#a *conversation*

[reaurelynios]

i apologize for this but it also had to be done

[apoemaday]

Explaining My Depression to My Mother: a Conversation

by Sabrina Benaim

Mom, my depression is a shapeshifter. One day it is as small as a firefly in the palm of a bear, The next, it’s the bear. On those days I play dead until the bear leaves me alone. I call the bad days: “the Dark Days.” Mom says, “Try lighting candles.” When I see a candle, I see the flesh of a church, the flicker of a flame, Sparks of a memory younger than noon. I am standing beside her open casket. It is the moment I learn every person I ever come to know will someday die. Besides Mom, I’m not afraid of the dark. Perhaps, that’s part of the problem. Mom says, “I thought the problem was that you can’t get out of bed.” I can’t. Anxiety holds me a hostage inside of my house, inside of my head. Mom says, “Where did anxiety come from?” Anxiety is the cousin visiting from out-of-town depression felt obligated to bring to the party. Mom, I am the party. Only I am a party I don’t want to be at. Mom says, “Why don’t you try going to actual parties, see your friends?” Sure, I make plans. I make plans but I don’t want to go. I make plans because I know I should want to go. I know sometimes I would have wanted to go. It’s just not that fun having fun when you don’t want to have fun, Mom. You see, Mom, each night insomnia sweeps me up in his arms dips me in the kitchen in the small glow of the stove-light. Insomnia has this romantic way of making the moon feel like perfect company. Mom says, “Try counting sheep.” But my mind can only count reasons to stay awake; So I go for walks; but my stuttering kneecaps clank like silver spoons held in strong arms with loose wrists. They ring in my ears like clumsy church bells reminding me I am sleepwalking on an ocean of happiness I cannot baptize myself in. Mom says, “Happy is a decision.” But my happy is as hollow as a pin pricked egg. My happy is a high fever that will break. Mom says I am so good at making something out of nothing and then flat-out asks me if I am afraid of dying. No. I am afraid of living. Mom, I am lonely. I think I learned that when Dad left how to turn the anger into lonely — The lonely into busy; So when I tell you, “I’ve been super busy lately,” I mean I’ve been falling asleep watching SportsCenter on the couch To avoid confronting the empty side of my bed. But my depression always drags me back to my bed Until my bones are the forgotten fossils of a skeleton sunken city, My mouth a bone yard of teeth broken from biting down on themselves. The hollow auditorium of my chest swoons with echoes of a heartbeat, But I am a careless tourist here. I will never truly know everywhere I have been. Mom still doesn’t understand. Mom! Can’t you see that neither can I?

[myhousewifedreams]

A PSA to everyone, but mostly men:

I am not on here to find a husband. I am not on here to encourage the sexualization of traditional values.

I just enjoy posting about femininity and homemaking, neither of which are inherently sexual. If you'd like to message me to chat about those topics, I welcome the conversation! Otherwise, don't bother.

[capriciouswriter207]

The Curse of Deepfrost

Chapter 13: The swordsmaster

Etho talks a bit about himself, and Pearl has some questions.

Story summary

The kingdom has fallen, its population decimated. The outskirts are already caught in the maelstrom of ice and snow, and it moves in on the capital. A few pockets of civilization in and around the citadel have survived thus far, but food supplies and hope are dwindling as the wind picks up and blasts ice in their hearts.

The only thing that can chase away the cold is hidden deep below the earth. In the deepest dungeons of the citadel, a spell is rumored to be located, strong enough to dispel the winter. Yet all who entered through the doors have never returned.

With little left to lose - and with the encouragement of the survivors under her wing - a young woman named Pearl steps through the doors to help her people and put an end to the eternal winter.

[photoblogdujour]

Tell me how much you love Calla Lillys. That's what the comments are for. Yes you, I'm talking to you. And showing you some nice pictures.

[apocketfullofpoem]

You should know lying under the stars alone wasn't my first choice; laying there alongside you was always my first.

[wardenparker]

Tbh, I’m still coming to terms with the fact I suffer from chronic pain. Like it’s not mentally clicking into place for me, that my body has wear and tear that means I need to slow down or suffer, and that my slowing down needs to come sooner than other people’s.

I’m fat to boot, have been my whole life, so there’s a lot of issues from that and forcing myself to keep going because if I didn’t I’d be ridiculed by any and everyone. Which I know now is a major factor in my chronic pain now (the other of course, being medical fatphobia.)

Fics with readers with chronic pain help me more comfortably identify with the fact that I do have chronic pain, and actually help me advocate more for myself in medical and social situations.

Because I deserve not to suffer just because I’ve proven I can.

Everybody please read that again. EVERYBODY. This is so important.

Hugs for you, friend 🧡

[sageexperience]

Are you ready for an emotional intelligent man ..

[the-merrick-archives]

There's a woosh of air behind Merrick, and suddenly, someone is standing several feet behind her. They're dressed in black with a dark purple cloak, a large hood covering their face. So that only their mouth was visible. The voice is feminine and pleasant, but there's a sinister undertone lurking beneath.

"It's been awhile, child. This is quite the life you've made for yourself."

@violet-desire

That voice. Merrick would never forget that voice. The one that came to her at her most desperate, trapped in that damned forsaken mirror. Just like that, her world comes crashing in on itself. The dish she was washing is dropped and shatters.

Even though she manages to straighten her back, she can't hide the fear when she turns to face them.

"Violet..."

[yagikidd57]

Toxic Man on IG: FEMINISM = MISANDRY

Me: FEMINISM is NOT misandry & calling out misogyny is not "anti-men". Only toxic men try to flip the narrative & disregard the bs women have been thru & still go thru. Look at all the anti abortion laws being passed rn. I don't see laws preventing men from getting vasectomies. Men are the ones passing these laws too but apparently misogyny (or toxic masculinity) isn't real, women aren’t being systematically oppressed & we just want "attention" and “special treatment.” 😒🤦🏽‍♀️

[probablyscreamingintothevoid]

It wasn't even 10:30 when I read the message from my friend: "What you lack in your childhood is what you seek in your adulthood" with an upside down smiley face at the end.

I replied, "Eddie Munson???" immediately and as a joke because I can't stand a serious thought for more than a moment. But it felt disingenuous and dismissive, I could tell my friend had more to add to their thought so I followed up with, "On a serious note, this is so fucking true."

My friend either didn't catch my joke or is a saint and chose to overlook it, continuing the conversation with, "think of what Wayne is to Eddie" with another upside down smile. "Hopper to Eleven🙃" And to my serious note they said, "So you realized that already👀"

Of course I did, I wanted to respond. But I waited, giving myself a moment to process all of these things. I finally sent back, "Give me a broken father figure who works on bettering himself for his kid even if he thinks it's going to kill him." Barely thirty seconds pass but I start to worry. "This is something I crave. It's why I try to be so solid for my niece."

"And you actively write wholesome, fatherly acts in your fics whether you intentionally do so or not."

And shit if that didn't get me thinking just how telling writing can be. Of course I write about Wayne Munson and Jim Hopper. I know it is my inner child still begging my late father to look at his children with as much love as Hopper has for El. My childhood lacked a father who could over come his own personal demons and be present for his children, it almost lacked any father at all. How could I possibly not love Wayne Munson for how he defended his nephew up until the bitter end?

What you lack in your childhood is what you seek in your adulthood.

How very true this is. It is why I have given my original characters sound family units, a father or father figure always there to save the day. It is why, even in the brief amount of time I worked with the thought of Kirishima's father being a villain i made him a desperate man, not a bad one that would hate his child for wanting to become a hero. It is why I have spent weeks writing thousands of words about how steady a presence Wayne is for Eddie, how he and Hopper collectively ensure that none of those children ever feel alone again. It is why Otabek has grown up in my story believing that his step father is his dad and why that doesn't change even once he is told the truth, because that man is his dad.

While I'm here sharing my truth I should add that it is the reason I write so much relapse and recovery. I gave Kirishima an older sibling who uses drugs until it tears him apart. but after years of struggling he begins to recover, finally able to be a good big brother, both of them happier than they ever imagine possible. It is what my younger self never got and what my current self still longs for.

What you lack in your childhood is what you seek in your adulthood.

How true this is. My God how it shapes you and all you give to the world.

[margot-no-armario]

Halloween 2022

[proseandfolklore]

They stood there under the soft glow of the street light facing each other. Standing worlds apart but not too far as not to feel the presence of another. Something shifted that day in the way they were standing as if they were not moving but their hearts were getting closer to each other. There were no stifled feelings, they worried about nothing, they were just hopeful about something, maybe a better tomorrow, maybe a better life for both of them. Their eyes were caught up and neither of them tried to avoid the gaze, unspeakable connection, and the swelling feelings in their hearts. As if they could see the light passing through each other. As if they understood each other for the first time. And it felt good to be seen by someone who understands, to stand there facing each other without fear of one turning its back.

"We should hug, what do you think?" He said with his hands in his pocket, and uneasiness on his face.

"What did you say?" She asked, startled in her disbelief.

She wasn't sure of what she just heard or if she heard it correctly, so she asked him to say that again.

"Can I hug you? if that's alright with you?" He said again. His voice was shaky, a bit anxious as if he didn't believe his own words. But his voice was louder, and she did hear him this time. He didn't know how delighted she was to hear that. He had no idea. She was so happy that she wanted to go crazy with happiness. But she contained herself and didn't want him to see how she longed for this day to come. She didn't say it as she had a lot of pride in herself for not showing him her giddiness. She felt a childlike happiness gushing through her.

"Oh! So we are going for a hug right now, are we?" She asked, still in disbelief.

"Yes!" He answered.

They took a step closer to each other, slowly, carefully, as if they both were trying not to trip and fall and make a mess of themselves. When they were close enough she went in for a hug awkwardly. She was aware of her brewing excitement, a tingle in her stomach, and love in her heart. She wondered if he felt the same. She slowly threw her arms around him and rest her chin on his shoulder trying not to be clumsy and wondering if he is going to hug her back or if she just going to embarrass herself, as she was good at that.

"Are you okay? Are you comfortable?" She asked him. She was trying not to make the already awkward situation more awkward.

"Yes, I am fine!" He replied as he pulled his arms around her. She could still sense his discomfort. She could feel how difficult it was for him to be this close to someone and how hard he was trying. She felt ashamed to be this selfish, but she wanted to care about nothing for once, she wanted to be selfish, and she wanted to feel this moment, and to make sure that this is all real and that she is not dreaming, so she held him tight.

"It's weird, you know? I can feel your heartbeat. wow!" She said nervously.

"Yeah! I can feel yours. And strangely, I don't want to let go this time." He said amusingly.

"Then don't," she said.

He tightened his grip around her as she saw him letting go of his weight and fears of the past. He was letting his walls down. She patted his back to comfort him, to let him know that he is safe.

"Thank you for letting me in! And thank you for trusting me! Thank you for trying!" She said as she almost burst out in tears but held on.

"Are you crying?" He asked.

"No, I am not. I am happy!" She said. And she didn't lie this time, she was truly happy.

"It is okay! You can cry!" He said and his words gave her space enough to let go of her emotions and she cried.

They held onto each other for a little longer, while the world went on. But somewhere in her heart there was fear, she feared this being the last time she would hug him. She wondered that are they coming this close only to fall back further from each other. She was scared of letting go. But she couldn't help but think only about this moment and how a hug as simple as a gesture could be so liberating and healing. And how for some people it takes a lot of strength to show these gestures. It takes up a lot of their courage and trust. That day he found someone to trust. That day, she found her lost happiness.

- Pragati

[allo-frouto]

What was your latest deep conversation about? 😊

It had to do with how irresponsible and rude people have become nowadays because of the hectic way of life we lead.

[coquelicoq]

.

[cmariequeerly]

A scene

Person A: I’ve been having trouble with my brain again. The useless thoughts are back.

Person B: oh, what useless thoughts?

A: you know, like I am the destroyer and the end of all things.

B: oh shit, are you a demon?

A: maybe, what’s a demon?

B: you know what a demon is, everyone does!

A: demon, from the Greek daimon, meaning a god or protective spirit, contemporarily contrasted with angel, from the Greek angelos, meaning messenger. Socrates is believed to have had an instructive eudaimon that granted him wisdom.

B: so, then, are you a eudaimon?

A: oh, you know, I try to give good advice. 😉