#I'd tw all of the things I could but sadly I don't care honestly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

andrews-garfussy · 3 years ago

Text

Only a Friend

TW: cussing, brief mentions of violence and death, mentions of obsessive behaviors, mentions of fighting and drunkenness

Also: In the books, Professor Binns was so fucking boring, so I decided to do his character some justice and make him a funny, sarcastic old man.

Word Count: 0.9k

Table of Contents

"I can't believe they're actually letting Harry compete in the tournament," Vera said to Freyja as they walked to their first class: History of Magic.

"It's completely unfair. Everyone knows Potter cheated. If I were Cedric, I'd be pissed," Freyja said, continuing to gossip.

"Good thing you aren't me, darling," Cedric slyly entered the conversation, creeping up from behind them. Both Freyja and Vera turned to look at him, startled as he was the topic of their gossip.

"Well, why aren't you upset? Surely you feel some type of anger. I mean, since you're all about playing fair," Vera said. What she said was true. In fact, in fifth year, Cedric tried to turn down a quidditch win because he thought it was not won "fairly" due to Harry falling off his broom after being attacked by dementors.

"Harry's just a kid. He doesn't deserve to be involved in something as dangerous as this. I don't personally think he has a death wish; he told me himself," Cedric explained. Freyja rolled her eyes at his ingenuousness. Sometimes he could be so incredibly gullible.

"You best be careful being too kind to people. You never know who might take advantage of it," she ended the conversation, all three of them walking into the classroom.

Vera was quick to find her seat next to Angelina, a Gryffindor girl, who she loved to get her gossip from during class. Vera didn't care for her all that much; the only thing she wanted to talk about most of the time was being a chaser on the Gryffindor team, which got annoying at times. She really was a sweet girl, though, despite what Vera thought was an odd obsession with quidditch.

As for Freyja, she sat beside Cedric as she did in every other class she had with him. She couldn't stand this class, though. She found history extremely boring and turned to complain to Cedric yet again.

"Merlin, I don't think I can listen to another lesson about wandlore. Honestly, I'm this close to shoving my wand so far up Professor Binn's-"

"Thank you for the commentary, Ms. Corner, but sadly, we will still continue our unit on wandlore. Perhaps we can all benefit from a lesson on where not to put your wands," Professor Binn's joked as he marched into the classroom. The class laughed along with him, all turning to look at Freyja, who was also giggling.

"That can be saved for a later day, though. Can anyone tell me what phenomenon causes wands to expel all magic?" he asked the class. The only two hands raised were Cedric's and Roger's, as per usual.

"Yes, Mr. Diggory."

"Wilting, sir, most common in hazel wands," Cedric answered.

"Yes! Correct, Mr. Diggory! Fifteen points to Hufflepuff!" Professor Binn's shouted, beyond ecstatic that someone actually did some of the summer reading. Freyja stared at him through the corner of her eye, simply just admiring him. There wasn't a single thing he wasn't good at. He was the seeker and captain for quidditch, he was, no doubt, the brightest wizard at Hogwarts, he was undeniably attractive, and most of all, he was one of the kindest souls she had ever met. She was caught in her daydream, not even noticing how Cedric had leaned in closer to her neck.

"You're staring, doll," he whispered in her ear. She blushed at the pet name; he had never called her that before. Usually, he would just refer to her as "darling" or "love." Her breathing grew uneven at the feeling of his breath on her neck, indicating how close he really was. Regaining her confidence, she replied, "In your dreams, golden boy."

"How'd you know?" he smirked, chuckling as he moved away from her. She huffed sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she did so. She wasn't quite sure what it was about him that always got her so flustered; he was only a friend.

↣↢↣↢

Freyja, Vera, Cedric, and Angelina arrived in the Great Hall for lunch after their long class about dead wands. They sat at their usual spot at the table, all except for Angelina, where they found Thomas sitting alone.

"Where's Laurence?" Vera asked, grabbing a plateful of food.

"Probably pouting in our dorm," Thomas mumbled, brows furrowed and lips turned into an aggravated frown.

"And why would that be?" Freyja continued with the questions. It was no surprise when Thomas and Laurence fought; they did it almost every month. It never lasted long, not more than a day or two.

"I confronted him about how he leaves almost every night and comes back absolutely knackered."

"He probably just had a hard summer with his parents. You know how it is in those types of pureblood households," Freyja reasoned with him, trying to solve their disagreement quickly, so it doesn't become bloody annoying.

"Or he's getting lucky," Cedric snorted. At that, Vera threw a scone at him for reasons he was already aware of. He also earned a nudge from Freyja, who seemed equally upset about his comment.

"Sorry, sorry. Anyways, I don't think there's any reason to be worried, Tom."

Thomas nodded and went back to picking at his food. He thought more about why he was so upset at something that was seemingly little to other people. After all, Laurence was only a friend.

9 notes · View notes

shespeaksinsongs · 3 years ago

Text

You Are My New Fear | Letters To My Mom

TW: MOMMY ISSUES, MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION, SUICIDE, AND ANXIETY.

Me in my game room at about five years old.

I wish somebody would have told me that that smile I used to slather onto my face so effortlessly would soon become something I forced. I'm not sure if it would have made a difference, but it's best to be prepared in any case.

"What's your biggest fear?" My elementary best friend asked, kicking her feet giddily under the table. We were still too little to reach the floor.

"Drowning." I'd say, with a panicked look on my face, growing pale at the mere thought of dying that way.

"What are you most afraid of, hija?" My dad asked on our regular morning car rides to school.

"Drowning." I'd say, without even thinking twice. The answer was almost prepared, seeing as how casually it rolled off my tongue.

"What's your biggest fear?" My friend asked in the comfort of her room, watching as I shifted uncomfortably in my spot on her bed.

"Becoming my mother." I'd say wishing that drowning was the most of my worries.

I don't know when my default answer of drowning to death switched to the terrifying idea that I would, one day, become my mother. Still, somewhere along the lines, those little moments that I would suck up to my mom and gift her pretty pictures I spent hours working on and picking daisies from my backyard for her turned into scheduling my crying for nighttime when everyone was asleep.

Slowly but surely, I became uneasy about the idea of marriage, fearing that I'd only ruin it and become a wife like my mother. The idea of having children scared me to the point where I felt I would rather sacrifice my own happiness so that my children wouldn't have to live to see the day I turn into my mom.

Because in my eyes, my mom is a monster. She's not the kind of monster that has big, sharp teeth and scary yellow eyes, and a menacing growl. She's the kind of monster that you would never suspect. She's the bloody hand, but you were the accomplice. She was the screwdriver, but you were the loose screw. Sure, she hurt you, but you let yourself be hurt by her - so really, whose fault was it?

My mom is the kind of monster that uses your vulnerability against you in the worst way possible.

"I'm just not feeling good right now. I feel like I'm dying, and I feel tired all the time." My sixth-grade self, awkwardly positioned in the passenger's seat, turning my head away from my mom.

"Well, you know we care about you." My mom said, stoic in her demeanor and ultimately still in how she held her body up.

It was a day I'll never forget. She picked at her fingernails and anxiously tapped the gas pedal, waiting for me to be done talking about my emotions so she could drive back "home."

Warm tears stung my eyes, forcing their way down my face in slow streams. "You don't get it, I-" I stopped, knowing it wasn't worth it to try to make my mom understand feelings she'd been adamant didn't exist.

"Ay, don't be so dramatic." My mom said, waving her hand up to dismiss me and my silly ideas. She was right. I wasn't depressed or anxious, and I definitely didn't look for any excuse possible to threaten suicide against myself. My mom said so.

I don't know why I kept running back to her in times of need. Maybe it was my dream version of her that I relied on to justify my ever-growing love for her. Feasibly, it was the person I wanted her to be. And perhaps, just perhaps, my expectations of her drove me to the point where I'd convinced myself my mother was the person I saw when I closed my eyes at night.

I remember telling her things, spreading rumors I'd heard about people in the family, hoping that it would make us closer. The things I did just to make her happy...

"Mom, I'm trying my best!" I cried on the floor, cleaning up the mess my new puppy had made. She'd pooped and peed all over the kitchen. I was exhausted, previously knocked out in my bed, when my mom called me downstairs, screaming for me to get my ass down there.

"No, you're not! You never try! You're useless! I should've never had you!" My mom yelled from the bottom of her heart (or lack thereof).

Tears welled in my eyes for the millionth time because of my mother. This wasn't the first time she'd wished me dead, and it sure wouldn't be the last time. "Mommy, please just leave me alone and let me clean up." I begged, letting broken sobs come out of my mouth. I wanted to hurt her, and I wanted to hurt her as bad as she hurt me.

My mom refused to leave, yelling at me, watching as I piteously scraped my dog's contents off the wall.

It's sad that the only good memories I have of my mom are those I couldn't participate in. Instead, I have stories of her youth and how caring of a mother she used to be when I was a baby - conveniently so far back that I can't remember it. It pains me more knowing how she was before she had me, her firstborn. If she were this way her whole life, would I take it so personally?

Am I dramatic for wishing I had a mother who could hug me back when I hugged her? Am I a selfish and pathetic bitch for feeling envy when I see how my friends' moms act with them? Why can't my mom love me the way she loves her? Why does my mom have more pictures of her first niece than she does of me? What did I do to her?

"Mommy, mommy! Look!" I said, running up to my mother, holding my report card in the air like a shiny new toy - all A's.

"Nice job, Fio. I'm so proud of you. You're doing great. Keep it up." My mom said softly, pulling me into a warm hug. Somehow, that was all I needed - that's all I wanted. It really is a shame that that memory is fake.

I have plenty of other fake memories that I store in my head, letting the (also fake) backstories take over my mind when I go to sleep. For one of them, I was romping around on an old swing set, one that made little squeaky noises whenever I swung too high.

Somehow, I lose control of the swing, and my mom comes rushing up to me, worried and begging for me to tell her how she could help. I don't know when or how she got there (my dad was usually the one to take me to the park), but what I do know is she's exactly who I needed there at that moment.

So many real memories I have of me needing my mother most, waiting for the day she would actually turn up in one of them. She was always the first to pick me up in school lines. She was always at my open houses. She attended every grade promotion I had. But she was never there. It was all a facade. She'd said so herself that she craved being the all-star mom, the one who'd win several gold medals if there were award ceremonies for that sort of thing.

Her perfectionism is what makes her corrupt. She has spent my entire life telling me what to do, how to do it, scolding me for not doing it the way she imagined me doing it in her head.

She refused to seek help when that's all I wanted her to do.

"What do you want for your birthday, hija?" My dad asked, glancing at me while keeping his eyes fixed on the road, humming along to a Christmas carol playing on the radio.

"Honestly, dad?" I asked, only twelve years old, my green eyes twinkling in hope.

"Whatever your heart desires." My dad said in a goofy voice, making me smile.

"I want Mom to get help." I said sadly, hoping my dad would agree and push the idea upon my mom.

My mother went to therapy for four months. My dad had to pay her every session for her to go. In my mom's life, money has never been an obstacle. Her father was a middle-high class socialite in Venezuela who worked in engineering and oil companies. Her mother, who passed away of Leukemia when she was twelve, spoiled her rotten until her very last breath.

Eventually, I became mentally sick to the core. Writing and singing, my two favorite things in the world, became hobbies, and life had lost its zesty twang. Little things like music and the people I passed on the street that waved "hello" at me became nuisances. My mom "gave up" her therapy so I could get help.

I still wonder if she did it for herself or for me.

A few times a year, I get asked what my biggest fear is. Sometimes it comes up in conversation. Other times I create the question, not thinking about the consequences if people answer with "Spiders, yours?"

Each time I get asked, I take a deep breath and lie. "The dark." I say now, the idea of death by sea sounding more of tranquility than a travesty.

I look back at the old pictures I have of myself, a smiley and shy little girl who was afraid of nothing and everything at the same time. To her, I ask, "When you have nothing to lose, why be afraid?"

Me, with my baby doll at age three. I loved taking care of her. I used to take her everywhere with me.

#open letter #dear mom hlbutterfly #hlbutterflyoriginal

19 notes · View notes

estrxlar · 3 years ago

Text

The Ghost Of You

04 - Learning To Receive

These chapters songs:

Moonlight On The River; Mac Demarco

Nostalgic Feel; Bedroom

New Flesh; Current Joys

——

TW: Self-harm, death.

(Not done by you, don't worry)

——

- K.S. Perspective

Only two or three days had passed since high school had started, which meant only a couple more walks home with Y/n. They were shorter and quiet, and of course, there weren't any swerving cars.

But so far, what I had suspected was correct. She and I made amends and became buddies, thankfully.

The only times she was left alone were when I had morning practice, and she had to have one of her friends drive her home. Either that or she would have to walk home alone. I would've loved to accompany her, but volleyball was something I didn't take lightly, and my priorities were important to me.

Both I and my younger brother participated in volleyball and gave it our all ever since we were able to balance on our feet. Sadly, our parents were far too busy to go to any games, or even help us practice at home. But their goal was for their kids to grow up strong and steady with good grades and good stats, so that's why they made sure my younger brother and I were on top of our shit.

Once my first year ended, I didn't expect that I would have to carry so many burdens all in one year. That's around the time mother had died from sickness, which left me with doubts, wishes, and an unaccomplished relationship with her.

After the sudden death, our family didn't move on very well. My brother developed anxiety and depression, and he eventually had to take a break from school and volleyball. Then, my father became dull and increased his hours at work to avoid coming home to such a depressing home, leaving my brother and me to continue caring for ourselves, by ourselves.

I, on the other hand, had barely anything to say about it. All I could do was pose as if I were handling it better than I had. Truth is, my mother's death changed my entire persona. I grew grim and gummy, deprived myself of rest, and repressed the trauma I've received. Not only did I overwork myself because of volleyball and stress, but I also grieved in harmful ways. It'd either be a blade to the wrist, or a night with a girl; anything that could help distract me from my state of deep dejection.

It's been that way ever since. Only recently have I realized that I'm ruining whatever recovery I built up. That was all because of my best friend— Daichi— who had helped me come out about my feelings towards my mom's passing. Ever since, I've been able to learn from my mistakes, and slowly pick my life back up. I was beginning to become a better player for my team, better support for my family, and a better person for myself.

That only happened recently. So now, I'm left with lots of things to mend, and relationships to make. I'm determined that I'll mourn more healthily than before.

——

"Y/n!" A hopeful call leaves my lips, turning her head. As assumed, it was Y/n. Today she looked even brighter than before; she just has gotten more sleep. Not to mention she wore long socks instead of leggings, which must have been pretty hard in this weather.

I didn't get to see her this morning due to morning practice, but I did catch her before lunch. Just enough time to tell her I won't be riding the bus tonight either.

I look both ways of the cross hallway, before grabbing my book bag strap with both hands and jogging towards Y/n. I wasn't sure why I was so eager to see her, but all I knew was I needed a refreshing moment, and she could give me exactly that.

"Why hello, Mrs. Refreshing!" I joke, bowing my head towards her while she giggled. Looking up, she stands there, shining by the sunlight that reflected on the windows.

'If I could, I'd take a photo of you right here, just to show you how gorgeous you are.' I quickly put a halter on my thoughts, snapping back to a respectful filter. 'No, I can't do that. Not to myself, most definitely not to Y/n.'

"You look nice today!" I exclaim, awkwardly patting the side of my hips while smiling at her. Hopefully, I hadn't made her uncomfortable in the first ten seconds of talking to her. The last thing I wanted was to ruin yet another relationship with a girl.

Thankfully, Y/n responded with kind appreciation to my comment. "Why thank you, sir. And what brings you in my presence?" Her words curl in a formal British accent, adding onto our joke.

Standing normally, I explain, "Oh, nothing. I just wanted to say hi, and to tell you I might not be walking home with you today. I'm really sorry, practice has been very necessary for our team. I-I hope you understand." I stutter on the last part, with a gentle tone to add on. Ditching Y/n for most of the week wasn't what I had planned at first, but what I had told her was 100% true. The first years, as well as the rest of us, we're in bad shape. With our spring tournament coming up, we had no time to waste.

"Oh, that's alright. I understand. I was in volleyball too, after all. Although, I do wish you could still accompany me. It gets a little lonely.." She looks down for a minute while I contemplate my existence entirely. 'So it does bother her.' But she quickly caught onto my thoughts by my expression and came up with a solution. "If— if you'd like, I can simply stay near the gym until practice is over! That way I can see you and your boys in action, yeah?"

Her fists pop up into the air, as a bright smile appeared on her face. If you didn't know Y/n personally, you would expect them to be cold stone and dull. But in reality, I find they're like everybody else, and have a bright side to them, just like the one that was being portrayed right now.

Nodding with her statement, I reply hesitantly. "Hm, I'd have to ask the captain, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind—"

"Oh, Daichi? We're buddies, he'll be alright." I'm dazed by what she'd said, pausing the motion of rubbing my neck. She and Daichi hang in completely different groups, though! 'How is it they know each other? They hang around two very different friend groups.. that is unless they have some type of history I'm unaware about.' I think to myself, trying my best to find a reason they would be friends, but I couldn't. And so, I begin my questioning. "You two know each other?"

Suddenly, Y/ns gaze twists. "Suga, you introduced me to them during our first year, silly. Remember? I went with you from practice once. And besides that, my good friend Miya is close to him."

"Oh, yeah! I remember that. That means you only know Asahi, Daichi, and Kiyoko, right? I've gotta introduce you to the rest of the team! I'm sure they've missed you!" I chuckle, throwing an arm around her shoulders cautiously, expecting her to reject it. But she goes on casually with our discussion.

"That's right.. well... I'm also— sort of— friends with them. Well, except Asahi. But Kiyoko and I are pretty close."

'?' I tilt my head at the uncertain tone she spoke with. "Pretty close?" I ask, turning into the cafeteria with my arm still around her. The room is, of course, crowded as hell.

Still, I manage to draw out what Y/n was saying to me, leaning my ear close to her mouth for better audio. "Yes! She's one of my best friends.. we used to date and it didn't work out, but we're pretty tight!"

'DID I HEAR THAT RIGHT?!' My eyes widen, and I immediately let go of her, tightening my hands around the strap of my school bag. A gulp falls down my throat before I ask, "Did you say.. date?! You mean you two went out?!"

To my surprise, Y/n nods proudly. "Yes! Why, did you not think she'd go out with a girl? Or is it so astonishing that I could ever get a girl like her?" She teases, while I'm still puzzled. So many questions ran through my head at the sudden fact: was Kiyoko gay? Was Y/n gay?! Does that mean she's gotten closer to Kiyoko than anyone before??

"Suga, calm down. It's not like we're still together. As I said, it didn't work out!" She smirks towards me, putting a finger up towards her cheek. "Why? You got a little crush on her..? I wouldn't blame you."

"N-no! It's not like that! It's just— she never told any of us. I guess she just keeps to herself more than predicted." My sentence comes out to sound like a question, rather than a response. It wasn't that I didn't support it, or that I was surprised Kiyoko would be her girlfriend. Honestly, I was just a little jealous of both of them.

Either way, it seemed it didn't work out. So it didn't matter now. "Anyway, we're about best friends now, so I'm pretty familiar with your team. I don't think they would mind if I came, but just in case, I'll ask Daichi and Kiyoko." She explains, before looking back towards the slowly dying crowd of students in front of the cafeteria. "I better go soon, Suga. I'll let your captain know I'll be heading over there later—"

"Wait!" I shut my eyes out of nervousness, as my brain wires work to come up with an excuse for why I yelled that. "You used to play volleyball, right?"

An awkward nod from Y/n is given to me, followed by, "Yes, but I was sort of just a bench warmer. Nothing big." The hands that held her lunch box gripped tighter, as she suspected I would ask her a favor much larger than a lunch.

"Mind helping me teach one of our new members how to receive?" I say. "His name is Hinata, and he's a first year. He has great talent and has great potential, but he kind of... sucks at volleyball. I mean, from what I've heard, he practices a lot. But I just think he needs some guidance. So, want to?"

"Uhm... I'm pretty rusty.. but sure! It wouldn't hurt, right? Besides, I think I need a break from my friends wouldn't do any harm."

'Yes, I did it.' I thought to myself, before leading her towards the doors that led to the gym. "Alright then, right this way!"

"Suga! Don't you need your bag?" She immediately asks, tugging on my collared shirt. But I shake my head, responding with a light smile.

"It's already outside, I just came to check on you, is all."

——

Up, down, and up again went the ball. Each receive that Hinata had tried had failed every time. At this point, I wouldn't blame Y/n if she wanted to leave. But there she sits against the concrete wall of the outside of the gym, licking white rice off a spoon.

"Hinata, drop your hips down more," I say to him, demonstrating the position I had stated. "Hit the ball like you're trying to return it where it came from. Got it?"

Hinata's light expression appears on his face once again. "Yeah, got it!" He exclaims, before getting right into position. I signal the ball is going in the air before my palm hits it in the right spot, sending it towards him.

And it shoots right back, along with a slap against Hinata's wrists. "Nice!" He praises himself, leaving a feeling of proudness deep within me.

I'd never been able to teach somebody one of my special skills and having them accomplish it, not the way I did with Hinata. But that was mostly because he was driven by his entire body and soul to memorize every movement in his muscles to create a perfect receive. And who had taught him that? Your one and only.

"Would you like me to start setting for you tomorrow morning?" I ask the ginger with confidence he'd reply with a yes. Thankfully, that's exactly what happened. His eyes light up in the sun, and his hands take full hold of the ball. "Y-you mean it, sir?!"

The cold wind hits me, as well as another dosage of serotonin from the first year."Well, I am Karasuno's official setter after all! And you wanna practice spikes, right?" I ask, placing my red hands onto my hips.

"Exactly! I love to spike! It feels so good when you get it right, and it's cooler than anything!" He shouts. I couldn't help but laugh at his excitement, even if it wasn't the first time he'd portrayed it. Hinata sure reminded me of my past self, and I'd do anything to help first-year Sugawara.

Y/n suddenly joins our conversation, digging into a reason why Hinata is the way he is when it comes to spikes. "You must have a thing for spiking, don't you?"

Hinata nods, putting a fist towards his face. "Yes. I didn't have a setter throughout middle school, and I was actually the only club member until my third year of junior high. I used to get my friend in the Basketball Club to toss for me, but after I had dropped out of the club, I went to anybody that could help me practice. Take the first years, and the ladies and setters from the girls' team, too. I've made a lot of friends along the way, but none of those people could ever become my real teammates. That's why I was dying to find out what kind of setters were in high school— but now.. you know."

Hinatas pure passion dies down once he reaches the word 'setter', and I wouldn't blame him. The person he's supposed to be paired with is his complete opposite, and frankly, a dick-head. "Well, as I said, I'm a setter too. I'll toss you a few, Hinata! Don't get all down."

I was expecting further satisfaction, but instead, his expression twists into envy. "But it's just that if I have you throw to me now, it kind of feels like... I'm losing." He frowns, looking away from my figure in anger.

"You're just like someone I know, Hinata! Always competitive." Y/n says, placing her small bento to the side, and lifting herself from the shaded spot she sat in. Her hands dust off her navy blue skirt, and her blazer comes off. "Why're you so competitive when it comes to Kageyama?"

"If you ask me, it's better to avoid making enemies with those kinds of people." I join in.

She wraps her hands around Hinatas shoulders, leaning over his shoulder. "You know, Hinata, you're not as bad as you make yourself out to be. Wanna know a secret about Kageyama?"Without hesitation, Hinata is fully interested in what Y/n had to say. Frankly, so was I.

"Whatever you see from Kageyama is something he's learned from other players. He wasn't always so snobby; he used to be calmer and kinder. But once he was shown what he could do with his talent, it went to his head. Don't let that become you, Hinata! You have so much potential it's insane! I've never met anybody with as much love for volleyball as you." She pulls up her sleeves, getting into position for a receive, signifying I could rest now. "

"How do you know what he used to be like, Y/n?" Hinata asks her, sending the ball into the air. My eyes follow it, but my ears listen intently to their conversation.

"Well, I went to the same middle school as him. When he was a first-year, I was a third. Me and my friend we're on the girls' team, while my other three friends were on the boys' team. The four of us practiced every second of the day, which meant the two teams spent a lot of time together. Everything Kageyama knows is from another player; don't think he's just magically good at volleyball. Anyway, I don't know much about Kageyama, but I do know that he's changed dramatically." She explained. Just then, the bell for our sixth period had rung, and doors were heard opening and closing, as well as students fluttering around hallways.

The three of us pause our mini practice and gather out things where they were settled. Thoughts ran through my head as I put my school blazer back onto my torso. If Y/n went to the same middle school as Kageyama, that must mean she knows a lot about Aoba Johsai: one of our greatest enemies in volleyball. And if she knows him, could she be familiar with his playstyle? In that case, having her around would not harm the team.

"Sugawara, I'm off." She's heard saying from behind me, while she put her school bag over her shoulders. "Thank you for having me here with you and Hinata, I'm glad I could be of help."

I nod in response, nervously breathing through the teeth."Yes, of course. Uhm— would you like me to pick you up from your classroom later on? Either that, or you could walk to the gym after band practice." I ask the young girl, longing for more time to hang about her.

Then, she began walking backward, meanwhile talking. "I think I'll be just fine, Sugawara. No need to worry about me all the time. I've managed without you the past couple of days haven't I?" Her h/c danced with the wind as she did so, and the corners of her lips rose as she said so.

"That's right.. I'll catch you later then!" I manage to shout out, raising a hand for a gentle wave, but it was too late. Y/n was already turning into the doors of the school, returning the gesture.

Somehow, she always found a way to make the chains around my heart tighten a bit more. What was it that drew me towards Y/n? Hell, if I knew. "Wow, Sugawara. You've got yourself a pretty friend! She seems nice, too." Hinata expresses, looking agar with me. "Is she your girlfriend, or something?"

"No, Hinata. Just an old friend. Someone who may know me better than anybody, you know." Y/n; The girl who knew her way around my heart.

—

Hey everybody, sorry I've been M.I.A for a while. Don't worry, I'm not giving up on my ff!!! I would never do that. This fan fiction is super duper important.

Please note my chapters!! It lets me know you guys enjoy them.

Make sure to be taking care of yourself: drink water, go outside, eat something, and heal yourself after hard work:) It's currently mental awareness month, and it's very important to be taking time for yourself.

love you guys

- Sugawara's beauty mark

0 notes

slytherdor-life · 4 years ago

Text

TW: venting about my whole ass panic attack. So yeah

So I'm literally in tears rn. My acne flared up really bad. My nose is to big. My lips are too small. My hair just won't work with me. I may be skinny isn't good when your face looks like God hit you 1000000000000000000000x with the ugly stick.

My brother decided to say, "It's not that bad. Why are you upset?"

Easy to say when you have every female in the world falling at your feet.

Like all my siblings got the attractive gene & my genes decided I'd be the ugly one.

My teeth are messed up to. Not lined up, under bite. Got scars lining my body so that's another flaw to add.

Why would anyone decide to date me.

The guy I was dating kill himself. I would to if I was dating me.

He didn't even leave my ugly ass a note. Such a shame ig.

Got ADHD, Bipolar, ODD, Generalized Anxiety, Depression, PTSD, & now possibly falling on the Autism spectrum.

Ugly af

Annoying af

Always fall in everyone's shadows. Only this person's younger sister or this persons older sister maybe this other person's daughter.

Can't even make a name for myself. Sometimes I wish I'd disappear. I was suppose to have a twin. If she made it maybe it'd be better.

School is stressing me out. I somehow passed last year. Kind of tired.

I'm just tired.

No matter how hard I try or how hard I work. Nothing will ever be enough.

Not for me, my mum, my siblings, my friends, my teachers, no one. I'm never enough.

I have a panic attack my mum decides the cry.

What gives her the right. She looks great. She's witty, kind, independent, knows what she wants. So why is she crying. Literally nothing happened.

You're crying cause I'm upset & making everyone else upset. Literally not my fault I'm having a panic attack while looking in the mirror.

Hell now I've started starving myself. Afraid of weight gain ig

I lie. Say how cool my family is. How I don't care whether I am skinny or not. Lie that I'm not ugly or pretty. I lie. Straight through my teeth.

I pretend my life is so great.

No.

I never have been close with my mum. I've always wanted to. Seems everytime I start to I get pushed back.

My mother is proud of all my other siblings.

I gave up on art. I was like 12 or 13. I went to show my mother a drawing.

My mother told me to shut up as my older brother & sister were gonna sing. She couldn't even wait one second to take a glance.

When she decided to look. After praising her oh so talented children. She just said my drawing was cool.

I flushed that drawing down the toilet.

I've decided that I'll just not try.

I'm 16 atm. I try to impress my mother. Be a oh so good kid.

Never one glance.

Where did I go wrong.

My ex boyfriend gave me hope. Maybe someone could love me. Someone could find a way to look past all my flaws & see some beauty that I just couldn't see.

But the rope he hung from could say different.

No goodbye, no letter. Nothing.

Last words were him breaking up with me in a group chat without notifying me .

Having to find out through someone he hates.

Someone who he despises knew.

Then when I joined. He just ridiculed me. Put me down. Kept saying cruel words. Just to break up. Then leave this world.

I know I wasn't the cause. That his world came to an end. But why?

I've only ever looked at the bright side. Wanted to help others. Sit by those who hurt. Helping others gave me purpose. Hope that maybe I one day could.

My mother's name is Hope though. Even she couldn't believe in me. How ironic. The woman who gave birth to me is named Hope. Yet any hope she could've had in me never met my eyes.

I would leave the world as well. I guess I just like the challenge. Tried to leave a couple times. Each one a fail. For 6 minutes & few seconds. My heart stopped. I was at peace. Then my heart decides to beat again. Body decides to work again.

October 23rd 2018. Was my near death experience. Was great honestly. Sadly death just won't take me. No matter how much I've tried. Even death doesn't want me.

How ironic. Death takes everyone. Yet not me.

Take people I care about. Not me though.

I gave up on attempting suicide. Never leads me to death.

I just kind of exist now.

Mother won't let me get a job. Won't let me pierce even my ears.

She says she cares yet victim cards Trump all.

I weirdly love my family though.

My mother saved me from going to foster care. Plus my father was abusive. The memories that'll never leave haven't grown because of her.

Yet it seems I really was just part of the package.

To care for any of the others. I was just the con.

She showed up to my football practice in 8th grade.

She looked so proud & congratulated me on knocking guys 10x my height down. For once she was proud.

One of my matches she showed up to. I was knocked down by a kid. Are team lost. Any hope she had in me. I could see disappear.

She lectured me after. Saying how I could've done better.

I quit the team. Coach said that I shouldn't. It just wasn't as full filing when the person who gives birth to you. Well the one you spend all your time trying to make proud. Look at you with cold eyes.

I had a choir concert not even a year ago. I did the whole thing. Hoping maybe she walk in. See that I was overcoming my fear of singing on stage.

She texted me once I was done. She waited outside the entire time.

Didn't take the time to come in. I thought maybe she was doing something. Shopping or riding around. No. She just sat in the parking lot.

It hurts. I lost my childhood. Lost someone I loved. Lost any hope of my mum being proud. Lost my pride. Lost any love for myself. Lost any meaning for my life.

I've given up. Won't kill myself.

Wouldn't give myself the satisfaction. Plus I've tried to many times. Shot my shot. Missed everyone besides one that I rimmed & missed.

Guess I'll live just to survive. Then die peacefully in life.

Maybe I'll die saving someone. That'd be good to. Be remembered as someone who saved someone .

Well thx for reading ig

0 notes