#why do I regularly trigger myself? because nothing i do matters. no matter what positive changes i try to instill it leaves me feeling empt

[krikeymate]

For song suggestion things because this just came on shuffle and I’m sat here crying at 2am thinking about Tara.

Ethan Jewell - Snowglobe

I'm slamming you against a wall. Don't even talk to me about Ethan Jewell man. His music really enhances my depression. I listen to him all the time.

Snowglobe is SUCH a Tara song.

Imagine you're in a snowglobe, right? / And all these people keep coming and shaking you around / It's above, below you, and then you're on the ground, the snow flutters around / Searching for a soft place to land -> Tara feels trapped. In this town, in this family. She's stuck while everyone around her can just... leave. Her life, it feels like a circus act, a spectacle for people to gossip on. They're always whispering about her, about poor Tara with the hard life, with the shitty family. This is her childhood. She's protected, put in a bubble, a little isolated and only seen from afar. An accessory for her father, a trinket for her mother, something to be cherished by her sister.

The person stares and appreciates, but not for a tad / Bit later they begin to shake more violently, and you begin to trip less valiantly / And then it all comes crashing down -> As she gets older, pity becomes more questioning. People expect more, they want to know more. They want more from her. But she has no one to hold on to. No hand to help guide her through this, through growing up. Sam doesn't want to talk to her anymore, she's pulling away and she's always so angry. The world becomes a little darker, a little colder, and then Sam's gone.

You wake up in a cold sweat, it's 3 am, and you're still depressed / Why is this happening, where did I go wrong / Is God angry at me / Or am I just another sad song / Another sad, sad song /Just another sad, sad, sad, sad, song -> What did she do to deserve this? To be so alone. Was she not worth staying for? Did she drive them away? Why wasn't she good enough.

Cause here we are again in this endless fucking snow globe / Round and round we're shaken, stared at like an alien probe / The snow's overwhelming, defeating every sound / Please, giant human, can you just drop me and smash me to the ground -> Every day it's the same. Life just becomes a series of repetitive motions. Smile, pretend to be happy, pretend like the heart inside her chest isn't held together with tape. Go to school, laugh with her friends, come home to an empty house. She wishes it would just stop. That something would change. Anything.

[weltenwellen]

my parents mostly try to be supportive of my struggle with ocd. they got me a therapist for a while & i actually decided to stop right before the pandemic hit (didn’t even have issue w germs before) bc i felt better. but my mom got covid recently & it sent me into the worst ocd state i’ve ever been in, & i’m still not doing so good.

i’m trying to juggle school while having extremely high anxiety all the time. the therapy for ocd is exposure response (if smth gives me anxiety, i’m supposed to do that.) ik i need to take the responsibility to get better but it’s so hard. i really really don’t want to get sick & it’s hard to tell what’s reasonably precautionary & what’s over the line.

what bothers me is that every time i communicate w my parents a certain ocd issue i have, they scold me & make me feel guilty (sometimes even kinda make fun of me) for doing these behaviors & then force me to do exposure. they threaten therapy more than offer comfort but our financial situation is not good rn. exposure therapy is so straight forward & i feel like talk therapy didn’t really help me that much.

i’m constantly sobbing alone in the bathroom bc it’s the only place i feel safe. my mom tries to be empathetic and told me she wants me to communicate more bc while she doesn’t want to enable me, she wants to understand better. which is nice, but now i tell her why a certain thing triggers me, & she’s like i’m sorry ☹️ & then she nonchalantly does the exact same thing.

this is so long i’m sorry but i just don’t know what to do anymore & i feel trapped & unsafe no matter what i do. my efforts at communication fail & i feel wrong & bad about myself when my ocd is triggered. my brother makes music & he frequently asks that we all leave so he can record himself singing. i have a hard time leaving the house & ik that’s bad but it sends me into a bad anxiety attack every time they ask me, & i’m trying to do online school which i need to be home to do...

i am so sorry you’re going through such a difficulty time & also that i am responding only now. i think you’re in an extreme high stress environment on an individual level with your parents but you’re also experiencing high anxiety through struggling with this pandemic in connection to your ocd. while i am glad exposure response works for you in the past, while reading your message i thought it might not be the best approach in this pandemic because it’s overwhelming even as you’re not practicing exposure response. this pandemic might make therapy for you an option again because it seems like the world is 24/7 demanding you to practice exposure response while you’re trying to juggle school and a family which comes across at the best as deeply unhelpful. add that to your lack of empathy of your parents and toxic behaviour of your parents, you’re in an impossible situation right now & it seems while you’re trying to hold yourself accountable and improve, there is at times a lack of empathy you have for yourself. through the pandemic a lot of people struggle with mental illnesses for the first time or experience an increased difficulty with them. you’re not weak or incapable of getting better. this current pandemic just has drastically changed the playing field & your ocd has gotten worse because of it. i think rather than controlling it or practicing exposure response, i would try to communicate clearly with your family what you need from them in this current pandemic and how they can help you & I would try therapy again because you’re experiencing such a lack of positive support in your close proximity. try to set boundaries for yourself & if you can, have patience for yourself again and again. also, connect and regularly talk to friends or people outside of your family. it does not necessarily have to be about ocd but if you feel like you’re ready to, please do share that aswell. a lot of people struggle at the moment. you’re not alone in experience extreme struggles during this time. please please please have patience with yourself. don’t let your parents make you feel guilty or make fun of you for having ocd!!!! i know school is important but nothing is important as your mental health. please write me again if you need to 💛💛💛

[apathycarestostudy]

Things Every 20+ y/o Should Start Doing (if you haven't) - unedited and unfiltered.

Twenty is a magical age. I don't know why it's not said as often as it should be, but truly, I feel like it's as just a turning point as 30 or 40 is. This is when you struggle the most to come to terms with yourself, or deliberately say you have. This is when you're becoming "conscious" as I like to think to the world — whatever the world means to you.

So, in lieu of hitting 21 a couple of months ago, I've decided to compile a list of things I believe every twenty and more year old should try. If they haven't already, of course.

1. Journaling

I've always been apprehensive of keeping a record of all my thoughts and woes as I thought that would be (a) used against me if found and/or (b) be an admission that I feel some type of way about something. Both of these concerns are damn childish and I'm glad I kinda got over it now that I'm journaling regularly, but I still hold back a little unfortunately. Well. The point of this is that 20 is an awakening that's worth journaling about, even if you have nothing going on. Write letters to your future self, to your families and friends and that one asshole you hate and the shoes you're wearing and —

Also, I always thought I didn't feel any type of way about things until I started journaling and realized I do. Yikes. You might want to make like me and face them now.

2. Learn something new everyday

Did you know that the heart of a shrimp is located in its head?

Life is unfair. There’ll be times when you feel this in all its potency. But just know this - everything can be taken from you, sans your knowledge. Overrated, a little debatable (because, mental illnesses), but it’s a neat standard to have. Plus, if you’re not well adverse in maintaining conversation, or you’re in a tight spot, spouting a random fact would help lighten the mood.

3. Pause your indignation

We’re in the age of getting mad, triggered, attacked, whatever else and that’s sad and unhealthy as all hell. What happened to being cool? To giving people the benefit of the doubt? Are we so fragile now that anything could throw us into our feelings regardless of whether it’s valid or not? 

Okay, you were wronged. You are absolutely entitled to how you feel about it too. But you know what you can control? Your reaction. Your response. How you carry yourself and the way you go about it is what matters. It won’t feel as good in the beginning when you can’t bust someone up (or yourself), but you’ll be proud of yourself. You successfully refused to relinquish a piece of yourself. 

4. Decide what standards you won’t breach

This goes hand-in-hand with the last point, but isn’t entirely the same. If your standard is to always respect everyone, you can’t be late when you gotta meet them because that constitutes disrespect. You don’t tolerate something, don’t engage in it. Draw the fine lines and stay within them. Whatever your code of honor is, you have to stay true to them no matter the situation you’re put in. 

P.s. let it be something righteous, self and community loving, positive. This is not a plea for unreasonable stubbornness.

5. Watch something you wouldn’t normally watch

This is an interesting one. I remember as a teenager, I’d proudly declare what genres I’d never cross over to and what was beneath me, with absolutely no sound reasoning behind it. It was a baseless generalization of what’s cool and what wasn’t in my eyes. Let me tell you, some of the things I claimed wasn’t my cup of tea became my bottle of water (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞☜(ﾟヮﾟ☜)(☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞

Hah.

Well, I didn’t come upon this epiphany by myself. My siblings put on a show I’d never be caught dead watching and by the end of it, then I got the epiphany. Now, whatever random video I run into on YT, any show that someone suggests that isn’t what I’m into, a documentary about something outside of my faith I’ll watch. It not only polishes your tastes, it broadens your horizons.

6. Learn to let go

7. Pick your role models wisely

This is insanely important at this age. You don’t want to realize too late that your aspirations didn’t become anything meaningful because of the people around you. Who do you look up to? What traits of theirs do you want to integrate into your being? What do they do that you’d like to do some day? If the people you look up to do not fall into any of these things, I strongly suggest you don’t invest any more time into them. I don’t mean cut off your toxic parents or anything life altering like that, I mean ignore the things that don’t fuel your goals. I’m not saying you pick someone and mimic everything they do, I mean critically choose what lessons you’ll take from them.

Be weary of the people you follow. Don’t follow blindly. 

8. Rekindle an old hobby

I used to read a whole book in a day. At the most, I’d stretch it out to a week, but nothing more. It was a glorious time in my life where I just got into anime, steam rolling through seasons, then writing fanficition, wasting sleeping time to write more and post several times in one night, not to mention playing flash games but now I barely do any of that anymore. I keep buying more books and not much of it are getting read. I keep typing drafts that I never publish. I scroll through anime lists before closing the tab, fruitless. 

You must have had a fun hobby when you were younger. Why not slot in a time to try it again? You may be lucky enough to reignite that passion. It’s worth a shot in the race to feeling good the right way.

9. Follow the world news

At this point, there’s no avoiding it because of the current climate. But anyways, it’s important to know what’s going on over yonder because it not only feeds your intellect, it keeps you cultured and it humbles you in a way I can’t describe. It also opens a new conversation topic for you, and as someone who wasn’t into dipping into ANY type of news, it reduces the amount of side eyes you get from people who do. It didn’t bother me before, but again, when one of my siblings kept announcing the news to us everyday, I woke up early and skimmed through google news and just waited until he rolled in the room. His face fell when I started reciting the recent headlines and I’ve never looked back since. 

P.p.s I do not mean entertainment news. Indulge in that if you like it of course, but please, cast your lovely gaze on world news as well.

10. Try and make more friends

I know. I practically hiss at people who approach me. I wasn’t always like this, but circumstance and people’s audacity brutally murdered me every time I reached out. It’s not like I’m antisocial - I’m always kind and accommodating to anyone who comes my way, but I stopped putting myself out there completely. 

I can’t tell you to change and start talking to people, I’m saying to give the newcomers a chance. Don’t treat everyone the same way because that’s not fair and you might lose the opportunity to have another friend. Don’t get me wrong though, I’m stilling hissing at the assholes who forgot how to act right.

P.p.p.s Real life friends. Online friends are just as precious, but it’s healthy to have joy close by as well.

And that’s about as much as I can think of at the top of my head. There are many life lessons I’ve had the privilege to learn, and many more that have yet to come, and so have you. Here’s to our collective success and happiness, our failures and sadness, and all the pointless shit in between. 20s is a ride that doesn’t have to just be full of holes and mistakes and regrets. I really wish people would stop saying it will be and decide for me.

[optimisticmellowflower]

Lee MacMillan

I’ve been watching Lee’s YouTube and IG posts for about a year off and on.  I follow Eamon and Bec and she was a friend of theirs.  She was a sweet soul, world traveler and influencer.  She was positive and fun.  I recently discovered that she suffered from depression and truly admired how she shared her struggles with the world.  I have family members that suffer with depression so watching her made me hopeful that the struggle can be managed.  I felt for her because I could see in her recent videos her struggle, but she was moving on and trying.  So when I found out early last week that she committed suicide, it sent me spiraling to try to figure out why... what triggered this.  I found myself watching her last videos with MaxandLee on YouTube and her recent videos again on her new channel, LifewithLee.  I watched her introduction video to her new channel where she describes the struggle of not being able to be inspired and how she struggles with depression.  It goes into her worldly travels of over 16 countries, skydiving, visiting volcanos, etc., and I just kept asking myself, “Why would she do this?”.  What in the world could have happened to make her step in front of a train???  I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.  I told my husband the next morning of my difficulty to understand this.  His reply, “I do.”  Oh, how that saddened me.  He suffered from depression for a few years about a decade ago.  So many doctors, medications and diagnosis was overwhelming and just felt like doctors just guessed at the diagnosis and the medications.  It all seemed like an experiment.  Fortunately, he got past that horrible time in our lives, but unfortunately, he still struggles, but somehow seems to manage without doctors or medications.  Our son struggles with anxiety, more so than depression, but he does suffer from depression.  He found a therapist late 2019/early 2020, which, thankfully helped him deal with some things.  He also exercises regularly and maintains a plant based lifestyle.  Now our daughter severely struggles with depression.  She found a therapist late 2019 and went for a few sessions, but then the therapist took maternity leave and my daughter didn’t look for another one.  She met with her doctor and he has prescribed her different meds over the past year or two.  Some help for a while, while others don’t really.  She always seems to be changing her meds.  She can get into some dark holes sometimes.  Actually, pretty often.  I think this is why Lee’s suicide seemed to slap me in the face.  If Lee could do something like that, what does that say about my daughter?  They both have said they couldn’t hurt themselves because they wouldn’t want to put their family into that situation, but Lee did it.  Her family is suffering so much now.  To think that there’s nothing we can do to prevent it.  I have to admit that this was truly an eye-opener for me.  I have been so attentive in letting my husband and children know that I love them.  To  help out with small things when I see they need it.  To simply pick them up a drink or a meal or help them with little things.  I want them to know that I am here for them and no matter what, they shouldn’t take their life.  They can’t see the good or feel the joy sometimes, but life is precious.  Family is precious.  They are loved and have love to give.  

[dawnie1988]

❇Update Redux❇

⚠Possible Triggers Ahead⚠

I’m not positive if this will be anything too graphic or runs too much of a risk of triggering others, but there will be ramblings of melancholy, depressive thoughts and anxiety issues, so I’m going to attempt to put all of this (along with tags to the ones who have been reaching out personally) under a keep reading line just in case.

So let me start by basically repeating what I said last time: I’m still standing, things are easing up a tiny, tiny bit each day (at least for a little bit at a time) and the outpouring of support and concern from everyone, although it really doesn’t surprise me to see coming from any of you, just once again feels me with a feeling I could never accurately describe. It’s both overwhelming and humbling that despite having your own troubles and worries you’re still taking the time to send out check in messages, and I am truly appreciative and thankful for the fact that I was fortunate enough to stumble into this mishmash group of mutuals. Though, given the way my mind always seems to go in a full 50/50 split, it also makes me feels even worse for still not getting back to your guys’ individual messages. I really had every intention of doing it last week when I had made that first post because it honestly felt like I was finally on the upswing again, but then I slid down again and am just really struggling to get my footing this time around and I’m not positive why. I was going through this quite regularly last year but it seemed like it had really eased up for a few months at the start of the year here, or at the very least I had gotten a better handle on sweeping things under the rug and hiding from it again. A really unhealthy way of compartmentalizing, I suppose.I had my random bad days, of course, but not this bad again and not to the point where it was affecting me so much both mentally and physically. Now it just feels like it did when I had a big mental fall around Oct. 2018. Between the daily home life/family life and all the stress and crap on the news being so triggering and nearly impossible to outrun completely, I just feel so overwhelmed with everything and nothing at the same time, it seems, and it’s really got my anxiety on high alert. I’m having the worst time keeping up with household chores, the few times I do have to go out for something I get legitimately scared to walk out the front door and would do just about anything to not have to go out the front door. I’ve currently have 3 moods: gumpy/angry, ready to burst into tears or a mix between the two. I’m spending most of my time that’s not dedicated to my mom curled up under the covers with my headphones on and living in my daydream world just trying to drown the noise in my head out because the thoughts and worry just will never slow down at the moment unless I’m asleep but then I’m instantly on edge and feel like I’m ready to crawl out of my skin as soon as I’m awake. Everything, even the few things I actually want to do just seem like such a massive hassle and chore, which activates the ‘you’re basically a glorified babysitter who lucked out into getting paid to sit around home all day, what time are you taking out of your schedule?…..’. I wake up in the morning and even if there’s nothing that needs to be done for the day except for my mom’s daily care, I still am instantly struck with that ‘too much to do, not enough time to do it’ panic and then that instantly morphs into the dreaded circling the drain cycle of thoughts: stop being so lazy, what’s it gonna hurt you to take 5mins to say hello to people, the place needs to be cleaned, laundry is piling up, get off your ass and do something, you’ve already screwed up the day so what’s the point of even bothering now, all the people in the world who have it so much worse off at the moment - having to worry about how they’re gonna feed their families and keep a roof over their heads, etc. etc. and you’re whining about, what, exactly?’.  And it’s like, I know none of what’s going on with anyone else devalues my own thoughts and feelings and I’m being completely unfair to myself by comparing myself to others like that, but I can’t help it. I’m much better at giving out the positive, 'you’re valid and you matter’ speech then I am at receiving it myself.

I do know and understand that a lot of this is stress based and has a lot to do with not having a clear outlet to pour all this negativity into or a place to let go of all the troubling thoughts when they pile up too high, but since I’ve had nothing but time to be thinking about all of this, I also think a big chunk of this was brought on by my birthday. It was the week before when all this first started acting up again and the week of (April 15th) where things really just hit a nose dive. The last handful of birthdays for me have become the equivalent of New Years for me. It’s like, a full day to celebrate and highlight all the things I haven’t accomplished over the course of the year, and a reminder of all the things that feel like I won’t get the chance to do and then it just starts me down another rabbit hole of self pity and bitterness and resentment. And the thing is, I know plenty of things I could do to help myself, but the reality of my home life being what it is I just don’t know how or see a way to do any of those things without seriously screwing over my family, primarily financially. 

Sooo……yeah, that’s basically the jist of things right now and the best way I can explain my current head space. I know you’ll all tell me not to, but I’m gonna apologize for the long winded rant/rambling anyways. I always have such a hard time trying to explain this stuff because I feel like my thoughts contradict each other so much and even after redoing this post 3 times today, I still feel like it’s just a jumbled mess of words, so I hope it’s understandable.

Once again, I have to give a big thank you to the group below for taking the time to check in and offering help of all kinds, it really is priceless.

@fangirlxwritesx67 @flamencodiva @itmighthavebeenintentional @boondoctorwho @winchest09 @katehuntington @thoughtslikeaminefield​

You guys (along with all the other lovelies I follow and interact with) really have become the brightest light in my life. Between the amazing content you constantly put out and just talking, having fun fangirling and fanboying with each other and ogling over pretty people and the over all family community everyone has created with each other, it all really is the thing that brings me the most joy these days. I miss it and all the wonderful stories I’m beyond behind on, and this is me hoping I can get back to it the way I want to sooner rather than later. I truly adore you all and thank you for the kind words and encouragement ♥️

[ranger-kellyn]

11 Favorite Excerpts

In honor if it being the 11 year anniversary of the first fic I ever posted, Platinum Bound, I thought I’d list out 10 of my favorite excerpts from everything I’ve posted so far, 1 from something I haven’t posted yet, and then kind of just. Talk about it~

As always, feel free to talk to me about any of my fics, no matter how old or new~ I’m very vain~<3

--

1 - Come With Me - Prologue - 03/02/2015 - Completed

A day that was supposed to be filled with sorrow and mourning had turned out to be very lovely. The cold that had long persisted since November had decided to lighten its icy grip on this one day in particular. It was almost a tragedy in itself that the weather failed to match the mood by pouring a relentless downpour. Rain was fit for a funeral. Not sunshine.

The opening to Come With Me has always had a special place in my heart, and while I know my writing has gotten better since then, I always hold up this opening as like...my premium brand, I suppose.  I love the mood the prologue sets up for Siebold’s side of the story.  Mismatched weather.  His parents having the same death date.  A sense of odd relationship dynamics with them.  Clear indication that there’s going to be a lot of conflict with Jean as shown by Diantha, Siebold’d childhood friend, who has a clear disdain towards him.  CWM may not be my BEST WORK, but it’s probably one of my favorites.  ALSO....come on...the restaurant’s name is Apple of The Earth, which is a direct translation of pomme de terre, which is French for potato.  And like???? i just get a little kick out of it every time

--

2 - It Takes Two - 12/16/2014 - Oneshot

Siebold chuckled.  “A water dark type?  My, my.  You’ve already put yourself at a disadvantage. Cress shook his head.  “Don’t give away your secret ingredient just yet, Siebold.  Leave something to the imagination, please,” he teased.

If there is ONE THING I LOVE it’s writing flirty banter for these two, and this fic if full of it.  My first fic for Cress/Siebold, staking my claim on the pool noodle that is this ship.  I AM the captain of this pool noodle

--

3 - Second Chances - Chapter 7 - 06/14/2017 - Ongoing

“It was supposed to be me!” . . . Shaking, she stopped herself in the front hallway.  Looking over the large, glass-famed map, she felt as though she was leaving her own body as she slammed herself against it in a last ditch effort to feel something other than emotional pain.  In an effort to put a physical wound to her emotional one. 

There’s plenty of happier lines from this fic I could choose.  Ch 10 had a section I was considering instead, but I think this emotionally charged section has always stood out for me. I like to generally characterize Cynthia as someone who is in control of her emotions, or at the very least, is very good at compartmentalizing things, but here, she absolutely loses it.  No rationality.  No seeking help.  Just raw pain.  It was supposed to be me. Because it was!  It absolutely was!  In the previous chapter you learn that Diantha had fully intended to propose to her!  But was instead manipulated by her mother and manager into leaving Cynthia.  While Cynthia didn’t know that, we do, and that makes that line so much more painful to me.  I swear.  ONE DAY.  I’ll actually finish this fic.

--

4 - Fortune and Fame - Chapter 1 - 03/23/2016 - Completed

“The best part of that outfit would be taking it off.” Her mouth turns into a smile. “I should think so,” she tells you.

Second person POV is a HUGE pain in the ass, but I still love this silly little fic, and I love this silly little moment EVEN MORE.  What can I say.  I love flirty banter. This whole fic was an absolute experiment, and while it certainly could be better, considering 2POV is not something I regularly work with, I’ve never been too upset with it.

--

5 - Stockholm - Chapter 4 - 06/20/2016 - Ongoing

“You’re my mission and my mission alone.  I don’t need outside help,” he tells me. I catch myself about to laugh.  “Figured you would welcome it seeing as whatever you think you’re doing to me clearly isn’t working.” He moves closer, enough for me to feel the warmth of his body, but it’s only when I think he’s looking at my lips do I come to my senses, pulling my legs up to my person, and pushing back up against the wall. “I would say it’s working just fine.”

i like to think of this fic as me playing in a sandbox.  i don’t REALLY know what i’m doing, but i’m having fun, and that’s all that matters. This is a fic I had been thinking about for the longest time.  I abandoned it back in 2016.  I don’t really remember why, but I posted the first update early this year, and I just.  I’ve been loving it since.  I haven’t played in first person in SUCH a long time, it’s just nice to play in the space, and explore a darker emotion I guess.  Game verse Commander Saturn/Dawn is always a weakness of mine

--

6 - Shadows of My Heart - Chapter 4 - 02/22/2011 - Completed

Looking at Kellyn, I notice that he has taken his jacket off and is now offering it to me. Shaking my head, I tell him that I can't take it, even though I would love nothing more than to take him up on his offer. He walks closer, smiling as he places his jacket over me. Now, the only thing I hear is the sound of the rain bouncing off of Kellyn's jacket, and the sound my own heartbeat. I'd have to be crazy or dead to not be blushing right now, and obviously my pulse is still going…

if you’ve followed me for a few years, you might think this is a weird pick for me.  i complain about it a lot.  i experience a lot of visceral cringe whenever i reread it (Like i did just now searching for a section i liked) But that’s why I like it.  I love having this visible benchmark of where I’ve come from, and where my ideals have shifted to.  I’ve always written Kellyn as my Ideal Man™© and in this fic he is suCH A “NICE GUY” AND IT’S JUST. SO BAD. I’M SO GLAD I’M NOT WITH THE KIND OF PERSON I USED TO WISH I WAS WITH. This fic is, at best, clumsy.  Younger me was venting a LOT of stuff. Everything I put Rhythmi through in the fic, I was dealing with irl, and NOT handling them well.  I never recommend this for reading, but I list it here because it’s like looking in a time capsule.  

--

7 - Washington Blues - Chapter 2 - 04/30/2012 - Abandoned Work

Looking back up at me, the afternoon sun shines on her face.  As if I needed to be reminded that she is very pretty.  “I believe that it is too soon to be giving a definite answer, but,” she pauses to brush some hair behind her ear, “I do believe I am going to like it here.” I nod, liking the answer she has provided.  I put my pink bag over my shoulder, and step down the stairs.  “That’s good to hear.  I do hope you come to love our little band,” I say, putting a little emphasis on “our”.  Hopefully she will start using that term as well.

This fic has been abandoned since 2012, but as I was rereading it just now, I...felt a weird urge to give it a second chance?  Marching band was my EVERYTHING in high school.  It was basically my personality.  It and Homestuck.  If nothing else, I think I might give this fic a redo, because it’s something my younger self would have loved.  I had so many ideas I wanted to explore and I think it would be a fun space to explore. Just reading it I got the most tactile memories of band camp, from the sounds, all the way down to the god awful smells.  One day I’ll give this fic another go, but probably in 3rd person lmao.  Also, it’s kind of funny.  I remember holding this fic up as like.  My Magnum Opus.  I considered chapter 1 to be the BEST thing I had written up to that point. Now? It’s so fucking D RY......and no real person talks like they all do l m a o I love being able to see how far I’ve come. 

--

8 - Hindsight - Sometime Feb 2014?  - Oneshot for an old RP group

This question led him to placing both of his hands in his lap.  “I would never describe her as winter.  It’s the season she hates the most.  From what I’ve gathered during our travels together, understandably so,” he answered, not meeting her eyes. 

While this fic is OLD it holds a very special place in my heart.  I had stopped writing for a while.  For about 2 years nothing I wrote ever really panned out, and joining that RP group was literally the best thing I could have done for my creativity.  It was so much fun, and I met some truly incredible people thanks to it.  Literally, everything I’ve written since I attribute to that group.  <3 I may not talk to most of them anymore, but I have some of the best memories of that time, and I just.  Genuinely don’t think I would have HALF of what I have written now if it hadn’t been for their support.  <3

--

9 - Ours For The Taking - Chapter 2 - 01/28/2012 - Abandoned Work

Killing is in the nature of almost every Pokémon, but we humans have inhibited that out for the most part. It doesn't take much to trigger the instinct though. A couple kills and then they thirst for blood.

Now i know this looks like a WACK ASS PICK.  It’s been abandoned since 2012.  It’s bad.  It’s gore.  It’s bad.  But that’s exactly why I picked it.  That, and I know it would chap Farla’s ass bc she told me years ago how awful this fic was. The whole reason my writing confidence took a blow.  I can look back and know that this fic wasn’t great, but I hate for my younger self that they were knocked down like that.  You can’t learn the boundaries of your writing until you try to push them.  Maybe I could have turned into a great gore/horror writer if I hadn’t been knocked down?  Who knows?  But because of that negative experience, I now approach all comments I leave on fics with “unconditional positive regard”.  I firmly believe if someone wants con-crit they’ll ask for it, and even then, I’m not someone who is going to offer up that criticism.  That’s not my jam.  I’m just here for a good time.  This fic may be bad, but that’s why I love it.  I love how over the top, 2Edgy4me the two chapters are. 

--

10 - Getaway Car - Chapter 5 - 01/01/2019 - Ongoing

Pulling away just enough to make them look at one another, Cynthia looked her over.  She was getting more drunk admissions than she ever thought she would, and she was in no frame of mind to worry about pushing her luck.  “How did that make you feel?” she asked. She let her hand trail down her arm as she spoke.  “Grounded.  Like nothing else in the world mattered except us in that moment.  I wasn’t worried about filming, deadlines, what people might say or think, or– anything, really.  All that mattered was the calm you brought me, and how without meaning to you’ve made me feel like the most important person in the room.”

It’s no secret that Getaway Car is like.  MY BABY.  This is MY FIC.  MY BABY.  I CHERISH THIS FIC FOR SO MANY REASONS. I like venting through characters, and this fic is no exception.  But I loved writing this moment specifically, because it just...I think it encapsulates everything Diantha has been looking for.  She lives a charmed, chaotic life.  Up to that point in the fic, she’s with a man who can’t really be bothered to give her the time of day, but also can’t handle the idea of letting her go.  Without meaning to, without necessarily trying to, Cynthia makes her feel like the most important person in the room.  She grounds her, and someone who lives a star-studded life needs that.  This fic is my baby.  My everything.  It’s probably what I’m known for at this point, and I’m A-OK with that because these two are my everything.  (ALSO, I specifically posted this fic when I did to get Farla to leave me a review, and had a good laugh about it when she did.  My “bat shit crazy” plot device has ended up being my most popular fic~)

--

--

11 - Namtaflu - Chapter _ - Draft from NaNoWriMo 2019

The sound of something rising to the surface of the water attracted everyone’s attention.  Turning their eyes towards the water, one by one, countless Starmie and Staryu began to surface, floating atop the water, their bright gem center’s shining in the moonlight.  “Oh, wow,” Bianca said, holding the Audino closer to herself.  "What are they doing?” Hilbert asked, turning himself so he wasn’t having to strain to look at them.  Cheren shrugged.  “They’ve always done this.” "They’re looking at the stars,” Hilda added.  “It’s what Nona would always tell me.  She said she read it in a book somewhere.  They surface at night to look at the stars, and they’ll even start blinking here soon.”  As she said it, from out in the distance, quick flashes of red began to move along the waves, reminding both her and Cheren of fireflies from further south.  Soon enough, the entire shoreline was filled with the water pokémon blinking away at the stars, almost as if they were communicating with each other, or even something else.  A few Audino continued to sit with them, everyone moved to silence by the display, afraid to make a single noise, not wanting to scare them at all and make them stop.  The display moved in waves, like a heartbeat, ebbing and flowing.  At times they were bright enough to cast a glow onto the shore, and at others it seemed like they had collectively stopped for the night. Once Broadway and Manhattan had decided to retire for the night, the group came to an agreement that it was time they retired for the night as well.  They had stayed up long past sundown, but it had been worth every second.   

I won’t be posting this fic WELL until my three current ongoing fics are completed, but this fic is pretty much everything to me.  I first got the idea for this fic back in 2013, my senior year of high school.  I wrote the first draft my first NaNoWriMo in 2014, and did a second draft of it last year.  This fic has evolved SO MUCH, but this last draft is where I’m REALLY happy with it.  I firmly believe there’s never a “right time” to write a fic, but I also believe this fic absolutely benefited from me not posting it after that first draft.  They’re almost two entirely different stories.  The original had a lot of unhealthy relationship dynamics, and this time, i decided, FUCK THAT, and now it’s a hilda/hilbert/cheren/bianca poly fic ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I can’t wait for the day when I actually get to share this fic with the world. 

[bastardguy]

(haha there's very icky thoughts in this so don't read if it triggers ye, if anyone's reading this lmao) boy! it's one of those nights ain't it haha. ultrasadness. i dont have people to talk to which, yknow i feel like a lot of people don't have others to talk to. but anyways! i am sad! f! the most annoying aspect of myself i dislike is how one moment im daydreaming because hehe escapism and dont wanna talking to people at all then the, next moment im unbearably sad and i wanna! have friends that aren't people from my imagination. it's my fault, yep, its allll my fault, im not even trying to be sarcastic here, i know i should actively seek out people to be friends with them but!! im in my element to run around pretending i made fucking animations for my friend group that also exists! totally! it makes me feel great and content until i realise its not real! god am i pathetic haha! how do i improve ? how? why am i like this? is it because my brain views my escapism as safer and more wondrous then reality? to the po in t talking to people just? bore me? it's weird as hell, im probably just a selfish git but i genuinely look at chats and either go "conversation going,, i no want join cause rude" or "there's no point they're all so boring. being alive is boring. your life, your personality, you as a person is boring. that's why he left. he left for someone else he already had plans with, someone who he can actually see regularly in person in the future, someone who makes him happy. you never made him happy. he was miserable being stuck with you, that's why he left, that's why he immediately got into another relationship with someone else. you're why he lied to you, you're the problem, he hates you, you were an abusive fuck who couldn't keep his mouth shut and never changed. he's going to spend years being happy with someone and he's glad he's left you. he hates you. he hates you. he hates you. he hates you. you're the problem. don't ever try again, you don't have thr privlage to die, not yet. wait until everyone's finally tired of your manuplitive, selfish shit then kill yourself. die. just fucking die. just die. no one will stay loving you, you'll be forgotten, why did you say so much? you're fucking obsessive and its all your fault. you existing in the first place was a mistake, when have you ever brought joy to people? when had anyone be glad that you're here? you're better off dead, you're better off dead. you know if she had the choice mother would pick a normal person as a child in a heartbeat. you know if she knew you were going to turn out this way she would have fucking killed you herself because you've been nothing a burden. she'll leave, just like he left and everyone else did. so what if you just followed along with everything they were saying? you should've been smart enough not to be a dick you asshole. anyone that comes into your life will leave, everyone will leave, everyone is going to leave. even thinking about this you're cementing it, it's going to happen because you're thinking so hard about it. all bad things happen to you because you think about them. it's your fault. every bad thing that happens is your fault, you deserve all the slander that will come to you, you will die alone. you will die alone. no one will miss you, you've had a sad pathetic lonely life being unwanted. and it's all your fault. suffer. suffer. suffer. suffer. suffer. suffer. you ungrateful, selfish bastard-" and its very unpog i dont like my brain.

i wish i could find life enjoyable again, i wish i liked talking to multiple people, i wish i had multiple people to talk to. i wish i, didn't have these fucking attachment and abandonment issues that just make me terrified of being close with someone again. i think i have rejection sensitive dysphoria and oh! boy! MM. an internal conflict of "do i have adhd or is it just my anxiety and life long loneliness" had been going on in my brain. because if i had adhd i think thatd explain, a lot actually uYubun, but also those symptoms could stem from uhh, childhood issues and stuff pfft. like id be socially withdrawn and daydream a lot, to the point where i avoided playing with other kids just so i could walk around the yard to think about stuff, which are symptoms of adhd but also it's because "brain got lowkey traumatised being neglected on a plane for so long as a baby without its mother then just got whipped around the country serveral times giving me 0 safe secure places." i, i don't know man. that's a lot i have to talk with my therapist in like half an hour haha.

wow i talk about my problems too much this is why he left me 😩

a ok uhm, uh, yea! im very lonely haha. there's like, a person who i could chat with but i dont want to bother them. they're a good friend but they've been busy and i feel like im highkey using them. which is not pog at all! im not fun to talk with and im very annoying hahaha!

why are people so untrustworthy. why am i sad? only god knows but im god, so god doesn't know.

i think me despretly trying to talk to someone while im sad is so, utterly selfish and pathetic. i mean come on man why only now? haha.

i mean i did start to emulate a lot of his bad behaviour but! it's ok i know what's bad to do know and ive learnt from this experience and am moving forward.

where does forward lead? i dont know! probably jobless and suicide but hahaha! im not gonna make it past 25 baby! im gonna fall in love with someone then they'll leave forever and ill die!! After my mum gets sick of me!! hahhaha!!!!! im not unstable right now, i don't even wanna die! that'd be so selfish id break my parents! haha! i want someone to love me as much as i love them and to hold them in my arms! i wanna be comfortable with someone! i wanna be held! i want someone who won't cheat on me!! i wanna be loved!! woohooo!!! that's all i want! yknow what else i want? a friend group thats genuinely happy to see me! people i can eat lunch with and laugh with! people that don't make me feel small and pathetic! and why can't i have that? because im a piece of filth that doenst deserve any of it because ive done nothing to earn it! how the fuck do i do stuff! to talk! how do i not feel hopeless and small all the time? no matter what i fucking say im going to be yelled at for not being positive! fuck! fuck. fuck you.

[authorgeek]

It’s been a while...

This is a really long one, and it’s not very positive or uplifting, so click at your own discretion, but I need to get it off my chest. If you even bother to take the time to read this the whole way through - just know I love you, and thanks for sticking with me.

If you know my story, you know I’m a fighter. From my first moments on this planet, I have taken every breath and lived every moment of my life in the knowledge that - I’m here for a reason, and by divine intervention. I wouldn’t be alive otherwise. I was diagnosed with my first genetic disorder at a few months old, and then my chronic illness/autoimmune disorder at 13. I spent my 13th birthday in the hospital and was diagnosed officially 3 days later. I am currently 21. I spent my 21st birthday during spring break of my Junior year of Uni sitting at home, drinking a total of 3 shots and watching Disney movies. The original plan was to go out to a pub, but everything had already shut down for Covid -19 and I was relocating back home for the rest of term as my campus shut down around me within a matter of weeks. I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety as a symptom of my illnesses my whole life, but it’s been admittedly so much worse lately. I can’t trust my government to care for its citizens, and I can’t trust many citizens to care for each other.

I’ll start with masks. On one level - face coverings activate my medical PTSD and it’s triggering to see everyone wearing them because, to my mind, those belong in the hospital and so something must be very very wrong. Yes, I say to my anxious, shallow breathed self, something is. There is a global pandemic running rampant in my country directly due to my governments malicious inaction. That’s why these masks are needed, and it’s ok. These people are protecting you, and themselves. I’ve calmed down from this first wave just to hear/remember that people still don’t want to wear them. That they don’t care. That to them, I don’t exist. Their concept of the world does not include people like me in it, or worse, should not include people like me in the first place, and so my life holds no meaning to them. That’s even scarier than the first wave of panic I can eventually logic away. It terrifies me to the point that I just want to disappear. I want to crawl deep into a warm, dark hole where it is safe and I don’t have to worry, because no one can reach me. No one can hurt me here, curled up against this blackness, eyes wide and wrapped up so tightly in my own emotions that they become heavy and comforting as a blanket, protective and impenetrable as armor.

I can’t win. Wearing masks, not wearing masks, both make my chest tighten, breathing shallow, and I start to dissociate and shut down mentally in order to prevent expressing the panic I’m feeling internally. It hurts. This cycle ends with me in physical pain. I end up feeling crazy. I end up feeling like I’m overreacting. I end up feeling like I’m the one out of control and unable to be there for the people I love most.

Moving on - briefly - to a more direct violence, I grew up going to school post-columbine. I have watched grown ups, and those in power fail and dismiss student and child voices time and time again, for my entire living memory. I’ve survived bomb threats and shooting scares throughout both High school and college - though personally never been in an active shooter situation, another aspect of divine intervention, and protection, within my life. My entire generation has grown up watching those older than us, those we trusted, those who were supposed to protect us, fight for us. Our mothers took to the streets for us. Our teachers cried out on our behalf. They were met with nothing. Students began walking out of class. We left school when we didn’t feel safe. We were put on talk shows and given microphones. We got silence in response.

That’s just masks and gun violence. Add on top of this our heinous and fascist national leadership, the cries of black lives, disabled lives, immigrant lives, and the lives of extorted/victimized mothers and children - which I am not going to expand on here, but know - I hear you. I am one of you. I feel your pain. I stand with you.

I often struggle to understand how, and why, I am still alive. I wrestle regularly in the tragedy around me, and wondering why on earth through all of this, my life is preserved. I ask the existential Why Me? Why do I, and everyone around me have to hurt, so deeply, so terribly. I’ve heard it called survivor’s guilt. All I know is, I’m trying my best to grow up, and create a meaningful life for myself, while watching as this world kills people I love. Either literally, through systemic lack of healthcare, lack of economic resources, and systemic violence, or figuratively and spiritually. The lack of empathy, respect, and abundance of hatred and misery it takes for a person to see what is going on, and remain silent. To take no action, or even more horrifying, to celebrate as those you have deemed different or unworthy die. To sit in power under the protection of their economic resources and watch the rest of us burn, astounds and horrifies me to no end. They must have truly given up all hope, and any shred of connection to their humanity they once had. It is like watching the dead walk.

Oh, that’s it, isn’t it? I still feel the pain of this broken and grieving world. I still wish to protect those different from the societal norm/defaults. I still wish to stand for something bigger and better than this. That pain we’re in is a signal - yes, something is very, very wrong. It cannot be ignored any longer. That pain I feel means I have not shut myself off to the hope, humanity, and love inside of myself, that part of me that aches so badly for the sake of others. Those who look upon this mess, and feel nothing, they have become empty and hopeless shells, choosing to become numb and endless voids rather than feel that pain.

If those are my choices, I choose to hurt. I choose the panic and the aching and the sadness. I choose to let that small, but very loud part of my heart feel every ounce of the pain this world is experiencing, and I choose to scream. I choose to let her be heard. I choose to let her speak. She wants gentleness. She wants goodness. She wants redemption. She wants love. She wants healing. Broken and exhausted - battling every day for 21 years - I choose to let her voice be my guide.  

[fusion-ego]

(I'm sorry in advance, Mattie ;w;) 💀💍🤕🧠📓for Evan

💀 Has your OC ever lost anyone to death? Multiple people? People close to them? How does the loss make them feel?

He lost his mother when he was about four years old after, well... We know what his dad did to her. To date she’s the only person he’s lost, to his knowledge, though he imagines he’s had other relatives pass. He was very close to his mother, being four and a mama’s boy, but in the end it obviously didn’t matter.

For a long time, before he knew she was dead and that his dad had killed her, losing her hurt him immensely and he felt betrayed that she had left and not taken him with her. Her being gone also led to, as a result of his father’s abusive actions, a lot of emotional immaturity (later becoming a lack of ability to express anything but extremes except in specific circumstances) and a deep set vulnerability, which his how Lochlier was able to draw him into her inner circle after they’d been friends a while.

Now, as an adult who knows his mother didn’t abandon him, and who has come to terms with her having died trying to start the process of getting him out of his father’s house, it still hurts him. He’s come to terms with it, but it’s still a feeling that always makes his chest ache - he never knew her, not really, and he wishes he would have had the chance to get to know her. And, of course, he’s always terrified to lose Ash because he has the same level of whole-hearted love and adoration for her that he, as a child, had for his mother. It’s not the same kind of love, but it’s just as intense.

💍 Does your OC have a specific item that is priceless to them but may (or may not) be completely worthless to someone else? Is there a story behind this item or is it just because they like it so much?

Evan has two items of this nature - the bracelet he wears at all times, and his mother’s wedding ring. The bracelet is something Ash made for and gave to him, and he wears it, again, at all times. He wouldn’t take it off if his life depended on it. His mother’s ring, well... Someone else may find value in it, but never the same value he finds. His attachment to both items is 100% sentimental, and losing either one would probably crush him. Although he has been thinking about giving the ring to Ash...

🤕 What is the worst injury your OC has ever suffered? Do they have any scars or lasting physical reminders of it? Do they get sick often or have any lasting medical conditions?

He won’t talk about it, and most people (including his wife) don’t even know about it, but the worst injury he ever received came when he was 14 and stood up to his dad for the first time. He ended up at the bottom of a flight of stairs with several broken ribs - one of which nearly punctured his lung it had snapped so severely, and this was primarily a result of lifelong malnutrition at his father’s hands. He has a very faded scar from the surgery it took to re-set his ribs into the proper position, as despite his body being in shit shape he heals quickly and the scar, while it may be known to Ash, doesn’t really look like anything terrible.

He doesn’t get sick often, but he did when he was younger because he would overeat when given the chance, which would leave him sick for days or weeks while his body tried to process the nutrients. Now, his body is stronger and he eats regularly enough that he’s in good shape. In terms of lasting conditions, he does need to be careful not to overexert himself, since he can never be sure his lungs aren’t permanently damaged from that ‘fall’ down the stairs.

🧠 Talk about your OCs mental health! Do they have any specific triggers or ways to practice self care? What are some things that are more difficult for them to do because of their mental health?

Evan’s primary response to trauma is to bottle it and put it away, and his mind helps him keep anything worse than what his dad usually did out of his mind for the most part... But calling him ‘worthless’ will give him a panic attack, and even the threat of not eating at least one meal a day will do the same thing to him but on a much worse scale.

Self-care for him usually amounts to a snack, a drink of water, and brushing out his hair, since eating and drinking keeps him out of fight-or-flight mode and reminds his body he’s not starving, and brushing his hair is soothing. He’ll also sometimes take a bath, and if Ash is around he’ll sometimes let her brush his hair and style it, since he trusts her very much and letting her play with his hair is about the only way he can let himself fully relax and not be The Strong One.

He has a lot of trouble indicating when he’s having a hard time in a way that other people will actually understand - most of his tells are nonverbal and were worked out specifically so that his friends growing up would understand and no one else at all would, and the verbal ones usually boil down to him verbally lashing out when he’s having a bad time.

His upbringing and the associated trauma made it very hard for him to feel comfortable being weak or not 100% in control of himself, so it all boils down to “this man doesn’t know how to ask for help and is unwilling to learn how because his brain refuses to acknowledge that there are people around him now who love him unconditionally and want nothing but the best for him”, as well as “this man has so much trauma and has built up so many walls to hide it from other people and hide from it, himself, that he has the emotional range of a teaspoon and can’t form attachments unless he’s in a very vulnerable state, which has a very long track record of working out poorly”.

📓 Write a typical diary/journal page by your OC! (or if you’d rather not, describe their journal. Do they keep one, why?)

Dear Journal,                     July 22, 2008

Been talking to Loch and Ash a lot lately. Tobi, too, sometimes. He’s around less often, I guess.

Ash keeps telling me I should talk to Loch about my dad, but you and I both know that’s not gonna happen, don’t we? I haven’t even told Ash anything specific, there’s no way I’m just spilling my guts to Loch about it. She’s great and all, but... Ugh. No.

Raleigh finally told all of us what we’ve known since Lily Rogers moved here - that she’s into chicks. We told her, “Duh, you’ve been drooling after Lily for two years, gay ass, you think we didn’t notice”. She laughed at that. She showed up to our hangout yesterday with the left side of her head shaved wearing combat boots, ripped jeans, a band tee, and a fucking short sleeved hawaiian shirt. That girl never does anything halfway, guess I shouldn’t have expected her to step politely out of the closet - nah, she kicked the door in half and emerged with like, a stylist and backup break dancers.

She was real confident when she showed up which was great. Then Kris called her hot and she turned into a tomato, it was hilarious.

It’s the same shit, different day with dad. But he actually went grocery shopping this week and didn’t put all of it in the locked basement pantry and fridge. There’s like, actual food in the kitchen! I’ll have to try not to make myself sick this time.

I’m also thinking about asking Ash out. I’ll probably wait, though, and see if we keep talking. I know it’s been like a year, but we’re only just now getting into talking about important stuff. What if she doesn’t like me once she realizes I’m an asshole with a shitty temper and probably going to end up killing her if we ever meet each other in real life? I wouldn’t blame her, but it would still suck.

Dad’s home.

Write tomorrow.

Jay   Evan

Evan kept a journal from about May 2007 until January 2009, but didn’t write in it often. It was a one-subject notebook filled primarily with angry pen doodles and short rants about his father, although he did have some regular entries in it like the one above. He documented a lot of what his dad actually did to him in that journal, and although he’ll tell anyone who asks that he threw it away years ago, it’s in his toolbox and sometimes he reads back through it.

[uncloseted]

is it ok if i dont understand a lot of social and political issues and dont really want to learn? sometimes i try but if i dont understand or agree with something, or if i agree but dont feel like doing anything to change it i feel privileged and part of the problem. like the other day i got terribly downvoted on reddit and this guy called me "one of those all lives matter type people" because i say that we should forgive a guy who said something slightly misoginistic but then apologised

it stresses me out so much that i know it's stupid but sometimes i think i should kill myself to stop thinking so much because an awful person like myself doesn't deserve help. sorry this took a dark turn but i'm so conflicted i want to be on the right side of history but honestly sometiems it feels like we're going through a case of political correctness gone mad and i sound like an angry old white man but anything you say or do could potentially be offensive and it's tiring

So there’s a lot to unpack here, but I want to start with this.  There’s absolutely nothing wrong with not understanding social and political issues or wanting to discuss them further to understand what the different sides of the argument are.  There’s also nothing wrong with feeling overwhelmed by all the discourse and social change that’s going on right now. It’s okay to feel like you’re not emotionally capable of engaging in these discussions or fighting to make a difference.  And it’s okay not to be perfect.  A lot of sociopolitical circles right now demand ideological purity, but that’s an unfair standard to hold anyone to, even people who have spent their lives engaging with these issues.  I don’t think cancel culture is productive.  I believe everyone can change and that we should give people the time and space to do that.  

We’re at a crossroads right now (in the US, at least) where both the left and the right are becoming more extreme and ideological.  It makes sense to me why it might feel to you like we’re walking on egg shells around people to avoid being called out for being “problematic”.  Eventually, we’ll reach an equilibrium in the middle again, but for now, I think it’s important to try to understand where people are coming from and focus on being nice and respectful to everyone we encounter.  Saying the right words isn’t as important as the actions and emotions behind those words.

However, it’s not okay to take all of that as a carte blanche to harm others, full stop.  As people in positions of privilege, I think we have an obligation to be better people than we were yesterday, even if it’s just by a little bit.  I think we have an obligation to meet people where they are and let them live their lives as they see fit (as long as they’re not hurting themselves or other people). I don’t think it’s right to, for example, misgender people because you “don’t get” being trans or genderqueer.  You don’t necessarily have to get it; you do have to show that person respect by referring to them as they identify.  I don’t think it’s right to continue using a microaggression or trigger when someone has asked you to stop, even if you don’t believe in microaggressions or think people should be exposed to their triggers so they can “get over” it.  Again, you don’t necessarily have to agree or understand; you do need to respect that person in the way you interact with them.

I think it’s important for us to understand how our privilege makes life more difficult for others and do our best to level the playing field so that everyone has an equal chance at happiness and success.  People in positions of privilege aren’t bad people.  But I think we have an obligation to do the work needed to make the world a better place, even if that means making personal sacrifices. 

If you ever want to discuss political issues in a place that will be safe(r) than Reddit, I’m happy to give as non-biased and unemotional of an explanation as I can.  I’ve done a lot of work trying to understand all sides of different issues, and while of course I have my own opinions on them, I think I can do a pretty good job of helping you (and anyone else who’s interested) understand.

Last thing- apologies if this is totally off base or too forward, but if you regularly have intrusive thoughts about being a bad person that make you want to kill yourself, you should absolutely see a therapist as soon as you can.  Obsessive worrying about being a bad person is a hallmark of a few different mental illnesses, and you deserve to feel good about yourself.

[leonardo-capulet]

Learning To Heal #2 || Self-Para

Summary: Leo continues therapy despite the difficulties of his first session.

Trigger Warnings: You know the drill, there’s a whole load of shenanigans but hopefully only PTSD, mental health, depression, self-loathing, alcoholism, death, etc...

Disclaimer: Please do not read this if you’re triggered by the above... I really try to be careful with trigger warnings, but I might have missed one so... read at your own risk.

If Leo had considered himself nervous for his first session of therapy, it was nothing compared to how he was feeling now before his second session. He had made a promise to himself, he had vowed to give this a try. One session wasn’t enough to make a decision. He hadn’t even gotten through all of the things that had been bothering him. He certainly hadn’t reached the event that had completely derailed him, and he knew that it would be inevitable. Leo had guarded what happened with Alex from anyone and everyone. He didn’t feel like talking about the event and he couldn’t face the guilt and shame. Instead, he had managed to dance around the topic this whole time, but he likely wouldn’t be able to any longer. In order to heal, he would have to give up the details of this one event.

Just like before, Leo found himself in the armchair, fingers drumming away on the armrests as he waited for the session to start. The therapist watched him just like before for a moment. It was unnerving to have someone looking at him, as if they were trying to find faults in his person before he could even have the chance to open his mouth. Even though the act was seconds long, it stretched to feel as though it lasted minutes. Leo shifted in the seat, uncomfortable in his own skin and in the suit he wore, things he was normally quite comfortable with. It had reached the point where Leo was nearly about to confront the therapist when the other man decided it was time to begin.

“So, last time we saw each other we left off at you telling me about your military experience, and how you felt about things. I gave you some suggestions on how to cope with those things... how did that go?”

A deep, frustrated sigh escaped him. “Well, I didn’t start off the healing process very well. I left here and then promptly got myself drunk. Mind you, I’m no fan of seeing others drunk to the point that they require assistance, and yet that’s where I put myself. So, I essentially failed this right off the bat.”

“You thought it was going to be that easy? That you would be able to walk out of here with the things you’ve been battling and struggling with for years now being brought to the very forefront, and that you would be able to cope without mistakes?”

“That’s the purpose of this, isn’t it? To learn how to cope with these things?”

“Let’s get one thing straight. Just because you’ve made a mistake, and just because you fell back to old coping mechanisms after your first session, doesn’t make you a failure. You’re likely going to have plenty more moments where things are difficult to handle, and you’ll have a hard time find a way to deal with them. Hopefully, though, it’ll become easier with time. You’ll find better ways to deal with the difficulties that you’ve faced. Eventually, you won’t be so dependent on the alcohol.”

“Apparently, I won’t be dependent on it at all anymore.”

The therapist looked back at him curiously. “What do you mean, precisely?”

“Well, it appears that my ex has taken it upon himself to rid me of any temptations in my home.”

“Has he really?”

Leo nodded. “While I was asleep. He made sure I got to bed, and then he got rid of it all. Not a drop of it left in my house.” Not even his nicest bottle of wine, he thought to himself.

His therapist nodded with interest. “And is this ex of yours still in your life regularly?”

That was a question he didn’t know how to answer. “I think... I think he’s just trying to be supportive until I’ve got my act together. Pretty sure he’s not trying to make a regular thing of being in my life, at least not... well, that doesn’t matter.”

“Everything you’re experiencing matters, and so do the people you experience things with.” The other man said before changing gears, “Why don’t we move on to what came next after where we left off at our last session...”

That was how Leo found himself explaining how the pressure of everything he had experienced in the military became too much, as he’d stated last time. He continued with how his transition from the military to private security came to be. This shift in careers seemed to be a good decision for him when it all began. At least, he told the therapist that he thought it was a good decision. He still had nightmares, but his career was no longer a struggle. He was good at protecting others from harm and he took pride in it. Leo detailed how he’d managed to build a good reputation for himself, allowing him the opportunity to work with high profile individuals.

“I was restless for such a long time. I’d get a contract to work for and with a certain person. I’d seek new contracts so that by the time I fulfilled my standing contractual obligations, I would have another position already lined up. It wasn’t uncommon for people to ask me to stay. In the end... I realized I was trying to find a home, and nothing felt like home. So, in the end, I went back to where I grew up because it was the only home that I knew, and there was a chance at a job there that I knew I was more than qualified for... probably over-qualified. They were family, however, and they didn’t turn me down.”

“So you went back to Verona.” His therapist said it as more of a statement, rather than a question.

With a nod, Leo affirmed, “I went back to Verona.”

“And then?”

“...And then I fell in love with someone, truly fell in love with someone...” Leo ran a hand over his face wanting to keep any emotion from showing on his face at the mention of Cristian.

“We’ll circle back to that, but right now I’d like to move forward as I feel that we’re getting closer to the real reason that you’re here.”

A frown pulled at the corners of his lips as he continued on. He had to explain that there was a wild situation involving a man ending up in jail who hadn’t deserved it, and how a plan was formed to help. This was where things became difficult. He’d brushed over Cristian’s involvement in his life to get to this story, feeling that the therapist would find a way to get back to all of it in the end. Although, he wasn’t sure it would be at this particular session.

When they finally reached Alex’s death, Leo had to force himself to talk his way through it, and for the first time in his therapy session, he actually cried. With the death of his family member and friend, he couldn’t hold in the pain that he’d felt over it. In a lot of ways, this had been so much less gruesome, but this one was worse than any others. His fellow soldiers? They’d had a chance because they’d been trained for combat. Alex? He wasn’t trained to do what Leo did. He was an innocent in all of it, and it made Leo feel even worse about the whole situation.

“I should’ve been more careful, and I should have made sure that he wasn’t in the line of danger.”

“There are some things that you can’t predict. Even those who are perfectly trained can’t predict everything that will happen. There are some things that will be out of your hands, like we mentioned in our previous session.”

Leo’s fingers dug into his hair and tugged as he shook his head. “This one... this one shouldn’t have been out of my hands. I should have been able to prevent it. Out of all of them, this one is all on me. Sure, I’ll accept that the others might have been out of my control. Maybe even that I was good at keeping most of them safe. I see where you’re coming from. This? You can’t explain Alex’s death away.”

As much as Leo wanted to find a way past Alex’s death, he couldn’t see a way out. The therapist attempted to explain things in a way that Leo might understand. He needed to find a way to heal from this. The words from the man sitting across from him didn’t seem to penetrate, as if Leo’s mind had put up a block again to attempt to protect him from the pain of everything he’d seen and experienced.

“Leo. Are you listening?”

That caught his attention. “Huh?” He let out a slow breath and shook his head. “No... it’s just...”

“I understand. I think you should talk about it, what happened. You told me you haven’t spoken to anyone about this. I know that you don’t like to share a lot of yourself with people, but I encourage you to find people you can trust, and speak to them about what troubles you. If Alex’s death is the thing that has been hardest to face, talking to someone you trust could help to make things easier. I’m not saying it will be easy... simply, easier. Holding everything inside isn’t going to help anything.”

“Who am I supposed to talk to?”

“Well, for starters, you mentioned your ex who is still around? Maybe start with him. See if he’s willing to listen.”

“And if he hates me after it?”

“Let’s not make assumptions. You need to trust people and you need to give them the benefit of the doubt. Not everyone is going to turn you away, Leo.”

Perhaps his therapist was right, but not everyone had been hurt by Leo in the way Cristian had been. As he left therapy, Leo tried not to think about the increased negative thoughts. This had been the reason he’d done what he did the last time. Leo didn’t know how to cope with his demons. He stopped at the corner of one street, seeing a bar not far off. He could just as easily go there, but Cristian’s words, as well as those of his therapist came to mind.

With a groan, Leo reached into his suit and looked at his phone for a moment. He squeezed his eyes closed and began to put his phone away again before thinking better of it, and acting before he could stop himself. He was teetering the edge again and knew if he didn’t have a reason to stop himself, he would end up at the bar up ahead. Turning his back to the building his fingers typed up a quick message.

Therapy done...

After that was sent, he stared at the phone and then typed one more message.

I need company right now. Please, Cristian.

Whether the submissive would agree to come to his aid was out of his hands. If not? He would have to figure out a way on his own. He would just have to be strong enough to handle this alone. He sighed and made his way to his car, slipping into the driver’s seat. He just had to get to his apartment, and he’d be fine. He’d be safe. He wouldn’t have alcohol. He could be as miserable as he wanted in his apartment where nobody could see him.

[eyesaremosaics]

Letting Go/Releasing Fear

Having a lot of realizations lately. Coming through a “burning time”, and having been resurrected—I am now able to face the world differently. The one thing I feared to lose the most... I now am not afraid of anymore. For the first time, I was able to stand up to the shadow of my father, and try to take back some power by reinforcing my boundaries. It was painful and hard, but very good for me.

“I can’t be with the man I love, I can’t breathe when he treats me rough.” I keep hearing this song in my head, and I realize the toxicity I was dealing with... in him.... in me... in the way we related to one another. I see now, all the ways in which I contributed to the unhealthiness in our connection, but I can’t deny, that interacting with him in his current state—drags me back into old behavior patterns that I thought were behind me. The truth is—I am no longer that girl. I am not a raging alcoholic, I have self worth, self respect and I am able to face the world free of drugs and alcohol for the first time. I want to live, I am patient, gentle and sweet. Though I still struggle with insecurity, I am LOADS better than I have ever been.

The issue we kept running into, was talking about past relationships. If there is one thing I’ve learned in all my years of failing at them—it’s not to bring them up. It’s okay to bring it up to explain why you have a certain issue, ex: “someone did this to me once, which made me feel this way, can you please not do this thing, because it triggers me to feel that again.” Totally acceptable. Talking in detail about your sex life with that person, or the nice things they did for you, even if you are complaining... it just shows you are not over it. You are still in another relationship, so how can you be present in the new one?

I admit, I was not ready for love when it came to me the first time. I have been abused and brutalized for much of my life, and like a wild stallion that has been fenced in... I kicked the back gate open in my panic and fled. “Stop trying to control me!” But they weren’t trying to control me, they were trying to love me. The unfortunate part is that they went about it the wrong way. Threatening with abandonment is negative reinforcement, and it will not motivate others to change their behavior, it will only motivate them to dodge and avoid your anger.

My drinking was always the main issue. Since I began to get sober, the fog in my bead cleared.. I stopped drinking after my 3 1/2 year relationship, because the stimulus that caused me stress and insecurity was no longer there. I am very clear now why I drank, but I am also clear that I should have stopped. It just felt inevitable, because the one thing I asked was me we acknowledged. It was emotional abuse, but I was abusive too. It was a toxic dynamic. I felt pushed to the brink of my sanity, driven mad with jealousy and insecurity. Then I would drink to purge my pent up emotions, or physically harm because I would be teased until my rage had no words.

However, this is the past. I truly have let go of that past. I know why I acted that way, I understand why he acted the way he did too. I made peace with all of it—finally. My intention was to build a friendship, and relate to each other in a different way. More compassionate, better communication, less pressure and stress. I tried to hold fast to these ideals, but everything became murky. He is deeply lost and broken, seeing him hurt so deeply over other women... reminds me of my own broken heart. A heart that was almost completely healed... but the wound keeps getting ripped open with intimate details of his relationships since me.

This brought my insecurities up, which made me anxious. I never knew where I stood. It didn’t feel right. I felt like a caretaker, or a band aid... a mother... but not a person of real consequence. I tried to hold the space for him, so he could release and share his processing, but after a few months, it began to wear on my self esteem. This is not his fault, I am responsible for how I respond to things, but the truth is—it does trigger me, and it does bring up all kinds of ugly sad emotions for me. I just want to be present with this person. He says, I need to talk about these things, insinuating that if I can’t talk to him about other women in his life that I’m not a real friend.

Given the tragic nature of our history, I felt it was inappropriate. Though I too shared details of my relationships in an attempt to relate better to him, I really have no anger or sadness towards any of my exes. The only one that causes me pain and confusion still—is him. Not because I am holding on to the past though... when we first began talking again, I felt we were patching holes. It was tremendously healing for me, an emotional veteran, but very exhausting for him. A lot of deep pain resurfaced for me, because I felt he needed to know just how affected I actually was. I needed him to acknowledge my pain for once, instead of dodging it because he couldn’t take any responsibility. Granted, I could have handled things better then, but in actuality—I couldn’t because I was an utterly defeated person who lost the will to live.

Fully aware, that the self sacrificing love I had for him was unhealthy, I wanted so much to transmute that energy into a positive healing force, for both myself and him. Forgiveness was fostered in me, and like a garden, it needed time and tending to. Still, I tend that garden. Gently cutting away the weeds in my thinking. I was steadfast and true, but everything felt... groundless. I never knew what was going on. Insecure attachment. Whenever I tried to talk to him to clear the air, he felt instantly overwhelmed, and withdrew further and further. Each time he did this, my heart grew more and more sad. Like sand spilling through the cracks in my fingers, I felt him going away from me.

Weeping gently, heartbroken and not knowing what I did or how to fix it. Abandonment issues, yet I see him suffering, and all I want to do is help. I see him limping and I want to put his arm around my shoulder and help hoist him up, help steady him. My sadness now, is knowing I can do nothing to help him with this. It is a journey he had to take alone, just as I did all those years ago. It took me three years to get stable as I am now, I can’t afford to lose that progress. I can’t keep sacrificing myself for those I love, compromising my own health and happiness to make sure they are okay. For once I had to protect myself, and reinforce the boundaries I set.

Though I wish I could be there to guide him, to comfort and care for him... I can’t. It hurts too much. To feel like a consolation prize, or a security blanket. My last relationship was one of love, trust, and devotion. It’s hard to go back to something that leaves me feeling worthless (no matter how unintentionally). Knowing myself now as I do, the time is ripe for me to find a life partner. I am careful, discerning, and have little tolerance for bullshit. I am ready to love and be loved, for the first time in my life. Sadly, Love is not enough. It was not enough with this person, or my last relationship either. You must work together, it’s a partnership.

Focusing on my career and my goals is my primary concern right now. I want to harvest and cultivate wealth and success in my experience now. Not just monetary (though that as well), but also wealth of experiences, relationships, self awareness, self confidence. Feeling really good about how I take care of myself on all levels.

Minimal drinking (limited to outings, once maybe twice a week max), no drugs, no smoking. Taking vitamins, exercising everyday... today I did Pilates for 30 mins, and ran for an hour and a half. Cleaned my room, cleaned out my closet, sold/donated clothes, meditating semi regularly, reading, writing, painting/drawing again. Rehearsing scenes to film on a reel. Filming a commercial, short play festival, booked solid for a whole month with photo shoots, repairing vintage clothes to sell in my Etsy shop. Prepared to hustle so I can take acting classes again. Trying to fill my life with art, love and creation. That way when someone comes along—I will have to make room in my life for them to come in, because my life is so full without anyone else.

Then I can blend my assets with this person, I have a decent inheritance coming to me, land to grow grapes on and start a boutique winery. I hope my life partner shows up soon, in the next year or two. I really want to be a mommy. I know I will be good at it, I want so much to have a baby of my own. I just need to focus, get clear eith the universe... take care of myself, and it will come. Be gentle with yourself, all is ultimately okay... even if it doesn’t feel like it. Trust. I must learn to trust myself, and the universe. Fear has eaten up so much of my time, I don’t have energy to put there any more.

[yearsblog]

“I’m glad you noticed!” says Olly Alexander with one of his impish smiles. “I’ve come a long way since then.” We’re talking about the difference between the first time I saw him sing with his band, Years & Years, and the strutting peacock that he has since become. In 2015, fresh from winning the BBC Sound Of . . . poll, Alexander had a mean falsetto and a clutch of killer synth-pop ditties (Shine, King), but he cut a diffident figure during his show at the Heaven nightclub, dressed down in a T-shirt and beanie.

The second time I saw him, a year later, he was rising on a hydraulic lift through the stage of a rapturous Wembley Arena, wearing a red tunic with silver shoulder pads, and garlanded with laser beams. Alexander’s ascent to serious, tabloid-baiting stardom continues. Years & Years have a dazzling album out this week and days before we meet he was on Graham Norton’s sofa, regaling Cate Blanchett and Sandra Bullock with the story of how Meteorite, the song he wrote for Bridget Jones’s Baby, was about “a big dick”. Diffident no longer.

“Looking back, it’s quite overwhelming,” says Alexander, 27, as he lunches on quinoa in a restaurant in King’s Cross, north London. He is slight and conspiratorial, with tiny safety pins through his ears, a ring through his nose and his cropped hair dyed scarlet. “At first you really don’t know what support from an audience is going to feel like. But when people started showing their support for me being honest and being a camp, gay frontman — I just never really expected it and it added so much fuel to my fire.”

Among the things he has eloquently spoken out on are LGBTQ rights (he presented a BBC Three documentary called Growing Up Gay), mental health (he extols the virtues of therapy, which he started pre-emptively, before he became famous) and bullying (at school in Gloucestershire he was regularly “bushed”: thrown into the bushes next to the assembly hall). He is far more vocal than he was at the start of his music career, when an industry person advised him not to talk about being gay. “She was, like, ‘Why do people need to know your sexuality?’ She wanted to protect me.”

Well, it turned out that he didn’t need protection, he needed confidence. That came with experience and a changing musical landscape in which artists as diverse as Janelle Monáe, Christine and the Queens, Frank Ocean and Perfume Genius felt able to be candid about their sexuality. “It’s quite astonishing,” Alexander says. “We’re seeing a lot more visible queer artists and visible gay people.”

Pop has been missing male stars with strong views, especially those with a sense of theatre; it’s all uber-polite George Ezra or anti-glamorous Ed Sheeran. “It has its place, having someone who’s not dressed up,” Alexander says, trying to be diplomatic. “But the thing I love most about pop music is the fantasy, the escapism. I had this moment when I realised I’m in the best place to engineer that for myself. I realised you could go as far as you want on stage.”

A few weeks ago at Radio 1’s Biggest Weekend in Swansea he wore a lime-green Freddie Mercury leotard and led an onstage conga of his dancers, who seemed to be styled as drugged-up zombies. It felt like a long way from Mike Read and Bruno Brookes. “There was a point where I realised if you embody supreme confidence, you can get away with anything,” Alexander says. “It is quite a religious experience for me, to be on stage.”

Religion is a bit of a theme for Years & Years, whose other members are the keyboard player Emre Türkmen and the bassist Mikey Goldsworthy. Their first album was called Communion and their new one is entitled Palo Santo, after a mystical South American tree burnt as incense. Its literal translation, “holy wood”, joins the dots between spiritualism and smut (“It’s a Carry On album!” Alexander says with a giggle). So too does the recent single, Sanctify, partly inspired by a relationship with a straight-acting man, which refers to two very different things that one can do on one’s knees. “See?” Alexander says, turning to his publicist, who is sitting near by. “Ed gets it!”

He has always been into spiritualism and the occult, he says, albeit in a slightly sceptical way. “The first place I ever had a job was in this shop called Moonstones — it sold gemstones, pagan spellbooks and chocolate dildos.” He grew up loving fairytales and fantasy fiction: Lord of the Rings, The Magic Faraway Tree, Harry Potter. You can see why he might have wanted to escape to other worlds, such was the rotten time he sometimes had at school, where he was mocked and sometimes “bushed” for wearing eyeliner, nail varnish and choker necklaces.

Has being a posterboy for LGBTQ and anti-bullying issues become a burden? He gets Instagram messages from fans every day. “It doesn’t feel like a burden. I think it would be more of a burden to not acknowledge any of that. But I’ve had to learn the ways to cope with my own mental health along the way, and I feel like I’m in a good position now, but if you’re having a bad day and you’re suddenly having to talk about things that you experienced when you were 13 years old, it can feel a bit challenging.”

He’s talking about the break-up of his mother, who ran community craft groups, from his father, who worked at amusement parks, but, tellingly, dreamt of being a musician. After the split Alexander moved to Gloucestershire with his mother and brother; his father has only been in contact sporadically. Alexander has sometimes shied away from the subject because “I was trying to protect him, and I was, like, ‘Why am I still trying to protect someone who hasn’t been in my life for over a decade and who’s actually very difficult and caused a lot of pain to my family?’ ”

They hadn’t been in touch for seven years when his father broke the silence in wincing fashion, by tweeting him. Matters got worse when Alexander’s fans started replying to his dad, even trolling him. It sounds horrific. He has seen him once since then, last year. “It was quite triggering,” he says. “I just couldn’t deal with it at the time, it was too overwhelming.”

Social media can be a perilous place for him, especially deciding what to keep private. “I’ve always been fairly ‘Here’s everything!’ ” He’s also prone to “stalking someone that I fancy, and then getting upset because they like so-and-so’s picture and not mine”.

Yet the lure of Instagram can be irresistible. Take his appearance on The Graham Norton Show, when he met Rihanna, one of his heroes, and posted a picture of them backstage, in which he wears an expression of volcanic ecstasy. He was more nervous about meeting Ri-Ri than he was about singing on the show, he says, but she was lovely. “She was, like, ‘My fans love you.’ I feel like we’re destined to be friends.”

Or, perhaps, rivals. Palo Santo, with its mega-hooks, shimmering melodies and sumptuous production, is an album built to take on the superstar Americans at their own game. It was inspired by the R&B and pop that Alexander grew up on: Timberland, Britney Spears, Justin Timberlake and, before them, Prince and Michael Jackson.

He’s a better fit for music than he was for his first, slightly accidental career as an actor. “It just feels like people can express their identity easier as artists in the music industry.” Still, acting was where he initially made his mark, straight out of school, first in the film Summerhill and later playing a Bullingdon-style posho in The Riot Club, Herbert Pocket in David Nicholls’s TV adaptation of Great Expectations, and a stage role in Michael Grandage’s Peter and Alice, during which he befriended Judi Dench.

He was quite intimidated, but Dench turned out to be “very cheeky. One day she brought in biscuits that had dicks and balls on them; she was, like, ‘Do you want a cock biscuit?’ ” She has since narrated a short film to accompany Years & Years’s new album.

Acting has some happy associations for him, then, but “Hollywood is the worst culprit” when it comes to diversity, he says. “It’s just so far behind the times, it’s disgusting.” He even felt a subtle pressure not to reveal his sexuality on God Help the Girl, a low-budget British indie film directed by Stuart Murdoch of the band Belle & Sebastian, in which Alexander played a straight musician.

“It gave me a lot of anxiety. It was one of the reasons I wanted to stop acting. I definitely felt at the time it was something you had to be quiet about, because otherwise directors wouldn’t believe you could pull off the part.” That was nothing to do with Murdoch, he stresses. “I got on with Stuart really well, and I felt guilty because I never told him I was gay. I kind of tried to play up to the fact that I could actually be straight still, based on lies, even though everyone else knew I was gay.” During the shoot he met a man in a club. “After filming every day I’d just go straight to his house and spend the night with him. You just feel like you’re living a bit of a double life.”

I tell him my editor will tell me off if I don’t ask about his romantic status. “I’m single,” he replies with a smile. “Let everyone know, including your editor! Is he gay? It’s a she? Maybe she has gay friends. Yeah, I am happily single. It’s been like . . . almost two years. Not that I’ve been a nun in that time, I would like to stress.” Celebrity is double-sided in that regard: adulation on one hand, lack of anonymity on the other. “It obviously has positives,” he says with a smile, “but my sex life’s taken quite a beating.”

Don’t buy the mock self-pity — Alexander is doing just fine. There’s the stellar album and an arena tour in the autumn. Nor have his experiences put him off acting. “I feel like I could do something really, really fun and weird, like play an alien,” he says. “Or, you know, a goblin king!” From dressed-down diffidence to a budding Bowie in three years: he really has come a long way.

Palo Santo is released tomorrow on Polydor. Years & Years play the Roundhouse, London, July 10; Manchester Arena, July 14 and tour the UK from November

[clo-caillea]

A Devil Who Stole My Face

I never thought that I would come back and be able to finish this piece.

It was possibly the hardest one I have ever written, but let me explain:

This was inspired by a girl I went to school with, whom I did not know personally, but I saw every day.  ------Trigger warning below the cut. Talk of suicide ------

She took her own life, and I was faced with this strange empty place in the halls and classroom where I suddenly noticed the places I had regularly seen her.

I wondered what she had been going through, and ultimately found myself asking the question of whether or not I could have done something to help if I’d only reached out one of those times she’d walked by.

I am a suicide survivor, so the thoughts of realizing I’d missed the signs in this stranger I saw every day were tormenting me.

I couldn’t exactly say ‘sorry I never realized you were suffering’ because she was already gone. But I couldn’t stop wondering what she was facing all on her own every day when she passed me by.

And then I thought: how bad was it when she went home?

That was the moment this scene was born. The first few paragraphs wrote themselves and then I left it in my notebook, unable to continue for many long months until I took it out again when I was reminded of her silent suffering.

I by no means want to make light of the suffering. Nor do I want to glorify it. This piece was my mind making sense of a situation in the only way it knew how to.

Please understand, this is a dark story and it does not have a happy ending. Read with care and please be safe. 

I am always here to talk if you ever need someone. You don’t have to ask, you don’t have to ease into it. You don’t have to befriend me first. I will always reply and I will always be here for you, even if I have never met you.

She narrowed her dark eyes on the dancing shadows.

Glistening white teeth peered from its blackness in the shape of a sadistic grin that drew skitters across the girl’s skin. To her left, there came laughter which bounced off the walls in a shrill, manically high-pitched mockery of her own voice.

Behind her was the chattering of teeth like the ice cold room was actually affecting the monster that stalked her.

Warm breath pooled over her face from beside her ear, sending off her nerve endings in a fiery rage as a distorted voice whispered, “welcome home.”

Razored claws pricked her shoulder when they pulled the purse off, dropping it to the floor with a thud muffled by the living cloud of shadows. She could feel the weight of the darkness press against her while she choked on the stale smell of copper and pen ink. It pushed on her chest, stretching across it and pulling the skin tight at the edges so she could scarcely think through the agony. Her lungs tried to stop breathing, too weak to push against the weight at a steady pace.

The pearly whites disappeared suddenly and she could see only vague, deformed shapes.

“We missed you,” came the distorted voice stolen from her own throat and eaten.

She closed her eyes, nausea rising beneath the ache under her collarbone.

“This isn’t real,” she reminded herself with little confidence.

Hands brushed over her arms, sharp claws nicking the skin as the creatures closed in all around her.

“It’s all in your head,” her voice shook while she forced her legs to move forward. “They aren’t real.”

She reached out a quivering hand into the shadows, feeling blind for the door frame of her destination. If she could just get in there, she’d be alright. They never follow her there. Though at the back of her mind, she added a word that sank into her heart every night she did this over and over again. Yet.

They haven’t followed her into her one place of peace and safety… Yet.

They were pulling at her clothes and her hair. Some poked at her ribs with claws just barely piercing the skin. A constant chaotic noise humming all around her from their incessant chattering. They laughed and called out her name under growling voices.

“Oh please, won’t you play with us?” A distant whisper asked, sounding as if tears hid within its throat.

She’d learned long ago that she didn’t like their games. Ignore them, keep moving. Don’t give in.

“Not real, not real…”

The laughing turned to something whooping and mocking. It grew so loud, her skull began to throb.

She touched solid wood a moment later, her heart rising with a slip of hope. Until she realized with a brush to the left… And to the right…

Oh no.

Where was the door?

One of the beasts leaned its head against her shoulder, it’s sharp nose bruising her neck. Her skin sang with white flakes of terror.

“There is no door anymore,” it told her, breaking off into laughter.

“No door, no door!” The others chorused all around.

She gulped down huge breaths as her chest bucked against the air. Her heart reached up into her throat, blocking it from receiving anymore oxygen no matter her attempts to breathe.

“Play with us,” they demanded like children.

The one who claimed the disappearance of her escape was belting out deep laughter that reverberated up each disk of her spine.

“Play! Play! Play!”

Something finally snapped under the pressure of the darkness. Her chest ached and she shot her hands up to clutch at her skull.

“Shut up!” She screamed.

To her surprise, she was met by silence. Since when would they obey? Her heart was not convinced, though. It squeezed behind her ribs like a child hiding behind a parent’s leg.

She let her hands come down slow, shaking to her sides. Though the darkness was thick, blinding her, she still scanned it with her eyes. She dared not move from her position just yet; what if they started up again?

The quiet should have been calming. Instead, it carved at her chest with ethereal claws as if they hadn’t left her alone.

And then she heard the distinct, echoing sound of a click. That tiny noise was like a crash of thunder.

“NO!”

Light washed the room. Her jaw hung slack as burning tears spilled down her cheeks and dripped to the floor.

“Please,” she begged, “please turn out the light.”

They laughed at the request, the way she should have predicted they would.

Her legs crumbled beneath her and she hit the ground hard. She cried out against the hardwood as her arms came to pull her knees up against her chest.

They all crowded in around the girl sobbing in a ball. Distorted faces closing in on her vision. Laughter punching her cheeks, leaving purple bruises in their wake. Their ugly mouths twisted up to mock her from echoes of familiar faces. She could have closed her eyes, but it would only make the truth more distinct; the image of them had already been soaked in and burned into her mind.

“Please just turn the light off again,” she whispered through her tears.

The one with the wide, sharp toothed grin shook its head.

“Why do you fight us now?” it asked, almost convincing with the level of sincerity it’s deep voice carried.

“Because you’re not welcome anymore,” came her muttered response.

Even as she said it, the terror was ebbing. It released her heart like slow creaking fingers opening up.

“Are we so bad?” It questioned, it’s grin widening until she thought it would crack the cheeks pulling its lips up.

“You’re going to kill me one day,” her response was entirely mechanical this time.

Nothing was left inside her chest. No more hope. No more fear. It was just empty.

Her cheeks sparkled with the flowing tears that she couldn’t feel.

It raised an eyebrow. A mannerism it had picked up from her a long while ago.

“One day,” it repeated, picking up the edge of the word just enough to make it a question.

She gave a slow nod.

Something cool and hard scraped against her cheek. The creature pulled it’s hand away a moment after and the black, smooth curve of a claw was glistening with her tears.

“Why will we not do it today then?”

The question took an entire thirty seconds to register in her numbed mind. She snapped her eyes up to meet the void holes of the other’s gaze.

“Go ahead,” she dared.

It’s claws closed around her neck in an instant, but she could no longer fear. All she could feel was exhaustion.

“Do it,” she demanded.

It’s grin faltered for one strong second until she started to scream at it.

“Do it! Do it! Do it!”

The others joined the chorus and it lifted her off her feet. Her throat closed off in that moment as she dangled in its hold. At its mercy. She couldn’t be afraid. She couldn’t feel a single thing. All she did was glare down at the demented reflection of herself. Black holes sat where her dark, black tea eyes should have stared back. Her own dimpled cheeks strained around its unnatural grinning mouth.

She beat her fist against the arm that was her’s but also was not. Do it, her mind commanded. Do it!

Fire raced across her throat like she was going to vomit the acid of her stomach, but she clenched her jaw tight until it shot colors behind her eyes. The pain in her skull throbbed in time with the beat of the flames licking through her chest and suddenly she became aware of the fact that she couldn’t inhale anymore.

The numbness faded like clearing fog.

White hot lightning seared through her body instead, crashing into her mind with rolls of thunder that screamed:

I don’t want to die.

Her legs kicked out, swinging her in every direction. The beasts were gone. The room was black. Silent and heavy with the smog of terror and regret and an agony she could never escape from.

Despite her sudden struggles, the rope did not break.

It held strong.

And soon, all her coiled muscles finally released for the first time in years.

She came entirely still, not even swinging any longer. Just there. An empty shell.

[hoshees]

so i'm going to preface this by saying that these are entirely my own opinions, i in no way think these opinions are superior, but they are based on how i've been feeling lately, no matter how accurate or misplaced those feelings may be.

i’m addressing some things i’ve noticed in the shinee fandom (not as a whole, but regularly) lately that have been bothering me.

 you have every right to disagree with me, and i will gladly talk through these disagreements if you'd like to, so long as your response is respectful and acknowledges that i'm permitted to have my own stance here, because i definitely believe you are permitted to have yours. please don't bother responding to this unless you actually read everything. i know it's very long, and i apologize if i don't word things clearly or make errors in communicating myself accurately. please give me some leeway in this, as these words are coming from a really raw place, and i don't entirely trust myself to speak with confidence. 

also please note that some of this may be triggering. i talk about jonghyun and some of the feelings i had after his death, so please be aware of that as you read. i've marked the section where i begin to discuss this with an asterisk (*). 

here we go. first, some background. i got in deep into kpop a couple of years ago after taemin's press it album was released, and found myself falling in love with not only taemin's music but also with  shinee's. i was really attracted to their talent, their varied discography, and their personalities. but what really sealed the deal for me were shawols. i joined tumblr originally under the url @/celes-tae, (i'd been on tumblr for years prior under another url, but never posted kpop content) and as a new blogger i didn't understand everything at first but i felt really comfortable right away. shawols seemed kind, mature, intelligent... so many things that i really craved in companionship with others, even if it was just online. i felt like i was a little late to the game (at the time i was 23 and was really only a casual listener of kpop before then), but i felt like that didn't matter to this fandom. people were so kind, and as i began to embrace a role as a content-creator i really felt like i was appreciated and accepted into this niche that i really loved. beyond that, i was able to form friendships that have proven to be really valuable to me and have really touched my heart. at the time, i really felt like shawols were generally more accepting than other fandoms i dabbled in. this is based mostly off of some of the people and words i came across on this website, and of course not as an accurate representation of any fandom as a whole, but i felt for a very long time that i would be one of those people who only stanned one group and that group would be shinee, because everything else seemed to complicated to grasp for a newcomer like me. as i got more into the music, though, i realized that there were so many other great things i was missing out on, and i steadily became more multifandom, first with getting more into monsta x than the casual fan i had been up until that point, and then with seventeen. i also started listening to bts more, because i really liked their music, but i distanced myself from the fandom simply because it felt really complex and it wasn't something i wanted to take the effort to navigate and find my place in at the time. this went on for a while, and i made friends with so many people and started making content for monsta x and seventeen in addition to shinee and just did what made me happy, and none of this ever had a negative impact on my friendships or more casual interactions on tumblr, at least none that were made evident to me. i went to shinee concerts and made more friends, gushed about new content  and new music with others, and it was all so lovely... even with the occasional controversies among shawols nothing ever really seemed to break us or cause major discord, and i was so proud of that.   on november 2, 2017, i accidentally deleted my blog (then @/taeminihyuk), and had to remake. i was devastated because of the content i lost, of course, but mostly because i knew it would be difficult if not impossible to reestablish all of the connections i'd made with people via that blog. this didn't end up being the case though. i was welcomed back by old friends and made TONS of new ones, many of whom i'm close with now. since remaking, i've felt so much positivity and love from others and seen so much of these same emotions exchanged on my dash, and i can't help but smile. of course this is just a website, and is in no way a replacement for flesh and blood human relationships, but that doesn't mean it can't have a vastly positive impact on people's lives, because it really has on mine. through this blog i've been exposed to music and art that has directly inspired me in my own life, and brought me out of some pretty dark places. i think that's what this should be about more than anything. not notes or fame or awards or streams, but the real evidenced impact that being a fan of a musician, or any art, can bring. please keep this in mind as you read on. * when jonghyun passed away, i felt a sadness that i've never felt before. i won't say it's the worst pain i've ever felt, but it was different, more suffocating and unexpected, than any pain i'd experienced up until then. in no way am i insinuating that you are wrong in your reactions to his death if you feel differently from how i did. i know that for many people there was no worse pain than the reality of losing him, and these feelings are valid, and you are entitled to feel and react to that sadness however you want. for me though, the heartbreak came not only from the sudden loss, but also in viewing everything that shattered afterward. in the people i knew and some who didn't, who were broken. at first, as with any devastation, people came together in support of one another. i received messages from bloggers i'd never interacted with before, who wanted to just check on me and let me know they were there if i needed them. i did my best to reciprocate that sentiment and tried to be a source of comfort for people. in many ways this was harmful though, because i didn't spend enough time actually grieving, and in many ways i'm still feeling some of the repercussions of that. regardless, the love and care that i saw from other people in those weeks following his death are things i'll look back on with gratefulness probably forever. 

as time wore on though, that sense of camaraderie faded. it's natural for that to happen, but it left room for lots of negative voices to ring louder than others. people started policing others for their expressions of grief or lack thereof. people who identified as shawols were telling others that they weren't entitled to grieve if they hadn't been fans of him before his death. people used jonghyun's name to push agendas that were problematic at best and downright harmful at worst. the ways people talked to each other changed. there was no more delicacy, at least not in the louder voices. when i noticed a lot of these things, i felt myself pulling away even more. because i was immersed in other groups, i spoke less about shinee. i still blogged quietly, but i didn't feel like i could really participate in the fandom anymore, because i wanted to compartmentalize and go back to the reasons why i got into kpop in the first place, which at the time seemed separate from shinee. i wanted to feel warm again, and all of the fighting and discourse was stripping that away, in my view. i didn't identify with single-fandom shawols that viewed them as their everything because i hadn't been around for years and years, as i said, i only got into all of this in early 2016, so it wasn't as embedded in my life and my understanding of my relationships and choices as it was for others. i also didn't identify with people who weren't shawols, the "i'm not a shawol, but..." mentality, because i still very much felt that i was a shawol at heart. i kept drifting back and forth between feeling like i had a place and was content in my understanding of what shinee was to me and then just being really confused, and sometimes i felt alone and hurt. when onew, key, minho, and taemin went ahead with the tokyo dome concerts, i had mixed feelings. i wanted them to take time to rest and grieve, i wanted them to be happy above everything, but i knew there was nothing i could do to help them in that regard, and a really selfish part of me wanted them to keep making music because i thought "i can't lose this too." i live-streamed the audio for the first night, and it was terrible, but also really good for me, because i finally felt like a shawol again. i finally felt like i was part of that community, and i could really grieve. this next paragraph is a bit of an aside, but the concerns i express here directly play into my discussion of shinee later, so please read it too: after monsta x tickets went on sale a few months ago, i saw a lot of worrying stuff that really bothered me. ticketing was a nightmare, and a lot of monbebes who really loved monsta x weren't able to get the tickets they wanted or couldn't get tickets at all. some people lashed out at those who had gotten tickets, saying things like "i only stan monsta x" or "they're everything to me" or "i've been here since debut" and then insinuating or even downright stating that the people who didn't meet those criteria or were multifandom didn't deserve tickets. this was a really ugly side of the monsta x fandom that i'd never really seen before, and it made me feel ostracized, because i considered myself multifandom and had gotten a good ticket to the concert. this blew over, as most things do, but i think that this mentality has really tarnished the fandom, and i still see hints of it every now and then, and i wish that it wasn't there. as rumors of a shinee comeback spread, i felt mixed feelings again. i saw more hate than i'd ever seen on my dash, between fandoms and between shawols. misunderstandings that grew out of proportion, people who felt like they couldn't voice anything without being attacked, whether that be happiness that shinee was continuing or sadness that they were going to release music for the first time without jonghyun. i want to take this time to say that no matter what your feelings are regarding shinee's comeback, they are valid because they are yours. personally, i'm excited, but again i am also absolutely devastated. all of my happiness is two fold with sadness, and i say that as someone who has only been a fan through 2 comebacks, so i can't imagine what its like for others, and i won't try to speak for you. for me, this comeback has been a weird mix of excitement and disappointment. i'm excited because it seems like onew, key, minho, and taemin are releasing music because they want to do it. i'm disappointed because it feels like jonghyun is being left behind. i don't know if there's any way to not feel like this. some of this has to do with sm removing his memorial. some of this has to do with the ambiguity surrounding the album and whether or not he had an influence on or part in it.... ....some of this disappointment has to do with some of the behavior i'm seeing from shawols. tumblr has a kind of discourse surrounding it where sarcasm runs amok and softness is often taboo. but i am going to take the time to make a few things clear, as far as my opinions are concerned. i think it is TOTALLY okay to only stan shinee. that is your choice. you are in control of your likes and dislikes, your loves and hates. however, it is NOT okay to belittle other people for calling themselves shawols while also stanning other groups. i haven't seen much of this in a blunt sense on my dash, but i have seen hints at exclusionism (that's not a word, but roll with it), that i find really terrible, because it's ostracizing and belittling to people who really love shinee and want to support them. i think it is TOTALLY okay to say that you don't like _____'s music or even that you hate it, but to insinuate that a person who likes that group/it's music is unintelligent because they like it is NOT okay. people are allowed to like what they like, and you need to be respectful of that. i think it is TOTALLY okay to point out the realities of why you don't like a group, like their music, or don't like their negative fans, but i don't think it's okay to ball up everyone in the same group and say "____ fandom needs to shut up" or "you aren't a shawol so you aren't valid." this is really harmful for a lot of reasons. some i can't really express in words right now, but please know that these are toxic viewpoints in my opinion, and i want you to think about your words and their consequences before you say something like this. i would like to note that a lot of these problems i'm addressing come after loads of bullshit from anons and other people who have insulted shawols, belittled them, and driven them to anger. i understand why it's frustrating, and i know i've said problematic things when i was feeling attacked, too. i have to ask though, why are we fighting fire with fire? you may feel like you've been stripped of your ownership to this one thing you find comfort in, but i ask you, please don't push people away so you can cling to it harder. there's enough room for everyone. this isn't finite. i can't speak for jonghyun, but i can speak to the feelings i had after he died, the things i saw on this website that were so overwhelmingly comforting during a time when it felt like nothing mattered. that the only thing to do was find a way out. i really want shawols to think about how they are interacting, not only with other fandoms, but with each other. don't do the same things you criticize other people for. the similar, although different breed of elitism i saw after monsta x tickets were released and people said "you're not a real monbebe if...." has now been mirrored on my dash to statement like "you're not a real shawol if...." and i'm disappointed and sad to see it. again, i want to reiterate that it's definitely permissible to stan one group. to identify only as a shawol and nothing else. just please do that with words of love and respect. i want to say a lot more, and i feel like what i've said didn't come out the way i wanted it to, but i'm going to wrap this up now, and hope that i don't come across too terribly. i just want people to be kind to each other, and to be inclusive. maybe that's naive of me, but i really wish for it, and i'm not ashamed of that. think about the reasons you came here in the first place. they're positive, right? remember that there are a lot of people here who are new to this, and they need to see that there's good here. please be kind always. - logan

[ollyarchive]

Years & Years’s Olly Alexander: ‘Celebrity has positives, but my sex life’s taken quite a beating’

Olly Alexander is Britain’s most exciting new pop star, but the Years & Years singer has also become a poster boy for social change

Ed Potton

July 5 2018, 12:01am, The Times

“I’m glad you noticed!” says Olly Alexander with one of his impish smiles. “I’ve come a long way since then.” We’re talking about the difference between the first time I saw him sing with his band, Years & Years, and the strutting peacock that he has since become. In 2015, fresh from winning the BBC Sound Of … poll, Alexander had a mean falsetto and a clutch of killer synth-pop ditties (Shine, King), but he cut a diffident figure during his show at the Heaven nightclub, dressed down in a T-shirt and beanie.

The second time I saw him, a year later, he was rising on a hydraulic lift through the stage of a rapturous Wembley Arena, wearing a red tunic with silver shoulder pads, and garlanded with laser beams. Alexander’s ascent to serious, tabloid-baiting stardom continues. Years & Years have a dazzling album out this week and days before we meet he was on Graham Norton’s sofa, regaling Cate Blanchett and Sandra Bullock with the story of how Meteorite, the song he wrote for Bridget Jones’s Baby, was about “a big dick”. Diffident no longer.

“Looking back, it’s quite overwhelming,” says Alexander, 27, as he lunches on quinoa in a restaurant in King’s Cross, north London. He is slight and conspiratorial, with tiny safety pins through his ears, a ring through his nose and his cropped hair dyed scarlet. “At first you really don’t know what support from an audience is going to feel like. But when people started showing their support for me being honest and being a camp, gay frontman — I just never really expected it and it added so much fuel to my fire.” Olly Alexander with Emre Türkmen and Mikey Goldsworthy of Years & Years Olly Alexander with Emre Türkmen and Mikey Goldsworthy of Years & Years

Among the things he has eloquently spoken out on are LGBTQ rights (he presented a BBC Three documentary called Growing Up Gay), mental health (he extols the virtues of therapy, which he started pre-emptively, before he became famous) and bullying (at school in Gloucestershire he was regularly “bushed”: thrown into the bushes next to the assembly hall). He is far more vocal than he was at the start of his music career, when an industry person advised him not to talk about being gay. “She was, like, ‘Why do people need to know your sexuality?’ She wanted to protect me.”

Well, it turned out that he didn’t need protection, he needed confidence. That came with experience and a changing musical landscape in which artists as diverse as Janelle Monáe, Christine and the Queens, Frank Ocean and Perfume Genius felt able to be candid about their sexuality. “It’s quite astonishing,” Alexander says. “We’re seeing a lot more visible queer artists and visible gay people.”

Pop has been missing male stars with strong views, especially those with a sense of theatre; it’s all uber-polite George Ezra or anti-glamorous Ed Sheeran. “It has its place, having someone who’s not dressed up,” Alexander says, trying to be diplomatic. “But the thing I love most about pop music is the fantasy, the escapism. I had this moment when I realised I’m in the best place to engineer that for myself. I realised you could go as far as you want on stage.”

A few weeks ago at Radio 1’s Biggest Weekend in Swansea he wore a lime-green Freddie Mercury leotard and led an onstage conga of his dancers, who seemed to be styled as drugged-up zombies. It felt like a long way from Mike Read and Bruno Brookes. “There was a point where I realised if you embody supreme confidence, you can get away with anything,” Alexander says. “It is quite a religious experience for me, to be on stage.” With Hannah Murray and Emily Browning in God Help the Girl With Hannah Murray and Emily Browning in God Help the Girl

Religion is a bit of a theme for Years & Years, whose other members are the keyboard player Emre Türkmen and the bassist Mikey Goldsworthy. Their first album was called Communion and their new one is entitled Palo Santo, after a mystical South American tree burnt as incense. Its literal translation, “holy wood”, joins the dots between spiritualism and smut (“It’s a Carry On album!” Alexander says with a giggle). So too does the recent single, Sanctify, partly inspired by a relationship with a straight-acting man, which refers to two very different things that one can do on one’s knees. “See?” Alexander says, turning to his publicist, who is sitting near by. “Ed gets it!”

He has always been into spiritualism and the occult, he says, albeit in a slightly sceptical way. “The first place I ever had a job was in this shop called Moonstones — it sold gemstones, pagan spellbooks and chocolate dildos.” He grew up loving fairytales and fantasy fiction: Lord of the Rings, The Magic Faraway Tree, Harry Potter. You can see why he might have wanted to escape to other worlds, such was the rotten time he sometimes had at school, where he was mocked and sometimes “bushed” for wearing eyeliner, nail varnish and choker necklaces.

Has being a posterboy for LGBTQ and anti-bullying issues become a burden? He gets Instagram messages from fans every day. “It doesn’t feel like a burden. I think it would be more of a burden to not acknowledge any of that. But I’ve had to learn the ways to cope with my own mental health along the way, and I feel like I’m in a good position now, but if you’re having a bad day and you’re suddenly having to talk about things that you experienced when you were 13 years old, it can feel a bit challenging.” Olly Alexander: “It’s quite a religious experience for me to be on stage” Olly Alexander: “It’s quite a religious experience for me to be on stage”

He’s talking about the break-up of his mother, who ran community craft groups, from his father, who worked at amusement parks, but, tellingly, dreamt of being a musician. After the split Alexander moved to Gloucestershire with his mother and brother; his father has only been in contact sporadically. Alexander has sometimes shied away from the subject because “I was trying to protect him, and I was, like, ‘Why am I still trying to protect someone who hasn’t been in my life for over a decade and who’s actually very difficult and caused a lot of pain to my family?’ ”

They hadn’t been in touch for seven years when his father broke the silence in wincing fashion, by tweeting him. Matters got worse when Alexander’s fans started replying to his dad, even trolling him. It sounds horrific. He has seen him once since then, last year. “It was quite triggering,” he says. “I just couldn’t deal with it at the time, it was too overwhelming.”

Social media can be a perilous place for him, especially deciding what to keep private. “I’ve always been fairly ‘Here’s everything!’ ” He’s also prone to “stalking someone that I fancy, and then getting upset because they like so-and-so’s picture and not mine”.

Yet the lure of Instagram can be irresistible. Take his appearance on The Graham Norton Show, when he met Rihanna, one of his heroes, and posted a picture of them backstage, in which he wears an expression of volcanic ecstasy. He was more nervous about meeting Ri-Ri than he was about singing on the show, he says, but she was lovely. “She was, like, ‘My fans love you.’ I feel like we’re destined to be friends.”

Or, perhaps, rivals. Palo Santo, with its mega-hooks, shimmering melodies and sumptuous production, is an album built to take on the superstar Americans at their own game. It was inspired by the R&B and pop that Alexander grew up on: Timberland, Britney Spears, Justin Timberlake and, before them, Prince and Michael Jackson.

He’s a better fit for music than he was for his first, slightly accidental career as an actor. “It just feels like people can express their identity easier as artists in the music industry.” Still, acting was where he initially made his mark, straight out of school, first in the film Summerhill and later playing a Bullingdon-style posho in The Riot Club, Herbert Pocket in David Nicholls’s TV adaptation of Great Expectations, and a stage role in Michael Grandage’s Peter and Alice, during which he befriended Judi Dench.

He was quite intimidated, but Dench turned out to be “very cheeky. One day she brought in biscuits that had dicks and balls on them; she was, like, ‘Do you want a cock biscuit?’ ” She has since narrated a short film to accompany Years & Years’s new album.

Acting has some happy associations for him, then, but “Hollywood is the worst culprit” when it comes to diversity, he says. “It’s just so far behind the times, it’s disgusting.” He even felt a subtle pressure not to reveal his sexuality on God Help the Girl, a low-budget British indie film directed by Stuart Murdoch of the band Belle & Sebastian, in which Alexander played a straight musician.

“It gave me a lot of anxiety. It was one of the reasons I wanted to stop acting. I definitely felt at the time it was something you had to be quiet about, because otherwise directors wouldn’t believe you could pull off the part.” That was nothing to do with Murdoch, he stresses. “I got on with Stuart really well, and I felt guilty because I never told him I was gay. I kind of tried to play up to the fact that I could actually be straight still, based on lies, even though everyone else knew I was gay.” During the shoot he met a man in a club. “After filming every day I’d just go straight to his house and spend the night with him. You just feel like you’re living a bit of a double life.”

I tell him my editor will tell me off if I don’t ask about his romantic status. “I’m single,” he replies with a smile. “Let everyone know, including your editor! Is he gay? It’s a she? Maybe she has gay friends. Yeah, I am happily single. It’s been like … almost two years. Not that I’ve been a nun in that time, I would like to stress.” Celebrity is double-sided in that regard: adulation on one hand, lack of anonymity on the other. “It obviously has positives,” he says with a smile, “but my sex life’s taken quite a beating.”

Don’t buy the mock self-pity — Alexander is doing just fine. There’s the stellar album and an arena tour in the autumn. Nor have his experiences put him off acting. “I feel like I could do something really, really fun and weird, like play an alien,” he says. “Or, you know, a goblin king!” From dressed-down diffidence to a budding Bowie in three years: he really has come a long way.

Palo Santo is released tomorrow on Polydor. Years & Years play the Roundhouse, London, July 10; Manchester Arena, July 14 and tour the UK from November