#(i was actively having a mental breakdown and then lost the ability to attend anyway but. you understand)

[j-esbian]

missing my dnd character and realizing that like. she still belongs to me and i can still do things with her. like launching into an explanation of her character like i’m in a fucking television interview or perhaps the kind they would include on the dvd bonus features while i’m in the shower

[jeonsduck]

So, I Heard You Like Bad Guys

So I Head You Like Bad Guys

Part 2

Warnings: cliches

Yeosang x reader

After Yeosang drops you off you just sort of stand in the middle of your apartment calming yourself down.

“It was just a motorcycle ride. He held onto you for safety, get it together Y/N.” you mumble to yourself.

Your cheeks are burning up so much that you’re debating sticking your head in the freezer to cool them off.

“Hey I thought I heard you having a mental breakdown in here. Didn’t you already leave for work?” Your roommate, Wooyoung asks.

“Yeah, I got a new assignment today, I’m going to Los Angeles to cover the E3 conference.” you explain.

“Oh! That’s great!” Wooyoung says, reaching out to offer you a high five on his way to grab a snack.

“Yeah! And I’m working with Yeosang.” you add.

Wooyoung’s eyebrows shoot up and he wiggles then at you.

“The same Yeosang that’s broken nearly every single one of your co worker’s hearts? The one who lives three floors up and rides both a motorcycle AND a skateboard?” Wooyoung asks around a stick of Peppero.

“Yes, that one. Though I didn’t know about the motorcycle until about 20 minutes ago.” you say.

Wooyoung follows you to your room where he proceeds to help you pack.

“So, a whole week in LA. Alone. With Mr. Kang Yeosang. Inch-resting.” Wooyoung comments.

“Ah, yes and hours upon hours of panels and workshops to to attend, not to mention a small novel of articles to write.” You point out.

“No matter how attractive and charming and ethereal and tempting and- wait where was I going with this?” you pause, staring at the shirt you’ve been holding.

“You were listing all of Yeosang’s positive traits but I think you had a point.” Wooyoung tried.

“Yes! I won’t have time to pine after him wistfully. Plus, he’s a total heartbreaker, so like it’d be a moot point anyway.” you explain after finding your train of thought.

“Hey, you’re hot! You’re sexy! Yeosang would be lucky to have you!” Wooyoung argues.

You squint at him for a second.

“You just want me to move out so San can take over my lease.” You accuse and Wooyoung acts offered, throwing a hand over his heart.

“I love having you as a roommate! I’m just saying, here’s your chance. Now, if that means that you move out and my boyfriend takes over your rent that’s just a positive side-effect.” He says.

“Mm.” You hum, comparing a pair of shoes. “Come on, help me pack.”

Yeosang appears in front of your door exactly 45 minutes later.

“Come on in, Y/N’s almost done.” Wooyoung says.

“I’ll just wait here.” he declines as you lug your suitcase out of your bedroom.

“No waiting necessary. Come on, let’s go. We still need to register and check in to the hotel.” you say, not wanting Wooyoung to interact with Yeosang more than strictly necessary.

Yeosang takes your luggage from you without a word, hauling itI downstairs and into the boot of the car. Somehow, he still has the time to make it around the car to your side and open the door for you which... okay then.

You slide into the seat and Yeosang shuts the door before jogging around the the driver’s side. He continues not to speak, and with the radio playing softly in the background, you doze off for a majority of the trip. You think you wake up a few times to the sound of Yeosang singing, but with the radio on as well, you aren’t sure.

You don’t wake up for real until Yeosang parks are the convention center.

You make a confused humming noise, blinking sleepily. You turn your head to the side, seeing Yeosang standing there with the car door open, waiting for you to get out.

“Is this a dream?” You mumble to yourself, making Yeosang smile.

“No, you’re awake now. Come on, we need to get our press passes.”

He helps you down from the car while you attempt to make it look like you hadn’t been deep in REM the whole trip.

You end up walking a couple steps behind Yeosang, letting him take the lead, because the registration table is a war zone. With press, panelists, attendees, booth holders, and merchants all vying for passes and upgrades at one area. It was overwhelming and loud and a general mess. Yeosang sighs and approaches the desk, trying to ask for your passes by the title of your magazine, but it’s so chaotic you aren’t sure the staff even heard him. After a few more soft spoken attempts, it’s like something in Yeosang snaps.

“I’d love to write about all the new games and events being unveiled this year, but I don’t think I’ll get the chance. Maybe if the organizers had some sense of organization, but Mmmm it looks like all my pieces will be about gross incompetence this year.”

Ah there it was, the Ice Prince showing his colors. A couple of the staff looked shocked.

“Sir, we’re doing our best to-“

“If this is your best, I’d hate to see your worst. The press passes for KQ Magazine. Now, please.” he said.

You just stood to the side awkwardly, watching the whole interaction. Sometimes Yeosang could be scary.

Press passes secured, you navigated your way to the hotel to check-in. You managed to do that correctly, which was a win in your book. Not looking incompetent was the goal of the week. So far you were winning, but if you snored in the car on the way, you probably lost some brownie points.

“Here are your room keys and breakfast passes. The pool in on the third floor and the elevators are that way. Please, have a nice stay.” Yeosang nodded at the receptionist and handed you a key card, which you slipped into the card holder on the back of your phone. The elevator ride up to the room was just as silent as a majority of your time spent with Yeosang. A real good week to start meditating or some other quiet activity.

Your company had supposedly splurged on a suite so you could conduct private interviews on either side of the room on in the living room area. It would have been great set up where you could have disappeared for hours and ignored the gorgeous man across the suite to the best of your ability.

Emphasis on would have. Because when Yeosang opened the door and you stepped into the room you quickly came to a very grim realization. Your soul might even have left your body. Because this was NOT a suite room.

“Oh no, there’s only one bed.”

[senior-sem-thesis-draft]

On April 14, 2020, I wrote:

i hate reality which is why i do drugs lol

Back then, and for most of my life, the reality I inhabited was not pleasant. It was no wonder I wanted to escape from it so frequently with such drastic methods.

My reality was generated by the framework of my mental state- I was fully immersed in the toxic narrative of my traumatized ego and I held everything it told me as the absolute truth. If I thought I was ugly, my face and body appeared grotesque. If I thought my teacher was singling me out for punishment, I was being unjustly targeted. If I thought my friends were mad at me, nobody liked or cared about me. And so on- my experiences were constructed from my unerringly critical and pessimistic worldview.

Since I was younger, I’d always been fascinated with states of altered consciousness. But I didn’t really get into doing drugs until my forced leave of absence in 2017 after I tried to kill myself and ended up in the ICU. During my leave, I didn’t have the structure of school to keep me busy, so I turned to other things.

Substance use became a coping mechanism- a method of indulging escapism- but also eventually, a tool for healing.

I would insufflate a stimulant to get something done. It made whatever activity I was doing more rewarding and engaging. Or I would ingest a dissociative and withdraw into the depths of my own dazed mind, leaving my physical body behind for up to a couple hours. I would smoke cigarettes and vape. I would use entheogens and psychedelics when attending EDM shows. I would pop pharmaceutical  benzodiazepines and opiates to cope with my perpetual state of anxiety and despair.

I grew to adore getting fucked up. I loved the precarious feeling of free-fall, the way my heart vibrated in my chest when I was on the cusp of being not okay. I wasn’t ever scared because I wanted to be dead, anyway. In those fleeting moments, I was able to let go of both my corporal form and thinking mind. I eagerly leaned into the overpowering sensations, which came naturally since I was always looking for a distraction from existing. I was truly free, if only temporarily. Once I came back down, I desperately wanted to lose control again.

I think I hit my rock bottom, or one of them, when a breakdown triggered me to take two bars of Xanax and finish the bottle of soju I had in the fridge. I don’t remember what set me off, but I was so incredibly upset. I felt completely hollow yet brimming with guilt, rage, and shame. Even with the high dose of sedatives, I couldn’t stop myself from smashing the bottle on a table. My former partner came over to clean up the broken glass everywhere. Then, I would’ve called it pathetic, but I now feel overwhelming compassion for my past self- she was going through so much. I understand intimately how distressed she was and how she was incapable of coping with her illness in a healthy way.

But it wasn’t just the intense highs I chased. I smoked daily, multiple times a day, during more than a few periods of my life. It was such a quick, effortless, and reliable fix- it would unfailingly make me feel better when I was sad, which was very often. Because I was always able to distract myself with weed, I never felt the need to address the root cause of my negative emotions.

I was somewhat aware that it was an issue, but I would rationalize my use because I was still functional and getting good grades. In fact, I would smoke before doing schoolwork when I was upset, because the subsequent mood boost was enough to get me out of bed and to my desk. But frequent use resulted in unavoidable consequences.

I lost my ambition and drive, since all I wanted to do was go back home and smoke. I put in the bare minimum to ace my classes. I grew comfortable in my painful reality and accepted my profoundly depressing life as it was. I constantly overate, overslept, and woke up feeling groggy and numb. I cherished the social aspect of weed, but in hindsight I was always awkward and never fully present. I became more forgetful, and my ability to focus waned. Eventually it grew to amplify my fear of abandonment, causing more conflict in my interpersonal relationships. Even my physical injuries started hurting more when I was high.

Despite all this, I didn’t stop. It was just too comforting and easy.

There were other aspects of substances that became meaningful to me. At some point, it developed into more than a way to distract myself. As a naturally curious person, I became enthralled with pharmacological pathways, harm reduction, and purity-testing reagents. I became friends with other drug lovers. I grew to appreciate the ritual of it all.

Most importantly, I started respecting psychedelics and intentionally using them to change my mindset and heal from my traumas. Thanks to the lessons I learned from them, I was able to rely less and less on substances to numb my feelings and escape reality. Psychedelics initiated my shift from trauma conditioning, survival mode, and self-sabotage to becoming consciously aware of patterns and developing the ability to non-judgmentally respond to thoughts, emotions, and situations.

I was forced to stop smoking when I came to Korea last year because it’s illegal there. The cloudiness of my mind gradually dissipated, and my attention span returned- I didn’t have to rely on stims during time crunches in the semester anymore.

I quit my very frequent nicotine use because it is shown to inhibit wound healing. (My knees, wrist, back, etc. were all injured from lifting.) Surprisingly, quitting was not that hard once I began to actively value my body and prioritize healing my injuries instead of chasing the buzz I barely even felt anymore. One day, I just put my vape down and never picked it up again. I decided to cut alcohol from my life- I was never a fan.

Now, I have a much healthier relationship with substances. I don't compulsively smoke weed or do any other drugs to numb my feelings anymore. After addressing the root cause of my addictions, I am able to enjoy drugs rather than depending on them to escape a painful reality.