#I fucking HATE it when depression hits during the school year

[i-h34v3n-i]

If I don’t lock in right now my life will be ruined

[idontplaytrack]

Hey, could you write a Rejanis angst where Regina has problems with a teacher acting inappropriately but gets scared and doesn't tell anyone, over time Janis realizes that her girlfriend has become increasingly quiet and withdrawn and that her bad habits food is coming back but Regina refuses to tell her until the situation with the teacher goes beyond the limit and she runs to Janis asking for help?

(Maybe I identify more than I want:/)

✧ Still scared of it all

Janis ‘Imi’ike x Regina George

Warnings: MDNI— mature themes. Sexual harassment & assault, anxiety, depression, eating disorders, coarse language. Reader discretion advised.

“15 and 16: I had to be strong. 22: I’m still scared of it all.” ��� Tattoos, Reneé Rapp

At 15: Regina’s father left. He left the house one night and never returned. When Regina found that out in the morning, a deep hatred for the man was ignited in the blonde. She hated that he just left after everything that he’s done— to hurt her, to hurt Kylie to hurt her mother. Drinking all day long, yelling at them for no reason, all three of them have gotten hurt by him physically and God Regina hoped he didn’t do anything worse to either her Mom or her sister.

At 16: A year later, he comes back. Tries to make things right. But after one beer bottle got flung at Kylie’s head— that she’d barely avoided, Regina swung on him, punching him over and over in the jaw. June had to pull her off. “Fuck off!” Regina gripped his collar, “How could you do that to your own daughter?! Don’t you dare lay a finger on either of them. I will hurt you. I’m not afraid of you.”

At 17: Junior girls were all at each other’s necks thanks to the Burn Book. That was eventually resolved, but all the students’ relationships were strained as a result and took so much effort to reconcile. As for Regina, she focused on reconciling with one person: Janis ‘Imi’ike. Her ex-best friend whom she lost due to her own doing. After that fateful kiss during spin the bottle came months of bullying, Janis was drove crazy. She also hated Regina, she hated her guts. The one person she trusted with her life betrayed her and became her biggest bully. Because of that, Janis became so bitter and angry at just about anything. She didn’t believe in what she used to, she no longer believed in happiness and love…the good things. It took Regina nearly 4 months to get Janis to even look her in the eye.

“Why? Why’d you do that to me? I don’t get it. You could’ve just left me alone.”

“I’m sorry, Janis. I’m sorry, I was scared, I had no idea what going on with me. My Dad was deadbeat drunk, he hit Kylie, he hit my mom, sometimes he hit me. I became angry, such an angry person that I took that anger out on just about anyone along the way. But they didn’t deserve it, especially not you. I shut you out because I was terrified of being hurt again. You were the one person I have actually cared about and I was scared I’d lose you because you’d leave me one day— that we’d drift and not be friends anymore. I couldn’t take the guessing game and pulled that crap during spin the bottle, and called you that fucking name. I hurt you, my best friend and I regret every single moment of it.” The blonde rambles.

Janis looked at her, trying to process all of it, feeling the air leave her lungs in shock. Her eyes must look insane right now.

“I’m sorry,” Regina croaked, “You don’t have to forgive me. I just needed you to know. You deserved to know why. I’m so sorry, Janis.”

At 18: Graduation night, Regina spots Janis sitting on the curb outside school. Alone. Taking the chance, she approaches her, sitting down next to her. “Hi. Whatcha doing?”

The brunette sighs. “Trying not to give in to the urge to drink. You? Why aren’t you with Gretchen or Karen or your Mom?”

“Why aren’t you with Damian?”

Janis chuckled wryly, “He’s on a date with his boyfriend. Anniversary. So, here I am— all alone.”

“You’re not alone.” Regina answered quietly, “You’ve got me.”

“I don’t need your pity.” Janis mutters.

“Janis, this is not pity. I want you back in my life, please? Let’s work on that.”

“Are you sure?” Janis asks, having a moment of calmness around her for the first time since several years ago, “Or is this a prank and you’re just waiting to make fun of me again? Because I can’t take another round of that. I might actually kill myself.”

“I’m serious. I swear.” Regina replies solemnly, sticking one leg out straight, “I said, I swear.”

“I heard you.” Janis glances at her.

“Do the leg thing.” Regina says, wiggling the foot she stuck out, “Remember? We used to bump our feet together to make a promise.”

Janis bit back a smile, doing as Regina said, then hooking their pinkies.

“Okay.” Regina exhales, “Let’s go do something fun to celebrate. We’re done with high school.”

Janis pondered for a second, “Okay.”

What’s she got to lose, right? She’s already hit rock bottom years ago at 12. Apparently her V Card. A tipsy confession led to way, way more that night with North Shore’s queen bee.

The next morning, they knew what happened last night. They weren’t drunk, just had a couple drinks in them. Which…led to a pretty difficult conversation about where they stood. What their relationship was right now. Difficult because they didn’t have any alcohol to help but lose some of the nerves, not because they didn’t want to talk. Because— they wanted to. It was just a lot to process and make clear.

Age 19, Winter: They were settling well into freshmen year of college, Regina and Janis have been coming up to a year of their relationship. With their anniversary approaching, Janis took Regina’s lack of talking to her and spending time with her was due to anniversary plans. But her guess was proven wrong when she saw Regina left a lecture on the verge of tears.

“G, what’s wrong?” Janis approached her quickly, gently holding onto her wrist.

Regina wriggles her hand out of her girlfriend’s grip, “Nothing, I’m fine, Janis. Just stressed. The lecturer kept calling on me to answer questions but I’m tired. Okay, I’m fucking tired.”

Taken aback by Regina snapping at her, though unintentionally, Janis retracts her hand. “I’m sorry. Talk to me when you’re ready okay?” Turning on her heel, she leaves the blonde, and made her way back to the dorm. Her backpack lands on her bed with a muffled thud, then Janis goes over to her wards to pick out a new outfit for after her shower.

A few hours later, Janis sat at her desk, working on a new drawing to sew over. Regina’s anniversary present. Just then, her phone buzzes on the wooden surface, pulling her out of her focus.

When Regina returned she seemed to be in a much better mood, like her usual self. Janis was relieved, giving her a hug from behind. “Where we headed?”

“What’re you feeling for dinner?” Regina returns the questions.

“I dunno.” Janis shrugs, breaking away from the embrace, “Tacos? We could go to No.1?”

“Oh, sure can.” Regina agrees, “I’m gonna get changed real quick then we can leave okay?”

“Alright.”

Age 19, Spring: The weather in New York City started to get warm again, but Regina didn’t stop wearing sweatshirts, and hoodies. Janis picked up on it once the weather turned warm, working up the courage to talk to her while observing closely. Though to the brunette, this was a no-brainer. Regina’s struggled with this before, and now, it was back. But what Janis didn’t know…was why.

“Ms. George, I need to speak to you, please stay behind for a moment.”

“Sure, Mr. Graham.” Regina breathed out heavily, dreadfully turning towards his desk.

“Your grade. A B’s not good enough.”

“You said I had to get better than a C, which I now have.” Regina states. He steps forward, slyly snaking an arm around her waist, “You were a straight A student at your high school, we can’t have your grades slip, Ms. George.”

“Stop it.” Regina seethed, “You need to stop doing that.”

“Or what?” He asks, feigning innocence, “Whoops, my hand slipped. Sorry, Ms. George.”

The blonde purses her lips together, body tensing up when she feels his palm on her bottom. “Can I leave?”

“Do you want a B?”

“No.”

His arm was snaked around her waist again, “Are you sure? That sure wouldn’t look nice on your transcript. We know what a perfectionist you are…” His hand reaches over and gripped her side while his arm still stayed around her. “What a beautiful figure.”

“Can I leave?”

The older guy huffs, “Fine. You know the drill, Regina. Like that.” He snaps his fingers, “And your next grade? Could be a failing one. Would definitely cost you your scholarship, darling.”

~~~~~~

A week later, at the next class, the same thing happens. Regina got what he meant. He always got it, if she didn’t just take it, her grade would be a failing one. Then, she wouldn’t be able to finish her college education. She doesn’t want that, she’s worked extremely hard to get into this school. “Ms. George, great work on that last paper.”

“Thanks.” The blonde mumbles, practically one foot out the door.

“What’s the rush? It’s Friday. Stay.” He shoots her a look, she had to obey. She was terrified. He walks closer and close to her, eyes watching the hallways.

“Alright, w-what—”

Once the hallways outside were empty, he hand a firm grip on her shoulder then shoved her onto the desk, bent over. His free hand roamed down her bottom and squeezed the flesh. A quiet whimper falls from her mouth as her heart started to pound in her chest. Tears threatened to fall as he continued to feel her up. She felt disgusting, and helpless. Trying her hardest to get out of this mess but he was eerily strong— she also felt like she was frozen. Like she couldn’t move…paralysed. She tried to scream, but no sound loud enough came out. When his hand started to move to the space in between her legs. Sheer panic came over to her as she decided to play along, tickling his hand and causing him to loosen his grip. Regina twisted his hand making him scream, swiftly she fought him off in this brief moment of weakness and scurried out of the lecture hall.

“Bitch.” She hears.

~~~~~

“Regina! Right?”

Shit. Why now?

“Mr. Graham.” Regina sighs, annoyed, “Yes, it’s me. May I help you, sir?”

He looks at Janis, unsuccessfully hiding a perverted smile when he saw the brunette in a flattering cropped top that showed off her figure. “What’s your problem? Stop staring at me like that, you old man.”

“My apologies, I wasn’t.”

Janis wanted to punch him already, “Let’s go, baby.” With that, Janis immediately got them away from the guy. Hopefully he got the hint now. “Wouldn’t want to be late to our dinner reservation.”

That interaction rendered Regina sick to her stomach. Looking at the menu made her feel worse. She barely ate, which concerned Janis. “Regina.” Janis spoke quietly, “You have to eat dinner, please.” She noticed the look on the girl’s face.

“I don’t feel well.” Regina answers in a similar volume.

Janis wasn’t sure if it was purely because she felt unwell, or the fact that she’s been eating less and less lately, that made her feel unwell. “G, please just try and have something light, okay? We gotta eat. If you feel full, stop. I’m not gonna make you finish your plate.”

Regina nodded after a brief pause, decisively, “Okay. I’ll eat something.”

~~~~~~

“Ms George, you know what to do, hun.”

She hated this, whatever this was. And her life. Why was she the one target?

It’s been like clockwork for the last seven months. Each time worse than the last, even though they were the same moves from him. He always had his hand lingering too long on hers or her shoulder in class, after class…he just groped her for his own pleasure. Every time, Regina would save herself moments before the worst case scenario.

Today was no expection.

Thankfully it was her last class of the day so she returns to her dorm where Janis was already sleeping. Napping, actually. Well.

Regina stripped her clothes off and took a long shower, desperately trying to scrub the lingering disgusting feeling from her skin. But, she feels her frustration build and build, so did her tears. Her lips quivering, tears eventually slipped down her cheeks as the water from the shower continually poured down onto her bare body. Regina sobs, muffling the noise with a hand over her mouth.

Drying herself off and getting dressed, she checks her reflection in the mirror, thank god her eyes weren’t too red. She could just lie and say that she got shampoo in her eyes. It’s definitely happened before.

“Hey, you’re back.” Janis got up, sleepily smiling then pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Hi.” Regina frowns.

“How was your day?”

Terrible. ‘I should tell someone. I should tell…Janis’

“I- I need to tell you something.” Regina spat out, instantly flustered, or simply panicking already.

“You— you know the guy we saw on our way to dinner awhile ago?”

“Guy? Your lecturer?”

“Yeah.” Regina takes a deep breath, “I need your help. He— some months back my grade went down to a C, which was my fault because I didn’t really get the class and so that happened. But then he singled me out to talk to me after class and he said if I did ‘something’, I could get my grade back up to a B, or even an A. I thought he meant actual extra-credit assignments or projects. But— fuck!”

Her breathing began picking up its pace as she fiddled with her thumbs.

“Hey, hey. Regina, it’s okay. Take it easy, take your time. Breathe. In and out, honey. In and out.” Janis cajoled, “Breathe for me, huh? Okay?”

“He wanted me to let him touch me. Arm around my waist, squeezing my side, my shoulder, he groped my ass, and he almost used…his fingers on me. Many— many times. I tried fighting him off but I always felt so weak. It’s like I was frozen. I couldn’t move even though I wanted to turn around and punch him in the throat and kick his fucking dick!”

Regina wailed, breaking down in Janis’ arms as she rubbed her back, “I got you. I know exactly what to do. Okay? Trust me, babe.”

“Of course, I do. I trust you with my life, Janis.” Regina hiccups, “I didn’t know how to tell anyone— I— I’ve been feeling like shit, baby. He said— he said he liked my figure. So my brain thought, ‘hey, if you don’t eat that much, you’ll lose that ‘figure’ so he wouldn’t be so attracted to you and leave you alone’. But no, he kept doing it, he kept saying those things and said I looked better and better— like— what the fuck!”

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay.” Janis assured, “I promise you. I’ll stop all of that tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. It’s not something you need to apologise for.” Janis stops her, “I have a morning class, yours are in the afternoon. I’ll go for my class in the morning and stick around in school, near where you are. I know which rooms you’ll be in so I will be right outside every class. Even just a little bit of noise, I’ll be right there.”

~~~~~

Today, Janis intentionally put on the same top Graham saw her in that one evening when she and Regina were on their way to dinner. “Doesn’t raise suspicion, this is subtle enough for me to get by the day unnoticed by anyone but him. Maybe you. I know you like this top.”

Regina allowed herself to chuckle, “Of course I do. I bought you this shirt.”

“That you did.” Janis grins, “This’ll look a little silly but I’ll have my phone on a lanyard around my neck, camera facing out. He can’t deny any of it if it’s caught on tape. It’s evidence, if not one believes us, we’ll still have the video. Which could come in handy since we will be reporting this to the police.”

~~~~~

“Pity you’re attached, you would’ve been so lucky to be spoilt by me…” He purrs, sending a sickening chill down Regina’s back.

“I have a girlfriend, mind you.” Regina snarled.

“Watch your tone.”

“Yeah, of course. You’re my teacher.” Regina smirked. The door opens a crack, Janis got clearer audio and some footage now. His hand started to go down to her bottom as usual, Janis definitely caught that on video. “Graham, like what you’re seeing?” Janis stepped inside, asking boldly. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. Hand still on Regina but his head whipped around. “Oh, you too?” He smirked, Janis tried not to puke right then and there.

“Is that what you think? That I put this shirt on for you? No my girlfriend, not because I like the shirt?”

“Why else would you wear such a small top than to show off that rack?” He laughed lowly, “You expect me to believe that you wore it thinking no one would look? At all? Look at her! And look at you!”

“You’re a fucking pig, Graham. Burn in hell.” Janis spat, furious, pulling Regina closer to herself quickly.

“Sluts.”

“That’s what you say. That’s what people will hear.” Janis shrugs, “Farewell, dickhead. They’re gonna get you.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

💭A/N:

Here it is, I hope it was okay. Take care of yourself anon! 🫂💗 thanks for your request, allowed me to challenge myself🥲

[evelynlikesfrogs]

Signs everything I thought I knew was wrong

I needed to dump my thoughts and feelings somewhere because I feel like im annoying my support group. I think my egg finally cracked Wednesday and immediately I had to start researching and buying gender affirming things. Anyways, here's my list of signs that I wish I had seen like a decade ago, please be kind I'm very new to opening up like this

Another Girl in elementary threatened me with makeup and cross dressing and I wanted it bad.

I think this one is such a major factor in why I feel like this has to be real. Its well before puberty and well before I knew transitioning was a thing. Just a natural thought for someone who’s the wrong gender

Multiple times pleading with god to just make me a girl

Still cis tho obv

Thinking if I held still for long enough in bed, some sort of magic would make me a girl and fix this wrong body of mine

I still remember the dreams where im a girl, i legit became proficient at lucid dreaming just for it.

Ah fuck the egg_irl memes are hitting too hard

My favorite game character is Bridget, listening back to the song is hitting really hard actually

Legit had an anxiety attack and took a day off work because my transfem friend said “careful, i said the same thing before i came out”

Wishing i had magic to turn myself into a girl

Playing female characters just to feel cute

Putting on leggings in highschool, then sleeping in them

Some female mannerisms

Kinda hating my poor skin but couldnt do anything about it since thats only for women am i right fellas

Mild euphoria when someone says good girl

Envisioning myself as the girl during fantasies

Jealousy over a womans body

Ive never seen any man sit cross legged at a table the way i do, idk why that one pops up but i’ve seen plenty of other girls do it

Desire to steal womans clothing to cross dress

At current moment I have no desire to bite my nails because I want them to grow out, even though I was a nail biter for 27 years

In pre school, tried to convince another girl to swap clothes with me

In pre school, loved pretending i was at a hair salon and the other girls in the school would give me a haircut. It gave me ASMR

Speaking of ASMR, I like exclusively listen to makeup, nail and hair roleplays

Feeling like i dont want to transition because I could be ugly

After realization, I dont have nearly as much of an appetite, maybe subconscious bodily sabotage in the form of overeating

Not seeing any future when I tried to plan my life better, before I ever considered the option of becoming trans

Feeling hurt when my dad made somewhat transphobic comments about my trans cousin

Wondering what my parents would do if i woke up one day as a woman and had to explain that to them

Genuine euphoria at the idea of trying on womens clothing, but thinking that i was weird and kinky

Playing with stuffed animals with my best childhood friend, a fellow girl

Hating my balls

I bet it feels good to cry, its probably cathartic

Hating body hair god i hate this so much, I’m just bad at shaving it and dont want to be covered in razor burns and have to explain to coworkers why I shaved my legs and arms

Hating my nose

Adopting a super masculine persona

Forcing myself to have a much deeper voice to not feel any of my true feelings

Actually seeing a future after considering becoming trans

Being hurt by transphobic comments at work before I realized my egg status

Was I sending what they said to my friend because i was hurt by it and wanted reassurance?

When i started drawing again, i had no desire to draw “cool badass epic shit” i just wanted to draw super cosy watercolor paintings.

God damn it i’ll say it, I fucking love pastels. Both the art medium and the color spectrum

Repression of my desire to dance and sing, or I guess express myself in any format due to internalized transphobia

“Mens fashion is so lame, girls have it so good. Im cis tho”

Pure depression my entire adult life

Wanting genuine friend connections with women in a more feminine way

Never caring about going out and buying clothes because none of them worked for me

Trying to force myself to not look at girls clothes because “thats only what weirdos do”

On this topic, how the fuck did i think this shit was normal… i wasnt watching women or anything, its not like i was being creepy in reality. I just wanted to see the womens clothes. Why is that such a bad thing for someone to want

Being jealous of my friend since he was openly wearing his girlfriend’s sweatshirt

Dude i stared longingly at a pink gamer girl chair, still cis tho

Speaking of gamers, being super jealous of C9 Sneaky that he could pass so well and was totally fine with showing that whole side of himself online. Same with Finnster.

I think i hate my voice, ever since realizing this about myself i cant help but hear my voice and think its not me

Being afraid to see a therapist because im not sure honestly

Fearing crying, but that might not be internalized transphobia and actually just be a side product of the vice grip on masculinity in society

Daydreaming about becoming a girl

General body dysmorphia

I want to cry but i cant, why cant I cry why

[o-wild-west-wind]

It is the 1 year anniversary of the OFMD finale, and also the 5 year anniversary of my uncle’s death. For no particular reason, I’m feeling compelled to write something about it, so…here goes. This is more for myself than anyone else, but I guess I wanted to put it out there in case it resonates with anyone. I know a lot of us have found healing through this show 💛

When I first found OFMD, I was still in a state of mourning. The loss of my uncle hit me hard; I had been living with him on my breaks during college, and with no kids of his own, I was also his primary caretaker when he was ill. He took me in when my MAGA dad—his brother—couldn’t look at me without starting a fight. In many ways, he was the dad I wished I had.

And then, before he was ready to go, he was gone.

It wasn’t until after I started going through his things that I finally confirmed that he was gay (a copy of an application to be a mentor for the Trevor Project, and a sizable collection of gay erotica LOL). As nice as it felt to know, it also gutted me—because we had both feared backlash from my homophobic dad, neither of us had ever come out to the other. I felt an overwhelming amount of regret for never having talked about it with him, and I especially regretted that he’d lived alone, aside from me. I regretted that I’d never know if he had had the chance at love.

His death snapped something in my brain; I lost my spirituality, became obsessive about death, and was convinced that I was on my deathbed myself. I tried multiple different therapists, but nothing worked. And as years went by, I still felt the fog of grief, depression, and paranoia. The bitterness that my uncle could never be himself to his own family compounded on my bitterness that I had to hide myself in the same way, and I resigned myself to a life I felt almost to be condemned.

When OFMD started, my partner (a longtime Taika Waititi fan) suggested it to me, knowing how much I was looking for a distraction (and a laugh). I’d just been diagnosed with an alphabet soup of neurodivergencies, and told myself to hang onto the world at least until I could get my meds sorted out; but I had months to wait for my appointment, and I needed something, anything, to get me by until then.

So this silly little show came around, and it genuinely felt like the first seedling of spring after a long winter. It was fun, and funny, and just the world I wanted to escape to—but it was also about self-acceptance, love, queer joy, and—in its surprisingly understated way—death. It was a space to explore the themes that had haunted my own life, but in an overwhelmingly uplifting vessel. And it finally hit me that my uncle had never really been alone, like I’d assumed; there was and had always been a whole world of people out there, young and old, like us. We’d carved a space for ourselves, despite. It was the first time I really started feeling that it was okay to just…be.

I got onto an upward trajectory from there—I finally got on meds, came out to my close friends (half of which came out to me in turn lmao), and—thanks to Stede—found the courage to quit the job I hated and go back to grad school. But when S2 dropped, it really felt like the closure I didn’t even realize I needed. I’m not even exaggerating when I say that Ed’s arc basically cured my death anxiety—and the closure of his issues with his own father figures really helped me find a closure with mine.

I guess I say all this as a reflection of what this show gave me, and also in gratitude that a year later, I’m still in awe at the lasting power of its healing medicine. I still have my shit, and I’m working through more loss and grief I experienced during this span of time, but I’m honestly feeling…okay. Like I can breathe again, for once—no longer like I’m just waiting to drown.

I know that this piece of art just managed to be exactly what I needed at exactly the right point in time, but FUCK, am I glad it was. I’m devastated we don’t have more, but I’m so, SO grateful for what we ended up with, because it was exactly what I needed.

And while I wish I could’ve watched it with my uncle—he would’ve loved this show—I’m so grateful that it has turned his memory from something of deep pain to that of humor and joy. Like so many of the characters, he was funny, and brash, and caring beyond belief; he gave me my love of sailing, and taught me to treasure fine things, laugh in the face of hate, and never to give up on what I loved.

So cheers to you, Uncle R. Cheers to the renegades. And cheers to queer joy—because it feels good for the flag that once meant death to me to finally have a new meaning 🏳️‍🌈

[arliedraws]

Hiii I really love your art! I'm always impressed how ppl like you are able to simplify drawings like this and still get the emotion across! I'd like to ask how long you've been drawing/how long you've been drawing cartoons and how you learned designing your own characters/style and drawing all those face expressions?

🙏🏼🧡

Hi! Thank you so much!!!

Lately, I've been really frustrated with my art and style and technical abilities, so honestly, thank you for giving me a minute to reflect on where I've been! I'm annoyed at the obvious mistakes I am noticing in the things I've posted over the last few weeks but I realized during this that it's always a process and growth is forever.

This got longer than I intended, so I'll put the rest under the cut.

I've been drawing for a very long time, probably for most of my life. And for most of it, I have not been very "good" at it. I had friends who were very serious about drawing in middle school and high school, and in college, I used drawing and fandom to deal with depression and anxiety. Then I started dating late in college which took up all of my spare time for drawing, and then I had a really nasty breakup with my first (emotionally manipulative) partner. I was really depressed (not because of being single but because I didn't know who I was anymore), so I didn't draw or write for yearssssss (I did somewhat but not seriously and loathed everything I was creating).

Then Covid hit and I felt like drawing again.

This was four years ago that I made this comparison of my art. I genuinely like what I was doing in 2012 more than what I put out in 2020. So it's not a matter of how long you've been drawing but consistency and a willingness to take risks (and learn from failures).

You can see I wasn't thinking as 3-dimensionally in 2020 when I started to draw again. The character's expression is really bland and you can see I was focused more on aesthetics than character. I think I even recognized it at the time, and I was really pissed about it.

I guess it's been four years since Covid started, and four years since I really jumped back into drawing regularly. I won't pretend that I know a lot--I very much do not, but here's what has helped me in the last few years.

Think in terms of volume and shape. I always warm up with perspective exercises. I often use posemaniacs' 30 second drawing practice for about 10-15 minutes, or I draw a ton of 3D boxes and spheres and triangles. I like to draw stacked boxes at various angles just so I can get my brain to wake up and see 3-dimensionally.

Know what you want to draw and draw with intention. This sounds obvious, but sometimes, I pick up my pen and just. Draw. Like I'll draw a face or a body but it's just completely soulless and boring because I don't know what I want. Draw with emotion, and have a purpose. Otherwise, your drawing will be lifeless and boring.

Ditch "aesthetics." Seriously. Focus on character. Draw that person ugly. If it's a sexy character and you're focusing on their emotions rather than how attractive they are, it will turn out sexy regardless. For example:

This was supposed to be scary, but people got horny for it anyway.

Anyway.

Your character will determine "aesthetics." Your character wears ripped tights because THEY think it's cool (or they trip a lot and scrape their knees), not because YOU like ripped tights. This is not a hard and fast rule, it's just what works for me.

For example, I don't draw Sirius wearing band t-shirts because I don't think he'd care about Muggle bands (at least, I don't think he'd care enough to advertise that he did). Consider why YOU wear band t-shirts. My partner wears his death metal shirts because he wants to support small bands and talk to strangers who like the same, obscure music (I hate those fucking shirts but he needs to live his truth lol. Some are ok and have beautiful art, but others are gross and weird).

Point is, focus on character.

Side note: If you want to draw a hot character (or if you want to BE a sexy real person honestly lol), you need to internalize this: Sexiness is a state of mind. If you are a sexy, confident person, it doesn't really matter what you look like--people will want to be you or fuck you. This applies to characters as much as it does to real people. It's about being you, focusing on your strengths, recognizing your own worth, keeping boundaries, and giving people your full attention when they speak to you. Seriously. That's basically it. Ask me how I know.

4. Make faces while you draw. I use photo references to understand how the face works, but what helps me the most is when I physically make the same face while I'm drawing. That way, I can feel which muscles are moving in my own face. Plus, I love acting and playing pretend, so I get to "be" that character while I'm drawing. I'm a naturally expressive person and communicate with my eyebrows way too much, and I think you can see that in my drawings.

5. Study other artists. Do this all the time. I particularly love to watch process videos and observe sketches. Here are some videos, books, and artists that I regularly visit or study:

TBChoi -- this person is my favorite artist stylistically. Just search their name + expressions and study. They just understand the way muscles work in the face so well.

Aaron Blaise -- okay, full disclaimer, I've heard some weird things about this artist, so I don't purchase their materials. However, I have practiced with his videos for years and found them exceptionally helpful.

Artists on Instagram I tend to look at: sleepy_kc, krosrios, starbite, rhiwynter

And artists who have influenced me since I was a kid are Tealin, Rufftoon, Shoomlah, Makani, and so many more.

6. Oh. And also, draw things other than people. Draw animals, draw landscapes, draw that weird building. Play with shape and perspective.

And look, I'm not a professional. I am an underpaid English teacher with ADHD, an Intuos Pro, and a horniness for a particular fictional character. Take this with a grain of salt and just do what works for you.

[arrivingonthescene]

most of dora's facts stemming from harry's dream version of her, or jean who's only ever heard harry shitting on her, makes it hard to figure out what she's like. i get that's the point but i'm so curious. would she really think he's a poverty-stricken fuck if they lived in that matchbox with fleeting electricity if she wrote that letter that's so full of infatuation? her parents paid for their life and harry's RCM training but for how long? was she still an arts academic? obviously at some point the last straw on the mountain of straws made it fizzle into nothingness but... idk i can't help but feel the letter & dream-dora stating she fell in love with harry at first sight from how Cool he was, being a form of worship on her part too, an innocent version. "I wanted you to be the rest of my life that day." and along the years that worship tipped over to a detrimental degree on harry's side. and even the dream version of her who spits back the things most likely said durimg arguments, goes from frustration to pity to wistfulness, but what made it sadder to me was how long the phone call can go on for. dream-dora says she moved on so bluntly and lists all the things she dislikes about him, but phone-dora's patience shined through even when harry's saying shitty stuff to her. she could have just hung up immediately and never pick up again the first time he rings her

so going off this, the following are personal headcanons

i imagine she dated harry in an act of rebellion, harry joined the RCM to increase his Cool Factor from high school gym teacher to badass superstar cop (i think the game says she pushed him towards it but i view this via harry-lens where she is a God who caused everything) and along the way as he deteriorated it brcame kind of sunk-cost. along the way she became pregnant, and maybe when the old harry shimmered through she thought they could make it work, but reality hit and she terminated it. i honestly feel like she'd do so alone. and now i wonder if she had any friends or if dating harry made her isolated. did anyone support her leaving him? i'd imagine her parents were thrilled to hear it.

from how open harry is about his thought processes, and how painful it is to him to hear dream-dora demean them, i felt that real-dora could have apreciated them during their good days. i imagine anyone harry knows that intimately who also supports all his voices and brain compartmentalization can easily become someone he worships because of how rare that'd be for him. because how else would he be with her for that long if she hated those parts of him right off the bat? like, all these acts of humanity made him raise her higher and higher until she reached a status she could never act out, she is not perfect, she's just a person, she is a person i'm suddenly so interested in. during harry's fledgeling RCM days i bet she asked tk hear how mr. law brought justice but it quickly became apparent that, not only were the tales depressing, he was throwing himself into work so hard. married to the job. dora having to sell her collected art pieces to get by. and one day harry asks to sell one that's extremely precious to her and that's when she put her foot down and asked her parents for assistance. maybe it was a figurine. time went on as RCM life consumed him, and harry forgot what made dora tick but he never forgets the fact that she loves figurines

more tame but, harry having art cop as one of his copotypes, what if he picked up that notion to impress her? i don't know if she'd teach him art critique herself but like. so much of harry's personality is bending himself every which way to impress someone. i mean i can kind of see how that'd be an addicting person to date knowing he and dora broke up and got back together before. tripping over himself a hundred million times to impress her or win her back. i know for a fact the 'i have a vast soul' thoughts harry can express are him internalizing things she said about him

it could have been easy for the writing to demonize her but it was so apparent that it's harry's twisted view. god the writing of this game. picking out parts of who dora is from inside harry's imprints in the world.

[thanks--for--listening]

it was easier to feel nothing (than it was to make sense of it all)

throwback to august when i promised my cousins I would write them heartstopper fluff. I am months late and have come up with something a little too depressing to be properly called fluff but idk what I expected when I made tori spring the main character.

set during season 2 right after tori finds out they're gonna tell people, and its kind of like a prequel to solitaire but you don't have to have read solitaire to understand the fic. you just have to love tori spring. and don't we all?

(also on ao3).

~

Tori Spring had every intention of spending the entire night in her bedroom. Alone. While her brother socialized like a well-adjusted teenager, she’d have her headphones on, the door closed, with the only light coming from the moon outside her window and the computer screen in front of her. It was how she spent most nights. It was how she spent most days, as well.

How she found herself sitting on the top of the stairs, then, remained a mystery. 

She couldn’t quite make out their conversations from her perch, but she could hear the ease with which his friends spoke. The laughter was loud and infectious, made up of more voices than she could distinguish. Their joy was collaborative.

In spite of her general opposition to clamor and commotion, it wasn’t the noise that kept her up. Drowning out the world was her specialty. It was perhaps the one thing she did better than anybody else. 

No. What was keeping her up were all of these fucking feelings. 

Her brother was happy. That should have been the only feeling. Charlie was downstairs, with his friends, and his boyfriend, and he was happy, and he was okay, and that should have been enough. That should have been everything. 

But she remembered the quiet nights. The ones when no one came over. When she used to lean against their shared wall and search desperately for any break of silence, any proof that he hadn’t simply faded away. Tori hardly slept back then; she couldn’t risk missing something important. She couldn’t miss him needing her.

The loud ones weren’t much better. Drumsticks hitting practice pads over and over and over again, barely hanging onto anything that could remotely resemble a rhythm. The sound haunted her. There were nights where she swore she could still hear it, the constant thud on repeat, and relief wouldn’t come until she’d carefully pushed open his door and confirmed that no music was being made in the early hours of the morning. 

Even now, when the increased volume was proof of improvement rather than regression, she couldn’t help but hold her breath. Couldn’t fight the urge to double check. 

Maybe that was why she’d come out here. Maybe she had to make sure the tide wouldn’t turn again. 

Except that was ridiculous. Charlie had friends. Friends who knew him. Friends who had watched darkness envelop him, who witnessed the battles he fought every day, the ones he tried to hide behind a smile and quiet demeanor. They had seen it all, and every time, they held him closer rather than run away. They were not afraid of the dark.

Tori wondered what that felt like. What it cost. 

He also had Nick Nelson. Nick Nelson, who he was madly in love with. Nick Nelson, who was one of the most popular boys at his school. Nick Nelson, who was going to start telling people. 

She didn’t hate Nick. Truly. It was actually absurd how happy he was making Charlie in the short amount of time they’d spent together. But he wasn’t there last year. He didn’t understand the scope of how utterly horrendous school was for him when everybody found out. 

Tori had a feeling she only knew a portion of it. The thought of it having been worse than it appeared, of him keeping the depth of his torment from her, made her stomach twist and her skin crawl. Every second she spent speculating brought the walls tighter and tighter, until there was no air left to breathe, until the only images she saw when she closed her eyes were every possible way he could be hurting. 

She had nightmares. Vivid, vicious dreams of him bleeding out from wounds she couldn’t see. He would look up at her, begging for salvation, and she was never fast enough to fix it. Never strong enough to help. 

Tori woke in cold sweats every time. It was like her body couldn’t understand that what she’d seen was not her reality. She’d spend days after the fact just watching him, searching for red flags, for reasons to sound the alarm. It required all of her attention, all of her energy. The simple act of existing became entirely unimportant when he may have been suffering. 

So yes, she was happy her brother was happy. She was thrilled. But she was also terrified. And perhaps a bit irritated that, of all the boys he could have possibly fallen for, Charlie chose the one who would inadvertently put him directly into the social spotlight once again. 

And then there was the envy. 

Not toward Nick and Charlie. She didn’t care much either way for relationships. But sitting up here, it reminded her how easy it was for other people to be happy. How effortless it all seemed. 

Her own friends hadn’t been over in ages. She couldn’t remember when she’d stopped inviting them. Now that she had, starting up again was too daunting of a prospect. She wouldn’t know what to do with them. How to keep them entertained. How to explain why her bedroom walls were bare, or why she spent all of her free time being miserable on the internet, or why she couldn’t finish a movie in one sitting even though all she ever did was sit in her bedroom and watch movies. 

Listening was simpler. At lunch, she could let them talk around her instead of to her, and take her adjacency to conversation as a win. Nobody expected anything from her that way. The logic was a little dramatic, perhaps, but it was sound: if she never tried, she never failed. 

Even now, with his lot instead of hers, this was still the best she could do. She could sit up here, out of sight but not quite out of earshot, and pretend that observing joy was the same as feeling it. That it was enough.

The guilt hit her again. She was so selfish. Charlie finally had things going his way, and she managed to make it all about her. It was probably best if she just stayed upstairs all night. She didn’t deserve to bear witness to his successful social life, let alone reap the benefits of it.

Tori raised the volume on her computer, until the movie she had playing was loud enough to hurt. Only then could it drown out the thoughts running rampant in her mind. Only then could she properly exhale. 

It was easier to feel nothing than it was to make sense of it all. 

“Tori!”

Charlie came barreling up the stairs, as if thinking about him had been a kind of summoning. She wasn’t sure how many times he’d called her name, only that she hadn’t heard him until he was nearly on top of her. 

Tori pulled her headphones out. “Yes?”

“What are you doing out here?”

“Keeping track of which one of your friends is the loudest,” she lied. “Darcy is winning.”

His face fell slightly. “Are we being too noisy? I can tell everyone to quiet down if you’re trying to watch something.”

“I’m not very invested in it. Feel free to yell to your heart's content.”

“In that case,” he said, mischievous smile replacing his look of concern. “You’ll be happy to know we’re getting ready to play Taboo.”

She gave him her own wicked grin back. Game nights weren’t the most frequent occurrence in the Spring household anymore, but back in their heyday, she and Charlie had been unstoppable at Taboo. Her parents had considered banning the game altogether, or forcing them to play on different teams, but they never followed through on their threats. 

Tori suspected that was on her account. They hadn’t given up the fight to keep her out of her bedroom back then. They’d been willing to suffer defeat after defeat if it kept her at the kitchen table. Lose battles to win wars, and whatnot.

Although, she supposed they’d still lost that war in the end. Not that they seemed to care.

“I’m sure you and Nick will do your best. He’s got that competitive rugby spirit.”

“I’m not playing with Nick.”

“Oh. Tao, then?”

Charlie shook his head. “Tao’s a horrible partner. He can’t get his thoughts out fast enough, and when he does, they’re all obscure references to things only he knows.”

“Then who—“

“I want to play with you.”

He said it with a different kind of smile. Gentle and eager. It made him look young, much younger than her. 

She forgot, sometimes, that they were peers. That her baby brother was just a grade below her. He’d told her once, ages ago, when they were still in primary school, how much he loved his birthday. It wasn’t because of the presents, or the party — it was because it meant he had caught up. He liked when they were only a year apart. Said she was too far away during the few weeks in April between her celebration and his, when she was technically an extra year older than him.

Tori had hated her own birthday ever since. 

The rest of the world didn’t seem to notice the gap. People used to think they were twins when they were little. There seemed to be nothing they loved more than to see if their assumptions were correct. The two of them got stopped all the time: in grocery stores, at the park, at school events. Sometimes in their own neighborhood.

They didn’t even look all that similar. He’d always been tanner than her, his hair wavier even before it properly curled, and she’d been taller back then by at least an inch or two. But something about them flagged random adults to stop, and stare, and sometimes coo, and constantly, incessantly ask. 

Charlie had never been a very good liar. It wasn’t in his nature. But he always said yes.

Fooling a stranger used to be her favorite feeling in the world. She’d spend the rest of the day walking around with the kind of pep that was ridiculously uncharacteristic. Not because they were getting away with a lie, but because, for a few blissful seconds, it was true. Or, at least, it felt true. She could embrace the act of pretending they were the same. Imagining the world where they were actually twins, going through every part of their lives side by side, hand in hand. Where they were never alone. Most of her daydreams used to be dedicated to that reality.

Sometime during the last few years, she’d stopped. They say twins understand each other on a level that’s hard to describe. That when one of them hurt, the other could feel it. She was pretty sure that wasn’t true. But, just in case, she decided it was good that they had a buffer year between them. That way, she could protect him from her insufferable morbidity. She could keep him out of her head. Even if it meant she had to be kept out of his.

“What about the others?” She finally asked.

“Everyone’s partnering up. We’re going to change every round to see which pairings are the best. But I already know it’s going to be us.”

“No, I mean — wouldn’t you rather play with one of them? They’re your friends.”

“So are you.”

His voice was steady, brimming with a quiet kind of confidence. It was one she’d only recently started to notice. His hands weren’t fidgeting, and his eyes were making direct contact with hers, and he wasn’t shifting his weight back and forth. 

It dawned on her that she was wrong. She blinked and the youth she’d seen earlier vanished, replaced with a bravery and certainty that felt much beyond both of their years. It wasn’t his birthday, but nonetheless, here he was, catching up. Growing up. 

She knew it wasn’t just a consequence of having a proper boyfriend. It wasn’t even due to his friends downstairs, although both played a part. No, something inside Charlie had shifted. Gone was the paralyzing doubt and self-hatred. For the first time, her brother was walking headfirst into a life he wanted. There was no more waiting for permission or hiding in shadows; he was moving forward without an ounce of hesitation.

And she was standing completely still.

“Alright. I’ll play.” 

Charlie beamed and held his hands out. She let him pull her up and drag her down the stairs. 

When they walked into the family room, his friends all excitedly said her name. Like they were genuinely happy to see her. Tori didn’t fully believe them— her attendance anywhere was no cause for celebration— but they didn’t sound fake, either. It made it very difficult to draw a logical conclusion about them and their intentions.  

Everyone was already sitting in pairs. She’d expected a certain kind of coupling, but instead it was all jumbled up. Tara was with Isaac, Darcy was with Elle, and Nick was with the newer girl, Imogen. Tao, hovering near the end, kept giving Elle and Darcy weird looks. Or maybe it was just Elle. She wasn’t entirely sure, nor did she really care. 

It took her a second to realize that he was the only one without a partner. Tori wondered why Charlie would bring her down here, would purposefully mess up their nice even number, just so they could play together. It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t that competitive. 

She scanned the crowd again, looking for something specific this time. But nobody gave her that pitiful look. The isn’t it sad she doesn’t have any friends? look. The being alone couldn’t possibly be a choice look. The something must be very wrong with her look. Nobody focused on her long enough to, except Charlie, and he was the only person who had never seen her the way the rest of the world did. 

“Elle and I will go first!” Darcy said much louder than necessary. Tori sat and watched the two of them try and make their way through the deck of words that required guessing, with Tara looking over Darcy’s shoulder to make sure she didn’t use any of the forbidden hints. 

They got three. It was a pitiful showing. The group applauded anyway.

Tara and Isaac went next. They got a respectable six. Tori quietly clapped with the rest of the group.

Nick and Imogen got four, sneaking the last one in as the final grains of sand spilled down their plastic hourglass timer. They celebrated as if it was a game-winning buzzer beater, which would have been more appropriate had they actually gotten a higher score than Tara and Isaac. 

And then it was their turn. 

They sat on opposite sides of the coffee table. Tori held the cards, Charlie awaiting her clues. He had always been the better guesser. He knew what she meant, even when she was speaking nonsense. 

Tori looked at him before they started, just to see if there was one thing he hadn’t outgrown yet. She was both pleased and slightly distressed to find that there was. He still stared at her with stars in his eyes; she still did her best to earn them.

Imogen flipped the timer over, and Tori grabbed her first card. 

They didn’t miss a beat. It had been at least two years since they’d played, but they picked up right where they left off. She spoke quickly, and he read her mind, and soon she had amassed a pile of cards to her right.

By the time Nick told them time was up, the pile was up to nine. Not their record, but a solid start considering they were incredibly out of practice. 

His friends acted as if they’d literally won an Olympic medal. Darcy was screaming, and Nick was playfully shaking Charlie’s shoulders. Tao was loudly claiming that whoever teamed up with him had better bring their A game, but Tori knew it would be a wasted effort. 

She fought the urge to smile. It was much more difficult than usual.

They went another three rounds, with everyone except her and Charlie switching partners. Tao was, as Charlie had predicted, the worst of the bunch. Isaac and Elle had been a surprisingly successful group, but they’d only managed to get eight. Tara and Darcy kept laughing instead of guessing, but neither seemed to mind walking away with a measly one. 

She and Charlie ended the night with a high score of twelve. He reacted with unusual, exaggerated excitement, likely embracing the chaos of his friends. The others gave her the same treatment — Darcy playfully slapped her on the back, and Elle gushed about how good she was, and it was all so strange that Tori had to constantly fight the urge to run back up to her bedroom where she knew how things worked. 

Eventually, once it became incredibly obvious that no pairing was going to beat the two of them, they switched gears into debating what film to watch. 

Tori took that as her cue. As quickly as she could, she snuck out of the family room and made her way to the kitchen. It was quieter in there. She could hear herself think. 

She wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing. 

Currently, her thoughts were telling her not to get used to this. That it was easy, when Charlie was holding her hand, carefully walking her through the whole night, to pretend that she was normal. That she was unbroken. But she knew that was all it was: pretend. 

These were good people. Good friends. But they weren’t hers. 

Not that she wished otherwise. His friends were too intense. She wasn’t cut out for this much energy, this constant back and forth conversation. Outside of a few impressive rounds of Taboo, she offered nothing to this group. 

She couldn’t stop from thinking about her own lot, though. Becky and all the other girls she sat with at school. If she offered Charlie’s friends nothing, she knew for certain that she gave her own even less. 

Tori had thought avoiding failure was the ultimate goal. That it would be enough to technically be part of them, even if Becky was the only one she’d ever truly considered a friend. She’d never be loud and rambunctious, never be the one to throw the parties or sleepovers, never be the center of attention. She’d understood that. Hell, she’d embraced that. 

But if tonight had shown her one thing, it was how much she was missing. Her friends weren’t like Charlie’s. They were drastically different, in both the big ways and the small ones. They didn’t watch out for each other. They didn’t laugh like them. They didn’t give each other anything, besides basic conversation and a way to avoid being alone in public.  

Over the course of an hour, every one of Charlie’s friends had their needs met. It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t some random coincidence. It was thoughtfulness. A consequence of all of them knowing each other so intensely. So intimately. Tori doubted they were even aware they were doing it.

Darcy got to be loud. Tara got to let go. Elle got to impress, Tao got to entertain, Isaac got to tune in and out as he so pleased. Even Imogen got to be embraced by a crowd. And Nick and Charlie got to be themselves, unabashedly and unequivocally. 

What did she get? What did she give?

They would leave. Her friends would wake up one day and realize how little she mattered to their social ecosystem, and they’d go searching for someone else to take her place. It wouldn’t be difficult, either, because she was nothing more than a glorified shadow: dark and silent and always half a step behind. 

Being left should have scared her. And it did, in a way, but it was like the feeling was muted. She knew what was coming, and some part of her wanted to avoid it, but she couldn’t get herself to care enough to try. She couldn’t act.

If this was a movie, she knew what it would look like. She’d be sitting alone on a runaway train. The audience could see it was going to crash. She could see it was going to crash. The collision was miles away, a blocked tunnel made entirely of brick, but it was inevitable. Her situation looked dire at first glance, except they weren’t moving very fast. In truth, they were hardly moving at all. The doors were wide open, the ground a safe distance below. All she’d have to do to save herself was jump. Nothing and no one was stopping her. But she just sat and stared straight ahead. Perfectly content to be crushed. 

She didn’t know how long she’d been on board this metaphorical train. Maybe forever. Maybe her whole life had been spent sitting still in this pathetic seat, and everyone who’d ever come and gone had simply been taking a ride to their own destination. Maybe they couldn’t see the end. But she could. 

Charlie wouldn’t understand. Neither would his friends. They all felt everything. Each high and low and shade in between, each victory and loss. It was how they’d managed to hold onto all that energy. They were constantly moving, fueled by endless emotion. 

Tori felt absolutely nothing. 

Her friends would probably leave after graduation. Cut their losses and start new. The thought should have upset her. But she’d already accepted it. She’d sit alone. The train would crash. The credits would roll. 

God, she was insufferable. It was a wonder anyone tolerated her at all. 

Reaching for the fridge, Tori grabbed the Diet Lemonade. Maybe if she drank enough of it, she could drown the voice in her head before she went back upstairs. That usually worked. She might even sleep tonight.

When she shut the door and turned around, Isaac was there, sitting at the kitchen table, book in hand. 

“Jesus Christ,” she gasped. 

He looked up. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Only fair that I learn what that feels like, I suppose.”

“Huh?”

“What are you doing in here?” She asked. “I thought you guys were watching a movie.”

“We are. Or, we will be. It’ll take them at least twenty minutes to decide. I figured I could steal a bit of quiet while they did.”

“You don’t want to help choose?”

He held his book up. She recognized it, but— as was the case with most titles — hadn’t read it. “I probably won’t watch much of it, to be honest.”

Tori, in a feat of considerable strength, held her opinion on books and their secondary nature to films to herself. 

“Will you watch with us?” Again, the way he spoke surprised her. There was no hesitation. No undertone that the answer should absolutely be no. It was just curiosity. Sincere, legitimate curiosity.

“Probably not. Your friends are very loud.”

Isaac chuckled. “Yeah. I don’t blame you for needing a break.”

“How do you manage it?” She wasn’t sure where the question came from, but she regretted asking almost immediately. Hearing it back, she knew it sounded rude, even when she didn't mean it to. 

That happened to her a lot. Maybe she was just a rude person, and had tricked herself into thinking she wasn’t. 

“It’s all about moderation,” he said with a smile. Isaac stood up, walked closer to the doorway. Tori followed, until they could just barely see into the family room. 

Tao was in an impassioned debate with Tara and Darcy. The former wanted to watch an indie film; the latter, Mamma Mia. Imogen sat next to Elle, the two half-heartedly watching the battle play out in front of them. 

Charlie and Nick sat on the couch. Nick leaned in closer, whispered something in his ear, and her brother laughed. His hands were entangled with Nick’s. His shoulders were relaxed. He was truly and genuinely happy. 

Tori couldn’t remember the last time she felt like that. She couldn’t remember ever feeling like that. And she suspected it had nothing to do with her relationship status. 

“Quiet is nice,” Isaac said next to her. “It’s necessary. But it’s also easy to get lost in.”

“What do you mean?” It was a pointless question — she knew exactly what he meant. But she asked anyway. 

“Just that, when you’re stuck in your own world for so long, it becomes hard to remember what you gain from everyone else’s. And there’s a lot to gain. That is, if you can manage to put up with all the noise every once and a while.”

He nodded toward the family room. The debate had greatly intensified, arms flailing in support of arguments they were only half making. They kept getting interrupted by their own laughter. She wondered whether any of them still cared about the films in question. 

“Isaac will agree with me,” Tao said, before loudly yelling out his name. 

“No!” Tara managed to squeak out. “Isaac is literally my best friend in the whole world, he’ll agree with me!”

“Tara!” Darcy yelled. “If Isaac is your best friend, what the fuck am I?”

“…Arm candy?”

The laughter broke out again in full force. She could feel the itch, the desire to join them, in spite of the headache it would give her. Just to prove that she could, if she wanted to. She could have this life. She could make these choices. She could pretend. 

The truth barged in, smothered her doubt before it could grow into something properly delusional. She was not Isaac. They may have both made friends with the quiet, but he’d managed to build a door in it, allowing a funnel of noise to slowly creep in at a pace he could handle. In return, he sent back some of the silence, something this group was sorely missing. They balanced each other out. 

Friendship, she was beginning to understand, was a transaction. Nobody gave all this joy for free. And she, with all her misery and melancholy, her self-destruction and self-isolation, could never afford to give enough. Not if she wanted anyone to stick around. 

Except Charlie. Though he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. And if he did, she was certain he would never have picked her. Taboo skills be damned.

Her silence was useless. It was suffocating, not peaceful. It didn’t offer balance — it overwhelmed. There was nothing for anyone around her to gain. 

Maybe that was the reason she stayed on the train. Better to crash in ignorance than to know for certain that nobody would care if she made it out or not. 

“It’s not that simple,” she finally said, so softly she wasn’t sure he’d hear her. 

“I know.”

“And it’s safer. Keeping quiet.”

“It is.” There was something in his voice. Tori wondered if maybe one of Charlie’s friends would understand after all. “It gets a bit boring, though, doesn’t it?”

Tori couldn’t pull her eyes off the crowd. The thought of spending the night down here with them was exhausting. But the thought of going back to her dark room with her mediocre movie that she wouldn’t even finish didn’t make her feel any better. 

“You’re very wise,” she told him.

“I read a lot of books.” 

Elle finally offered up a third option— a rerun of some Bake Off episode they’d all already seen — and the others appeared to find her suggestion reasonable. Someone called Isaac’s name again, and he exhaled deeply. 

He took a step forward, before pausing and turning back. “Should I tell them you’ll be joining us?”

Tori wasn’t confident that anybody would notice her absence. Not even Charlie. 

“Tell them I was tired.”

She half expected him to look disappointed in her, which would be ridiculous because she hardly knew him. But all he did was nod. 

She lingered in the hallway for another few minutes, before quietly making her way upstairs. Standing in front of her bedroom, she paused. It was so dark in there. The clouds must have shifted over the past hour or so, because there wasn’t any light coming through the window. 

Her laptop lay abandoned on the floor beside her. It beckoned her, persuading her to return to her former state. Usually, with its endless library of movies and blogs, her computer felt familiar. Reliable. A singular comfort in a world that offered her nothing of the sort.

Tonight, it felt much more insidious. Like it knew she was an addict. Like it could see her resolve slipping. She could feel it lurking in the metaphorical and literal shadows, waiting for her inevitable relapse so it could swoop in and supply what it always did: mind-numbing distraction.

It was a very melodramatic way to perceive a piece of technology. That was what she told herself as she opened it back up again. 

But instead of completing her retreat, she sat back down where she’d started, at the top of the stairs. She clicked play on her movie, but she lowered the volume and took one headphone out. 

The sound from downstairs carried, like it had before. In one ear, she heard dialogue from her computer; in the other, she heard her brother and his friends adding commentary to their show. It made it impossible to follow either, and she knew she probably wouldn’t last more than fifteen minutes before she gave up and officially escaped back to her bedroom. 

But for now, she did what she always did: listen. 

It was almost enough.  

[dearmahiru-archive]

Hiii :3 For the Milgram ask game: 5, 14, 19 for Mahiru and 9, 12, 16 for Shidou?

omg hi hi hello hello :3c

5. favorite voice drama line/moment?

Mahiru: Kotoko-chan’s acts aren’t a problem, either. I think she’s fighting for her own cause as well. So I don’t blame her. Because I also think that I… that my love isn’t wrong. I don’t want to be shamed for my love.

Mahiru: Yeah. Es-kun, you’re working so hard… You’re doing great. Es: …! Mahiru: …Oh my… are you crying? Es-kun… Es: I’m not! Mahiru: You’re putting up a tough front.

(*kicking, crying, sliding down the wall dramatically, banging my head on the wall, ripping my hair out, screaming, punching air, rolling in dirt, eating sand angrily*)

i am so normal about this :) i expected mahiru's second voice drama to lean in thick on guilt-tripping and having mahiru be bitter but no. not only does she not get angry but instead she just forgives everyone involved. what the actual fuck

14. any headcanons on their appearance?

went :0 when i saw this question and went to go finish this little edit i was working on! i really really love the idea of mahiru having tan skin and her being a gyaru when she was a younger. i was actually hoping to make some blasian edits for the milgram cast (since i'm blasian!) but i'm a bit worried about being sent hate </3

19. what do you think their childhood/teenage years were like?

well you see (*shuffles through seven pages worth of self-projection*) it all started when she was born─

kidding kidding! i imagine that, during her years at an all-girls school, mahiru was apart of a popular clique but felt detached from them because they often took advantage of her. coupled with her sheltered upbringing, depression, and insecurities, this manifested in her strong desire to feel and give love to someone.

i also like to think teenage mahiru's hair was a little bit longer!

9. do you forgive/not forgive their crime on its own?

oh god this is another hard one─ um. i feel like if i was asked this about a real life person then my initial reaction would be, "this should not be my business." it feels so deeply personal to the people involved in the case that my input would feel grossly inappropriate.

i will say yes if only because it was for love. because, if asked if you could forgive someone's murder if it was out of a love, wouldn't you naturally want to forgive them? shidou's entire case is so messy but if i forgive mahiru for her twisted perspective of love that hurt people then i can surely forgive shidou. though, i do understand why someone else wouldn't be able to forgive him.

12. what do you wish would be discussed more often about them in the fandom?

hm, i'm not quite sure if there's any more discussions to mine? out of all of the characters i think shidou's treated mostly fairly, just plagued with the organ harvesting theory and amane discourse.

i personally would love to see more discussions about mahiru and shidou's parallels! i adore the similarities between fuuta and mu, so it saddens me that i don't know enough about shidou's character to draw the same for shidou/mahiru. if anyone wants to enlighten me i'd be thrilled!

OH AND THE JACK THE RIPPER REFERENCE IN HIS NAME!! it's very funny to me he's the only character who, to my knowledge, references an serial killer. buddy my bud are you good.

16. how do you think they actually sing in regular life?

boooring answer i imagine his voice would be similar, he'd just be more amateurish and hit the same notes as easily. i love this question though because it popped up the image in my head of shidou being taken to a mixer and awkwardly trying to do karaoke.

[youareyoubutwhoareyou]

God sorry I need to ramble for a minute I am so frustrated

I am barely gripping onto recovery rn I am gonna fucking lose my mind. I have an appointment to get weighed etc in just over a week and I'm gonna feel like shit if I don't hit the weight they want in that time regardless of the fact that to do that would be incredibly unhealthy and unsustainable

Literally at least half the weight they want me to lose is what they're going to remove during surgery. if it's really that important how the fuck does that make sense

Truly how the fuck does any of this make sense. You want my body to be fucked up going into surgery? Really? You want deficiencies and even worse fatigue and fog and it literally eating itself? You want me stressed and depressed and obsessive about my body even before the post op depression? That's healthier?? That's going to give a smoother recovery with better results?

It might actually even fuck up my results because I'm almost certainly going to gain the weight back if not more

Study after study after study shows that fat =/= unhealthy, higher risk of complications, etc., that most weight loss methods don't fucking work long term unless you dedicate the rest of your life to it, that losing weight rapidly and going back and forth dieting and not is really fucking bad for you actually

And all this because of some stupid fucking number, some calculation that has been endlessly and rightfully criticised for how much bullshit and how unreliable it is. Somehow it's still held in high enough regard to disregard everything else and say thinner is always better. Always healthier. Always achievable.

I'm just so mad. I was doing well. And now I feel guilty for big portions again. For feeling full, or not feeling full. For cravings and meals out and enjoying food. I'm thinking back to tactics I used all the way back in fucking high school to avoid eating. Ten years ago. I hate this.

It really says a lot how, when I started physio to strengthen muscles so I'm in pain less, a major concern in the back of my mind was that the muscle gain would negate the weight lost. How I'm preparing myself to go to the weighing appointment without eating that day, and not drinking either if I can help it, just to get the number on the scale as low as possible

And the thing is I can't say a fucking word of this to any drs. Not only are they human and inevitably deeply influenced by diet culture etc, but with the current state of trans healthcare in this country I cannot trust them. I cannot say that my mental health is anything other than great for fear they'll shove me on a waiting list for some program for whatever it is and put my transition on hold

I've already waited so long. I'm so close. I would've been referred already and months into a wait list if not for this One thing. It is eating me alive and it will not stop until I get that goddamn referral and I am getting desperate

[kennieswrld]

bad hair-good hair, long hair-short hair

All my life I've wanted long hair. I've never been shamed into hating my hair length or anything, it just felt like the "prettiest" girls in my classes in elementary school had long, straightened hair. Hair that fell and rested upon their backs and waists, and god did I fucking want some.

There's this run on joke between my mother and I about my desperate need for a ponytail when I started the 3rd grade. My very black family decided to uproot themselves from the peachy state that is Georgia to the rainy depressing state that is Washington state. This caused an unknown issue my parent's didn't consider would happen to me, a culture shock of whiteness (mind you this culture shock is still under effect around 13 years later). I had never seen so many white people before, and I was obsessed with their best and most common hairstyle. The ponytail. With its sleek look and sporty nature, a buck toothed 8 year old Kenji wanted to have that hairy fashion statement atop my head. While on the other side of the story, my mother had no clue how to tell me my curly naps would never be able to just naturally slick down and straight for a simple ponytail. For a few weeks she would put my messy hair up into a puffball, but as soon as I saw her "ponytail" I would cry and cry, repeating how this is NOT the ponytail I was looking for.

I guess it's funny now, but it wasn't then. But it's funny to think how much something as trivial as that spiraled into a sort of self hatred I crafted for myself. I hated my hair for years. I wished it were longer, I wished it had a looser curl pattern and I just wished the hair on my head wouldn't be my own. My mother never allowed me to dye or relax my hair while living under her roof which made the entire hair hatred problem even worse as there was no way to escape the hate other than obtaining heat damage for a couple of years in middle school.

But as soon as I got into highschool, something changed. Seeing the same sleek and sporty ponytails whipping side to side as they ran to class just became boring. I had seen it so many times that even if I were to join the club, I would be one of the millions of members. Also during this time I began experimenting with my own hair. Creating different hairstyles for myself via braiding or funky up-do's with all my natural hair. And it was the first time in my entire life that I had ever felt so comfortable in my own skin. Being able to wear my big kinky afro amongst the sea of ponytails finally felt as normal as wearing a ponytail myself.

But after a while. I felt off. My hair was finally exactly where I wanted it to be. I had just grown into loving my hair for who she is instead of trying to make her someone else, until I realized how I was allowing my hair to dictate how other's felt about me. Everything was for others and not me. The validation I felt over the afro I wore wasn't about it being in its afro state, it was over it being the biggest afro. If I wore braids they had to be in for more months of the year than my natural hair could be out. So after some feeling of inadequacies over my hair, I watched video essay after video essay where I listened to multiple black women explain how shrinkage is beautiful, having long hair that hits your butt is not the end all be all and to just be happy with you. So I shaved all my hair off.

Since shaving my head, I have been constantly thinking about that little girl who wanted a ponytail. Now she really cant get a ponytail, and I think she likes it better this way.

[infiniteglitterfall]

My friend Anne shared this on Facebook and added, "This this this x10000. I don’t want to be “high maintenance”, I just need information that allows my brain to adapt to the reality of whatever is going on!"

I have this problem with trauma recovery. I jUST WANT TO KNOW HOW LONG IT WILL TAKE AND WHAT PHASES TO EXPECT. Like: I share custody of my kid, who's 6. I share custody because (1) a year and a half ago, my ex made the unilateral decision to move to a city more than an hour away (frequently an hour and a half) -- and to take our kid with him. And (2) because four years ago, the same ex made the absolutely wild unilateral decision to disappear for a month -- and to take our kid with him. That's the short version. All of the above? Very, very traumatizing for me and the kid. And honestly for a lot of people around us. Including my housemate, who is so close to the kid that he accidentally called her "Dad" last week. TL;DR: I mainly get him on weekends during the school year and it suuuuuuuucks. But last month, he was here for three and a half consecutive weeks. Because my ex fucked up and found out (that you can in fact get COVID by dining indoors, and then give it to everyone else). The COVID sucked a lot. But having my kid here for that long was bliss - for me, him, and my housemate.

Then he went back to school, so this weekend we just had him for the usual two days - or three days, two of which are half days - or one day and two unsatisfying chunks of days. Depending on how you see time.

When he got picked up, TJ disappeared into her room for a while. She came back out and told me that depression just HIT her really hard, and that it felt like my ex was taking the kid away.

I commiserated with her about how we still have a lot of trauma from four years ago when he DID take my kid away. But I didn't really feel the depression this time.

And then I went to bed at like 2 am and slept for 15 hours.

Which I now know is a trauma response. But I DIDN'T know that a year ago, when I was so exhausted that I basically slept all month. I hate it. I don't feel like I can afford to just abruptly sleep through an entire day. Or longer. I hate trauma responses popping up out of nowhere in general, but it especially bothers me when they don't seem to make sense. I JUST NEED INFORMATION THAT ALLOWS MY BRAIN TO ADAPT TO THE REALITY OF WHATEVER'S GOING ON.

Then again, today I was thinking about all the emotional work I have to do around this -- I mean uhh get to do??? to get through the trauma -- and how much energy that takes. And I suddenly formed a theory that maybe the exhaustion is not so much "being triggered around this trauma just knocks me out" or "emotional stuff comes up and takes energy even if I don't feel it?" but is something like, "my psyche is working through this stuff under the surface even if I don't do the work consciously, it's just slower this way, and it takes a lot of energy!!" There's plenty of research showing that people tend to recover somewhat on their own from all kinds of trauma/abuse. Very slowly. (I haven't dug through it, but I would argue that we also tend to get into other abusive/traumatizing situations that definitely halt and slow down that process. However, without more of it getting in our way, we tend to work through shit as we go.)

And then I read an article about SELF-HEALING METAL and thought, "maybe there's a healing tendency in the universe, just like there's entropy?" Maybe things don't always progress toward chaos and dysfunction and entropy. Maybe there's an opposite tendency there as well. I mean, if there is, I would sure like some kind of a map for it, though.

What an autistic person says: "How long is it going to take?"

What they mean: "I want to know whether to activate my short term waiting mode where I just wait and do nothing else, or activate my long term waiting mode where I occupy my mind with something else. I fully understand that both are possibilities, and I have no problem whatsoever with either one, but I want more information so I can best adapt to the situation."

What neurotypical people hear: "I am impatient and demand that everything I want happen right now. Please scold me and publicly humiliate me for it."

[corny-ass-shit]

i think my seasonal depression is during the summer. i have summer depression i guess.

April ends, and its getting warmer and my friends start going out more and theres more school work because of finals. i force myself to go out because of fomo and hate being alone, i burn myself out from draining my social battery every single day. im catching up on homework and schoolwork i didnt do and i stop caring about my grades and know im gonna fail finals. its the 4th quarter at this point, and im not doing any of my work or studying. im done, i dont give a shit. im rude to my friends, barely see my family, dont take care of myself.

school ends. finals are over. some stress taken off the shoulders, right? no. im crying every day. im forcing myself to get out of bed and go outside with my friends. i want to cut, i want someone to beat the shit out of me, i want to get hit by a fucking semi. i hate myself and how im feeling. i hate everything. i hate my friends and i hate the weather and i hate my family and i hate everything about me.

school starts again. i get better. i do all my work, submit everything on time with all my effort put in. i ease up with my friends and family, i enjoy going out again. usually. not this year i guess. i did my homework for the first 3 weeks of school, half assed, and i havent fully completed a night of homework since then and its the middle of november. i havent done my homework at all since october 22nd. im crying every day, still, and i still cant find a valid excuse for me acting like a bitch. i had a screaming crying breakdown in front of my boyfriend. i mean i was sobbing, yelling, trying to speak but couldn’t for a solid 20-25 minutes. it was awful and disgusting and embarrassing and so pathetic. absolutely pathetic. im not getting better. every time i feel bad, it seems my boyfriend starts feeling bad too. i dont want to rub my negativity on him. every time he feels bad, i feel even worse because how can i help him while im desperately trying to make it on my own? now he has seasonal depression, winter is the worst. hes like me, low on energy, cant find coping, doesnt want to hang out. except he deals with it differently. i force myself to go out and burn myself out and cry and shake and wish i was dead for ever leaving my bed. but he rests, and thats good. he takes time to himself and deals with it by talking to me or playing music. i cant make him feel even worse during seasonal depression. not when im acting like this. why am i acting like this? whats my fucking deal? why havent i gone back to normal? why cant i fucking help anyone? why doesnt he want my help?? i know he just doesnt like help from people but i want to be the boyfriend that can help. not like everyone else. i dont wanna be just everyone else. i want to help. because although its selfish, helping him would help me feel better. i hate being this dependent, but i dont know what else to do. break my 2 day streak i guess.

[ilovetheseattlemariners]

I give myself in sweet surrender, my one and only

I hate being sick. Currently trying to nap because I need to rest but i just cannot. Like you're having a decent life and then all of a sudden something completely out of your control that has no benefit to you at all comes you way out of nowhere and now you're reduced to misery.

I think I'm really depressed too. And I don't want to say it, but I think the only solution might be to go back to Kelowna. Like those memories bring out this ineffable and irreproducible joy that doesn't have anything close to an equivalent; not even reminiscing on other beautiful moments in my life carries that same energy. And I think being deprived of that now is the source of my melancholia. But it wouldn't just be a return to Kelowna I'd need. It'd be a restoration of my former life, no amendments or alterations permitted. I finally got in contact with a close friend recently (you'd know her as A) and I found out she isn't there any longer; a lot of the jazz cats that I cooked with are now in completely different places, too. What my happiness hinges on is something impossibly, basically. My mind continues to trace those nights like a trite theme; it's as though its not convinced that I'm no longer there. Even the simplest recollection (thinking of being in the kitchen looking out the window, my routine walk through Rutland, the time the Christmas tree was in Rutland Centennial — it was there when I was told I'd not get into UBCV during my second year, and I had perhaps one of the worst days of my life, ironic —, driving through downtown with my ex during those nights, reading poetry at BNW, getting high, getting high, getting high and the nature of the Okanagan being perfect background music, studying with friends in Pritch or the bridge, the london fogs, the well poutines.

Listing it like that was a terrible exercise.

I think, too, that I am in love with my high school friend. Which sucks? I don't think she likes me back. She didn't want me to hug her, yet she smiled during it and I don't know how to interpret that — beyond the obvious, which is that I'm so fucking weird and I need to reevaluate my life. I want her. And maybe I just want anyone, but I want to pick her over some good fucking meat. And I mean dick. I'm giving up a lot of good dick for a girl who maybe liked me once who I'm not sure even likes me now. Like who would maintain a crush for longer than 3 years, a crush which never amounted to anything. Me, obviously. I sure fucking did.

Like, one time I told her genuinely that I had to go to the bathroom and she was like "do you want me to go with". But she's awkward in this cute way and because of her delivery it wasn't clear whether or not she was joking with me or she was being serious. I'm kinda serious about this though. I think it'd be nice. I mean, I don't know if it'd last. I never think about how long these things will last when I go about doing them. I'm really fucking stupid for that. But she is funny, and I like her smile.

I really want someone who has a lot of wit. Someone who is well read, has a lot of talents, and can say something profound or philosophical. I need a bit of a renaissance person in who I love. I think she could maybe be that.

Oh, I'm in a band now too. That's fun also. The cats are really good too. We have some fun Casiopea tunes we are gonna hit this Thursday, and I've trying my hand at a composition for the group but it's kinda being going tough. I wish I was writing more. But I'm sick and in bed. I guess I'm writing to you. You mean a lot to me. Thanks for listening to me always and for allowing me to keep myself here. I love you. Wish me luck.

[maya-matlin]

Out of curiosity

How do you think Tori reacted to things like Zoe coming to degrassi and being best friends with Tristan since west drive was her and Tristan’s favorite show, how she reacted to Zaya living together, Zaya eventually dating, Zig cheating on Maya, Zig Tristan and Maya being in the bus crash, Tristan being in a coma, and Maya’s suicide attempt?

Oh wow, that's kind of hard to answer. It all depends on the person Tori would have become during her last three years of high school and if Maya and Tristan were keeping in touch with her the entire time. I do think she loved her friends and would hate the thought of anything terrible happening to them. My gut is that Tristan is more likely to have kept in touch with Tori than Maya. Simply because Tristan was Tori's childhood best friend while things got complicated between Maya and Tori over Zig. It was easier to be friends in the aftermath of Cam's death with Zig not really being part of the friend group. But once there was some distance between them, it's hard for me to imagine the two maintaining much of a friendship. Even though Maya was overall a good friend to Tori, the betrayal with Zig would realistically still linger on some level. Of course, I don't know how the writers would have handled it had Alex Steele chosen to stay. Sorry. I typed a lot, but answered none of your questions.

In the case of Zoe coming to Degrassi, I imagine Tori would have been psyched and kind of starstruck from afar, insisting that Tristan give her every detail about what Zoe's like. But because Tori wouldn't physically be around to get to know Zoe, any positive feelings would probably be replaced by anger and dislike once she finds out about the cyberbullying. If Tori and Tristan are still in contact when he and Zoe become good friends, I'd assume Tori would have mixed feelings. It's just difficult to know whether she'd call Tristan out on being disloyal or take more of a neutral stance. As for everything Zaya, I doubt she'd be entirely happy about it. Zig was Tori's boyfriend first. Just because Tori was aware there was an attraction between Zaya even before the cheating doesn't mean the double betrayal didn't hit hard. So, definitely mixed feelings. Tori wouldn't be around to continue her friendship with Maya or see how Zig has evolved, so I imagine her feelings towards Zig would stay about the same. She'd know he's overall a good guy and be glad he's treating Maya right. Until he doesn't, and then there's probably some "once a cheater, always a cheater" thoughts. If Tori continues to be friends with Maya and Tristan from a distance, I doubt she'd ever be super pro Zaya even after they're back together for good.

I have no idea how Tori reacts to the bus crash, Tristan's coma, and Maya's suicide attempt. Badly? I imagine she'd be pretty fucked up over it if she knew, though there's only so much that can be done unless she visits. I'd assume she at least saw Tristan at some point during his coma. I feel like Tori would try to reach out to Maya after the bus crash, but Maya's depression would have prevented their contact from getting very far. I doubt she'd make keeping in touch with Tori a priority. Zig might get a text if they still had each other's numbers, but I think it would basically be "I'm glad you're alive/Thanks, I appreciate that." Maya and Tori might renew their friendship somewhat after Maya's suicide attempt, but both would be in their senior year and about to go in different directions. They'd probably be friendly, but their relationship would never be what it once was. I hate that I sound so negative about the Maya/Tori friendship. I just feel like the reality of only being close for a year and the way Zig came between them before means they wouldn't have much long term potential as close friends. With Tristan, there's a better chance of consistent communication if he stuck with it. I don't feel like Tristan ever felt the same resentment and complicated feelings towards Tori than he did with Maya, so I feel like their dynamic as old friends would stay pretty pleasant.

[the-trash-drag0n]

Tw depression, dissociation, eating disorders and other mental health struggles

||I read a thing today that managed to word a struggle I've been having for a while.

"She's been getting better lately and I'm grateful, but it's easy to forget how far better is from well"

To the outside world I look better, I hit a healthy weight for the first time in 2 years, I loose less time, and I'm slowly getting more comfortable in my body. But what most people don't see are the 10 minute bathroom breaks where I cry my self into dehydration because I can't remember where the on button is. The nights I can't do laundry because I'm 5 and lost. The days I say I forgot my linch despite it being in my locker because I genuinely forgot I made it. I'm starting to feel like did is like dementia in a way. It's scary as fuck, and while I'm so beyond grateful for all the people who take care of me during bad episodes, I hate that they need to. And yet, I can't say I wish I didn't. I won't tell that scared seven year old I want her dead. I won't tell the 12 year old soldier that wish he never existed when he did so much to make sure I made it through school. I definitely wouldn't tell the shapeshifter comedian that I would rather it not exist than comfort me when I cry.

I'm doing better, but better is so far from well, and on days like today, I wonder if I'll ever be able to be well again.

[samazingly]

How does one fight imposter syndrome? Long, don't read. I don't even know why I'm posting this. I should just save it in a GoogleDoc and call it a day. This is also a cluster fuck of thoughts.

This has been hitting me hard lately. Honestly, for a while now actually. And it's not just one thing, it's everything. And It's come to the point where I don't feel like I deserve what I have in life. I'm not good enough. First, I want to preface by saying, my husband is a freaking saint. He's the best, he works so hard, he's so caring, and kind, and handsome, the BEST freaking dad, and husband. What person would stay by someone after 2 years of a dead bedroom? Not many, that's for sure. I do NOT deserve this man. Also, the dead bedroom was COMPLETELY me. I'm not exactly sure why it started or what happened to end it. And if he did cheat during that time. One, he deserves whatever touch he needed. And he's freaking superman. I don't know where he found the time or energy. I'm not good enough for my amazing husband, or my super awesome kids, or the house over my head, the pets we have. Nothing. Why do I feel I don't deserve any of it. What makes me think I'm trash that all this shouldn't be mine. Probably because I have nothing to show for all of this. I suck at keeping up with housework, and yeah, I can say it's the adhd, the depression, the anxiety, whatever, but I haven't done anything to get better at it.

And one might think, how can you think you don't deserve your husband, he must think the world of you, you've been together since 2006. True, but I know so many couples who have "stayed together for the children." And while I'd like to think that's not the kind of person my husband is. That if he didn't love me then he'd leave and not suffer. He's also the kind of guy that knows that if he left me. I'd have nothing, I've been a stay-at-home mom for 14 years. I have no education outside of high school. (I am attending college now, but I'm only in my first year) The last time I had a legit job was in...2009? Maybe, maybe 2008. Legit don't even remember. I've done little to no volunteer work anywhere. Let's just say my resume is very sparce and dated.

Then to top it all off. I'm huge, like fat fat. Does my husband care, does the person who sees me naked care. No, he calls me beautiful, hot. But do I believe him, no, I scoff, I roll my eyes, I call him crazy or blind.

I hate that I feel this way. I hate that I for the most part know what I need to do to feel deserving.

So, I think, what's something he could do to help me feel worthy. Honestly, I have no idea. Or maybe, what does he do or not do that makes you feel this way? I don't know, I often feel he's not interested in what I do. But I don't do anything. Legit, at home taking care of the few chores I actually do, make sure the kids and animals a fed. Give the kids rides to and from school, go to class, and play bg3. Like every day. It's the same. Always the same. Maybe it's because I don't know who I am. I mean, yeah, I'm a mom, I'm a wife. But what else? Nothing, I am nothing without those people. I want to be known for more than being my husband's wife or my kid's mom.

Okay...I think that's good for now. When I finally see my therapist again, I think I'll be bringing this up. And probably try and talk things out with my husband. I'm just so tired of feeling this way. Or, when I start to feel better, I'm slapped in the face with these stupid thoughts again.