#I could reason with it and demystify it and not feel so scared by the fact that seemingly every other person I walk by could wipe out

[aconitemare]

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[j-graysonlibrary]

Heartbeats; Paradise I

Title: Heartbeats; Paradise

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 112K

Genres: Psychological thriller, drama, sci-fi, LGBT+

Available on: Kobo and my website

Synopsis: Melvin Hardy and Kade Axel appear to be a match made in heaven. After a meet-cute in the rain, the two quickly find themselves in a burgeoning, wholesome relationship.

Yet, things feel…off. It isn’t the ghosts of their pasts that resurface to test the strength of their partnership—no—it’s something nebulous. Something indescribable. Melvin can’t put his finger on it but, the more time he spends with Kade, the more he starts to wonder what’s real and what’s pure fiction. 

I:

Kade hasn’t said another word. Not really, anyway. A few times he’s muttered my name to get my attention or he’s made some guttural sounds that vaguely resemble “yes” or “no” when I ask him a question. Even getting that feels like a blessing at this point.

The lights in the apartment came back on as well. A few hours after the outage, they flickered back and have been working ever since though I get the feeling in my gut that I’d be remiss to rely on them.

My phone hasn’t turned on since that night and I’ve tried charging it time and time again but the results are always the same. Kade’s phone, as well, remains broken. Although he’s in no state to use it, I’ve checked for him a few times.

I haven’t been back to work but, in all honesty, I can’t remember the last time I was actually present in the office. No one’s called me (not that they can now) to tell me I’m fired so I don’t worry about it too much.

Even if I was fired from my job, I wouldn’t leave my apartment to try and find a new one. I haven’t left since the outage and that was two weeks ago.

I haven’t even stepped out to get groceries. Every time I consider it, the kitchen is restocked with food—every item in brand new condition, looking identical to the last. There’s never anything new to eat but a variety in my diet is the least of my worries right now.

My main focus has been and continues to be Kade.

The observer may be gone and I may not be obsessed with my boyfriend in the way that the brain fog made me but I still care about him. Honestly, even if I found myself completely demystified by him or disliking him flat out, I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to abandon him in his current state.

Soup is one of the easiest meals for Kade to eat although it’s sometimes a messy affair. I heat up a broth with finely diced vegetables at the base. I consider adding noodles to at least give some interest to the dish but I worry about Kade choking on them. Even the smaller noodles can be dangerous and I can’t chew for him.

Well, I suppose I could but I’m not sure I’m willing to go to those lengths. I’ve been keeping him alive so far with the methods I’ve cultivated so there’s no reason, in my mind, to jump to any further, more extreme measures.

I let his bowl cool some while I quickly eat my dinner first. I hardly taste it—I just need to get the nutrients in me so I can carry on.

Kade sits beside me, staring forward and only blinking every so often. He’s basically catatonic and, if I could, I would have called a doctor by now. That is, if a doctor would even come. I have enough suspicion about the world around me being fake and I’m scared to have it proven to me. It’s one reason I don’t leave the apartment in search for help. The other reason is a little simpler: I don’t want to leave Kade alone for too long.

Theoretically, my boyfriend would just remain unmoving, even if I were to leave, but I don’t want to risk the possibility of him coming back into awareness only for me to be gone at such a crucial time.  And maybe it’s just an excuse so I don’t have to go outside—so I don’t have to face my fears. That could be true but it doesn’t change the situation much.

Me leaving the apartment to step into a potentially empty world wouldn’t make Kade better…it would just make me worse.

I finally deem the soup to be cooled down enough so I scoot closer to Kade. I lift the spoon up to his lips, cupping my other hand underneath in case any broth is spilled.

It takes a few minutes—really about a half hour—to get Kade to eat. His movements are slow and sometimes he doesn’t even notice when I’m bringing food to his lips. I have to snap to get his attention at least twice during each meal and my patience would be at it’s limits if I wasn’t so worried about him.

The bowl still has some broth left but I think he’s eaten enough to carry him over until morning. There’s some pudding in the fridge so if his stomach starts rumbling too terribly, I can split a cup with him before bed.

“Alright,” I tell him, knowing full well that he can’t respond to me, “let’s take a shower then we can watch a little TV before bed.”

I’m mostly just keeping myself sane by making noise occasionally.

“Sounds good to me,” I say back to myself. I don’t think it’s breaching full “talking to myself” territory but it’s getting close. In another week, I won’t be surprised to catch myself having a full discussion with my reflection.

I pull Kade up from his chair and walk him into the bathroom. He stays put while I grab our pajamas and set them out within easy reach along with the towels. I warm up the water and, when it’s ready, I step into the shower first. From there, I pull Kade in with me.

The first week I tried to bathe us separately but I quickly realized that showering together is just…so much easier. I don’t need to keep Kade upright so baths were an unnecessary waste of time.

Like with dinner, I scrub myself clean first and then move onto Kade. I shampoo his hair, making sure I don’t rub against his scalp too rough. I usually try to give him something of a head massage in hopes that it will help soothe him though I can’t know if it’s really doing anything.

I do the same with the washrag and take a little extra time to knead against his muscles.

Once we’re done, I dry us off as usual and I help Kade put on his clothes. It’s probably one of the hardest tasks as it’s not always easy to force him to step into a clean pair of underwear and pants. Really anything that involves moving his feet—including walking sometimes—can be hard. But I guess he’s in something of a good mood today because he goes along with it quite easily.

I take the hair dryer into the living room with us and sit Kade down on the floor. Before I start, I fish out a DVD and put it in the player. When I suggested watching TV earlier, this is what I meant.

Similar to our phones, the TV doesn’t work exactly the same anymore. I can’t just turn it on and flip through channels like I used to. I have to place a physical disc in the DVD player for anything to show up on screen. And, sometimes, that doesn’t work either.

Luckily, today is going well and the movie begins to play without a hitch.

I settle down on the couch behind Kade and plug in the hair dryer, instantly going to work on drying his hair. It’s one of the few things I do for him first before taking care of myself since he has so much hair to deal with. Mine is always partway dry by the time I’m done with him.

Kade’s eyes stay glued to the TV the entire time and, while I’m not sure if he’s even absorbing anything that’s happening, I like to think this little ritual of ours offers him some entertainment. It’s only been two weeks but, even for me, just seeing the actors on screen gives me a faint sensation that I’m not alone. Hearing a voice besides my own is nice—even if it’s just for an hour and a half.

The credits roll and I take Kade back to the bathroom one last time. I wash his face and brush his teeth after I’ve taken care of myself. Getting him to spit out the toothpaste is one of the more frustrating chores I now have but, with enough encouragement, he’ll eventually get there.

I wipe his mouth with a tissue, catching the foam he didn’t quite spit out. He’s clean, fed, and hopefully enriched in some way, so I take him to bed. I’m pretty sure it’s his favorite part of the day because he always slides under the covers pretty quickly compared to other tasks. I suspect that sleep is the only time he feels at peace and maybe, in his dreams, he can talk and interact like he used to.

He closes his eyes and drifts off within minutes and I let out a long, relieved sigh.

I’ve done it. I’ve made it through another day.

Now I can relax, by myself, for an hour or so. It may be a bit selfish but it’s the time of day that I look forward to the most. I don’t have to concern myself with watching over Kade or doing anything for him.

It’s hauntingly quiet though.

I sit in the living room and retrieve, from underneath the couch, my journal. I’ve had the blank book for…I don’t even know how long and have never used it but it’s coming in handy now. I should have been using it this whole time, I think to myself as I flip to today’s page. I would have seen, far sooner, how strange things were.

The last entry looks a lot like the ten prior and I know today’s will have the same feel as well. After all, it’s not like I’m doing anything new and exciting.

I still detail everything, just in case that brain fog tries to come back and tamper with my memory. I want a thorough means of debunking it.

At the end of the day’s entry I write a little aside that’s less about what happened and more about how I’m feeling. I’ve started to add that in order to differentiate between the monotonous days. 

“I’m still thinking about Oswald a lot. If I knew where he was, I might even risk going to see him. I bet he’s got at least thirty more theories at this point…”

It’s true. When I’m not hyper focused on keeping Kade alive, I’m almost always thinking about Oz. If not him then I’m trying to sort through the broken and, frankly, incorrect memories that linger in my mind. They are more obviously fake than they were when the presence was around but they still take up space.

I wish I could erase them.

For some reason, I like to imagine that Oswald would find a way to do that. It’s probably just a fantasy—something for me to think about so I can survive the endless hollow I find myself in.

I sigh and shut the book. There’s nothing else for me to say so I stash it back in it’s hiding place. I’m a bit tired myself so I return to the bedroom and crawl under the covers, next to Kade.

Sleep takes me but I have no dreams.

I’m always worried that I won’t wake back up. That I’ll fall into a dark abyss and that’ll be it. No more thoughts—just a blank. Forever. It seems peaceful, on paper, but the idea scares me more than anything. Even more than the possibility that Kade will never get better.

My eyes creak open and the light from the sun covers me like a blanket. It’s warm—a little too warm—so I get up.

Kade is still fast asleep on his side of the bed and I want him to enjoy his rest so I leave the room. I always wait a while before waking him but never later than noon. I learned the hard way that, if I let him sleep until he naturally wakes then he simply won’t. The day I let him keep sleeping, he wet the bed and I had to clean him and the sheets and the mattress. 

But, giving him an extra hour or two hasn’t bitten me in the ass yet.

I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge, not surprised in the least to see a brand new gallon of milk that has a later expiration date printed on the side. With a sigh, I close it.

So much for anything being different today.

My forehead rests against the fridge and I close my eyes. The hum from the appliance fills my ears with a soft buzz and I guess it’s better than the crippling silence in the rest of my apartment.

Then, in a flash, I’m almost knocked onto the ground. The ring of the doorbell sends my heart skyrocketing into my throat and I all but run to the front door.

My hand flies toward the handle but I stop before I can make contact.

I don’t know who’s on the other side.

Should I be concerned?

Do I care who it is as long as it’s another human face?

I swallow my heart back down and decide to lean over to peer through the peephole. The figure on the other side is definitely one familiar to me and I hurriedly step back to open the door.

“Bree!”

The last time I saw her, I was kissing her for no reason. Now, I feel like I actually could kiss her again I’m so happy to see her.

“Melvin,” she says but with much less enthusiasm present. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course.” I promptly move out of her way so she can pass by me and enter the living room. Once I’ve shut my door, I join her. “I can’t begin to describe how glad I am to see you.”

Bree looks around the room as if expecting to find something out of place. “I don’t feel anything…” she mutters somewhat under her breath but I can still make out her words.

I frown. “What’s the matter?”

She spins around and looks up at me. “You’ve noticed that she’s gone, right…? You don’t hear anything in your head anymore? You’re not being controlled?”

“No,” I answer on reflex but then something dawns on me. “Wait—you can tell me what’s going on now, right? I know you know.”

Bree frowns and fidgets with her hands. She doesn’t look me in the eye and keeps glancing beside me. “I…can confirm what you know but I don’t know if she’ll return. I need to secure a few things before I say any more.”

“Come on,” I huff, “Can’t you at least tell me who ‘she’ is?!”

She bites down on her lip and then sighs. I can already feel the disappointment sink in before she says. “Not yet. I’m still not even sure if…” she trails off and sighs yet again, almost as if she’s frustrated with herself. I’d love to help her figure this out but she won’t let me in.

“Why did you come here?” I cut her off to get to the point.

Bree finally looks at me. “I just wanted to see how you and Kade were faring after the end. If you were…conscious.”

“Conscious?” Were others not? Though I suppose Kade might fit into that category depending on Bree’s exact definition.

“You know, able to think and speak for yourselves.”

“Kade can’t,” I let her know.

She glances to the floor and her brows furrow. “Damn it…”

“I’ve been taking care of him and he’s still aware of his surroundings but he’s been catatonic,” I explain. Maybe, even if she won’t tell me what’s going on, she can do something to help him.

“…Bree?”

Kade’s voice causes both Bree and I to suddenly turn in the direction of the hall. There he stands, leaning against the threshold and looking exhausted. But he’s making eye contact with us and there’s a light in his eyes where there previously had been none.

“Kade!” Bree rushes over first and holds his arms.

“I can’t believe it…” I whisper in disbelief as I join them.

“I…I heard…” Kade’s voice cracks from lack of use. “Bree…”

“I’m here,” she assures him. “I’m right here, Kade.”

His eyes close and a tear slips down his cheek. “I thought everyone else…was gone…”

I guess I should have taken Kade outside in search for help, I think as I begin to feel like an idiot. Maybe all he needed was to be around others again. I’d been so afraid of what the outside world would tell me that I didn’t think of how beneficial it could be for my boyfriend.

“We’re okay. Nate is…well he’s a little out of it but Starla and I are fine.” Bree smiles as she talks and whatever concern she had about speaking around Kade before seems to be gone now.

So I ask, “Can you tell us what’s going on now?”

Bree’s eyes dart over to me. “I’ve still got work to do. But soon. I promise.” She steps away from Kade and sighs softly. “In the meantime, the two of you should enjoy some time together without her watching over you. Take advantage of this new freedom.”

I can’t deny that it sounds like a good idea—especially now that Kade is capable of speaking and acting on his own again—but I still wish Bree would just tell me what she knows.

I’m not sure I can fully trust her until she does.

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Strangers: Chapter 1 (2024)

Rating The Strangers: Chapter 1 is something I'm finding difficult. On the one hand, the characters are dumb to the point of frustration and the plot is predictable. On the other, this is a weirdly ambitious picture and I really want to see more. This one's going to make me look like a hypocrite because I won't be recommending it, but I will be sticking with the series.

When their car breaks down in a small town, Maya (Madelaine Petsch) and her boyfriend Ryan (Froy Gutierrez) are forced to stay the night in an Airbnb in the middle of the woods. They don’t realize being there is enough reason for three psychopathic, masked strangers to begin terrorizing them.

I haven’t liked the previous Strangers movies, but only because I love the setup and the films they should be but never become. There’s something elegantly creepy about the Scarecrow, Dollface and Pin-Up Girl masks the three strangers wear. The idea of minding your own business and still being attacked by psychopaths is terrifying, particularly because so much of what’s going on is unanswered. Do the strangers own the Airbnb and have been waiting for someone to rent it so they can play a twisted game? Have been following Maya and Ryan, since they stopped at the diner, hoping the couple would eventually find themselves alone? Is the couple just at the wrong place, at the wrong time? Why are the strangers doing what they’re doing? Are there really only three strangers? Could there be more, wearing duplicates of the masks we've already seen? Wisely, the film keeps these answers close to its chest. The title of “Chapter 1” might lead you to believe that this is a prequel that will demystify every detail from the meaning behind the enigmatic question "Is Tamara here?" to who hides behind the masks, but you’re wrong.

What makes this third chapter frustrating is that the characters only have a sense of self-preservation if the plot demands it. If you think the guy working at the only garage in town has messed with your vehicle, why would you accuse them to their face, unless you want to risk further damage to your car when you leave it in their care? Someone already knocked at their door acting all creepy, so why does Maya decide to answer - and open - the door again later that same night? Why would she and Ryan assume they can rest easy inside a bedroom when they’ve just seen Scarecrow hack his way through the front entrance with an axe? Stupid decisions aren’t limited to the protagonists either; I guess we're supposed to think the strangers are "so crazy" that they just don't care about anything, which is why - even when Maya and Ryan arm themselves with weapons that can inflict serious damage - the strangers still act like everything is under control.

If that weren't bad enough, the movie cheats. Unless we're going to get a big reveal that Scarecrow, Pin-Up Girl and Doll Face are ghosts who can move silently through walls and turn invisible, there's no way they could do what they're doing in this movie. I'm looking at you, screenplay writers Alan R. Cohen & Alan Freedland and director Renny Harlin. The characters' actions and the unearned "scares" are made even more frustrating because you came to this to be scared. You feel the tension in this scenario - far more than everyone on-screen apparently!

Without giving away too much, let me tell you what the Chapter 1 title means. No, it's not a new way to say that this is "the beginning", it's to warn you that The Strangers: Chapter 1 is part of a planned trilogy. The second and third have already been shot. This is important because it means this picture ends in a "to be continued". We've seen more horror movies end on a "dun-dun-duuuuun" note than I can count, and plenty of flicks have found ways to keep their stories going with a "Part 2" but that's not what we have here. The story isn't over; it's too big for 91 minutes! Furthermore, this is NOT a prequel to the 2008 film. It's more of a remake, if anything, as the plot is almost beat-for-beat the same. That should make me angry because that would normally make this a remake that doesn't improve on the original - and therefore begs the question "Why was this even made" - but the conclusion has me intrigued. More than intrigued. I NEED to know what's coming next. Even though this film is subpar and the mid-credit tease about what's coming next is ridiculous, I'll be there when Chapter 2 is released. (Theatrical version on the big screen, May 25, 2024)

[braceletofteeth]

Honestly I would have loved to see someone live in Eden, who is so kind and gullible that they could not make them go insane.

Seokyoon was pretty outgoing, but he was not gullible.

I mean there are people who are so "altruistic" or better have a saviour complex that they would literally endanger themselves to do good deeds.

The twins: poor mentally disabled guys

Ms. Eom: lonely old lady

The pervert: poor guy who has a lot of trauma, sex addiction

Moonjo: gay panic, parental issues, longsleeves with scars underneath -> selfharm/abuse

Ki Hyuk: gay awakening, daddy issues, identity crisis

All "poor souls" in need of someone who takes care of them.....

On the other hand someone with a saviour complex could be interesting replacement for a while. Even if they do good deeds it's still for egoistic reasons, which theoretically means they follow their desires.

Just in this case this desire probably fuels some sort of mental illness....

But Monnjo would probably find it intriguing for maybe a month and then get bored and ask that person to help him with his cute teeth collection...😅🦷

Hi, anon~

I need to tell you, I really like this character you came up with. Wish they had a name. I think it's more appropriate for you to give them that, so for now I'll just call them S (from 'saviour').

From what I could gather, I believe S is kind of Jongwoo's opposite. Whereas Jongwoo is focused on how he feels about others, S is focused on how others feel about S. They show interest in other people and their motivations. S is also a patient person—if they weren't, it'd be all too easy to give up on the people they were trying to help. People like S gotta be resilient, because it takes time to gain others' trust.

Interacting with Deukjeong, for example, to get close to him, they could smile at the things Deukjeong says, even if they don't quite understand his humor. They are happy because Deukjeong is happy, and a happy person is easier to deal with than an angry one. It doesn't matter if S is the joke—they can laugh at themselves too. They would soon realize that the fastest way to Deukjeong's 'heart' is by playing games, like Jenga in the kitchen in hot afternoons, with him, his brother and the landlady; and other cruel, dangerous games, in which one of them could get hurt. S accepts them because they don't have much self-preservation to stop themselves, but they draw the line at Deukjeong being in danger, so S comes up with their own challenging (but reasonably safe) games, to keep Deukjeong entertained and interested in them, despite his usually short attention span.

Some of the residents are harder to approach. Think of Nambok, now. How can one spend some quality time with him? It's not like they can watch porn together (or at least that's what I learned watching Supernatural). And the guy is always observing S (in the room's corridor, in the kitchen, in the corners of the washroom...). Sometimes with a knife in hand, making veiled threats. But you know what? S is not scared of him. Nambok is a skittish animal, threatened by a new presence in his territory. He's just scared of S, that's all. It's paranoia. S just needs to show him that he's safe around them. And how does one do that? By demystifying oneself. Some people are afraid of the unknown, so you need to allow yourself to be known. S just needs to fish for an opportunity. Nambok goes inside their room when S is not there... So what if S hid outside of the room to catch him in the act, but instead of reproaching his attitude, invited him in, and showed him their stuff? Asked if there was anything he'd like to borrow? Maybe a t-shirt? Nambok only has one top, after all. S could spare an old one.

Talking about shirts... S laughs at Kihyuk's astonished face after they spit on his back, one day after Kihyuk did the same thing to them. S doesn't apologize, but offers to wash his shirt for him. 'I didn't mean to make you upset. I'm sure you didn't mean it either, yesterday. Let's start again.' That's S. They are always offering second chances, forgiving before they are even asked for forgiveness.

There is no suppressed rage for Moonjo to dig his nails in, so he wouldn't approach S the same way he did with Jongwoo. If he asked S 'Don't you want to kill them?', S would think Moonjo is the one stressed out, in need of some relief and a friend's shoulder, and would promptly invite Moonjo for more meetings at the rooftop after work hours. They would want to know all about Moonjo's so-called 'art', his life, how he got to a place like Eden, and every problem or worry he might have.

But Moonjo wouldn't tell them anything, of course. There would be no point in telling the truth. He could tell S about his whole life, and still S wouldn't see him. They would want to understand, they really would, but it wouldn't change the fact that they don't.

They would think Moonjo needs them. They always think everybody needs them. They need to, it's what keeps them going. That's how people like S survive. S would look at Moonjo with neither horror nor awe, but pity. For them, he's just a lonesome creature, in need of company—and S's worst fear is to end up like him, so they can't help but think that Moonjo is broken, and they need to fix him.

What S fails to see is that, yes, Moonjo is all alone, nobody in his life means anything to him... but this doesn't make him vulnerable. He's not alone because he's afraid to let people in; he's not afraid to get hurt. His mind is not a secret, abandoned garden, waiting to be explored by someone with the guts to appreciate some weird, deformed little flowers. It's not that simple. His mind is a whole other world. It has a different atmosphere. You can't go in there without being invited, and you can't breathe there if your lungs aren't made for it—if you don't share the same flesh that he does, the same mind, you won't last. You'll wither.

S's pity comes from the thoughts 'he doesn't know he can be loved', 'he's horrified at himself'. But that's not Moonjo. He can be loved, oh, he knows he can. And he doesn't hate his persona. In fact, he may love his foundations just a little too much—and that's what makes him picky. He won't share his world with just anybody.

So how dares S—poor little S, needy and blind about everyone, including themselves—think, for a second, that Moonjo would ever choose to show himself, to share himself, with them? He would never look at S and see an equal. He would never be able to find a friend in them.

S doesn't deserve the eyes that they have. They wander the world only seeing what they want to see. They'd be wrong about the people at Eden, especially about Moonjo, and it'd be his pleasure to show them firsthand just how far they missed the mark.

[lesbian-ed]

so i’m 21 years old, have never had sex and i have a lot of anxieties and hangups with physical intimacy, even just closeness and platonic touch. but i’ve been trying to mentally prepare myself to put myself out there and date casually, because… trying to phrase this without being tmi but i really am eager to try certain sex acts, and at least give pleasure even if i might not be ready for the vulnerability of receiving yet. and i thought my anxieties were going away and being replaced by mostly excitement to be with a woman, but… this is going to sound so silly but i saw a few different tiktoks recently from lesbians joking about faking orgasms receiving oral sex and it made me so anxious. it gave me such an awful sinking feeling because even though i know my first time probably wont be perfect and i won’t necessarily be “good” at it without practice, i hadn’t even considered the possibility of just not being able to get a woman off. i always thought “i’ll just ask whoever i’m with to give me verbal feedback” but now i’m nervous that i won’t know if she’s being honest or just appeasing me, and i won’t be able to get out of my head. ughh i don’t even know. do you have advice for dealing with these kinds of anxieties? i feel like i might rather die a virgin than experience this kind of hypothetical mortification

Hey there! There's a lot going on here, so I'll try to do my best to cover all bases, but I'd like to start by saying that it's okay to be anxious and unsure, having sex is intimate and vulnerable, and it's only human to be worried.

That being said, I think working on demystifying sex would be a good place to start. Sex is not just about orgasms, although yes, those ae great, and definitely fun. Sex is about closeness and intimacy, about being with someone and sharing that moment. Sexual touches and exchanges don't have to end in orgasm to be so good, mindblowing, amazing. So even if you don't end up making your partner come the first time through oral or whatever, you can still have a good time, and share a perfect moment together.

Apart from that, on the more practical realm, I think the best way to become good at pleasing someone else before you're actually able to "practice" is to learn what you personally like. Of course not all of us have the same level of sensitivity, or like the same things, but women's anatomy is pretty straight forward. If you know what feels good on you, you'll have a starting point for what feels good on her, and you can adjust according to what she likes/reacts to/asks for.

As for faking... There are a lot of reasons why one might feel like they should fake an orgasm. Maybe they're not enjoying themselves, and don't know how to voice that. Maybe they're scared they're taking too long, and don't want to disappoint you. Especially in a casual encounter, chances are you won't be super close to each other, and maybe it's embarrassing to ask for what one actually wants, so it's easier to just put an end to it. The one way you could try to avoid that is by communicating a lot, making her feel comfortable with you, letting her know you're getting started and are open to feedback. Outside of that, unfortunately, there's no surefire way the person you're with will be honest. That does not necessarily mean you've done something wrong, though.

I know people who love sex with their partners and yet have faked orgasms at some point. Unfortunately people get in their heads about this, and it's hard to control the impulse to just give the other what one thinks they want.

Honestly I think communication and honesty is the best way to get good at any kind of relating to someone else, physical or emotional.

If you're going for something casual, it could be a good idea to try sexting beforehand so you cover the bases of what you like and dislike in advance, to make sure you're both familiar with each other's needs before actually being in it.

Also, as long as you're respectful and are with someone who respects you... "Bad" sex is not that bad. Clumsy, wet, messy sex is not the end of the world. It's okay to laugh, to talk, to take it slow, to learn your partner as you go. Just communicate, make sure you're both on the same page, and you'll be a pro soon.

Most importantly, even if you're more comfortable to explore pleasing her before you want to try and be touched, only do what you feel comfortable/want to do!!!! Even if you're not being touched, you should still enjoy yourself in what you're doing with her, it should turn you on, it should be pleasant.

Sex is intimacy, it is touching, it is being together. If you're scare, or uncomfortable, unsure... It isn't the time. Sex is only a natural escalation of touching a partner, of being with her and wanting more. If it feels like you're going completely out of your way for this, wait longer. There is no rush. It is worth it to wait to have sex with someone you actually trust, even as a casual thing.

Have fun, I promise it is much less daunting than it seems. Talk to your sexual partners!!! Listen to your own needs!!! And you'll be golden.

/Mod A

[badyogurt]

I’m a big fan of the Joker. Ever since I saw Health Ledger’s amazing portrayal of the “Clown Prince of Crime” in The Dark Knight, I was convinced that the Joker was the best, and certainly my favorite, villain in any medium of entertainment. I’ve had Chucks, a pencil case, a wallet and a handful of shirts with Joker prints in them. I’ve even asked my gifted friends to draw me portraits of the Joker. Needless to say, I am a fan. So when I saw the character’s latest cinematic iteration under the writing and direction of Todd Philipps, I found myself unhappy and in a conflicted state. I’ll just say that I don’t like it. It’s still well made and it boasts of another great performance from Joaquin Phoenix but I just didn’t like where the story went and what (I think) it’s trying to say. 

This is going to sound preposterous because we are talking about a movie here but I just can’t buy in with its premise and the world that it’s trying to portray. I have too much faith in humanity to really believe that such a cruel world inhabited by heartless people could exist. That humanity would subject itself with so much oppression and a privileged few would be so ignorant to the plight of the many that it would breathe life to an unhinged, mentally-ill, blood-thirsty avenger in the guise of a clown. Even if such a world does exist and we quite possibly, live in it right now, I still find myself still believing in the resiliency of the human spirit. That despite a world in which capitalism and privilege rampantly control, oppress and continue to commit injustices on the less fortunate, the mentally ill, the unnoticed individuals, the everyman and those at the fringes of society. I can still see people rising above all of these things to find a way to survive. I do yield that it’s too hefty of a dream to say that people can topple these structures so we can live in a society with equal bearing but perhaps, survival would be enough? Yes, such words reek of naivety and idealism and I am very much a pessimist but deep down I believe this to be true. 

I can’t believe I just said that. This is why I feel so conflicted. 

For the longest time, I have embraced how cinema as a medium has portrayed the darkness of humanity. I have seen my fair share of bleak, nihilistic and violent films. To be honest, I prefer to watch films with a heavier tone and a grim sense to them than to watch light-hearted and sappy ones that were meant to uplift the soul. I’d choose dark, tragic, heart-wrenching and bloody horrors, thrillers or dramas over fluffy and light comedies and romance any day of the week. Some of the films that I love are even very much akin to the Joker and revenge thrillers, as a specific sub-genre, are really up my alley. But somehow, I don’t (can’t) like this one. I’m puzzled. I’ve seen and read about more violent films. I’ve encountered other films that contain the same levels of bleakness and nihilism, or perhaps more, than this one does. But this one just doesn’t work for me. It feels glorified and overly sensationalized. There is no glory in pain and there’s nothing sensational about suffering, at the least the ones being portrayed here.

Thinking about it, I would have probably loved this 5 years ago. At this age, I just really mellowed out. I no longer have the same angst and anger to really connect with this film. Well, I think the angst and the anger can never really go away because we live in such an unjust world. What this film did is remind me of a time wherein I was in a dark place. Back then, I really did want to hurt some people. I wanted revenge. I wanted to dish out pain and suffering to those people who have, in my eyes, wronged me. I am scared and ashamed to admit that I’ve fantasized of losing control and letting unadulterated rage consume me. In my head, it always ends up the same. A bloody conclusion. After which, I always find myself ridden with guilt and scared that I would entertain such thoughts. I don’t think I can ever face up to such an aftermath but there was that inkling of curiosity about letting go and losing control and it found a way for me to fantasize about it. I’m well behind those now and I’ve found a way to rein the anger in. I’ve come to realize that it’s much easier to take out the anger on yourself than on others, but that’s neither her nor there so...

I just think this film is problematic. There’s no subtlety in it. That soundtrack seems predictable and some scenes feel tonally inconsistent with the rest of the film. I love Joaquin Phoenix and I think he’s an amazing actor but all that dancing and laughing, it gets old and annoying after a while. Heath Ledger’s Joker did so much more by showing less. He just showed you a look, licked his lips or told a joke and I’m all convinced that he’s not someone to mess with. Phoenix’s Joker just looked silly and barely, menacing. This is not at all a slight on Joaquin Phoenix and both him and Ledger are very talented actors but it’s really hard not to compare and  I just think the way this new Joker was written just fails in comparison. I, for one, prefer the Joker written as a chaotic enigma. Someone with no rhyme or reason that just wants to watch the world burn. Yes, I am aware that this is an origin story and he might end up exactly like that. Let’s just say, I’d prefer a Joker that isn’t demystified into a vengeful man that became a symbol of unrest. I don’t want to know where he came from, I just know that he’s there and it’s scary. There’s something scary about not knowing.

By the way, if you really want to see Joaquin Phoenix play a severely traumatized, mentally ill individual hurt people, you’re better off watching Lynn Ramsay’s You Were Never Really Here. I’d say he’s equally as brilliant but that film is much better.

I did dislike Joker but I do appreciate its contemplative nature. The way it forces us to reflect on how we, as individuals and as a society, deal with the oppressed and the mentally-ill. It really reminds me of John Doe’s memorable quote from the film Se7en. 

“ Wanting people to listen, you can't just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer, and then you'll notice you've got their strict attention.”

It certainly grabbed my attention. Just enough for me to write about it.        

[pretty-well-funded]

As someone who claims to have been in fandom culture for a long time, can I ask how you deal with antis? Is it as simple as just not giving a fuck? And if so, how do you get to that point and not take the hate personally? I really want to be a part of this fandom and make content, but seeing some of the hate other people have received makes me too scared

lol aw, this ask makes me feel like a wise Fandom ElderTM.  so thank you for that feeling.

to be fair, and to put my answer into context, I have so far received zero (0) comments or messages from antis in this fandom.  for whatever reason, it hasn’t happened to me (yet), but obviously I’ve dealt with all sorts of trolls and unpleasant people in fandom before.  I have basically been into Questionable Shit since day 1 (actually, since day -5,110) so that always invites Opinions.

it’s as simple and complicated as not giving a fuck, though.  I could tell tales of my sensitive youth, but instead I’ll share more helpful thoughts:

don’t feed the trolls.  I wouldn’t even publish vile shit people said to me.  I’d probably bitch to fandom friends privately, but if it’s meritless, I would delete and mentally set it aside.  note, I said meritless - personally, I enjoy addressing honest concerns or questions or critiques.  but if it doesn’t come from a place of sincere engagement, fuck em.

being certain of your OWN moral judgment on your actions helps a lottttt. way easier said than done.  the things I read and write in fandom mirror fantasies I was having when I was like…12.  and at that age, Our Bodies, Ourselves told me that fantasies were harmless and often really about something else, so I trusted that.  Deciding whether I was ok with consuming and producing publically available content along those lines was another wrestling match.  But at this point, I understand WHY my kinks are my kinks, and I’ve come to terms with my own moral code and feel sure that I’m doing nothing wrong.  having no internal guilt makes it super hard to be shamed by someone else

basically two kinds of people are going to come into your inbox and spew hate.  the first type is just YOUNG. when you’re young you’re prone to extreme opinions.  your knowledge matrix is just smaller and simpler, you have less data to see the shades of gray, and you still have energy to care SO MUCH about every little thing.  the second type are full fledged adults but miserable human beings.  they usually have very little else going on in their lives, and sometimes people get weird and dictatorial when one thing is all they have.  knowing that, having seen it over and over, just…demystifies the boogeyman for me.  

fandom should be fun. curate your own experience accordingly.  just…stop doing the not-fun stuff.  all the obligation that can sometimes be piled on for fandom is, frankly, bullshit.  if the people you know in fandom aren’t *assholes*, they’ll respect however you want to interact.  and if they *are* assholes…then they’re assholes.  block whoever you want, blacklist whatever you want.  hell, there is nothing stopping you - absolutely NOTHING - from making separate accounts for starker stuff and just…not telling anyone it’s you.  if that’s what you need to do to enjoy this pairing, do it!

I think if you keep fandom life walled off from RL, trolls are less stressful.  posting selfies or personal details on public posts, etc, increases the likelihood of actual blowback on you, for WHATEVER.  if no one knows who you are, you can feel safe knowing that unbalanced dickheads can’t really touch you.  

and honestly, it does help just being Fandom Old.  Once you’ve been in fandom for more than…I’d say 5 years, you’ve seen EVERY intra-fandom argument play out at least 3 times (often more).  so as time wears on and you see round 20 bajillion of the same kerfuffle, you just roll your eyes and blacklist/backbutton.  

based on RL observations, I think rejection of toxic opinions is easier for me than other people, so don’t feel bad if you struggle with it.  For me, it’s part childhood damage and part hard-won anxiety management.  giving no fucks in a healthy way is kind of my super power.  you can get there with practice, though.

[worldinshadows]

me

It’s been interesting reading more into psychology, thought processes, and attachment theory as well as self-reflection of what sort of person I am / was. 

I wouldn’t be surprised if I had my own abandonment issues. It’d make sense since, when I was young, I’ve always felt abandoned or neglected by my parents whether it’s from being left home alone until 9 pm because e.g. my dad is working or my parents are out, or from my mum intermittently being in my childhood. I still remember the dread of waking up from a nap to a pitch black house where I couldn’t find my dad (and my mum was in China at the time), crying and feeling scared and alone. I still remember the sadness I felt when I woke up on the days I knew my mum would fly to China. I felt close with my mum but maybe that’s because she provided the love and support that I lacked from my dad; however, it did make the reality of her intermittently staying in NZ very painful. I remember always asking when my mum would be back in NZ and looking forward to when she’d be back. I don’t doubt this, alongside my dad being absent most of the time due to work, made me grow fearful of abandonment but simultaneously fearful of getting attached to someone because they might leave (as people have always done in my life). 

I wouldn’t be surprised if I emotionally shut myself off from the world because of the aforementioned fear of abandonment / being fearful of getting close to someone because they might leave. After all, if I didn’t properly emotionally invest in people, I couldn’t get hurt. I actually also distinctly remember being told by my mum to never feel too excited or happy about an achievement because there’s always something better to aim for (i.e. don’t get complacent); however, because she told me this when I was young and proud of something at the time, it subsequently made me think that I just shouldn’t be excited or happy about my accomplishments. I remember being asked at Mathex in Year 9 or 10 why I don’t seem as excited or amped as my friends and I remember thinking about the exact conversation my mum had with me about excitement. In reflection, I feel like that conversation really messed me up because I found myself actively muting my feelings with things like ‘this is to be expected’ or ‘I can always do better’. This, alongside my ‘logical’ self really made me a lot less connected with what I felt emotionally. I was still aware of the emotions I felt but I had so many mechanisms in place to dampen them down that, realistically, the only way I felt anything was when I was actively trying to feel it (e.g. when I’m writing something) or there was a really sudden change.

With this in mind, I really do think I have / had an anxious-avoidant attachment style. I want validation and I want to feel loved---I want assurance that my partner loves me and appreciate me. You could say I want this because I want assurance that my partner won’t leave me or abandon me. I’d treat abandonment, even outside of a relationship, as something more like I am not good enough as a person--I’d always find a way of turning the reason into something against myself. The cruel partner to this is how the avoidant attachment style makes me feel reluctant or hesitant to feel the full range of emotions that I feel. If I received love, no matter how much I appreciate or value it, I’d cap it at a level that makes me feel secure because maybe, to me, that was most important because it satiated my anxious attachment style. I wouldn’t want myself to feel too attached with my feelings because it’d worsen my fear of abandonment and my desire of security. After all, the deeper in love you are, the more you pray the foundation is solid enough to stop you from falling. Eventually, I probably became resistant or callous to intense love or emotions, that it doesn’t really make sense to me because I’ve just locked that side of me away for so long. This would also explain why I ‘suddenly’ show a deeper intensity of emotions when this security that I’ve relied upon feels threatened and it’d also explain the cruel cyclical nature I subject my partner to where I eventually ‘pull away’ because the secure foundation is restored. 

While this isn’t directly related to the anxious-avoidant attachment style, I also wouldn’t be surprised if the anxious side of it is why I am an optimistic pessimist. It was probably a coping mechanism that I developed over time to adapt to the crushing feelings of hopelessness, inadequacy, and low self-esteem that I constantly felt (particularly during high school cause parental expectations and comparisons between me and my brother). If I had to make a comment about which attachment style I developed first, I’d say I initially had an anxious style that developed into an avoidant style to cope with the fear of abandonment / protect myself from pain / disappointment (and maybe I used said optimism to cope with intense feelings of sadness). I definitely do recognise that I sometimes feel arrogant but I suspect that’s more of a compensatory push-back from constant feelings of low self-worth as opposed to genuine narcissism. An anxious attachment style would also explain why I hold onto or get carried away with happy moments since I desperately want to hold onto them to try and build a secure foundation for myself. 

It’s fascinating to unravel how deeply some childhood experiences or upbringing have affected me. It’s equally fascinating to witness how I’m also changing from breaking up. As unbelievable as it sounds, I really do feel like I am on the verge of ‘overcoming’ my avoidant attachment style purely because I feel like I’ve ‘tamed’ the usually intense but inevitably fleeting emotion that comes with sudden abandonment / loss. It’s kind of like mind-muscle control except it’s more mind-emotion control where I am re-familiarising and re-processing these intense emotions but with the wisdom of understanding that it’s okay to feel this way, that I can’t run away from intense feelings no matter how much I blunt it, and that intense feelings are nothing to be scared of, Recovering my full emotional spectrum essentially restores myself to a state where I don’t devolve myself to anti-social behaviours and instead take more responsibility in my actions and how they affect the people around me. However, the consequence of overcoming this is that it does let my anxious attachment style run more amok when it comes to self-worth and a need for validation. Hopefully explicitly addressing or writing these feelings and their sources and manifestations would allow me to precisely target and resolve the root-cause issues that I encounter. It feels like it’s demystified elements of what i feel and who I am so I’m certain it will. 

[sxpositive]

(1/2) I love your blog and everything you're doing here and was hoping you might be able to give me some advice. There's a guy at uni and we've been dancing around each other for the last 3 years - we've both had feelings for each other at various and mostly non-overlapping times but currently aren't really talking bc of a fairly serious falling out last year which took us until almost 6 months to get over. I've realised during the pandemic that I do really like him but I'm so unsure

(2/2) about where his head is right now. I don't think he would ever initiate something and I don't have the confidence to do so in case I'm rejected. He's also fairly experienced sexually and I'm really not which shouldn't be a huge deal but it feels like it could be. I don't want to leave it too late (he graduates next summer) to consider something. He's also staunchly anti-relationship whereas I would ideally want something at least somewhat serious. Any advice?

Thanks so much for following along with my sx positive content <3

Oh hun. My heart goes out to you. It seems pretty clear that he’s not going to return your feelings the way you desire and wherever your relationship progresses to it’s not going to be healthily equal. If he’s anti-relationship but has feeling for you and you end up engaging in an unnamed relationship with no clear boundaries or definitions you’re going to end up hurt. You don’t need that level of drama and you most definitely deserve better. And since you were the one to give me all the details of the situation I think you know that too. 

I hope this isn’t too presumptuous of me to say, but this pandemic has made us all crave intimacy and I think you might be clinging on to this guy, your history and possible what-ifs as daydream material to try and gain it. The fact that he projects unattainable vibes might also be a reason you’re fixating on him.

It’s really hard to let go of three years of will we/won’t we. In fact, I think you might not be able to fully move on unless you are able to have a big DNM with him and just talk it all out and get some closure, or just wait until time heals all wounds. So I think you should talk to him. But only enter a relationship or give it a proper go if you have incredibly clear communication and openness between you both. I’m a bit scared by this because my poor mum is currently being strung along by a guy she’s been seeing for a year now who takes all her energy, time, care, and love and refuses to enter a relationship, communicate his feelings or treat her with respect by bringing her into his life. It’s awful to see. 

As to the difference in sexual experience...

This can be a total bonus because then you have someone to help show you the ropes, maybe even literally if that’s what you’re into. Problems can arise from the power imbalance if you don’t have great communication that evens it out. Sex should be something explored equally between everyone involved. So if it’s all one-way questions/answers that can cause problems. If you embrace the difference and ask about his previous experience (what he learnt about himself and about pleasing others) then it demystifies the whole thing and puts you on equal footing. Obviously when asking about somebody’s sexual history you should always respect their boundaries and actively ask what they are. Sexual communication could include things like: What are you interested in trying with me? I have this fantasy about xyz, is that something you’d be interested in too? Do you have any kinks/favourite toys? What haven’t you done before, why? What’s your level of experience with xyz? 

And also make sure you share any hesitations or worries you have. If you need to ask someone to help walk you through something, or talk through fears with you then please voice your thoughts and needs! Don’t ignore them because you’re hyperaware of different levels of experience and feel ashamed of it in any way. 

[scriptfeature]

Hi, I was wondering if there was any blog that could answer questions about grief and loss in general? I searched for script grief/ script loss but nothing came up so maybe they have a different name(? Or if you know anyone who could answer questions related to that topic Thank you! ^^

Quick disclaimer that Script X blogs ONLY do Writing Advice, not life advice.Also, obviously, trigger warning for DEATH!! because…obvious reasons?  ^^ But on that note…Apologies for this being long (lordy did it get long, wow); but oh, what a weighty subject you have picked! Hopefully this post helps people out, though, because this is one of those Universal Themes that gets very complicated to handle very fast.You’re right that there isn’t one ScriptX blog devoted specifically to “grief” or “loss” - but that’s partly because those are pretty broad subjects that could actually connect with several depending on context.Off the top of my head I’d probably suggest:@scripttraumasurvivors because death is a COMMON traumatic event or trigger, especially if it happens to someone they know, and is sudden or violent, or they witness it themselves, or it just reminds them of something that traumatized them previously.  TS is sometimes a bit slow with asks but that’s because they get SO MANY, so please be patient with them, they’re very nice :) (Also, FYI they are totally fine with multi-part Asks too. So if you have a specific plot in mind, “Feel Free to Get Wordy” with them!)@scriptshrink - for how people might deal with it in therapy or how it might result in mental illness; though that blog is on Hiatus at the moment, as I write this, it could be a valuable source! If the death results in a trauma which results in PTSD, for instance, Shrink has a “Demystifying the DSM” post about the requirements for it, that could be helpful. (Also keep in mind that even if the resulting impact doesn’t rise to official PTSD diagnosis, it could still include symptoms of PTSD, such as nightmares or shifts in self-perception etc. PTSD is a diagnosis for getting to a certain critical mass of symptoms resulting from trauma of very specific kinds, but some of the symptoms can still happen independently of full diagnosis; for instance there’s an “Acute Stress” disorder that is more temporary, which Shrink has also done a “Demystifying” post on, and you can show just one or two symptoms from either disorder without “having the disorder”, and it could still be a realistic approach to how trauma and loss effect people psychologically. I’d lean towards looking at what TS has also written about PTSD though if you go this route, as they’ve got a great post going into what those same symptoms manifest as, or feel like, that is a great complement to the more clinical coverage over at ScriptShrink) @scriptstructure MAYBE could help too, in the sense of helping you plot out a good narrative arc with a death or grieving character in it; Mason gave me some GREAT advice (it’s in ScriptStructure’s archive if you poke around!) on writing an arc with a character whose child is killed off early in the story to drive the plot; though my question was more about how to humanize the kid character so she wasn’t flat as a character or her death emotionally meaningless outside the Plot, Mason’s thoughts on the matter went past that, and were VERY insightful and helpful in terms of how to write such an arc, and definitely have impacted how it’s going to be portrayed. :)Believe it or not, the mods at @scriptflorist might have some advice on this too come to think of it! Check their archives, at least, because there’s a post where they replied to one of my asks about how Mexican American families might send botanical condolences to each other that you might want to check out! That post was FANTASTIC for exploring things like how “out of it” fresh grief makes people, or how people who work in a profession where they regularly come into contact with grieving people, deal with that and how that grief looks and feels to other people than the character who is experiencing it directly.@scriptmedic could maybe answer questions on how say, doctors and paramedics handle grieving or upset friends and family. (Her Ask box is open at the very beginning of each month if you choose to include this element in your story and want to ask about it; please note that she empties the Ask box at the end of the month, so you may need to resend it if she doesn’t get to it in the first month you send it) I KNOW @scriptcriminaljustice has done at least one post explicitly addressing Death Notifications; search their archive as it’s quite a good post, the external links given there included some very helpful information, such as common immediate reactions to grief when a sudden violent loss happens, and how to handle it professionally from a police perspective when you have to inform someone they’ve lost a loved one. And finally, last but absolutely not least!: @scriptpastor could help you write a priest/pastor/minister giving comfort to a grieving person or family. It’s definitely in the category of “pastoral care”, so if the character is religious (especially if it’s in a branch of Christianity, which is closer to ScriptPastor’s own training), this one a great person to ask to advise you on writing the stuff related to that, as comforting people is a huge part of clergy’s duties. :) Could probably also give you ideas both on how clergy and other would-be comforters would approach grieving people, and how grieving people tend to act in the aftermath of a loss, especially when they’re say, at a funeral or wake, or when they first start to reach out to others? Worth a shot!(So tldr maybe ask ScriptPastor first XD)To kick off your research though - I’ll also chime in with some advice and thoughts based on what I’ve learned over time (simply by being lucky with what I was exposed to). This consists of two Big Things To Consider:1.) Different cultures, religions, and even subcultures approach death and loss differently. Things like a character’s religious beliefs and cultural background impact reaction to a death significantly. For instance, some religions and cultures believe the dead never really leave us, many are relatively “accepting” of death, while others…aren’t. Someone who doesn’t believe in any kind of afterlife or continuance of existence (e.g. a hardcore atheist) might have a very different approach to a sudden untimely death than someone who believes their loved one is going to Heaven or will hang around in some way. This might seem like a pretty obvious thing to point out but it’s important to keep in mind: beliefs about death, and how they’ve been raised around or away from the concept of death, factor in a lot to how they ultimately could react.Some people keep a careful, clinical distance from death; they live a safe, quiet, healthy life with modern medicine keeping everything tidy and sterile, so does everyone else they know, and their exposure to “death” or “violence” is just like, movies maybe……making it a much more shocking, devastating experience to brush against; death of a loved one is usually worse, the more unprepared you are for it. The more distant a possibility it seems from you, the more horrifying it is for it to finally come knocking In contrast, to those who live under the shadow of violence or disease, or who are in professions like “surgeon” or “mortician” - people who stare human mortality in the face almost daily, and sometimes have a morbid sense of humor to cope with it - it’s less shocking. Less unexpected. Still awful, but less of a suckerpunch.And that’s not even considering how different cultures approach the emotional turmoil that can come with loss. For example, several Latinx cultures accept as commonplace and normal,  intense displays of grief (think like, tossing yourself weeping and wailing over the casket type displays); several Asian cultures (e.g. Japanese, Filipinx) more generally favor emotional restraint, so “intense emotional displays” wouldn’t likely be encouraged - grief would be more likely to be internalized, or bottled up, so as not to ruffle feathers or cause a bother. Which doesn’t mean it won’t hurt; they’re just trying desperately to keep it to themselves. Or else they could keep it to themselves just fine but so and so who wasn’t expecting it is wailing on the coffin and oh lord, what do…In other words, grief/loss - and the aftermath of it all - will have different impacts on your characters depending on their culture, and their personality, and their profession, and their subculture, and of course, the circumstances… …and also all of those same elements of the characters surrounding them, which impacts how in turn how the surrounding characters interact with the grieving character (which in turn impacts the grieving character! And maybe even the plot, especially in character-driven or Mystery or Thriller works!). For this reason, if you’re writing characters in cultures other than your own?I advise you to please do research on that circumstance for that culture, such as reading up over at @writingwithcolor (NOT a ScriptX blog but I trust them about as well as one), or by finding and asking people from that culture about how their culture approaches death and grieving (…politely! And only if they’re willing to answer questions! Don’t harass people for this info, really really don’t); likewise with religions other than your own, or sometimes professions outside of your own; please do some research. It’s an important topic. You have more wiggle room than you might realize in terms of individual emotional arcs with grief, but you can’t afford to get something really wrong about cultural approaches to death and grieving.  It will add richness and resonance if you get it right; it will take away from your work if you get it too wrong.Don’t be scared to do the work; your writing will benefit, and maybe, so will you! Just make sure you’re prepared for Upsetting Things to be heard, and pace yourself! :) 2.) You’ve heard of the Five Stages of Grief?Yeeeah. About that. This is a very modern-day-famous psychological model for “grieving” and how it (supposedly) happens, also known as the Kubler-Ross model, or DABDA (for the acronym Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance, which you might be most familiar with it from);  but there’s some serious flaws with, if nothing else, how it’s usually understood or applied by laymen and especially in fiction. Here’s the problem with how it’s usually viewed, vs lived human experiences:-Not everybody goes through the “Stages” of grief in the listed order. Everybody quotes it as DABDA, and fiction ALL THE TIME depicts people going through the stages in specific DABDA order, and often in rapid progression to boot. This drives me (and I’m sure quite a few psychologists) nuts! Put simply: The human psyche is NOT that consistent!Yes, some people go through them in that listed order (there’s a reason, after all, that it got listed that way). Some people even go through them rapidly…but plenty of people take months or even years to grieve (or even never quite stop grieving their whole life, depending on how close they were to the person). And plenty of people can not only experience the “stages” out of order, but even bounce back and forth between several “stages”! (Including for example, hitting Acceptance after a few months, only to become Angry or Depressed when the anniversary of the death or some other reminder pops up)- NOT everybody who suffers a loss goes through ALL the “Stages” of grief, regardless of order. It’s entirely possible to skip one or more “Stages” entirely. Yes, really.Heck I’ve seen someone seemingly jump straight to Acceptance before! (The loss was I guess not sudden, and they apparently had a firm religious belief that their husband was in Heaven. They were seeing me about preparing something for a memorial service for him, so the death was really recent, and they seemed totally fine, even happy, which is extremely atypical, but, well…there they were, smiling at me and totally relaxed because “It’s okay; he’s with the Lord, now!” - see what I mean about religions impacting this?) That’s…rarer, mind.  Usually you get SOME sort of emotional or cognitive disruption, even if they really do believe their loved one’s soul is intact and fine somewhere. But like… you can skip straight over Denial or Anger or even Bargaining pretty easily! It all depends on the character, and their circumstances, including the nature of the loss and their personality (e.g. people tend to hit Acceptance a lot sooner, sometimes even before a death happens, if it’s not an unexpected loss; when I lost my grandmother a few months ago, for instance, it was after a long period of having to worry about and care for her as she declined mentally and physically, so I was prepared for it a lot better than say, my mother, who was still firmly in Denial right up until her mother died).So to recap:Yeah, they can have them out of order and may skip some entirely; some never achieve full “Acceptance” of a loss; some never Deny it; some bounce back and forth purely between Anger and Depression, some never get Angry, only Denial/Bargain/Depressed states etc…this is because:- The “Five Stages” are better described as “States” of Grieving.They are POSSIBLE reactions, but never the ONLY possible reaction, and certainly can’t only happen in that specific order; they are states you can go into and out of and heck, even have simultaneously (Anger and Depression aren’t actually mutually exclusive, for one!) - in short?It’s not an orderly, predictable chain of events. At all.Western culture in modern times (MODERN times, mind you, not like, 300 years ago) believes pretty widely that it does happen in a specific order, that it has to, and that it’s weird to say, not have a Denial or Anger or Bargaining step… but it doesn’t have to happen in that order, and it’s not weird if a person experiences it differently from the “listed” order. It’s perfectly “normal” to never experience some or even most of those states in response to a loss.It’s also perfectly “normal” to experience all of them…in that order or otherwise, or to fluctuate between them, sometimes more than once.It’s normal to backslide right out of Acceptance.  It’s normal to experience SLIGHT versions of them; to experience for instance, a tiny flash of anger but no real capital-A ANGER! - - or to be “sad” but not outright Depressed (in fact, some skeptics have lobbed considerable criticism at Kubler-Ross proponents because they feel it’s led to a rise in people being misdiagnosed with “Depression” when it was really just understandable, temporary “sadness” that didn’t rise to the clinical level)tldr…People can experience a lot of things when they grieve. They can also not experience a lot of things when they grieve.Grief is complicated that way. Grief is awkward. And unpredictable; uncomfortable - messy, just like the thing that triggers it.And like the loss itself? It will always, ALWAYS be specific. Unique. Personal. No two people will grieve the same death the same way.  Even the same person might grieve the same loss differently at age 16 than they would at age 60. And different losses will feel different to the same person, and the same loss will feel different to different people. Or even the same person, on different days or at different hours.They might feel mostly angry at their father for dying of lung cancer, but feel everything when their mom gets in an accident. They might feel relief when Grandma “finally” passes after a long illness, and then feel bad and guilty that they can’t connect with everyone else who’s bawling their eyes out at the funeral.They might resent their well-meaning Aunt or Mother or Born-Again Brother for saying “he’s in a better place now”… or they might be only able to keep it together at all because they keep telling themselves that.They might get PTSD. They might not. They might recover; they might never get over it. They might recover at all only after years of talking it out with people who shared similar experiences, or they might only be able to get over it when other people finally shut the hell up and stop reminding them of it.They might be fine - except…for once in a while, when they’re not.Story time.I was relieved when Grandma died, because it meant less suffering on her part. And because it was devastating to see her slowly lose her mind to Alzheimer’s, while her body also fell apart more than she ever wanted to admit it was. I don’t know if she’s “in a better place” or not, but she’s not suffering, which is better, and it’s…so much less. Because it was so much; too much to deal with for the three long years we did. She loved us; she kept worrying about us, telling us not to burden ourselves; she’d rather have gone quickly in the hospital like she did, than for us to keep running ourselves ragged, and I know this. I knew it then, and still know it now. I felt more pain at seeing my mom upset when she died, than at knowing she was dead, because she would have been okay with it if she’d had her mind still intact enough to know what was going on, and she wasn’t…going to get any better. She hadn’t been, and she wouldn’t. She was over 95 years old, and it was a miracle she lasted that long. It was a relief. It was a relief, mostly, when she died. Because I felt I’d already gone through the grieving, ahead of time. I was mostly just…awkwardly patting my mother’s back and then giving her distance to sort out her own grief. Because I didn’t know what to say. She was grieving; she still needed to. I was okay, though. Because we could finally move on. I had already hit Acceptance.I still cried at her funeral a week later. I cried, because the pastor made us talk about what she meant to us when she was alive. Nobody else spoke up first, because it was awkward, when he asked us “what do you think of when you think of Ruth?. There was no eulogy prepared; we sat under a tent in a light rain and it was up to us to do it, and the silence for that long moment became oppressive, claustrophobic. So I blurted out:  “Love”.He made me elaborate. And when I talked about how ridiculously, frustratingly self-sacrificing she was, how I knew she wanted to give and give and give, how I used to take care of her and I worried for her and she was always trying to put others first, even then, to literally terrifying extents - I cried a little. I had been fine for a week, and then digging that salt in just hurt, and I cried.But I was fine after that. For months.And then…A teddy bear that she’d gotten from a volunteer at the rehab place less about four months before she died. She’d given it to me, for Christmas, because she was stuck in the rehab place and “couldn’t get out to shop”, and she didn’t really “need it” and she saw I liked it. (See how she always thought of others? Guh)I had been cuddling it sometimes, because it was really soft, and I’m one of those very tactile people.  I had been cuddling it for months, since before Christmas, since she gave it to me. And then one day, sometime after the funeral, I looked at it again and…I didn’t cry. But I felt…sad.Sometimes I cuddle it and I feel better.Sometimes I can’t stand to look at it.It’s in a closet right now, because this week I had too much to worry about and didn’t want a freaking teddy bear to be a downer. I don’t think I could stand to donate it though. At least just yet.I felt relief when she died, but in the aftermath? I feel kinda sad. But not all the time. Just sometimes. Just randomly - except it’s never truly random. It just feels like it is, because I’m never prepared to feel sad looking at a cute, fluffy stuffed animal with a bowtie.Grief is…weird.Grief is all over the place.Grief can be anything and everything.Or it can be nothing. Up until it’s Something again.I’ve made myself sad, a little, thinking about that - but now, as I hit the end of the post I’m…suddenly smiling a little (because it might help someone, yeah? This post? Maybe!)I might cuddle that teddy bear in a few minutes. I just realized that, I might actually cuddle it, and not even feel sad. Huh.Grief is weird.And THAT’s the best advice I could ever give on How To Write About Grief and Loss. :)(….yeeeah that wasn’t very tldr. Sorry. XD)-Mod Vorpalgirl 

[higharollakockamamie]

mgs for that fandom asks thing!

All riiiight, let’s do this!

How I entered/learned about the said game/show/movie/etc of that fandom

So back in the day when it first came out, MGS was HUGE. Totally unavoidable, on all the best game of the year lists, one of the biggest titles for the console, all that jazz. At the time my gaming interests were intense but very narrow. I’d barely give time of day to anything that wasn’t an RPG. On top of that, I was a contrary dumbass who got hype aversion something fierce, and the funny thing is, for as omnipresent as it was, you could know of it without actually knowing anything about it, so, honest to god, I thought it was some grey dull Tom Clancy-esque straight-faced military thing. So I was really, really slow to give it a chance. 

And then I was in a duct and a guy was calling to talk to me about field mice, and I got the feeling I had been very wrong.

Fave character

Ahh, that’s hard! Liquid’s up there, and so’s Kaz, and Otacon, and random weirdos like The Pain, and Cecile for the total lack of fucks she gives, but it may have to be good old Solid. Can I count the twin Snakes together?

Least fave character

There’s no really horrible ones, but there’s ones like the Beauties who had a lot of potential that never really went anywhere, or Grey Fox, who just isn’t very interesting no matter how the games try. I’m never able to scare up any interest in childhood friend/old buddy characters, because it always feels like it’s assumed we care about them because we’ve been informed we’re supposed to. It doesn’t really work to try to make the audience care when all the reasons the other character cares are offscreen in backstory. Anyway that’s what the cyborg ninja has in common with Gale from the Hunger Games. 

Oh, and Skullface, who was a hodgepodge of okay ideas with some really, really terrible ones. I may have shot him while yelling “TO THE HELL FOR MEDIOCRE ANTAGONISTS!” 

OTP(s)

Snake/Otacon’s the classic, but I also love VKaz, and really I’ll read just about anything.

Pairing that everyone likes but I don’t get

BB/V, maybe? Though I’m not sure how popular that is. It’s hard to find a way to get them together in the same place, or even thinking about each other, without demystifying it or defusing the cool parts of them being a double of each other, or making V weaker and less interesting than he really is. I sure can’t think of any, though I’ve been tempted to give it a shot just for experiment’s sake. 

Fave thing about the fandom

That it’s still going, for one thing! You can pachinko the series to death, Konami, but you can’t get rid of us! Also I love when people get weird and creative with the material, like with how ridiculously great Yellowcake is. 

The most despised thing

Alt-right types with MGS icons. Come on, man, how do you miss the point that hard? 

If there is something I would change from said game/show/movie/etc., what would it be.

Besides, you know, letting MGSV be finished and not hurriedly welded together in a dark tunnel somewhere, for as much as I love Liquid, even if Kingdom of the Flies had made it in (which I’m honestly glad it didn’t), Eli’s role really didn’t add enough to V to be worth the weird mangling of backstory and all the retconning it took to put him in. 

Also, either let Quiet and the other Skull snipers dress less stupid, or make the male Skulls dress more stupid. These half measures are bullshit!

Thank you for the ask!

[foursprout-blog]

5 Reasons I’m Glad I Got the Fuck Over Myself and Went To Therapy

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/5-reasons-im-glad-i-got-the-fuck-over-myself-and-went-to-therapy/

5 Reasons I’m Glad I Got the Fuck Over Myself and Went To Therapy

Nitish Meena / Unsplash

I am in good mental health.

Even in my darkest moments, this is what I told myself. The facts seemed to support me. I’d never been diagnosed with a mental illness. I never needed pills to cure anything more than sinusitis. I had a great childhood. I was in control—stable and calm; cool and collected.

Except when I wasn’t. Every now and then, stress would kick my brain into overdrive and I didn’t know how to take back the wheel. I’d feel attacked by bouts of insecurity, helplessness, and anxiety. I’d call my parents in exasperation and then lash out when their words weren’t what I wanted to hear. My remedies were to smoke weed, sleep, and hope that I felt better the next day. I usually did.

I was initially inspired to book a session with a therapist after making a dentist’s appointment. I thought it was basically the same idea. When I told my mom my plan, she asked, “When the psychiatrist asks why you’re there, what are you going to say?”

“That I just wanted to get a check-up on my mental health?” I replied.

“I think you’ll probably have to be more specific than that, sweetie,” she said. And so I shelved the idea.

Several months later, I attempted a personal experiment where I let my friends control my daily routine for a month (another story for another day). I thought I was strong enough to handle losing control of my life. I wasn’t. I quit 22 days in.

That month was like a catfish shuffling through the muck. I felt like a failure, an embarrassment, and a disappointment. Negative self-talk amplified. The clouds blackened. They were always there, but a fortuitous breeze usually whisked them away. But now I didn’t know how to summon the wind.

I finally got the fuck over my “good mental health” and made an appointment with a therapist. I’m so glad I did. Here are 5 reasons why.

1. I learned how to label my emotions.

When someone asks how you are, what do you say? If you’re like me, the answer is usually “good.” Sometimes it’s “fine.” On occasion, it’s “not so great.” And there you go, the three buckets of emotions as I understood them: good, fine, and none of the above.

In one of my first sessions, my therapist showed me a chart with cartoonish faces, each labeled with an emotion. It might sound silly, but that sheet of circular blobs was a revelation. When I was feeling “not so great,” that didn’t necessarily mean “sad.” Sometimes it meant “frustrated,” or “anxious,” or “scared.” And when I was feeling “good,” it didn’t necessarily mean “happy”—sometimes it meant “joyful,” or “loved,” or “excited.” Each provoked different thought patterns and behavior.

Understanding your emotions is a bit like making a stew. Sometimes it smells delicious, and you can see the potatoes, onions, and beef chunks gurgling in harmony. But sometimes something stinks. Before, it was hard to tell if the smell was mustard seed or rotten eggs. But now, I could better identify what brewed in my cauldron.

2. I practiced how to separate emotions from thoughts, facts, and behaviors.

Therapy has many forms. I chose cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), which is grounded in pragmatic analysis of present-day problems. It’s like learning how to rewire your brain.

Before I started, those wires were all jumbled together. If I felt like shit, it was because I was shit, and so I acted like a shithead. I didn’t understand how to separate each part of that equation: it was just shit. A good sleep was the only thing that broke the cycle.

One of the core tools in CBT is a worksheet called the thought log. In it, you take an automatic negative thought, like “I’m a failure,” and unpack it. How does that thought make you feel? (Sad, frustrated, disappointed, upset.) What is the supporting evidence for that thought? (I quit a personal experiment.) What evidence does not support that thought? (I graduated from college; I have a steady job; I won the spelling bee in 4th grade.) Given that, is there a different thought that feels more accurate? (I succeed in most things but bit off more than I could chew with an absurdly difficult experiment.) What feelings are associated with that? (More hopeful, still a little frustrated, a bit confused, but no longer sad). And repeat as necessary.

CBT was the only time I liked doing homework. I practiced the thought log several times a week. Wires started falling into place. I learned just how much negative thoughts influenced how I felt, and how liberating it felt to choose what to think.

3. I learned how to recognize cognitive distortions affecting my behavior.

I think when many think of mental health, they picture white-walled corridors, straitjackets, and cups with little pills in them. I think it’s more like a funhouse with funky mirrors. You’re looking at yourself thinking, “that can’t be me.” And yet, it is you, but your forehead is five times bigger than your torso. “Oh, right, the mirror has a funny shape,” you’ll think, and then you laugh at your gargantuan nose and move on.

Cognitive distortions are like those funky mirrors, but they’re far more sinister. In the clinical sense, cognitive distortions are exaggerated thought patterns which distort reality and feed depression and anxiety.

Take a common one—all or nothing thinking. I did this all the damn time. Ever find yourself saying something like “He never pays attention to me”? Or “I always ruin things”? Boom: cognitive distortion. The situation is rarely that black and white. Chances are, it’s not “always” or “never” because life is rarely that extreme. Usually it’s somewhere in that vast grey area.

Cognitive distortions work because they’re simple and predictable. It’s as seamless as trying on a pair of sunglasses. And once that darkness takes over, logic and reason shut down.

For me, learning to spot them was half the battle. If negative thoughts looped through my head like a broken record, usually it was fueled by a pernicious cognitive distortion. When I unpacked that thought and looked for a cognitive distortion, the spell was often broken.

4. I invested in myself.

Know this now: therapy is not easy. I didn’t find it particularly therapeutic either, at least not like a massage or spa treatment. It can also be expensive—one session ran me $140 an hour. Yes, there are plenty of cheaper (and even free) options. But there’s no question it’s a commitment: with money, time, and emotional wherewithal.

Other than the examples I’ve given, I don’t want to delve into the specifics of each session. What’s shared in therapy should stay private. I will say that in the spectrum of struggles, mine were probably mild. But I still felt like I got in my own way a lot—with friendships and relationships; as a son and a co-worker; as a dreamer and a doer.

In our first session, I set goals for myself. They had to be tangible, like “Develop strategies to keep negative thoughts from ruminating for more than an hour.” I would’ve given my pinkie toe to overcome that one. When to comes to “return on investment,” I can think of few better payoffs than clear thinking.

Sessions in therapy were like signposts on a journey into my brain. Everyone’s journey is different—some longer, more arduous, and fraught with obstacles—and there’s no shame in walking with a guide for as long as you need. After a lot of practice in and out of therapy, I felt like I was sturdy enough to continue on my own. Note that doesn’t make me “cured”—because that’s not how mental health works—just that I felt knowledgeable enough to keep administering the antidote.

Therapy produced such clear dividends. I deconstructed my clock to see what made it tick. I developed a mental health toolbox that I’ll carry with me for life. And now, I actually feel like I’m driving my life as opposed to letting the road drive me.

5. I let go of pride and quelled my fears.

I feel like many think going to therapy is admitting weakness. That it must mean there’s something broken inside. I hate that. It’s like saying lifting weights is for weaklings. The ones that are strongest get their ass to the gym.

But have I always thought that way? Not even close. Why do you think it took me so long to make my first appointment? Therapy was for Zach Braff’s character in Garden State. That dude was messed up. I’m fine.

Yes, there were moments when I was not fine. But that’s just life, right? I didn’t need help to get through life’s ups and downs. I was too proud to work on my mental health.

What a massive irony. We don’t hesitate to sign up for a painting class, but when it comes to understanding the brain, an incredibly complex and precious instrument that humanity has worked for millennia to demystify, we’re all like: “Nah, I got this.”

It’s a ridiculous notion that needs to stop. I know now that hidden beneath my pride was fear. I felt scared that I wouldn’t like what I found when I started looking. I was terrified of friends finding out. If it hadn’t been for the encouragement and acceptance from loved ones, I doubt I would have gathered the strength to go.

I feel loved for having their support. I know many aren’t as lucky. That sucks. I’m frustrated that talking about mental health is still stigmatized. I’m upset that some stereotype therapy as a weakness. And I’m sad that those stigmas and stereotypes turn away those that need therapy most.

And so, here’s my attempt to rewire that thought.

Instead of being ashamed to go to therapy, I’m proud to admit that I don’t have all the answers. I’m proud to ask for help. I’m proud to look my demons in the eye and make them blink. I’m proud to seek mental stability. I’m proud to believe that I can be better.

And if you feel the same? Well then I’m proud of you too.

[lana-del-briaridyl-blog]

#2 - August 2, 2017

X,

First of all, notice that I’ve changed our url. And that’s because I’m a big fucking klutz and I accidentally liked a post on ZG’s new girlfriend’s blog while on this account. Just hand me a gold medal for being the world’s shittiest Tumblr stalker. ZG texted me and her girlfriend changed her url. Yikes.

I’m literally writing this at work right now. Getting paid by the hour. *money barf emoji*

About the self-sabotage/crushing on straight guys thing: It could be that you’re subconsciously going for people you know are unattainable, which is scary, but I think that’s actually a pretty normal tendency and I wouldn’t be too worried (if that helps at all?). Crushing on celebrities/older people/people in relationships can be a safe testing ground for us to figure out what we like and what kinds of people we’re into without the pressure of trying to make something happen. The problem is, in your case, you have to live with this guy AND a relationship is something that you actually want right now.  

Also, the feeling that everyone else is getting all of the experiences in dating/sex/romance and you’re not is LITERALLY THE WORST THING EVER. Like, it has so much power to bring up the “yo is there something wrong with me tho” feelings.

SO. A few things (gonna bullet point because paragraphs are whatever):

To be honest, a lot of things about dating really suck. The honeymoon period goes away eventually, and a lot of times you’re kind of left with this dynamic that feels more like when you and I would sit in the N*ckCave in high school and put in a pizza and talk about what to watch on TV/YouTube for 30mins before just sitting on the couch and doing whatever than it does ~romance~. I’m not saying there’s not value in that dynamic (there really, really is — having someone you can love and feel comfortable doing next to nothing around is important and wonderful), but I’m just trying to demystify the whole ~~relationship~~ thing that often feels like surrounded by its own magical fairy dust from observers. Falling in love is exciting but, from my experience at least, it’s one of those things that exists in the extremes of micro and macro. You notice it in tiny tiny things and you acknowledge its larger arc over time. The in between bits haze over and get lost in the everyday.

The point of that point (eyyy) was that relationships aren’t inherently meaningful. My tendency is to think of a romantic relationship as some fated match of kindred souls coming together, but that’s LOL NOT HOW IT WORKS S*PH**. More realistically it’s just two people who were like “sup dude you’re cool I’m cool lets make something together” and then they do and it grows or it doesn’t. And the beautiful part is that thing you make and take care of. Not just the fact that you’re two people who are attracted to each other. And maybe it’s fate but if it is we can’t think of it that way.

And you’re over there in California like “HI HELLO WORLD I AM *READY* TO BUILD THAT MOTHERFUCKING FIRE” and you’re just getting echoes with a side of straight frat boys hollering “pu$$y pu$$y pu$$y marijuana” and it’s frustrating for me that I can't help you more with the literal finding-of-a-person-to-love situation. I can’t manifest a perfect partner for you (would if I could, boo), but I’m trying my best to use this space to complicate some of the assumptions about what the value of a relationship is, and why sometimes we feel such a lack (of love, of security, of power, of time left in our lives to *find* love/security/power) in our lives without one.

The TP/RS thing (wishing you’d had the chance to have an experience like theirs early on — or at all) is actually something that’s come up in my own anxious relationship thoughts. Part of me wants to say to you, “No, those early, stepping-stone relationships are bullshit, timing doesn’t matter, there’s no such thing as ‘learning’ how be in a relationship because it’s different every time with every person, TP and RS probably aren’t any better people or partners for it, etc.” and part of me wants to say, “Yo ok but let’s not try to downplay the significant social capital and external validation they gained from being a public couple at R**s*v*lt and into later high school years. Dating has STRONG inertia, and it’s as easy to slide from relationship to relationship when you’re in one/just got out of one (lol hi hello it’s me) as it is difficult to break out of feeling static when you're single. Though likely not all too deep within the relationship itself, the fact that it got the ball rolling for both of them both in their sense of confidence in dating *and* in others’ perceptions of their respective ~datability~ is legitimate.”

So what I think I’ll land on with the TP/RS thing (you know that I’m just using them as an example to talk about the concept of having dated while still under your parents’ roof, basically) is this: Yeah, not having done it does stunt your growth a little. And I think this phenomenon is particularly common and particularly evident for queer/gay people who were either not out in high school or didn’t date for other reasons. I’ve read more than one ~thinkpiece~ (don’t laugh at me) about the consequences for queer people in particular of barriers to dating during teen years. Maybe this is why the culture of hookups seems to exist for gay men and the culture of “U-hauling” exists for gay women? Like two extremes of dating, either no commitment or a TON all at once due to fear of not having the right “skills” to build a steady partnership?

(I have a huge fucking bone to pick with the lack of safe, non-alcoholic queer spaces for young people. But that’s a topic for another post.)

BUT the area in which not having had relationships stunts your development is one that 1) has been overblown and glamorized in its significance and 2) probably has influence over your sense of relationship confidence more because of external social dynamics that validate couples over single people than because it gives you real life skills that make you a better partner. Did that make any sense? What I’m trying to say is that TP/RS relationships help you develop and that’s REAL but not in the way that you think, and the way that they help you develop doesn’t lend itself that well to the *stuff* that makes relationships juicy and loving and good. More social capital than internal growth. Same with JC/ZH.

On to the stuff that I think makes relationships juicy and loving and good: Vulnerability — the blind trust in someone to take pieces of your literal warm guts and soul out of the part of your stomach that hurts when you’re embarrassed and put them on the table and feel the discomfort and, like, roll in it. Bloody fucking gross but bloody fucking good. The cool misty calm of the patience, space, curiosity that it takes to stay in tact as an individual human and united-yet-not-swallowed alongside another person (you can’t have all of your guts on the table or you’d die, ya know?). There’s a different kind of vulnerability (this is the one that I’m less good at, lmao) in trusting silence and allowing privacy and distance and unknown and allowing for a slower meshing, I guess. Also, willingness to embrace and respect mundane — having enough faith in your mutual connection to know that it’s there even when it’s not right in front of you. Obviously there’s a lot more than those three, but I feel like anything else I could list would kind of fit into one of those categories.

I don’t think any of those skills (can you call them that?) are exclusive to romantic relationships. You can explore those concepts within yourself and notice your own ability to give/receive vulnerable words and actions, your own tendency to desire an all-consuming or all-giving bond with someone regardless of reciprocation (gas refilling?), and what feels scary and what feels safe and why. What are the parts of you that you’re excited/ready to share with another person? What are the parts of you that you want to share with another person but (possibly) feel scared to give? And what are the parts of you that feel so precious that you want to keep all to yourself? What do you want or not want to receive  If there are any ~stepping stones~ toward a meaningful partnership, I think it’s asking yourself these questions.

I hope I’m not getting too theoretical or too preachy here. This is for you but it’s also for me. Putting these words on a page feels nice because shit if I know how love works.

I can’t take away the pain and the SHITTYNESS that comes with watching everyone around you navigate hookups and dating and love while also having unrequited feelings for someone. That’s like a double fucking punch in the stomach. And I also felt like sharing ~practical dating tips~ would be kind of dumb because our environments are so different and I can’t really promise that anything I would have suggested would actually help you get what you want. But I hope these thoughts can at least give you something to chew on? I hope they can complicate some widespread assumptions about what relationships are and why we think (/are told) they’re somehow higher than other forms of love.

Currently, I’m feeling a little too winded by the nauseating Uber pool ride that is my internal life right now to write it all down and flesh it out. Today, things feel calm and relatively stable (by “things” I mean: my mental health and its inevitable connection to how secure I’m feeling in my relationship with PL, my lingering not-relationship-not-friendship-but-not-not-something with ZG, and my attraction to GL — text me if you need explanations of initials, but I think you got it). Last night, PL gave me a packet and reading of five poems from the last few months that all have to do with me/our relationship. I think I’ve told you this, but she’s a published and super talented legit poet, so these aren’t just sappy love poems I’m dealing with here. I cried and I didn’t know how to respond to her poem-words with my mouth-words and I told her that I love her.

The I-love-you thing has been something we’ve opened conversation about before. When I explained to her my complications with feeling like I got into this relationship too fast after ZG and that I’m still dealing with leftover feelings and love for ZG (It’s been an intense couple of weeks for PL and me. Did I tell you about this conversation we had? I also told her about GL — not by name because I think that would make things really tricky, but I told her that I have feelings for one of my close friends), one of the things that hurt her the most was that I was so freely saying how much I still “loved and cared about” ZG when “I love you” still isn’t a thing that PL and I regularly say in our relationship. I told PL that it wasn’t that I didn’t feel that way towards her, but I just didn’t feel ready for whatever reason to say it, even though it gets expressed in different ways.

But I think the real reason why I’ve been hesitant to say it is that in a lot of ways it feels like the last thing I can hold onto about my relationship with ZG. As if only having said “I love you” to one romantic partner ever kept ZG’s and my relationship alive in some way, and that sharing those words with someone else (even if I felt it) would start the real fading-away process of that past relationship.

Last night I felt it, and I said it, and PL said it back, and like… nothing exploded. Love is not finite! You LITERALLY cannot run out. It’s cool. I just have to keep reminding myself that loving a new person doesn’t diminish or disrespect previous loves. Then we had sex on her parents’ couch.

I love you and I miss you and write back when you can.

Sincerely,

Just Wants Lots Of Friends Who Invite Me To Their Parties (aka Y)