but he still has something to do. He won’t let Richie down.

“Okay,” he nods decisively, fixing the collar of his shirt in front of the mirror, “How do I look?”

Bill chuckles.

Y-you look amazing, if I do say so myself.

Eddie smiles too. He has spent the last twenty minutes wandering through the bathroom, looking for lotions and deodorants and hygiene products that Bill didn’t even know existed. As soon as they left the studio office, Eddie concluded they had to shower, and despite the insistence of his friend on how they were clean enough, he took that decision to its most extreme consequences. To the point where Bill is starting to think they might never leave the room.

Bill tried to be understanding and supportive. He gets it; life hasn’t been nice to Eddie, principally on the romantic department. The best thing he can do is play along and do anything he can to make it easier for him. But when Eddie resolves that their hair just doesn’t look good enough and that it’s probably because of the shampoo, so they should shower again, Bill knows it’s time to stop.

Okay, w-wait a minute… What’s wrong with my h-hair?

Eddie freezes with his hand inches away from the shower faucet.

“Oh, nothing,” he quickly clarifies, scared of Bill taking it the wrong way, “It looks good, really, but—”

Then why would you c-change it?

“’Cause… ‘cause it doesn’t look good on me, alright? It looks amazing on you, but not on me.”

Bill releases an exasperated sigh.

Eddie, we’ve literally got the same f-face.

Eddie opens his mouth to reply but, sooner than later, he realizes he doesn’t have any argument to what he wants to say.

Also, we’re gonna be late if we—

“But there’s so much I need to do,” he answers immediately, alarmed, “We… we haven’t shaved.”

W-we shaved this morning! What are you t-talking about?

“I know we did, fine? But I’m not convinced. Your skin feels weird and… and I’m sure it doesn’t look just-shaved enough… Maybe with some lotion…”

Eddie, s-seriously, you’re gonna leave America without lotion for three years if you k-keep that up. I’m telling you it looks fine. The only reason why you think it’s w-weird is ‘cause you’re not used to facial hair. I p-promise you Richie won’t notice the fucking d-difference!

Bill catches Eddie’s expression on the mirror and recognizes that maybe he went too far. Eddie looks shocked and almost betrayed. Perhaps they’re arguing about something insignificant, but with the emotional rollercoaster that the previous days had been, it makes sense that it affects him. Bill thinks about how to apologize without sending him a ‘you’re right’ message.

Sorry I s-snapped at you.

Eddie nods, saddened.

“It’s okay. Guess I deserved it.”

He forces a little smile and shrugs, and Bill panics at the misunderstanding.

N-no, Eddie, of course not. You… you didn’t deserve it, alright? I just really d-don’t want you to be l-late. And I’m scared that you might be…

Eddie stands back in front of the mirror and looks into his own eyes, searching for the other person that lies behind them.

“That I might what?” He softly asks.

T-trying to… back off.

At the start, he just looks confused, like he might had heard wrong. There’s no way Bill is implying what he thinks he implied. Then, shock hits him; Bill did say that. And after a fleeting moment of fear —what if it’s Bill who’s trying to back off?—, he’s plainly hurt.

“What the fuck?”

I-I just—

“No, really, the fuck are you talking about? Backing off? Why would I be backing off now?”

I d-don’t know. You’ve tried to back off b-before. Maybe you got scared or—

“Oh, sure, I forgot I’m a fucking pussy. Of course I��d get scared and try to back off. Of course I’m not an adult who can decide for himself and—”

Wow, c-calm down, Eds. You’re being d-defensive. I never said you were a coward. I don’t think that.

Eddie rubs his dead arm and looks down, suddenly demoralized.

“Well, Richie thinks that.”

W-wait… what? What did I miss? When did he s-say that?

His friend exhales a breathless laugh.

“You know, last night… He went on and on about how he wished I was more like when we were kids and how disappointed on me he was. And you can’t tell me it’s not true, ’cause I heard it and it was exactly what it sounded like. Guess that’s one of the things he wouldn’t say to my face, huh?”

Eddie, I—

“But I can’t really blame him. I would have been disappointed in me too, if I noticed how… how I was letting my mother and Myra tame me.”

B-but they didn’t! E-Eddie, can’t you see? They couldn’t tame you. If they did, how… how could you have come back? How could you have r-returned to Derry and… and… S-she was begging you to go back to New York. She would have done a-anything to make you stay. But you decided to do what you t-thought was right, no matter what she s-said. She didn’t have full control over you, and neither did your m-m-mother.

“Then I guess Richie just doesn’t see it that way…”

Of course Richie sees it that way! L-listen, the only reason Richie was d-disappointed was ’cause… ’cause he wanted his friend back. And so did the rest of us. It’s true, we wanted the old Eddie back, but not because he was b-brave or strong… we wanted him back ’cause he was happy. ’Cause he wanted to keep moving f-forward, and overcome his… his fears, and travel the world on his… on his train or w-whatever.

And when we saw you again after almost t-thirty years, sad and defeated, it hurt. But not in the way you think. It didn’t hurt like it does when… I don’t know, when a war hero d-dies. It hurt like it does when you realize your best friend is living an u-unhappy life.

B-but you proved us wrong! ’Cause you still had the same fire in you. You still have it, E-Eddie. You r-re-rekindled it when you came back, even if your wife didn’t want you to. And when you… k-killed Bowers. And when you gave your life for… for us. And by coming to me now and letting me know… by letting R-Richie know… Man, you’re made of stone.

Bill means it. Eddie knows Bill means it. And the comforting feeling of the person he admires the most talking about him like that, it’s almost unbearable. He never thought something as reassuring as what Bill just told him could be this overwhelming, this physically hurtful. But even when it feels like dying all over again in the best way possible, there’s still a shadow of doubt in his eyes.

Bill breathes out.

Hey, it’s okay if you’re mad at R-Richie. Really, what he said was just horrible and you s-shouldn’t ever let anyone talk about you like t-that. So I just want you to f-forget about your feeling for h-him, about your cosmic mission, about It, about e-everything, and allow yourself to feel hurt. ’Cause the people you love can be assholes, too… especially Richie. And they can say shit they shouldn’t. And if that shit m-makes you sad or angry or any other f-feeling… it’s alright. But maybe you… if you’re still mad, you shouldn’t…

“Bill, I’ll go,” Eddie clarifies, “I already said I would. And I’m not doing it just for myself. Richie needs me now. He’s confused, he’s scared, he’s—”

He’s an adult. He’s my b-best friend and I love him, but he’s an adult. It’s not your job to… to figure out his life for him. That’s s-something he has to do by h-himself. Please, just… stop trying to be deep, stop trying to be existential, stop trying to… s-save him. You already did that. What he does from now on… it… it’s up to him. You’re not his ticket out of the c-closet, you’re not his spiritual guide. You’re just his friend who wants… who could start a r-relationship with him. That’s all you’ve got to be. And you’ve got to a-ask yourself if you… if you still want that. ’Cause if you don’t and you f-force yourself… well, someone will end up hurt.

Eddie nods his head thoughtfully, lips closed.

Please, just… think it over. Rich’s not a bad guy. He doesn’t d-deserve your resent just because you held on to something… s-something you weren’t ready to do. And you don’t deserve it, either.

“I understand what you say, but I still wanna do it. Not because of Richie, not because I just want to go out with a guy… I want to do it for myself. I know he said some shitty stuff… and I’m not gonna act like it didn’t hurt. Fuck, it still hurts a bit, but that’s not the point. I’ve been letting everything get in the way of… of what I want. And down there, with my arm gone, bleeding to death, all I could think about was how nice it would be to leave that place like nothing happened and simply… be with him. I won’t miss this chance. I wanna take it.”

Bill sighs and takes control of his right arm to rest a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and give it a sympathetic squeeze.

T-then I’ll be with you in every step of the way… l-literally.

Eddie can’t help but chuckle, but the laugher fades away when he rationalizes everything.

Are you okay?

He blinks a few times, shocked.

“Yeah, I just noticed… this is the first time I got nervous before a date… for the right reason.”

Bill laughs, too.

It’s what you d-deserve. And it’s how it’s g-gonna be from now on.

Eddie raises his left hand and puts it over Bill’s, a soft smile on his face.

Yes, this is how it’s going to be. This is how it always should have been.

They’re supposed to meet at a small cafeteria that Richie chose. Eddie is sure he wanted it to be in such an unknown place because he didn’t like the thought of people finding out about it, but since this is Bill’s body and the last thing Eddie wishes is for his reputation to be affected by this experience, he can’t get mad. Richie and Bill are both very famous people, and a picture of them going out on a date —especially when Mrs. Denbrough has been gone for such a short time— would break the internet. They can’t take risks.

Also, he doesn’t mind privacy. After all, Richie is not the only one who’s trying to get used to the gay thing. Even though they already held hands and kissed, doing it out in the open world feels different. None of them are ready to take that step.

So he goes to this little bar, full of colorful murals and artsy details here and there, and stands in front of the glass door, building up the courage to open it, knowing what’s waiting for him on the other side. Once he does it, he doesn’t have any trouble to find Richie. He’s not far away from the exit, and is being loud enough while picking up his jacket and phone, prepared to leave. Eddie can hear him mumbling, talking to himself.

“Uh, Eds, sorry I couldn’t go I just…” Richie practices, “I had to… I had to check on my… No, that sucks, he’s not gonna buy that… Eds, sorry, I should have called but my grandma is in the hospital and… No, fuck, no, he knows my grandmother is dead… Okay, Rich, you can do it, one more time… Eds, I’ve got syphilis… Damn, what the hell I’m thinking? Ghosts don’t give a fuck about STDs… On the other hand, is Eddie who we’re talking about, so maybe…”

He starts walking to the door while saying this, so immersed on his monologue that he doesn’t notice Eddie’s presence until they’re face to face. His expression when he sees him is so priceless that Eddie can’t even get angry.

“Do you have to be at somewhere else?” He grins, maliciously.

Richie opens his mouth and shuts it, his index finger raising as if he had something to say, even when he doesn’t have a clue.

“You were trying to leave, weren’t you?”

He gulps and nods without a word.

“I really want to say I can’t believe this, but actually—”

“Eds, it’s not what you think,” Richie quickly explains.

“Oh, what is it, then?”

“Listen, Eddie, I… They’re gonna send me to… I’ve got… I’ve got gonorrhea, okay?”

“Didn’t you have syphilis like… thirty seconds ago?”

“That one too… also my ex is pregnant.”

“Let’s sit down and order the fucking food. I’m starving.”

He’s walking to the table, chuckling and shaking his head, before Richie can throw another excuse, and he doesn’t have any option but following him and taking a seat.

Here they are, only a dark wood surface and two menus between them, forced to have every conversation they’ve ignored since this madness started. Richie secretly wonders if the serious conversations will ever end, and Eddie kind of wants them to stop, too, but they know they’re necessary. It’s what they have to do.

“I really didn’t want to stand you up,” Richie says, and he sounds honest.

“It’s okay,” Eddie cuts him, “You’re scared, that’s all. I was scared, too.”

“Did you think about standing me up?”

“Uh… well, maybe not that scared, but definitely nervous. Bill said I was gonna leave America without lotion for three years if I kept that up,” he laughs a bit, “Just wanted to smell good, honestly.”

Richie nods, surprisingly solemn, and after a few seconds he seems to realize it was supposed to be a funny moment and not a transcendental one, so he makes one of his pathetic attempts to be smooth. They usually work… with twenty-something-year old girls. But Eddie is not a twenty-something-year old girl begging him to sleep with her. So it comes off forced and teenager-like.

“Oh, you… you do smell good, I guess?” He stutters, “Shit, I didn’t mean to say that. I mean, I wasn’t putting a lot of attention into it and it’s not like you don’t smell good all the time or anything… I mean, you have smelt better… No, wait, I really didn’t mean to say that. What I’m trying to say is… It’s not Bill’s lotion, I guess? Like, it’s you, your last body smelt nice, too… Well, probably not right now, but—”

“Beep-beep, Richie. I get the picture.”

Richie groans, frustrated, and looks down.

“Sorry, this is a bit weird for me. This doesn’t happen often.”

“What?”

“Well… this!” He makes an exaggerated gesture with his hands, “C’mon, you can’t tell me this isn’t weird.”

Eddie frowns, but the amused smile remains on his face.

“I thought you were used to go out on dates and talk to people.”

“Oh, yeah, I sure am.” He takes a breadstick from the basket between them and gives it a bite, “But this isn’t a… normal situation, you know?”

“Because I look like Bill or…?”

“No, I don’t care ’bout that… It’s just… Argh, it’s hard for me to talk to guys.”

“Richie, what the fuck?”

“I know it’s stupid, okay? You don’t need to tell me...”

“But you’re a guy, too!” He exclaims, trying not to burst out in laughter.

“Yeah, but you’re not just any guy. Like, there’s normal guys and there’s you! I mean…” Then he notices what he said, “Fuck, I know what it sounded like but it wasn’t supposed to sound like that. It’s not because of the… the thing.”

“The thing?”

“Yeah, you know…” He leans towards Eddie and whispers, “The thing.”

“Do you mean…” Eddie imitates him, still making an effort to control his chuckles, “The gay thing?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean.”

“Hi, may I take your order?” A waitress who neither of them knows where she came from suddenly asks.

That’s when they remember they’re in a public place and they’re so close their noses almost touch, so they both jump away from each other and stridently clear their throats while opening the menus.

“Billy, I was thinking of ordering the Philly cheese stake sandwich, what do you think?” Richie says, a little too loud.

“Uh… yeah, it sounds like a good idea.”

“Would you like to have one, too, Bill Denbrough, my best friend?”

“Just order whatever,” Eddie groans, rubbing his temples.

“Okay, so that will be, please,” he tells the waitress.

She nods, takes the menus and walks away. Their relieved sighs when she’s gone can be heard in the whole restaurant.

“You’re over-acting,” Eddie warns.

“Over-acting? I’m a fucking actor!”

“If you act like that in your movies…”

“Well, my fans don’t seem to care.”

“Do your fans know you can’t even have a normal conversation with a guy?”

“I already told you you’re not just some guy! You’re… Eddie!”

“Oh, right, the thing.”

“It’s not about the thing.”

“Sure it isn’t…” Eddie rolls his eyes.

“I’m getting a sense of déjà vu with this talk…”

“Yeah, we already had it, and you still can’t say the word ‘gay.’”

“Ugh, man, give me a rest. This ain’t easy.”

“Richie, we only have two weeks. You said you wanted to say it back, but you weren’t ready. I’m giving you all the time I can, but I think you just don’t want to be ready at all. Do you even like me?”

“Of course I fucking like you, asshole!” He snaps, remembering to keep his voice low, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. I wouldn’t have kept that stupid, fake aspirator around if I didn’t. But this is hard for me, okay? It took you forty years to come to terms with… with the thing! And you still expect me to be all over you in less than 24 hours. At this time yesterday I was the straightest guy in town.

”I love women, alright? I love how they look and how they smell and how they run their nails down my back.” He sighs, “But… but looking back, I also liked how you looked and your smell and I… I’ve spent the whole fucking night thinking about your nails running down my back. And it’s so confusing and frustrating.

”I’m not gay, Eds! I know you want me to say I’m gay, but I really don’t feel like that. You’re the one who makes me feel this way. And I want it to stop but not really at the same time. Just… See? This is why I can’t say it. I’m sorry, but as soon as you’re gone, the feeling will be gone and I’ll go back to normal. There’s nothing we can do. So what’s the point of thinking it over? This goes nowhere.”

Once he finishes, he’s surprised to find out Eddie doesn’t look mad or done with the drama at all. Instead, his eyes are sad and understanding, like the only thing he could conclude from his rant was that Richie is unhappy and he doesn’t want him to feel like that. The waitress stops them from continuing talking when she comes back and puts their sandwiches in front of them, but when she leaves, they know they can’t ignore everything that’s been said.

“Then why are you here?” Eddie quietly asks, before giving his sandwich a bite.

“Why am I here?” Richie questions, puzzled.

“Yeah, why did you come if you thought it went nowhere? Why waste your time?”

“It’s what I do, Eds. I make out with someone and my mind goes all over the place, and I think ‘damn, this could be good’, so I give them a try ’cause this time could be different and I might prove I’m not just the funny guy on T.V. Then we get to know each other and they realize they don’t want just sex. They want you to undress your soul and tell them about your childhood trauma and have a lot of meaningful conversations that go on for hours. They want you to get married and have babies and buy a nice little house in the suburbs.

”Then they find out you can’t give them those things and try to change you. And when you realize you’re just the fantasy of the emotionally inaccessible guy… you tell them to put their dress back on and leave your house, and the next weekend you make out with someone new.”

Eddie remains mute.

“Sorry, I’ve been watching BoJack Horseman,” Richie apologizes, tearing off the bread’s crust, “But, hey, that’s fine. We’re just two old friends hanging out and…”

There’s an uncomfortable silence. The kind of silence Eddie desperately wanted to avoid. However, it isn’t like the ones he used to share with his previous dates. Those were terrible and scary, full of ridiculous attempts to restart the conversation, even when it was already dead. This silence feels like something needed, natural. They don’t want to rush out of it for the sake of stop being awkward. They want to work it out once they have something to say.

“Well, at least you don’t have to tell me about your childhood trauma,” Eddie shrugs, and Richie smiles, “I’m sorry if I pressured you. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, Eds, I’m sorry. I felt so bad about you being gone, and there was nothing I wanted more than you coming back… And when you do it, I just decide to be an asshole and call you names and act like you wasted your whole life, ’cause you didn’t throw everything you had away for things you didn’t even remember. It wasn’t fair.”

“Hey.” He looks around and puts his hand over Richie’s, “It’s okay if you like both, you know?”

“What?”

“Men and women. Seriously, it’s fine. You don’t have to pick a side… at least for me. I’m okay with it.”

Richie lets go a small, bitter laugh.

“Yeah, you say that now—”

“And I’ll say it again later if you need me to. I’ll say it every day ’till I leave: there’s nothing wrong about it.”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t make it a coming out story. We kissed and I liked it. I never wanted a guy before, just you. When you leave, this leaves with you.”

“What if you meet another man?”

“It took me forty years to meet you, and we’ve known each other since before I could even read. I think I’ll be fine.”

“You can’t say that. You don’t know that.”

“Listen, Eds,” he starts, firm, “I know one thing: I’ve been treated like a freak almost my whole life. I’ve been punched and kicked and thrown into trash cans. My glasses got broken so many times I ended up buying contacts. And look at me now.” He opens his arms, “Sorry, but I can’t go back to be a freak again.”

Eddie leaves his sandwich on the plate and stands up. Despite how tears are doing everything they can to fill his eyes up, his face stays impassible.

“I never thought you were a freak, Richie,” he says, “And the other Losers didn’t think that, either.” He grabs his coat from the chair’s back, “We used to be enough for you. I’m sorry you need everyone else to love you now. I’m sorry you gave up.”

Richie’s eyes are wide-open.

“Wait, Eds, where you going?”

“I’m leaving, Rich,” Eddie answers, already walking to the door. He hears Richie’s steps behind him, but he doesn’t stop, “Call me when you make up your mind.”

“Man, what the fuck? C’mon, you know I… Eds, please, I… You know how I am, you know I say stupid things…”

They walk out the restaurant, Eddie first and Richie a few steps after him.

“So I have to sit there and be your punching bag, just because you can’t get your shit together?” Eddie demands, face on fire as he turns around to look at him, “You’re fucking forty, Richie, and you still act like a child. I can leave whenever I want, you know? I could have left yesterday if I wanted to. But you said you wanted me to stay, and now it’s like you’re dreaming of the day I’m gone so you can go back to being straight or whatever you are. I felt like a freak, too, but I got over it because I love you. And I grew up in the same town, with the same people and going to the same church. You don’t have an excuse. Next time you’re not sure about being ready for something, just fucking say ‘no.’ Maybe you like losing time, but I don’t have time to lose.”

Putting his fingers against his lips, Eddie loudly whistles to call a cab, which is parking next to the sidewalk within a matter of seconds. He’s about to open the backseat door, when Richie yells.

“And I can’t lose you again!”

Eddie lets go of the handle and looks at him.

“Really, man, what the fuck have you done to me?” Richie continues, “I keep thinking I’m on a nightmare or a bad acid trip, ’cause I can’t believe this shit. I’m… I’m going crazy. This can’t be happening, you can’t be back from death, I can’t… I… I’m not gay!”

Eddie takes a few steps closer, gaze still reluctant. The fact that Richie doesn’t go back isn’t surprising enough to distract him of the topic. When he talks again, his voice is soft, comforting, as he stares into Richie’s eyes.

“No, you’re not gay.”

“I’m not…” Richie mutters, lips trembling.

“You aren’t.”

“I’m not,” he repeats, with more confidence, “I’m not gay. I… I’m… I like… both. I like both, Eds.”

“You like both,” Eddie nods, a smile blossoming on his face as he cries at the same time.

Richie can’t help but laugh out loud. Normally, Richie’s exaggerated reactions would piss Eddie off, but, with this one, he feels like it’s justified. When he figured out his own sexuality, he couldn’t even finish a sentence, when all he wanted to do was shout it at the top of his lungs. He’s just glad Richie has the opportunity to celebrate it as noisily as he wishes.

“Shit, I’ve been such an idiot with you, I’m sorry,” Richie laments, “But this time for real.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie assures him, “You were very confused, I should have been more understanding.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you waited your whole life to get some, it’s fair that you wanted it as soon as possible.”

“Beep-beep, Richie.”

“So, let’s get this one thing straight—”

“We’re not,” he jokes, rolling his eyes.

Richie looks shocked.

“Wow, Eddie Spaghetti gets off a good one!” He exclaims, taking Eddie’s dead hand and giving it a hi-five, “But, seriously, I wanna make sure I got it right… You… like me… in a gay way.”

“True…”

“And I…” He points at himself, “Like you… in a bisexual way!”

“You’ve got it,” Eddie smirks.

“And that means we… you and I… are on a 75% gay relationship.”

“Last time I checked we were just having our first date.”

“Oh, yeah, almost forgot,” Richie coincides, scratching the back of his neck, “I guess I kinda ruined that, didn’t I?”

“Well, not yet… our table is still there. Maybe we could… still have lunch together?”

“You’re okay with that?”

“Sure… Are you okay with that, too? It’s not just about what I want and you’ve been through a lot, so...”

“It’s alright for me.”

“Then let’s go.”

They laugh again and walk inside, playfully bumping into the other’s side, chuckling all the way back to their table.

“I know this is fucked up,” Eddie says, taking his sandwich, “I mean, me coming back, Bill and I in the same body. I guess I focused so much on my own feelings I didn’t think about yours. So, if you have any questions about this—”

“I’ve got a few, yeah.”

“Just ask me. I promise I’ll tell you everything I can.”

Richie takes a sip of his glass of Coke and nods thoughtfully. He puts it back on the table and starts rubbing his own chin.

“I have one…”

“Anything you need to know.”

“If one of you gets a boner—”

“Okay, okay, okay,” he interrupts, “Do you have any non-sexual questions? Something that doesn’t have anything to do with body reactions at all?”

Richie thinks it over.

“Actually… No, not that many.”

“Well, that saves some time.”

They both giggle.

“Hey,” Richie mumbles, “thank you for dealing with me. I know it’s hard.”

“Deal with an arm getting bitten off your shoulder and then talk about hard stuff,” Eddie grins, “But really, don’t thank me. You don’t need to. I’m glad things went this way.”

“You know, I… I think I changed my mind. I do have a question.”

“Tell me.”

“If you survived… if you finished that confession and miraculously didn’t die… what do you think would have happened?”

Eddie gives it a thought.

“I’m not sure. What do you think?”

“Oh, fuck, I think that probably… I would have gotten scared and told you I didn’t feel the same. And we’d have gone back to our everyday lives and forget about each other.”

Eddie nods, contemplatively.

“Well, I don’t think that. I mean, I guess you could have gotten scared or too confused. Maybe you would have rejected me. But I don’t think I could go back to Myra… I wasn’t happy with her and I knew I’d never be. I found out what I wanted when we met again, but I always knew what I didn’t want.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But what if… I don’t know, if actually looking at your face and hearing your voice made it easier to process? What if I said it back and I brought you to California with me and… we got married? Like, big Hollywood wedding? Happy ever after and all that jazz?”

“Maybe,” Eddie chuckles, “But we’ll never know that.”

“No, we’ll never know…”

It’s Richie’s time to take Eddie’s hand. When he feels the pressure of his fingers over his, Eddie freezes.

“I’m glad things went this way, too, Eds.”

Dating is not that bad at all.

Tag list: @trippy-alexissss

I know there was more people who wanted to be tagged, but I lost the list with their urls so, if you want to be tagged, please let me know and I’m so sorry for these problems.

#reddie #tozenbrak #kaspbrough #bichie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #bill denbrough #it #fanfiction #filling the blanks

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provincianx-blog · 6 years

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what i learned from unlearning everything that i know

lessons from middle school, aurora, and beyond.

at the age of fifteen, my mom forced my brother and me to leave our home in hayward, ca upon discovering that my dad had been using meth again and wasting all of his money on catfishes on the internet.

my mom and dad had been separated for longer than my brother and I were aware of, but my mom finally had the courage to really leave him in july of 2011. she loved him her entire life, but she was done taking care of someone that wasn’t taking care of her. she was done taking care of someone who didn’t love her enough to take care of himself. she was done.

while this seems incredibly simple, leaving hayward prompted what would turn into a 7 year identity crisis.

as an outcast at every school i transferred to, i found a community on this website with my best friends from middle school and random strangers who loved harry potter and other fandoms as ridiculously as we did. true commitment to friendship would transcend from anonymous messages on tumblr to mutual follows on twitter. and here we are: in the age of twitter.

upon switching up different meds, after over a decade of looking for mental and emotional stability, i found out that i have bipolar-1, which still doesn’t make that much sense to me, but i’m beginning to understand it more than i did before.

i’m grateful to have been obsessed with star wars when i first saw revenge of the sith on opening night because of my tita and her husband’s work perks. i loved padme and she was my first crush but also my first example of a strong girl in mainstream film in addition to mulan (bruh i used my mulan costume for like 3 years and never gave a single HECK). i would then beg my dad to take me to blockbuster to watch the original trilogy, where i met carrie fisher/princess leia, who would radically transform how i saw the world and myself.

i grew up with my tita and tito. they took care of me when they were in college, and they’re still taking care of me now. i want to be able to take care of their kids and love them as much as they loved me growing up. i love them with all that i am and all that i can give.

i studied politics because i wanted to make sure that my younger cousins and my baby brother would have a better world to grow up in than i did. it seems that my undiagnosed mental illness of nearly 14 years has been exacerbated by the political climate we live in today in 2018.

i learned so much about life by learning about my own history, and i hope that everyone has this opportunity in their lifetime. it feels great, and the only one who seems to really get it is ariana grande.

so here are 14 things i learned from being mentally ill and emo while being passionate about wanting to make the world a better and more habitable place.

1. don’t trust the feds: a lot of 2nd amendment boys actually don’t trust the government as much as people think, and the 2A comes from settlers’ distrust in colonial Britain. the problems we see today are because the GOP has lured these same people and their kids (and their kids) into their corner by advocating for organizations like the NRA; gun control has reached the Supreme Court, but the 2nd amendment took precedent (i believe). gun control must come from the state and local governments, but political participation in these arenas are very low, especially for younger voters. i, as someone who has been involuntarily hospitalized despite voluntarily seeking medical help, am not allowed to buy a gun in the state of california for 5 years. and honestly, i really don’t care because i don’t want to need a gun anyway, but the poor and the middle class in the south feels that they need guns.

2. stay woke: deray said this nearly everyday after michael brown was shot by darren wilson in ferguson, missouri. michael brown was my wake up call to reassess my complacency in the status quo and my participation in reinforcing anti-blackness. in the bay area, the n word was used so casually in places like union city/hayward that we became so desensitized to it. it’s still used casually, but non-black people like myself have no agency in saying it because we’re not black. it’s as simple as that. i began noticing how my family reacted to what would turn into the Black Lives Matter movement, and for the first time, i felt that i could no longer trust my relatives if they were complicit in the murders of black youth simply because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time. i couldn’t even talk to them without crying because of how upset i got from the anti-blackness i would hear. i began to isolate myself and found community on twitter.

3. our youth is a reflection of how good things were and how good things can become if we learn to build community: in addition to the community i found on tumblr through avatar, harry potter, and the beatles, i found community with all the losers who had xbox’s instead of ps3′s. we would hang out and play search and destroy (which i still cannot succeed in after all this time smh agjhgarhdfhre) or 1v1 each other on rust. my nerd friends would let my brother and I play with them regardless of how much we sucked, and they hyped me up even when my KDR was trash. these friendships would then transcend from mw2, halo 3, and into runescape. my brother is now really good at overwatch, and the friends i made in middle school are also really good at overwatch. the difference now is that they’re making money off of it, and i’m just like, “let’s get this bread, nerds!” thank you for being there for me even though i sucked at everything i tried doing. i was reminded of this when i watched “mid90s” by Jonah Hill. our youth was such a pure period of time, but it was also the time we lost ourselves through imposing harmful social norms onto each other, such as the idea that a girl cannot be “just friends” with a boy. but - here’s the kicker - i’m queer, and i don’t really like cis-het men hahahahahahahahaha but whatever.

4. becoming american made me forget who i am: our immigrant parents teach us that the only way is to assimilate into white America, which is essentially what happened to black and brown people following the civil rights movement. the notion of egalitarianism/equality has been nothing but harmful for all of us nonetheless, fueling debates on affirmative action and pitting black people against asian people. one of my best friends from elementary school is in prison for trying to make a living with the resources and skills made available to him. he was apprehended in thousand oaks. he is a black man, and we grew up in the same environment, but his life has been so different since we were in elementary school. the concept of equality/egalitarianism stemming from civil war gains (13th-15th amendments) has manifested into the racial inequality we see today; in other words, the idea that white americans and POC are equal has been harmful because this has never been true and continues to be untrue. my filipino friends and i would get bullied by white latinos for not speaking english in america, which is why i learned to hate myself and my culture. i love myself and my culture, and i am fighting so that i can return home to the philippines someday.

5. our bodies are different, and that’s okay: can y’all believe that i got bullied for not having boobs in the 3rd grade? this is what happens when young girls are sexualized so early. boys participate in this, and they turn out to be shitty boyfriends later on. girls will be girls. girls just wanna be treated like human beings instead of sexual objects. i don’t think this needs to be explained further.

6. america is a settler-colonial state turned global power, and that is problematic: this country began with the murders and deaths of indigenous people because of imperalistic pursuits. it was built on the backs of slave labor from africa. it was reinforced by colonialism through the conquering of countries such as the philippines. we’re socialized to believe that there’s no place like america and that america is such a good place to be in, but that is only true for white Americans and POC who have integrated into white American suburbs.

7. know history, know self: - jose rizal

8. if my life wasn’t funny, it would just be true, and that is unacceptable - carrie f. fisher

9. at times, being bipolar can be an all-consuming challenge, requiring a lot of stamina and even more courage, so if you’re living with this illness and functioning, it’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of - carrie f. fisher

10. rebellions are built on hope - princess/general leia organa + jyn erso

11. we have nothing to lose but our chains - assata shakur

12. keep ya head up - tupac shakur

13. everything i’m not made me everything i am - kanye west

14. i remember you was conflicted

misusing your influence

sometimes i did the same

abusing my power full of resentment

resentment that turned into a deep depression

found myself screaming in the hotel room

i didn’t wanna self destruct

the evils of lucy was all around me

so i went running for answers

until i came home

but that didn’t stop survivor’s guilt

going back and forth trying to convince myself the stripes i earned

or maybe how a-1 my foundation was

but while my loved ones was fighting the continuous war back in the city

i was entering a new one

a war that was based on apartheid and discrimination

made me wanna go back to the city and tell the homies what i learned

the word was respect

just because you wore a different gang color than mine’s

doesn’t mean i can’t respect you as a black man

forgetting all the pain and hurt we caused each other in these streets

if i respect you, we unify and stop the enemy from killing us

but i don’t know, i’m no mortal man

- kendrick lamar

#star wars #fandoms #reflection #politics #writing

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castlehead · 6 years

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:wanna write a pome bout fire an call it sicc burrn.-

Be happy as you tie your shoes it is another day the will is written and I need no longer pray to organize what wishes left and throw out the lies about that death of mine that would have been had I not decided a mulligan on the whole damn escapade and doctors blowing up my phonepiece on my way to peace at the top of an office building called oddly enough the oracle office building i scoped the spcs it seemed high enough this time to break thorough enough larger numbers of bones

it was damn hot i removed identifiable clothing in case somebody sicced an ambulance on me i was out in the sticks some upscale suburb in Lexington with all these trees fucking my signal i made a wrong turn it was so damn hot i actually got farther from where i was going to go to die at the top tip point of an office building called the fucking oracle of all things i don't even know what kind of symbolism that shit is i just know it was damn hot and I was buying time by saying I was on my way till it became obvious I wasnt then prayed to lord jesus that if I killed myself let no one else do it because I did please do yr genie powers thing grant my wish if even I shake from the impact of meeting the fiery dearth of hell as simultaneously i met the boiling paved ground of a parking lot that has nothing to do with me hoping a thorougher break and no one too sad or not really sad too long

i wrote my will at a gas station im not a lawyer but tried to shaipshape the legality ok enough

but I thought of my daughter and all reason got ghosted right quick and logical comportment that made me calmly walk to this random office building GPS FUCKING MY SHIT UP folks wondering where I am i saying I am on my way but like it's been so long and no Dan knocking just wanted to buy time but my daughter unraveled my heart out of this daft empirical natty tightness and my tired shaggy patrician aspect which I resent for looking like ive spent long st studies and am back for the summer to get some sun i resent my eloquence that seems and seems all day when I know not even the semester seems unseemlywack fuck drenching a good shirt walking his way to die whwerever because catching an uber to my suicide well that would be rather tasteless.

when I got in here i found a fortune hiding in this cubbie shits it said this

"people who give happiness deserve happiness."

i remember in my intercessions to christ I asked for a visible sign I would be certain of and thought of my daughter and thought tha best mystic indication was whatever sign I myself conjured as all in the end must be assessed by the only great vacuity that does not inspire suspicion because it is the one we own love is irrational it is fortified from the best reasons to die as something simply for its own sake and like the deviant flexing purples of parnassian for the sake of art i guess I can still satisfy my gluttonous desire for logic and reason and proving by maintaining the practice of art as causa sui equally valid for denying any higher symbol or point to perform as on that reasonless beautiful spectrum as loving for the sake of love and living likewise if even i must endure another shameful cry of wolf i end up being sensible by tossing aside my book of reasons for why I am mostly a problem and the selfishness of continuing to live and be a problem and someone this reason discarding reason is more reasonable.

life is funny. my will is writ i my lawyer by proxy christ telling my why to live with some stupid fortune about happiness.

but His insight has always come after the fact else he would meddle too much in my freedom. but I knew he met what he said.

my will is writ. i write it everyday. i have thought of it living i have thought of it the insensible force and the meaning entire that has no argument and needs no proof and exists the more than those things that do

...A FEW WEEKS LATER.

WE BE OUT HERE, BUT IN HERE !!

since I cannot leave this unit i will go outside an inside place I will pretend my imagination is real which I guess is what that is anyway but

/||knockknockknockknockknock!,!!!||

ITS NOT FAIR IM AFRAID TO LAY DOWN SO MUCH STRESS TOO GOD DAMNED LONG THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON I NEED A WEIGHTED BLANKET SHIT I NEED A QUIET ROOM MEDITATION SOMETHING MINDFULNESS PLEASE ANYTHING to distract

this feeling I need.. I need to talk to my social worker.. for the love of goddddssdd

i will hear these screams as the conversation of nice birds

it doesn't have to be special genus sparrows sound beautiful the most often

because their crew of them aflitter about one tree produce a nice litany of voices

small and excited and excitable Lacking patience like anything small

a nice cheeping of a bushel of birds in the bush, ripe as any sound

to collect the same as shiny red apples nice very nice I will hear that

instead of the screams of this fat patient who

selfish in her grief makes all the other patients anxious and cuts in line-

-at the med window becuase she must be attended to its serious can I

talk to somebody please

her tears already squint her eyes nearly out of existence suffocated

by big puffy fucking cheeks raw with grief that's been goin on so ling maybe it's both simulated

and of a sincerity developed over all this time doing it every day all day

screaming about her situation she says she's smarter than everybody and knows what's going on here

this really stout lady who is on-

-this damned filibuster long time now it's been

saying tearfully I am scared-

-of ECT & I DONT BELONG HERE THE DEPAKOTE TOOK AWAY MY FEELINGS

my epidermis will turn over and I willl look as tho skinned

it is alright and even tho it is

this is an act of desperation considering it's absurdity and the fact I spend my days

better than others who pace to pass the time the halls lit in this unwell shit ass light

my single act of rebellion was in refusing to lower the volume playing fairest of the seasons as a tribute

or something for this girl who liked Buddha who was leaving, and I said in the least patronizing way I could,

CHIN UP, KID.

i feel like she valued that little pearl of wisdom that rosebud of shit like that comes out finally when ya

constipated from all the decaf coffee cuz ya need a high somehow riht?

actually silly now to think of that that song by nico that German lady who sang for VU // eh I unnoh its pretty i guess..

it was cause someone I knew was getting discharged

against the life of deeply felt boredom. thing is I feel for her

i really do but this reaction doesnt help yr case ma'am

. . . . . .

[...psych units stop helping and start being a wear on the soul at some point, like resorting to leather sandals too much for any outside excursions. Alas, the wind, I can tell she misses how she feels on my face. I miss her openness, divine golden ointment of reality. Blowing hymns. For there I found myself more truly and more street]

COMING AT U VIA RADIO BROADCAST FROM AB2 SOUTH IN THE McLEAN-ASS MORN

ITS RAGEFUL AMES, THE HOST W/ YR DOSE OF LITHIUM

THE ’No Biggie’ STATION CUZ WE ALL GOTTA CALM OURSELVES

FOR AL THE DEMENTS OUT THURR

THE FIRST MORNING INSTALLMENT OF YACK YACK YACKING

AND A FEW MUSIC THINGS TO JUST MAKE THE VOICES STOP

#poetry #poem #pome #powtry #psych unit #hospitalization

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thecorteztwins · 6 years

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Munday Post

On Munday, I post a bunch of random thoughts and factoids about myself. Bulk is under the cut in case you don’t want a bunch of OOC on your dash. - I think I loved unicorns before I loved rats. I’ve loved both from a really young age so it’s hard to be sure, but I think unicorns were first. - Fun fact: Shrews are one of the few venomous mammals. The venom of the American short-tailed shrew is strong enough to kill mice. - Did you guys know that a combo meal at Subway comes with TWO cookies?! TWO!!!

- Nothing is wrong with that new board or the people but every time I log in I get anxiety, and then will nonetheless have the urge to log in. Again, no one has done anything, I think it’s just that I haven’t been at a board in three years so now I’m really fucking paranoid at the idea I’m inevitably going to have a problem with someone and be trapped in the choice of “do I stay or go”. Even though, again, ZERO ACTUAL PROBLEMS FROM THE BOARD OR PLAYERS i’m now regretting signing up just because it’s making my brain be so ridiculous and give me stomach butterflies over literally nothing. But I also refuse to fucking leave over literally nothing, I’m just gonna motherfucking deal with this til it stops. It also might not even be the board, I’m getting somatic anxiety at random and I’m pretty sure this is just from getting back on my meds. They’re SSRIs and I looked it up, apparently anxiety is side effect that can last from a few days to a few weeks. Hoping for a few days! - You know, when I was in high school, I hated being on my meds because I hated myself, it made me feel like I wasn’t likeable or good enough for anyone unless I wasn’t the “real” me. What I realize now is that being on medication *is* who I really am, that’s me with normal balanced brain chemistry. Depression is what alters me and makes me someone I’m not. Just thought I'd put that out there because I have no doubt I'm the only person I know who has felt that. - I’m trying out light amounts of strobing powder. - Speaking of strobing powder, I think it's super duper great to wear makeup FOR YOU (like seriously, SUPER GREAT) but also fine if you're wearing it for other people, if that's what you prefer. Maybe you do want to catch someone's eye, or communicate something about your personality, or enhance something you really like about yourself you want others to notice, or just show off your artistry (because it really is an art at a certain point) There's nothing wrong with wanting attention or approval. Most everyone does to some degree. It's only a problem if you're dependent on it, feel you're worthless without it, or try to force others to seek it in the same ways when they don't want to. But I also don't think you're a bad feminist or an insecure person or whatever if maybe you DO wanna wear lipstick for boys, if that's what you like, and I sometimes wonder if people feel they need to justify doing something like this with "but I'm doing it FOR ME" lest they be accused of pandering to the patriarchy or being shallow or slutty or what have you. - I like Lorde’s “Royals” as much as anyone (srsly I do) but I have a hard time really getting into songs that are all about being anti-material and how you’ll never wear a suit and tie and all, because I feel like in order to reject those things, you have to be in the position to have them available to you at all? It just so often sounds like privileged kids wishing they could be poor because of how cool and glamorous the hobo life seems to them from the outside. Likewise I have a hard time getting too irate at the songs that promote the opposite and focus on hyper-luxurious lifestyles, because they seem to be (to me) marketed towards much less wealthy demographics and I can see why they’d fantasize about that, in the same way rich kids fantasize about being poor (except it’s less annoying for poor people to fantasize about being rich, imo, for obvious reasons) So I don’t want to listen to songs about Grey Goose and crystals and tigers on a gold leash either but I also find it more than a little cold and unempathetic to look down on people who do. Hell, I’m more than privileged and I like to fantasize about being wealthy enough to pay my parents back for everything and live out in the country with a bunch of animals.

#munday #mun monday

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janiedean · 7 years

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I know the post from the person with the friend who said she might not completely be a woman was a few days ago (?) but it kind of bugged me because trans and non-binary people don't have to experience dysphoria to identify anywhere on that spectrum. And "not-completely" is a pretty common thing to start saying fairly quickly after someone starts questioning. If she thinks she might be non-binary, being offended at being mistaken for a man would still definitely be normal

*breathes in* anon, uhm, okay, I just hope I don’t sound like an ass and if I do I’m sorry, but:

actually dysphoria is a requirement to be diagnosed as trans and as far as I know/I’m told/I read/I see, nb people also are trans they just don’t experience dysphoria for all of their sex characteristics;

(read this for more medical explanations from a better source than myself);

(you also might want to read this about the specific of the diagnosis;)

like, I can’t **identify** as trans because it’s a medical condition. I happen to have no problem wearing men’s clothes and I casually enjoy crossdressing if I’m like cosplaying or dressing up, and when I still had an F cup (then I got a reduction but nvm) I wore men’s clothes not so occasionally because I couldn’t find shirts/coats that would fit me that were cut for women, but I never once in my life thought I was anything other than a woman/thought there was anything wrong with my parts/did it because I wanted to feel like a man or felt better in my own skin because I was wearing male garb. my aunt has never worn a dress in her entire life and I’ve never seen her wearing cute shoes or anything feminine but I’m fairly sure she’s never had a problem with her sex characteristics. being gender non-conforming doesn’t mean you’re trans or nb. I’m not nb because I’m entirely fine with wearing my dad’s old clothes one day and my favorite floral pink dress the next one. I’m still a cis woman. you have to experience some sort of dysphoria to be on that spectrum, otherwise how the hell do you know?

like, when I got explained what it meant that someone was trans (and it was my then almost forty-year old mom in the early nineties not now) I got told that some people felt like they were in the wrong body and solved it transitioning, I asked if it was possible, I got told that yes there was surgery, I was like ‘how do they know’, I got replied ‘well they do’ and it made entirely sense to me because I mean, I felt fine in my own, if someone else didn’t feel fine in theirs then they would have known, and thing is, if you don’t feel like the body parts you were born with are wrong how do you decide you’re *trans*? when there’s an entire criteria made to diagnose whether you are and excluding that you might have other disorders dysphoria is a symptom of?

then we can discuss for years about whether people with gender dysphoria might not want to transition for whichever reason or might not feel like it’s worth it or about the various types of dysphoria around but I am really not the right person to do it since I’m not trans and I can’t tell you anything more than what I hear from trans people or that I read online /on medical journals so like I really am not the person you wanna go ask information to but you can’t just decide you’re trans from one day to the other. like, you can realize that you are after years or in the middle of your life or whatever, but you must have been feeling something wrong with your body since you were aware of it or anyway from early on, you don’t develop gender dysphoria or any other symptoms tied to being diagnosed as trans from one day to the other and you don’t wake up in the morning suddenly not feeling fine with your body when the day before everything was fine;

which means that it sounds a bit sketchy that someone who until that point never had a problem with her body suddenly says she’s ‘not completely a woman’ but at the same time gets angry if someone mistakes her for a man because like, if you’re not one then why the hell would you get overtly angry at not being recognized as such? like, that’s why I told the anon to make sure that she really wasn’t questioning her gender identity and then I got a reply that about killed that angle tbh, and if she was non-binary she should have still felt dysphoria before in her life and not all of a sudden; obviously if she does have it for real it’s another problem but from anon said it didn’t sound like it;

anyway tldr dysphoria is a requirement because if you don’t have it then what’s the point? I don’t have it, I can be gender non-conforming when I want to (when it comes to clothing) and it doesn’t make me trans or nb because I don’t feel like my body is the wrong one. (I have other issues with how I look but having the wrong parts isn’t one of them.) it’s like, I can’t **identify as diabetic** if I don’t have insuline deficiency, and if I have it then I have diabetes, I don’t *identify as one*. and since gender dysphoria requires a medical treatment and taking meds/hormones and a therapy should you choose to transition (or should you choose to do something about it since it’s usually not a very nice thing to live with) you can’t just say you *identify* as something you need to take meds for if you have it. I can *identify* as straight because that’s my *sexual identity* and I know I find men attractive and not women, I can’t *identify* as diabetic since my insuline levels are fine. it’s the exact same idea and if you don’t have some sort of gender dysphoria and you don’t feel comfortable in the gender you were born in then what makes you trans, not liking dresses if you were born female? that’s gender roles, not needing HRT to alleviate dysphoria symptoms.

tldr: sorry, you do need dysphoria to be trans (and nb people are also trans as far as I know, just not binary) and if you say that’s not a requirement then my aunt is trans because she doesn’t dress feminine and my mom is nb because she dresses very femininely but has short hair, has always been the one driving the family car and can use whatever tool you throw at her except for drills and she’s sorry that she never learned how to use one. like, that’s gender roles and there’s no problem in being gender nonconforming, but neither of them is trans or nb and sure as hell they aren’t dysphoric, and it would be ridiculous to assume they were never mind actually creating trouble for trans people with actual dysphoria. and it’s a fairly dangerous mentality to have because if you don’t have dysphoria but take HRT or whatever because you’re *trans* then you do develop dysphoria because your entire body changes and it’s not the one you were born in, which would give it to you when you didn’t have it previously, and it’s not good for your health. like, sorry but it is a requirement and it’s not me, random cishet people saying it, it’s the DSM.

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #transsexuality cw #transsexuality for ts #guys if you want more detailed info go ask actual trans people tho #:/#Anonymous #ask post

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tamiddyinyourcity · 4 years

Text

i handled it like 98% good

A pretty obvious declaration of "hey im gonna be increasingly toxic, clingy, or selfish and heres why" and basically pretty much pointing out my own flaws in getting super attached to him, us both being really good in terms of being close but how its definitely gotten to an odd point if we both will keel over at the other leaving or something, and more

yet this nigga still had the nerve to try to roast me over instagram talkin shit about how i manifested a monogamous relationship over him loosely flirting (not that loose, if he was doing it every three damn texts to call me some cutesy name or praise me or sum shit)

and mocking me, for being pressed over the photo

like...... yeah you idiot, that was the entire point of that paragraph i sent you? saying that me getting clingier or my hopes up and reacting was going to compromise our friendship???? the paragraph was so obvious with the "im not getting what i want, and its gonna continue to upset you or cause resentment between us until i just step back and realize its not something that im down for" vibes there.....

his petty message almost made me wanna curse his whore ass out and block him, but not today.

its obviously not gonna make a guy feel amazing if the guy who repeatedly tells a girl he doesnt wanna lose her, ends up losing her. (not my problem, though, since its for the best as opposed to me anchoring with him and potentially draining his energy and whatnot.)

ill just give it time. if we dont talk again? Cool. Then he can be unstressed and i can live unpressed, instead of the borderline avoidant-attachment thing we had going on there, with heavy doses of codependency...... he can date or sext whoever without problem, and pull the "just because i stay up all night until dawn to talk to you from countries away, text you from the moment you wake and then sleep, sext you, flood you with compliments, confide in you heavier than others with my life, and heavily hint at wanting a relationship with you if not for distance, doesnt MEAN i actually want you" card to another girl, and live his life, still believing every woman he meets is crazy for actually developing a romantic attraction that he refuses to allow himself.

Honestly, fuck that nigga.

Hell, I'm not free of flaws either though. I noticed when it had transitioned from "yeah he's just my sext buddy for nudes and some mindless flirting or just random sweet nothings, nothing past that, but hes still a buddy", to "oh, yikes, ive got a crush on him."

And him thinking that taking away the sexual or romatic element would help, only added a bit of unnecessary envy or maybe anxiety on my behalf. The only way to actually cut it out would be to leave him, which I did.

Can't really feel bad if I knew it would stop the progression of our friendship worsening as a whole.

So, blocked for distance. I left the door open for if he has a crisis. Since well, even if he could flirt with me and not mean jack shit, or claim "don't worry about my tweets, i wont actually kill myself", doesn't mean I won't believe him.... if he goes off his meds, and starts claiming he can "see reality for it is". Since if his other friends who are also struggling, dont know what to say to get him back down to Earth, then, what might happen?

He can be a little self centered asshole sometimes, but whatever, most people can be when they dont have a listening nonjudgemental ear for so long.

Still, doesn't make it alright.

So i needed to leave.

It was getting unhealthy, and even his attempts to make me see his POV were failing. Needed my sanity back.

I'll be alright, so will he. He just needs space.

Alright, peace.

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bakugou-ou · 7 years

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Ik I'm anon and all, but I don't wanna get off it because the embarrassment would probably make it worse. I'm just tired of life… mines is pretty useless if you ask me, and according to everyone else who if ever met, I'm ugly too, I wouldn't kill myself because I'm too much of a coward to do that, but I don't know what I wanna do with my life and I can never be happy without someone ruining it That's why you and other creators' story helps me, it makes me think about my dram life I'll never get

Listen, friendo, whoever you are, you’re not ugly, and not useless. You don’t need to come off anon if you don’t want to, I get it. This is gonna get v personal here in a sec, so I’m putting the rest of this down under a cut in case no one gives a shit about my personal life and doesn’t wanna see my tragic anime backstory, but I’m sharing it with you because you said that you like my writing. This is the story of how I ended up running this blog, it’s got lots of talk about suicide, mentions of rape. It’s not pretty, so read at your own risk. Also, it’s long.

When I was four years old, I tried to jump off the balcony of my apartment, I wanted to die. It wasn’t a kid doing a stupid thing, I literally thought if I fall from this height and hit my head on the ground, I will die and then went for it. I fell onto a 7ft tall cinder block mailbox on the way down, four feet below my balcony, crawled off of it, and walked back upstairs to my parents like nothing had happened.

What was wrong that someone barely past toddlerhood wanted to kill themselves over? I don’t know, maybe it was just that my parents were fighting all the time and hated each other, maybe it was because I have the genes for it. More on that last bit later.

When I was six, I tried to throw myself in front of a car, thinking that if a small child like myself got hit by a car going 25+ mph, I’d die. The driver hit the brakes, I played it off like I’d tripped into the road, no one knew how I really felt. When I’d told my parents I wanted to die, they thought I was being dramatic, they didn’t think a kid my age even knew what that meant, the finality of it. But I knew, and I craved it.

When I was eight, I tried to hang myself in my older sister’s bedroom with her sheets. She found me, took me down before I blacked out, and we never spoke about it again after that night. I was pissed with my sister for saving me, I cried and punched her as she held onto me.

When I was twelve, I tried to eat a bottle of Xanax, thinking it would kill me. It didn’t, it just made me really, really fucking sick. Not sick enough to go to the hospital, but very sick. I had no lasting organ damage, but I still wanted to die.

When I was fourteen, my boyfriend dumped me over the phone on a day he was supposed to come to my house, and ignored me while I cried. He had me on speaker phone, actually, and his friends were laughing about it and I could hear them. I could hear him laughing along with them. So, I decided to eat a bottle of asprin for dinner a couple of weeks later. I was stupid, it didn’t work, and I was hospitalized in the mental ward for 2 weeks.

When I was seventeen, I had just left an abusive relationship, graduated high school, and my mom told me that my ex raping me repeatedly for 9 months was my fault and that I was asking for it by continuing to date him the whole time. I was too scared to leave, I had been told by a counselor at school that no one would believe me. I tried to eat all of my antidepressants. I was hospitalized for 3 weeks in the mental ward.

When I was eighteen, I tried to do that same thing again, in conjunction to another thing my mom said about my abuser. My cousin had been raped while studying abroad, and she was talking about poor cousin, your poor cousin, it’s so traumatic, but when I mentioned that I’d been abused for three quarters of a year and no one batted an eye, she told me I was being selfish, and that my time for being the victim was over. How dare I detract from my cousin. So, again, I tried to eat a bottle of pills. I was hospitalized for one week in the psych ward.

Earlier this year, at the age of twenty, I was hospitalized because I felt like I was going to slit my wrists if I stayed home. So I checked myself into the hospital. I was there for a week while my doctor tried to find better meds for me because clearly mine weren’t working. My mom had told me that she was ashamed of my sexuality and my gender identity, and the rape issue came up again, with her saying I wanted it, that I let it happen.

I have bipolar II, borderline personality disorder, OCD, PTSD, generalized anxiety disorder, and selective eating disorder. A lot is messed up with me. I get the anxiety from my mother, and the bipolar II from my father. The PTSD was a gift from my ex boyfriend, and the rest I just ended up with.

When I was a little kid, I loved books; my father read all sorts of books to me, all the time. Artemis Fowl was the first series we read, then Harry Potter, then my mother read me the Chronicles of Narnia, then my father read me A Series of Unfortunate Events. We also read other books, things that weren’t series. I loved reading, and I wanted to write things that made people feel the way I felt about the stuff I read.

Both of my parents are naturally talented writers. At the age of six, I began to write fan fiction for Harry Potter. I was way too young to be on the internet, but I was online writing fanfics on snitchseeker. Some of the only validation I found in my life was from random strangers on the internet, encouraging me to continue writing and complimenting my plot lines, even if my grammar and spelling were atrocious; on the internet, no one knows you’re a little kid writing Drarry fanfic.

I was a really athletic kid, so I didn’t spend all my time writing, but a good chunk of my free time was spent writing if I wasn’t surfing, playing soccer, or skateboarding. I didn’t have a lot of friends, I wasn’t likable, apparently, and I had a really hard time in school. I got into a lot of fights because people picked on me, but I was always the one who got in trouble for defending myself. It pissed me off. I developed issues with authority. I wrote in composition books to escape all the crap around me.

By the time I turned 11, writing was my life. I had just moved to California from Hawaii, my life was basically turned upside down, and I was miserable. So, I made a myspace account, wrote fanfic on there, and threw myself headlong into it. I have a fanfiction.net account I’ve long since forgotten my username and password for, but it’s out there with dramione fanfic, sasusaku, things that I liked at the time. I need to escape everything happening around me. My dad, my best friend, wasn’t anywhere near me, my mom was a bitch, and my demented grandmother moved in with us. It was miserable.

By the time I was 15, the only hobby I had outside of practicing for orchestra, was writing. I laid in bed on days off and just sat on my laptop, writing. I stopped publishing things after I got a mean comment once, my first one ever. It bruised the ego I didn’t even have so badly that I refused to publish anything for three years.

When I was 18, I published my first fanfic in 4 years. It was a Criminal Minds fanfic, featuring an OC and Spencer Reid. I was so fucking proud of it, and while lots of people loved it, a lot of people said mean shit. So, I posted Loki fanfic, which got infinitely more love, and then I did an alternate version of my Criminal Minds fic, that one got even more hate than the original. Then I published a Wallander fanfic. I haven’t touched them in 3 years, despite people asking me for more.

Up until this time last month, I never showed my writing to anyone. I kept everything to myself, hidden, I was ashamed of it. It is my only coping mechanism, but I couldn’t share it with anyone. My parents had my computer passwords up until I was about 16, sometimes they’d look through my text files and come to me later and tell me how amazing my writing was, and encourage me to publish it. But I never believed them.

On a whim, I started this blog; I love Boku no Hero Academia, it has given me something to look forward to every week. I live Chapter to Chapter, episode to episode, I track my time with it, it’s a coping mechanism. I saw that there was a decently active fandom on here, and I wanted to be a part of it. I hesitated on making the blog for a few weeks, thinking that no one would want to read my writing.

A month later, there are nearly 600 people here, constantly asking me to write scenarios and headcanons for them, telling me they love my writing, and think I’m a nice person, and that they’re glad I’m here. Every time I get a message like that, I cry. I never thought anyone would ever care about my writing, let alone write it. When I got a single follower that wasn’t a friend I know in real life, I cried. I was so excited. When I got my first request, I was so, so excited. When people began sending more stuff in, when people started talking to me and wanting to be friends, I cried. I’ve made a dozen friends on here as a direct result of their writing, and my writing.

I love running this blog, and I love writing for everyone. I have felt useless and like a waste of space my entire life, I’ve been told that my entire life, I’m made to feel like that every day of my life even now by the people around me, save for my friends, but when I log on here, I’m reminded that hey, maybe I’m not useless. If I manage to make even one person happy with what I do, that’s all I want.

So, you saying that my writing helps you, helps me. All I’ve ever wanted in life is to make other people happy, to please them, and my writing is apparently doing that. I’m really, really lucky to be in this position.

Even if you don’t have something like this, you’re not useless. You should be here. I know you said you’d never kill yourself because you’re too cowardly, but I’ve never seen suicide as cowardly, but that’s probably because I’ve tried to do it so many times. I’ve made a total of 8 attempts in 21 years. I don’t think I’ll be trying it again, though. It’s taken me 21 years to find something that I’m kind of maybe a little good at, that makes me even a tiny bit happy, and that does some good for other people, too.

Shit sucks, life is really awful, and I completely understand the plethora of reasons any given person would feel like wanting to die. I’ve never thought it unreasonable or dramatic to feel that way, it’s just how some people feel. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life until 3 years ago, and even now I’m unsure if it’s really what I want to do with my life. I’ve got a lot going on behind the scenes that makes me feel like shite, and a lot of the time, the people around me try to ruin what little I have that I enjoy and that makes me happy…

Even with all that happening, somehow, I’m still here, and I’m writing this. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I get your feelings, I hear you, they’re valid, and I love you, stranger. Because I feel the same way as you all the time. This blog is my escape from that. It’s really the only thing I have keeping me from my intrusive thoughts.

If you never come off anon, that’s fine, but if you need to talk about things, I’m here for you, or anyone else who needs it. Really, if I can even try to help, I’ll do my damnedest to help. I hate seeing other people feeling as junk as I do on a daily basis, I want to try and make it better. If being a friend, even if I don’t know who you are, helps, I want to help. If writing things helps, I want to do it. But, for me, it’s not just helping other people, it’s helping myself. You coming into the box helped me. So, you’re not useless. You’re keeping me here, too.

#anon #not a request #chiichat #admin post #tw suicide #tw rape #read at your own risk

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nicolekidmanwigfactory · 7 years

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ok, so listen to the shit my psychiatrist told me yesterday because IT. IS. JUICY. (TW: eating disorders)

i need to vent but here’s a read more in case you wanna skip this because this is LOOOOOONG

i was describing to her how i’m currently pricing out personal trainers to help me start exercising again in a healthy, non-disordered way because the last three times (in the past 18-24 months or so) that I tried to start working out again, I found myself spiraling and getting overly anxious or unrealistic about my goals, so i’d either overexercise, restrict, and/or purge.

as i described the height of my exercise compulsion-- highest intensity elliptical for 60 minutes or 2000 calories burned (whichever came second) every single day, no exception (Sundays were my off day and I relished them)-- from seven years ago, which was worse than the actual bulimia at times, she just cut me off and said an hour a day wasn’t too bad, ignoring 1. the 2000 calories thing, 2. that i weighed about 130lbs less I do now, and 3. i was either severely restricting or compensating for binge behaviors from voracious appetite swings 4. caused by hormonal fluctuations 5. due to then-undiagnosed thyroid cancer.

BUT WAIT. THERE’S MORE. then she laid into my dietitian and said eating disorder dietitians in general are overly focused on “making sure their patients are comfortable eating” instead of losing weight (if they're ones who need to, of course). ummm...getting me less regimented in my eating is the fucking point. i’d eat something i wasn’t “supposed” to and then purge it somehow (exercise, vomit, restriction, etc.). <-- that’s the fucking basics of the fucking disorder, and that’s not even explicitly mentioning the mental illness aspect.

again, she told ME, A LONG-DIAGNOSED, DEPRESSED GRADUATE STUDENT WITH A HISTORY OF TREATMENT FOR BULIMIA AND OTHER EATING DISORDERS that i need to lose weight. Yes, i know that. does she really think i don’t know that? i wear my clothes and look in the mirror and have been in eating disorder treatment for the past five fucking years. what makes her think this is news to me? does she not think i don’t remember how I bust my ass off to healthily lose 100 pounds in college, and then gained it all back (and then some) in FOUR FUCKING MONTHS when my bulimia turned into binge eating disorder and my EATING-DISORDER AND QUASI-SUICIDAL MIND tricked myself into thinking this was the healthier option?! BECAUSE I SURE AS HELL REMEMBER. she does have the point that my weight is not healthy in the long-term (of course i know that), but neither is a fucking depression and any kind of eating disorder.

i WANT to lose weight but my dietitian agreed to work with me on the condition that my focus COULD NOT be on losing weight (she was gonna work with me no matter what, but she’s a genius with how she approaches her clients) until my eating patterns were stable and the frequency of my disordered behaviors dropped dramatically (which they have- i’ve only purged ONCE in the past year. My binges are not just far and in between but also much smaller and cheaper than they used to be). so if she’s gonna come after my dietitian, this psychiatrist is also coming after me because i would not be where i am without her (+ my therapist).

okay, i did expect some of this coming into the appointment though, so i did subject myself to this a little. she said some of this stuff in october at the first appointment i had with her but i was able to talk back against it in my head and discuss it with my therapist and i didn’t think about it again for a couple weeks. but the shit she was saying yesterday was just so much more inappropriate and insensitive that I only tolerate it for the refills on my meds.

i’m not saying she’s an awful psychiatrist. i just feel she needs to work on her bedside manner, or at least with her overweight eating disordered patients (because we already feel pretty shitty about that, and you don’t even need to have an eating disorder to feel that) or she needs more training in eating disorder treatment protocol. at one point in both appointments, she implied with the subtlety of a sledgehammer that it won’t be possible for me to have good self-esteem at my current size and weight, which completely defeats the point of body positivity and loving yourself at any size (FYI: Loving yourself at any size ≠ pro-obesity. Anyone who says otherwise is looking for a socially acceptable way to hate on fat people. The key word is “any.”).

All this said, she is a capable clinician. the medication regimen she has me on is working beautifully. my depression is so much more stable and the highs and lows of my mood are more like speed bumps and potholes than the mountains and ocean trenches of before. my anxiety is under much better control too (though a lot of that is because of the strategies I’ve been working on with my wonderful therapist) and the anxiety is also more situational. after all, i did go a gay bar by myself last weekend for the first time ever (it was at 2:00 on a Sunday afternoon, but i still did it despite the anxiety!).

I am also so appreciative of her ADHD diagnosis. I was apprehensive at first because the diagnosis was so quick and not even the focus of the appointment, but the medication she put me on is working. i thought that high school killed any enjoyment i once had for serious, intellectual reading, but since the medication i’ve started paging through the plethora of books i’ve bought over the years but never read and gotten absorbed by random pages even though i don’t know what’s going on. I don’t remember the last time was able to concentrate for extended periods of times without a deadline or outside pressure. i can read lengthy journal articles in record time and still absorb the information. the only downside is they kill my appetite, which she admitted she is part of the reason why prescribed them for me. (this part i’m not that upset about since i have been on binge suppressants for years and I see this as an additional tool- I’ve had no urge to abuse them other than the ED voice that instinctually tells me to, but I’ve just ignored it from the beginning).

so even though she is highly insensitive to my needs, she is also a highly capable and otherwise qualified psychiatrist. however, during therapy today, i discussed her comments with my therapist and that I would continue to see her while i searched/waited for an appointment with a different psychiatrist, since I had to wait 7 months to see this current doctor. instead, my therapist jumped on the phone, called a couple numbers and was able to get me an appointment with a psychiatrist she trusted for right after the new year. so i only have to see this current one once more and that’s only so I can get refills and continue my current medication regiment, which been working wonderfully for me.

i didn’t mean to make this so long but it feels good to get this out. my clinician is gonna inform my dietitian (which is making me impatient for my next appointment because she was ready beat a bitch last time because of this doctor and i want to see what she has to say this time) and then, if i didn’t mind, she wanted to bring this up with some managers at her location. i don’t care if she informs some higher ups, i just don’t want my name to get back to the psychiatrist until after the next/last appointment. i’m also going to file a complaint, not for vengeance or anything, just so her superiors can hopefully let her know how other patients might interpret her comments.

at least for me, this psychiatrist’s comments aren’t about me not being able to handle what i don’t want to hear. they were unprofessional, inappropriate, and frankly, uninformed and dangerous. if i hadn’t been further along in my recovery, i might have been liable to abuse my adderall as an appetite suppressant for weight loss purposes, start exercising and dieting again when i’m not mentally ready, or just accept her fat-shaming for what it wasn’t since since it was coming out of the mouth of an MD.

But I’m lucky to be in a place where I can recognize those comments for what they are. And I give credit to my therapist and dietitian, who’ve gotten me that place in the past year and a half (and I guess the current psychiatrist deserves some credit too for her medication regimen that was effective right off the bat, but that’s where I’ll leave it). And to the therapists, dietitians, and doctors I’ve have in the past five years, but mostly to my current ones, because they got me back on track when I moved back to WI and then further along than I have ever gotten before. Their voices are nagging in my ear to myself credit to, so I guess I played my part too.

@lorinwasadiver let me know when you’ve read this bc i want to know your angry thoughts

#tw eating disorder #depression

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transssexualheart · 7 years

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All

flower crown- when did you last sing to yourself?earlier today bc i was trying to learn the song on guitar

fairy lights- if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know?do my friends actually love me

daisies- what is the greatest accomplishment of your life?honestly? not ending it lmao

1975- what is the first happy memory that comes to your mind, recent or otherwise?this is weirdly specific and not even particularly happy but i remember this one time when i was little it was late at night and my dad had been reading alice in wonderland to me beforehand and he had an apple that he was cutting into thin slices and eating it as he went and he would give me the slices because i was sitting next to him i don’t know why i even consider it a happy memory

matte- if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?i’m not sure. i think i might just kill myself before it happened lmao because the ideal would be “do things that make me happy and be happy before i go”, but doing certain things aren’t going to make me happy, what will make me happy is years of work towards that happiness so what would be the point of still living if i knew that i only had a year to be happy because i will not make it to happiness in time

black nail polish- do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things?i don’t have one

pantone- describe a person close in your life in detail.wow this made me realize i’m not really that close to many people. anyway no

moodboard- do you feel you had a happy childhood?lol no my parents divorced when i was too young to remember them originally deciding to get divorced, they were fighting for custody for at least a year, my dad died when i was eight, a lot of shit went down

stars- when did you last cry in front of another person?does crying in the same room as someone else but it being dark count? because if so that was just last month

plants- pick a person to stargaze with and explain why you picked them.whomst the fuck do yall think and why lmao

converse- would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them?only if we probably would never see each other again

lace- when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you?i can’t remember when but sometime this summer and probably with you

handwriting- if you were about to die, and you could only say one more sentence to one person, what would you say and to whom?not to be a cheesy motherfucker but “i love you” and probably to u bc like, i would be dying

cactus- what is your opinion on brown eyes?i have them and i used to hate them, but after seeing a lot of love for them i hate mine less

sunrise- pick a quote and describe what it means to you personally.shit i can’t think of one

oil paints- what would you title the autobiography of your life so far?An Absolute Shit Show

overalls- what would you do with a billion dollars? in the future use it to pay for meds and therapy and a nice college and constantly spoil my friends and spoil myself kinda bc honestly anyone that says you’ll donate it ALL is a big liar don’t act like you aren’t gonna buy some nice sweaters beforehand, and donate to ppl who need money like u kno those posts that are like “help a trans disabled woman leave her abusive home” i would throw my money around at those and other such good causes that i believe in

combat boots- are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way?i’m not sure? i mean if someone fucks me over and never apologizes then no i won’t forgive them but if someone makes a mistake that they recognize as a mistake and apologizes for it then i will forgive them

winged eyeliner- write a hundred letter word to your twelve year old self.hey. i would really like to say to you that things have gotten so much better but they haven’t really. but here’s the thing. you have a therapist now and you don’t fight with your mom and stepdad as much because you figured out how to stay out of it. you have a friend that supports you and loves you and will do her best for you, which is exactly the friend that you’re probably being a dick to right now so cut that shit out. my point is, you’ll get worse. but you’ll start to get better. it’s okay.

pastel- would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel?fashion wise? probably pastel

tattoos- how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? explain.i have two tattoos and i want more, i would love piercings but i’ll probably get them infected.

piercings- do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not?i do, because it makes me feel more confident and it’s fun

bands- talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way.i don’t think i really have one

messy bun- the world is listening. pick one sentence you would tell them.“i’m gay”

cry baby- list the concerts you have been to and how they made you feel.i’ve only been to two and neither were life changing or any of that, i saw twenty one pilots and the 1975 and both were fun

grunge- who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say?idk man

space- do you have a desk/work space and how is it organized/not organized?i have a desk for my computer and it’s covered in random shit like dead batteries and candy wrappers

white bed sheets- what is your nighttime routine?get in bed, turn off lights, don’t fall asleep for another three hours due to my depression keeping me up at night

old books- what’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know?everything

beaches- if you had to dye your hair, how would you dye/style it and why?dye it pink bc i wanna and i can’t really style my hair its too short

eyes- pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do?what the FUCK is that

11:11- name three wishes and why you wish for them.to be happy, to be loved, and to not be made out to be a freak by cis ppl for obvious reasons

painting- what is the best halloween costume you have ever put together? if none, make one up. idk i guess last years bc i styled a wig with hairspray and everything

lighting- what’s the worst thing you have ever done while drunk or high?ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY SIX TEXTS SENT TO SARAH FROM ONE TO TWO AM, A LOT OF SHIT ABOUT HER BEING PRETTY AND NOTHING BEING REAL

thunder- what’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars?become a racist shit bag

storms- you can only listen to one song for the rest of your life, or only see one person for the rest of your life. which and why?oooh man hard choice. i would have to go with one person bc if i can only listen to one song how will i play piano or guitar but if i can only not see the person i can still have other friends by calling or texting

love- have you ever fallen in love? describe what it’s like to realize you’re in love.i have, here we goit feels like being hit by something hard and fast. because what the fuck? suddenly you miss this person too much. more than you used to and more than you know you should and it makes sense because you’ve been thinking about them all day but it still doesn’t make sense because why is this happening why did things just change like this. and it feels weird and new but in a good way, and you like that breathless feeling and the way your chest feels like it’s going to explode and you can’t stop smiling even though you know you’re so fucked because you feel alive and in love and it’s everything and suddenly all the music you listen to makes you feel like you’re in a movie and everything seems so perfectly fucked up and you like it whether you want to or not

clouds- if you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? if you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair?i’m a boy and i would rock that nail polish i’ve done it before and i’ll do it again

coffee- what’s your starbucks order and who would you trust to order it for you, if anyone? i’ve never had starbucks

marble- what is the most important thing to you in your life right now?whomst the fuck do u think

i can always rely on u to ask me shit thank u

#ask tag

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tumblunni · 7 years

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Okay, kinda TMI talk here about period problems and Bunni Being Worried And Dysphoric, blablabla I’m just having a huge stupid panic moment right now cos I read some internet medical articles and LIKE USUAL I’m being all ‘oh god i probably have the worst case scenario disease on the list, I’m gonna fuckin die’ even though I literally have never been right about that even ONCE when I’ve done it. Still, it sucks having a stupid anxiety disorder cos you can just feel your body throwing you into panic attack mode even as you are rationally saying to yourself that this worrying thing has a 0% chance of happening. Its impossible to just choose to not be afraid of something... *sigh*... SO YEAH ANYWAY UMM Don’t want to worry anyone, I’m totally gonna be fine and I’m just being irrational mess about something that’s probably gonna be a super easy solution once I see the doctor. I’ll just book an appointment tomorrow or later this week, no biggie. And I’ll write all this stuff down so I can avoid freaking out and crying over how embarassing Vagina Health is when you’re trying to ask your cis male doctor about it and you’re a trans person who just wants to stab themself whenever they think about this goddamn Wrong Organ. like seriously, the biggest comfort I am using right now to come down from this panic attack is ‘hey, if it IS a big horrible cancer tumour, then at least it means they cant stop me from getting a hysterectomy now!’ :P so umm anyway that was probably too TMI already but I’ll put the more TMI stuff under the cut

OKAY! SO! I’ve suffered from REALLY HORRIBLY BAD periods for like.. ever They usually had an issue of being way too short but also WAY TOO POWERFUL. I’d have just a one day absolute burning pain blast where I would literally be unable to walk. LITERALLY BE UNABLE TO WALK! Like, I COULD NOT STAND that my dad was just telling me ‘;you’re lying, you’re exaggerating, its just cramps’ when the pain WASNT EVEN THE GODDAMN CRAMPS. I got fucking stabbing pain in my lower back for no damn reason, was inexplicably constipated and throwing up, got a huge hot-and-cold-flushes fever, complete muscle weakness in my legs which made them fucking shut down, and like.. LABOR SYMPTOMS. Its this weird horrible downward pressure pain in my pelvis and I was just a goddamn kid so i was like.. ‘i cant even tell if this is part of the constipation’, i would be spending five hours on the toilet desperately trying to shit out a shit that didn’t exist, as my body spasmed itself to death forcibly ejecting out way more blood than I ever thought I even had. I It took me so long to find out that that wasnt normal for a period?? That this didnt happen to everyone???? And cos its SO GROSS AND EMBARASSING to talk about these particular symptoms, I didnt tell anyone. Even when i finally was able to get some pain medication from the doctor, I just mentioned the abnormal amount of bleeding and pain, not the weird ‘wtf my bowels just stopped working as if my ovaries are constantly punching them for 24 hours’ part. Seriously just fuckin.. so degrading and disgusting.

And i was a fuckin 13 year old kid, this just abruptly started in my second year of having a period, and my dad was a sick fucker who ‘didnt believe in doctors’ and didnt believe i was telling the truth about my symptoms. So I had to live FROM 13 TO 17 without EVEN KNOWING THAT ASPIRIN AND IBUPROFEN EXISTED! i was going through all of this without even the basic pain medication most people have for normal periods! Once monthly I would BEG GOD TO LET ME DIE Seriously i would spend THE WHOLE 24 HOURS screaming in horrible pain on the floor that gradually got worse until I finally couldnt move my legs and passed out from exhaustion. And all i could do was hope that I’d get weaker each month and pass out faster, cos seriously being able to sleep through it was THE BIGGEST BLESSING EVER like DEAR GOD like ONCE I was able to get to sleep during the point where it was milder pain and then when I woke up it was already over and AAAAAAHHHHH I got to go a full two months without feeling that death madness again and seriously fuckin.. how the fuck could my dad look at this small child screaming and vomiting and sweating like I was in the sahara and gushing blood from every oriface cos i fuckin VOMITED SO HARD I VOMITED BLOOD and somehow still think I was just ‘making it up’

god one of my worst memories was how I had this huge horrible period death attack in the middle of school and my poor teacher was trying to comfort me and trying to call my dad to pick me up, and he just Did Not Give A Shit so the teacher tried to drive me home himself and just.. god I was so happy even as I was dying just cos I got to meet ONE PERSON who had sympathy for me and even actually said ‘hey you should see a doctor’. And all i gave him in return was throwing up in a trash bin for an hour in the back of his car, and then he had to meet my awful father and have a door slammed in his face. And then as soon as he got me inside the house dad just hit me and screamed at me for ‘embarassing him’ and ‘ditching school’ and man the only good side effect of being Fucking Dead On The Floor Already is that I did not feel a thing of it and barely even managed to hear a word he said. I think he just gave up cos seriously i wasnt even fuckin moving, i guess the fun goes out of beating your kid when they’re too fuckin stoned on their own vomit fumes to even be able to cry anymore. Oh and my other Even More Worse memory was when I missed the chance to see Howl’s Moving Castle cos of this shit. I saw like the first twenty minutes of it before my period hit while I was in the middle of the theater and then i had to spend three hours crying and puking and bleeding and laying on the floor in a pool of my own vomit in a cinema bathroom while my dad screamed at me as if i was purposely faking just to embarass him. Like seriously dude?? BASIC LOGIC, PLEASE! he was CONSTANTLY accusing me of doing really horrible manipulative things all the time, as some sort of twisted excuse to hit me and pretend i was an evil fucker causing every problem in his life so he didnt have to feel guilty about doing it. And it NEVER MADE ANY GODDAMN SENSE! Even if i WAS an evil monster, what would that evil monster’s MOTIVE be? Why would i constantly do these evil things that serve no purpose except to get myself half killed by my dad? Why would I ruin a cinema trip that I asked to go to, to see a movie I waited all year to see??? And the most vivid disgusting part of it all was when he walked in and saw me like that and I LITERALLY ASKED TO DIE, and he LITERALLY LAUGHED. I begged him to call a doctor, he laughed and said I was exaggerating. I begged him to call an AMBULANCE, he laughed harder. I told him to his face that I wanted to kill myself just to make the pain stop, and he acted as if it was the funniest thing he ever heard, turned around and left and watched another movie. The poor cinema staff were left taking care of me while he ignored me, he wouldnt even take me home, he was just like... waiting til he finally got bored enough to do it. His biggest concern was ‘eww you made me walk into the girls’s bathroom’... I’m never gonna be able to stop remembering that, I’m never gonna be able to deny how absolutely certain I was that I’d rather end my life right there than live this nightmare for another month and another month for like fuckin 30 or 50 years. God I wanted to kill myself A LOT when i was with my dad, but this one was the worst cos for all I knew I’d be stuck with this pain forever even if I managed to escape him. I was so fucking ignorant! I didnt even know there was easy to acquire pain medication you could buy in any supermarket across the world! I mean, I still have the problem of my period being more severe than expected and all, but the meds at least made it NON SUICIDAL LEVELS OF PAIN. And god I once wanted to kill myself as a young child because I didnt know those existed. And I didnt know that transgender people existed or that there were words to put to my other feelings of disgust about having a period. I may still be depressed in a lot of ways, but I’m living a way better life now!

So umm yeah anyway my current worry today is because my period hasn’t ended for like 2 or 3 months now. I can’t even pinpoint the exact time it happened, cos it started with just light spotting and my period coming a few days late every month for like a year? and then it would last longer, and sometimes I’d get a small bit of bleeding suddenly starting up five days later and ending within a few hours. I sorta didnt think much of any of these symptoms and i cant nail down exactly when it just increased so much that it became this noticeably constant. And its REALLY weird for me, cos also all this stuff came along with my period not hurting as much?? And now for the last month i haven’t felt any pain at all, so I cant even tell which part of all this bleeding was the actual period. And I’m bleeding way less than usual, its just... constant. Its not even enough to be a big problem so I didnt wanna tell anyone and be a bother, its not like I’m losing blood enough to get light headed, its just annoying having so many pairs of underwear ruined and feeling more dysphoric 24/7. And it makes me pretty anxious cos I didnt know what was causing this and whether it was a symptom of some bigger problem- like, it doesnt hurt but maybe its a sign i have fuckin death doom cancer or something and its suddenly gonna start hurting any second now???

So yeah, today I finally stopped being anxious and decided I’m gonna call a doctor next week, and did some internet research to see if this is serious enough to really call the doctor. And cos I’m dumb I panicked thinking of the worst case scenario, but also doing that research kinda cheered me up cos now at least I know an explanation for why the symptoms seemingly got worse on random days, and like.. this isnt an impossible thing. Cos seriously, yeah, raised in a household with No Doctors Ever. i dont know very much about medical health, when this first started happening i freaked out cos i had NEVER HEARD of bleeding outside the regular monthly cycle and from all I knew it was PHYSICALLY IMPOSSIBLE and I’m PROBABLY DYING xD But no, apparantly spotting and mistimed periods and going one or two weeks of constant bleeding are all completely natural variances that just happen, and you dont even need to call a doctor for that. I just need to call a doctor cos its been happening a bit more often than that, they say up to a month is a normal amount. And apparantly the vast, VAST majority of conditions that cause constant period are not remotely life threatening, the worst possible scenario is becoming infertile or just.. having to continue experiencing mildly annoying bleeding a lot. Apparantly a lot of people choose to not have an operation cos they don’t wanna lose the ability to have children, but fuck I’ve been hoping to lose that thing FOREVER, jesus christ! damn docs won’t let you have a hysterectomy ‘without reason’, like seriously why is ‘i dont want to have children’ not a reason?? and why is ‘i have never had sex and never will have sex’ not a reason and also why is ‘i’m nonbinary transgender and would like this surgery even though i don’t want genital surgery’ not an option seriously MAN PLEASE can I at least go on hormones doc. seriously everyone is being all ‘well treating your ptsd and depression is a bigger priority right now’ and i mean ITS NOT LIKE THERE’S A REAL DEADLINE FOR WHEN THAT’S GONNA END and DYSPHORIA KINDA DOESNT MAKE IT ANY EASIER gahhhh god i really REALLY hope they let me have a hysterectomy i am gonna be SO DISSAPPOINTED now if it turns out this ovary failure is not the particular sort of ovary failure that requires removal of ovaries. plz kill them. pliz mr docter. they haf plagued my lyfe 4 too longe. XD god, sorry, like I said I’m just really dysphoric talking about Vagina Health Stuff so i’m getting a bit irrational and ranty. Its just like that ‘please can i skip the middle man and get to the end of the transition already’ feeling. I know it would be stupid to not listen to my doctor’s advice on the subject. Tho I do kinda feel like everyone is just patronizing me and doenst think that nonbinary really exists, i’m still trying to get my support worker to stop calling me a girl... MAN IM GOING OFFTOPIC TO A WHOLE OTHER ANXIETY HERE

Anyway! Researching into possible causes of it! It’s entirely possible i may have Adenomyosis, which would ironically mean I have an excess of estrogen in my system and am like.. Too Female To Female. I’m gonna fuckin cry if its this, that’s like the biggest fuckin sign that your sex doesn’t have to align with your gender! or lol maybe god is trying to compensate, i just imagine its like throwing too much sugar into a cake to try and make up for it tasting like shit. sorry dude, woman machine broke. BUT I don’t seem to have like a huge amount of symptoms for that one, aside from just the excess bleeding outside of my cycle. So I’m leaning more towards the ones that also include back pain and uhh.. gross bowel issues of embarassingness. It might be that I was always showing preemptive signs of one of these conditions!

One other that it could possibly be is Endometriesis which is a really fuckin cool sounding word but impossible to spell, lol. Apparantly its this TERRIFYING CONCEPT where your uterus is like.. a tumour in your gut. For whatever reason there’s uterine tissue growing in your intestines, stomach or other butt related tubes. I dont wanna read more about it cos its already making me terrified and anxious, so I dont even know HOW exactly that works. I mean is it like there’s a big ol hole stabbing through your organs connecting two unconnected things together?? Cos if so, I cant understand why its saying that its an easy operation and a never fatal condition! So I’m assuming maybe its more like everything is still separate but like.. the composure of the cells in your intestines is wrong? There’s like a tiny vestigal lump of uterine lining tissue in your stomach lining instead? i guess maybe they’re somehow vaguely related, so like.. if the human body begins from stem cells that can grow into any other cell to make a full human, it would seem entirely plausable that rather similar organs or skin thingies could accidentally form all vice versa. i guess thats also the reason for mutations like people growing an extra finger? I had a friend who had two extra fingers at birth, actually! I felt really sad when she told me about it, it was like years after we met that she felt comfortable enough to tell me about where her hand scars came from. i just remember i felt SO CONFUSED why she’d even think that like.. she had to be super certain i was a good person who wouldnt make fun of her. Why on earth would you mock someone for something like that?? How many other people must have treated her like shit if she feels this ashamed of her own hands?? And I felt really sad that she had them amputated too, I just find it a bit disturbing and surreal that there’s this societal thing of giving extensive surgery to very young children to ‘correct’ something that’s completely harmless just because it ‘looks wrong’. i’ve read stories about stuff like a child having like a split arm, an extra arm attatched at the elbow. And that particular operation to ‘correct’ it literally made the kid lose all ability to use both arms, just so they could have one ‘normal’ looking nonfunctional one. Thats messed up! Its EVEN WORSE that this happens the most commonly with intersex conditions, its invasive GENITAL surgery on newborn infants and even assigning them a random gender based on whichever form of genitals was easiest to ‘recreate’ with plastic surgery. These poor kids dont even get to know about what happened to them until they grow up and uncover this horrifying pandora’s box of medical files...

Oh, and speaking of intersex conditions, another possibility is that I might have PCOS, which is like being intersex in hormones but not outer genetalia. But I’m not sure about it cos I don’t have a lot of the more visible symptoms of it, aside from adult acne and ‘weight gain' which is.. well im pretty damn sure I gained this weight the normal way instead XD It also says that unusual hair growth might be a symptom, but it doesnt seem I have it in any of the places that’re common for the disease. I’ve had a weird thing of suddenly gaining light spots of hair on my belly and neck in the past few years. Its weird cos it really is just spots for the neck, its only growing in the right side in a little circle. i dunno what’s up with that! It sucks cos I really would like to be able to grow proper facial hair, I’m only able to do a very spotty mustache that just makes me look even more like a woman I think. i just look like an ugly woman, I feel like everyone can instantly tell I’m DFAB and they’re just laughing at me for this one failed attempt to look masculine. Also it fuckin sucks being overweight cos binders don’t work as well! They’ve gotta be wider to fit around a bigger body of course, but that means its hard to find the right size that’re be tight where it counts withough being tight on the shoulders. I think my current one is too baggy, I can’t stand even looking like a normal dude of my weight level, i cant stand even having regular fat guy ‘moobs’. I WANNA DESTROY THEM ENTIRELY!! Also, incidentally, I’m kinda terrified the most of being diagnosed with PCOS just cos it’d make my dysphoria worse. It’d kinda make me worry that maybe my identity is invalid and I only feel this way cos I have this hormone problem, and I’d probably refuse to take any treatment just in case it somehow cures my transness :P

The one that currently seems most likely is ‘uterine fibroids’. Apparantly its a non cancerous form of tumour that’s so small that its not remotely damaging, and surgery is very easy and non scary. The problem is just that you have so many of these small things slowly stacking up over the years, and being hard to spot until its already gotten bad. Plus even a small thing can be very painful when its in a very sensitive organ. I’m thinking its probably this cos they mention specifically lower back pain and constipation/other bowel problems. The endometrisis one would also explain the constipation during periods, but this one has a wider range of very specific symptoms that all seem to match.

Anyway, writing this up has helped distract me so I can calm down a little and wrap my head around all this. I just hope I can have enough courage to talk to the doctor about it and hopefully find out what it actually is. Oh, and a random tip I learned! Eating too much sugar increases menstrual bleeding! That was what was confusing me about my symptoms seeming to worsen out of nowhere on random days. I was super worried!! I guess the change is just more noticeable than it would be on my regular period, cos this one is lasting so long. I tested this out today by chugging one of the super grand milkshakes from that cool midnight milkshake takeaway shop, and I started getting the big ol scary clotty giant bleed within two hours. Waited a while til it stopped, drank another sugary drink, happened again! Definate correlation! I’m kinda relieved cos this definately proves it’s a period related problem, I’m not bleeding from like an exploded organ or something. This is definately specifically the ol menstrual blood, and I dont have some horrifying sudden septic wound in my vag out of nowhere. Tho seriously i dunno why I was worrying that cos its not like I’ve ever had sex, where would a wound even come from?? I guess I was just going nuts back when I was all uneducated and assumed it was Literally Impossible to have a period that lasts too long. Mannnn talking about this is SO GROSS I’m like cringing into the ninth dimension just from saying the word vag... Anyway now I’m actually feeling a bit lightheaded from the Even More So Than Before heavy bleeding, it probably wasnt a smart idea to test out the sugar thing twice in one day. Now I’m bleeding as much as I usually do on my regular period, which is probably not good cos I’ve already been losing a small amount of blood everyday. Apparantly carrots have a vitamin that helps decrease menstrual bleeding, but its late evening now and all the supermarkets are shut :P SOMEONE BEAM CARROTS INTO MY HOME, AAAAA lol i just need to calm down and get out of this panic attack, its probably just this in combination with the blood loss thats giving me lightheadedness. and then it makes me worry even more about the blood loss and enter an eternal death spiral of anxiety yet again... GAHH I HATE YOU DYSPHORIA DAY I WILL TALK TO THE DOCTOR AND SO HELP ME GOD I REALLY WISH THIS LEADS TO A HYSTERECTOMY seriously lol every time I’m doubting if I’m ‘really trans enough’ i should look back on this conversation where i’m wishing my uterus disease is the worst possible option just so i can get rid of the damn uterus.. ANYWAY BUNNI IS GONNA GO TRY AND CALM DOWN NOW COS I CANT CALL THE DOCTOR TIL TOMORROW ANYWAY

#gahhhh anxiety #anxiety and gross embarassing medical problems #and dysphoria #and apparantly carrots #carrots somehow control your uterus #al these years and ive never known to eat more carrots on the monthly time...

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