#a balance is really important. i can't distance myself from reality

[letterstodreams]

Dream well, wishing well

I'm not a poet, but these words flow most similarly to poems, but I don't know if they're good and I don't even care either, since it's just something that I need to get out of myself. And in that space of release, thoughts of good or bad writing tend to stand in the way, more than anything. So I was thinking and these thoughts came to me.

Dream well, make your dreams work well for you. Dream well, wishing well, you wishing well, the portal to my dreams, a well of dreams, tossed in coins and wishes and tears and unicorn tears and alligator tears and boys' tears and girls' tears, and all that which might be and could be. Seen in our reflections, seen in a scrying pool, reflecting pool. Reflecting inner and outer.

The portal to inner worlds, gears turning and alchemy making this or that, who knows what. I wish the wishing well to be well. The wishing well wishes me well. Wishing you well, wish you well, wish you will, wish you why, wishy washy, washing clean. Well wishes, what do they mean?

If I dream well then maybe the well wishes will turn to what I want. Maybe the dreams will become something that will translate into the waking world too, in a way that I want, but not a way that is out of control or goes awry, turns foul and fake or scary or dumb, sad or cruel, embarrassing or humiliating or miserably, yes painfully awkward. No, not that, but something soothing, realistic enough but not so realistic as to be irresistible, not until or if ever it is really real in the waking world.

Waking world and dreams have to be kept in proper balance, with proper boundaries between, lest I start to foolishly lose control and feel that the dreams are more a part of the waking world than they actually are. I start to fool myself with all the myriad myths and wishful ideologies of the superstitious ones, along with my too-real-to-be-believable dreams, too-intense-to-be-controlled or contained, dreams.

No, I can't go there, so I have to be careful that I don't go there, on accident. Wishing well is a distant thing, a reality construed by the necessity of boundaries and the unpredictable, uncontrollable reality. We can wish well, when we don't and can't control the outcome. We can wish well, when we can't or don't want to intervene directly. To fool ourselves our wishes are more than they are, with greater power of influence or importance or promise, devotion or commitment? That would be a fool's gambit, one I' taken far too often and learned my lesson well, and yet, maybe not so well.

My emotions and mind and life are so out of control and volatile, desperate and with so few options, it's all too easy for this vivid, insanely real dream world to seem all too real to restrain myself from trying to make it realer than it can be, or is likely to be. Needs denied, mocking my mind, mocking my feelings, mocking my survival of my mind and heart, it becomes hard to contain the will to live, to thrive, to grow, to run wildly towards what looks like hope, joy and healing and well-being. But there is a big difference between dreams and reality, such a huge distance between hints and full expressions. Such a enormous difference and distance between what is spoken and shown and what is inside a person and in their character, reliable and strong, unflappable and persistent, in all kinds of situations, among all kinds of people, true and true, my safe refuge.

So, no, instead of running to dreams and trying to make them real, fooling myself they're realer than they can be, I have to try to handle it like a reflecting pool, wishing well, so much inner, so little clearly outwardly real or lasting at all, I have to cultivate what dreams will bring. I try to cultivate a beautiful and healthy kind of longing, because from that can come the most amazing insights and joys, energy that makes me physically tremble, visions and messages that pop into my head from someplace outside of my own mind.

These can be things that change my real, waking world life in significant ways, helping me along my path and goals. They can be things that also give me motivation and joy and a mesmerized sense of pleasure, tingling skin and giddy energy and love and hope and creativity, even when my goals are far from being in reach or even in clear sight. But that energy and hope and creativity keep me open, when nothing else would or will, and i reach it by this path of the wishing well, dreaming well, wishing pool, mirror reflecting your wishes, in elaborate forms your conscious mind could never willingly conjure.

If this was truly happening, spoken, acted on in real life, I think it would be worlds apart different. If it was brought into real life, I think a thousand different problems would come in and block the way, problems in me, in others, in the world, in my heart, mind and life, emotions, dreams, visions. Problems in personality, in expression and ability to speak all that is in my heart. Problems in the others I reach to and touch, their ability to see me, and what I want to say or do or what I feel and all I know, and all that is possible, and all that matters.

But all that I see is real, matters and is possible and is needed, often can't be shared or communicated. And whenever I have tried, many times, to reach out, it fails. It runs up on an impenetrable wall with others, is swallowed into incomprehension and lack of caring, disagreement and disregard, outright scorn, arrogant condescending clanging invasive abuse.

Attempts to block, discard, belittle and mock, minimized and tossed aside on the road, just a joke, what child, what a crazy person, they say. So many ways to say or show that I'm ridiculous, insignificant, crazy, self-centered, not worth paying attention to, self-pitying, weak, wrong, full of lies, full of delusions, not trying hard enough, annoying, burdensome, unrelatable, unbearable. So they would think, and often it's shown only through outright ignoring, abandoning, but sometimes through words of scorn and twisting my reality through their replies that show they don't understand or see the real me at all, but only the surface layer, if even that.

Notwithstanding my trying to show and share and reach so much, that seems so beautiful, so good, so worthy, so desperate, so urgent. So, I always am baffled and shell-shocked, lost and cowed into silence and hiding, building my walls thicker and stronger, less likely to ever emerge, every time this kind of clash happens between me and others. It leaves me feelings so painful and numb and lost, wondering how could they just toss it aside and scorn what felt so good and true and desperate. And I thought that it felt so human, understandable, impossible to ignore or abandon. Why did they do that? And, what could I ever hope for, if this is how it will be, and always is, over and over again?

But even if someone could see me more deeply, and was good and kind, I feel like it would still reach a wall, or go off the rails, spiral out of control, and maybe in so many different directions, going beyond all recognition from the original beautiful vision and tendrils of intricacy and goodness in my mind and heart. So I keep this inward vision, apart from reality, instead. I keep vision of longing, hope and possibility, and I cultivate it and see where it goes. Even if it doesn't ever really reach my reality in such a strong, clear, fully defined way to make much difference in the many many huge entangled problems that I must try to see how to face, still it helps. I hope one day it will guide me and lead me somehow, through various paths, maybe, to all those answers, within and outside myself too, the insights, inner self work and actions in the real world.

It's like a bridge to a world I haven't found to exist in the real waking reality, and it gives me hope that I might find a reality for me where I can work out my problems and meet and solve my needs in waking reality, one day. Maybe one day I'll find how to reach those who will see me more deeply and clearly and be good to me. And maybe one day I'll find some way to keep it all from going off the rails with all the complications and sensitive issues.

Maybe I'll learn how I can hold at bay or integrate all the real world problems and burdens. Maybe I'll safely navigate our inability to express clearly what's in our hearts and deep mind. I'll heal or cover, contain our weakness, bearing it all in myself with grace and understanding and wholeness.

And, perhaps, without having to say a word, I'll contain and accept our inability to bear it together between us, so I'll be the one to bear it. I'll bear, inwardly and secretly, all the pain and confusion and longing that seem to make all sense of proportion and logical behavior get drowned in mistakes. I'll hold at bay all the errors of judgment, lost sense, lost answers, lost direction. All the problems that tend to emerge in the tornado of emotions and real life problems that seem to take over when things such as this are brought into the waking world.

One day maybe I can find a way to sidestep so much of that chaos and get straight to the heart and what is true and real and what will work. Because if the wishing well lets me flesh out so much of my reality in the dream, then maybe I'll solve it all in dreams. Maybe in then, I'll see how to take up, act out, fully envision the burden in dreams that we couldn't carry in reality. Then I can see how to heal my burden without anyone else. And then when the burden is well-healed, then it will become manageable, not too heavy or huge or entangled for others to manage anymore, and finally I'll be able to reach out and share with them, and walk with them.

If that could be created in dreams, and then in real life, then, maybe, we could be such deep, good friends. We might be pillars of each others' lives. Maybe we'd be mirrors of each others' hearts and souls. Or wishing wells of each others' hearts and souls, not mirrors, not identical, but more like a pool we can look in , scry out the inner world in each other and see what we couldn't see or feel in our own minds and hearts and life.

Then that would be like a secret world of treasure we can go adventuring in and find jewels and wonders and bring them back into our own lives. Look what I found in you and now I can share it with you, we can both have it. Maybe you didn't see it in yourself but it was there and I brought it up, free from the thicket of your soul. Or maybe you knew it was there but couldn't express it so openly, and the miracle of love and relationship lets us feel and say and do what is deep in our hearts and minds with such more vividness and energy and vigor and conviction than we ever could on our own. Sometimes. Maybe. So that is what I hope for, and the dreams do let me hope.

By the way, this train of thought was first sparked off by a quote, which I'll post below. It made me think of two people, separated by dreams, longing, fear, fragility, the sense of chaos and disaster that might emerge if they tried to reach out in a situation that feels too fragile and too star-crossed. But in dreams they can sense one another, and be together all the time. If in reality, they are together hardly at all, or maybe not at all.

It could be a one-sided dream also, where one person has visions and dreams about another person, based on a few limited interactions and knowing much about the other person, or enough to spark spontaneous visions and dreams about them and wonder how much the other thinks of them, if at all, but maybe lots, who knows.

Yes, this a line of daydream thoughts sparked forth as a result of extreme isolation and being misunderstood and mistreated, my own life. And also by my life of having intense, complex visions and ideas that pop into my mind and give me answers to my whole life, answers from people I don't know and characters. Answers that pop into my head and come to me from somewhere seeming outside of myself, somewhere I can only ever access by dreams, visions, and the "others", the characters. So, here's the quote:

I think we dream so we don't have to be apart for so long. If we're in each other's dreams, we can be together all the time.

~ A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

(This quote was something I saw online, so it might be misattributed or misworded or reworded, but many sites contain this as an A. A. Milne quote, though some word it a bit differently. I rather do like how internet quotes often come in several different wordings, though, as sometimes just the right wording will make it hit home or make me see it in a certain light that applies to me, when the other wordings would not have given me the same insight ).

[seraphim-soulmate]

22 October 2023

I'm sick with grief I'm sick with longing I'm sick with wanting. someone come put me down please. im longing and wanting vague concepts and I don't have a focus for my energy and I want to curl away and rot rot rot alone and unloved and dejected.

maybe the reason I put myself in positions of caretaking is so someone will need me. even if I don't want that, the desire to be needed and wanted is so profound that maybe I put myself in worse conditions just so I don't have to confront my people pleasing and how to have/keep friends bcs there's just so many relational problems that I have that I feel unfixable but I KNOW that's not true and I KNOW everyone is a little bit weird relationally it just hurts so so bad when you keep being shot down and how do you not take that personally. it's like oh lol you like me bcs im fun to drink with, I'm not too much of a hassle for a disabled person, ill essentially repent via actions or purchases when I think I've done a misdeed so the scales are somehow balanced again. but aside from that, my life consists of perpetual nightmares of my own creation and I therefore cannot see the value in being friends with me or what I bring to the table in a friendship aside from the things I bring as a coping tool so I feel like I have value (cleaning, doing favors). sometimes I can bring good conversations, but it's hard when I'm with different communication styles that want to talk about life, but not in a deep way or not about my life, or interests I don't share, bcs I'm just stuck. I don't know how to talk suddenly and I've got nothing to add. and you can't say a relationship isn't transactional. it is ! it is about what you're bringing and what you have to offer, on what other basis would this be? if you don't like me because you don't think I add value to your life because of my negativity and life struggles, why would you want to be friends with me? I try to cultivate the moments of peace and kindness and love and feeling good but it must be said that my life is not easy and all I can give are those moments. Sometimes those moments aren't enough, because the pain seeps through and the reality slithers in and I'm confronted and stuck again. It sucks because it's so scary and hard for me, and I know how scary and hard it is for everyone else to see someone suffer like this and not know what to do except keep your distance so your life doesn't also go up in flames. Or maybe I'm really just not that important and it's not a big deal.

I feel like I spend all of my time working on my mental health, working on my physical health, trying to keep going and making it to something that feels kind of good or stable. or like for the last two years, just fucking staying alive after a life-changing diagnoses and symptomatic presentations. I guess that doesn't leave much room for actual joy when you're running yourself dry with your "HAVE TOs" and get to spend considerably less time on things that add quality and fulfillment to my life. I guess I'm just not crazy in a fun way. Maybe I got boring somewhere along the way. Maybe people don't want to spend the time to unravel and discover me bcs we want bite-sized consumable info. Maybe my fears and self doubts are major blocks in building or maintaining friendships. Maybe I'm supposed to be getting more support with my physical and mental health, but I don't know where from and I don't know how. It was really nice having my dad do basic tasks that I was dreading, that lifted a lot of weight off of me and it's a lot to constantly care for everything on a daily basis alone.

I'm often so stuck in trying to talk about the present in conversations as well, where there's nothing much happening, and I don't let myself dig into my past anymore too much because it's a whole can of worms that sometimes I don't know if they're acceptable or not. At this point I guess I'd rather placate someone with mediocre conversation, or correct myself anytime I fall into "too weird" territory, than to go into my past and talk about things I have enjoyed because they're often quite blurry and bring a lot of baggage with them as well. Like Ophelia and Barbies were very important when I was 16, but I guess not a lot of people want to hear about that and it's not a time I remember very clearly either.

And being more stable is really helpful in having more stable friendships, or making new friendships since you can show that you have interests and a life. I miss having a routine and goals and something to focus my energy into instead of letting my mind wander and body decay. But I got here in the first place because I wasn't well enough to continue. Even if university was exhilarating and felt good, it also felt really fucking bad not being able to do it well, struggling so much, and having my physical and mental health fail me. Like I'm trying to rebuild from that but I'm really not sure how. Again, here I oscillate between "you're taking this too seriously, everyone struggles really hard with university and you should be able to push through" and "you deserve better accomodations, you deserve to not feel perpetually uncomfortable by how many classes you have to take because you cannot pass them all but you need student status. yes actually, your mental and physical health is different from that of others and is understandably debilitating, even if others can't see it".

and I just sit there with those and go "okay so what the fuck can I do?" and I realize what I have to do is put myself out there in lower-stakes work and build up gradually to maybe being able to do it again. I'm so scared of not finishing my degree bcs it means less money, it means less employment opportunities, it means confronting my most deeply rooted fear of becoming homeless and I shouldn't even have a game plan for that. That shouldn't even be something I have to reassure myself about. But it is, because it's this terror so deeply seated in me that it dictates so much of my life. Don't get tattoos, you'll lower your chances at getting a job -> you'll end up homeless AND it will be your fault since your self expression makes you unemployable. Don't do too many body modifications, justify the ones you have made regarding your gender, it's not really okay that you can't fit into the mold but it seems like that's the life you've chosen so now lie in it. Make up for it in other aspects of your life. Don't make your body or your life yours, you have to be a polished cog so you can easily obtain work and not end up in a bad situation, which for some reason feels more like a prophecy than a fear. My mom pointing out a homeless man to me when I was 3-5 because I was laughing at him and telling me "that could be us. so easily, that could be us" or my childhood best friend telling me I'd "die under a bridge of a drug overdose" bcs I didn't staunchly say I'd never do drugs. I guess those things do stay with you.

My dad dedicating himself to work for his entire life so he wouldn't be in a bad position either obviously sticks with me a lot too. Him saying "people would rather buy from someone with traditional pronouns than they/them" while I was visiting recently and just trying to process all of that and every bit of self he's given up to be a tool for the machine, the mindset and ideology one has to form to explain that to themselves. Of course the only thoughts and knowledge I have about work come from the person who raised me and had pretty radical views on employment. And I feel guilty for not being able to carry that on. For having the audacity to be disabled, to be queer, to be unemployable by some standards. It was unbelievably crushing not being able to accept that job offer for the lawyer's office because I was having to medicate heavily to get through the day and I'd collapse after it, and it feels like such a privileged position to be able to refuse employment because I go through something that every other employed person also goes through. I just really really have to listen to my boundaries and limits or my body will hospitalize me, and rather quickly at that. If it doesn't hospitalize me, I'll lose my job from being out on too many sick days from having symptoms and having to recover, getting sick extremely easily and getting sick bcs of stress. I was also supposed to be a cog and it's stupid, but it hurts that I can't be the perfect employee.

[andypridee]

A River’s Current | Challenge #1

here it is. i bring to you Andromeda Pride. well, andy preferably. I’m so sorry this is up sooo late but writing this was kind of a whirlwind. Please ignore any mistakes, i was writing this like a thousand miles per hour. Thank you sooo much to @arin-schreave and @itssara-oc for the rps i hope i wasn’t such a mess. so i leave you with andy. i hope you reading her as much as i enjoyed creating her.

bon appetit!

Silence flooded the room entirely. The day that just happened had been a whirlwind of things that made me completely uncomfortable. "Oh my God," I thought "This is going to continue for who knows how long" This was clearly the best time to understand the magnitude of my actions. Normally, I didn't think much before acting, but the consequences were not so huge. "Okay Andy, you're already here and there is no escape. Breathe. "

The huge room that had touched me was like a dream. A huge soft bed, a wardrobe that was a work of art in itself, a movie ceiling. "I guess this is it. The selection." A contest to win the prince's hand. Not even that. A contest to win what remains of the prince's heart, if it remains, to be able to one day be the queen of this country, although, in reality, it would only be an accessory for the king and his baby factory because obviously you have to follow the lineage And that's what women are for.

It was incredible that I could be and live, even for a short time, in a room as full of luxuries as that. Yes, my childhood had been privileged, I was aware of that, but this was just another level. He had seen, known and connected to so many places that not even in his deepest dreams could they have dreamed of something like this. And there were people who had so much power and money that this kind of room was simply a "guest room." It was increasingly difficult for me to think that solutions for millions of people were in the hands of a few who should actually provide solutions for those people.

How I wish Sierra had been there.

Anger and helplessness began to grow within me. The air didn't flow to my lungs and I had suddenly started hyperventilating. I went out on my balcony and saw around me. Everything looked so serene from afar. So uniform and so peaceful. I wanted to dive into it, keep walking until I got away from that huge and pretentious place. The edge of the balcony felt like a wall of bars to me. I was not made to live observing. And I didn't even know what I was doing here. I had no princess spirit, much less a queen. I needed to get out, talk, be able to experiment and especially help. Not standing still, looking pretty, saying the things that everyone wants to hear but being hopeful enough for those people who have almost nothing. Everything methodical, everything calculated. All coldly experienced, knowing that even if you want to do something and help, that would not make everyone happy, especially the most important ones. Living not in a home, but in an institution.

I closed my eyes for a moment and breathed. I saw a valley covered by the moon. Miles and miles spread before me, ready to be explored, ready for the unexpected. The cold air brushed my cheeks and I smiled. Then came the sea, with its smell of salt and freedom. The sun caressed my skin and comforted me. In the distance, seagulls were observed in mid-flight. This was what made me get up every morning. The possibility of a new, just, and caring world. A world wherein every place that the sea touched you could feel airs of hope and happiness.

I slowly opened my eyes and took another deep breath. I guess I couldn't do anything about my current situation anymore but I could take advantage of it.

I went to sleep with that image of the sea in my mind and I didn't wake up again until the morning rays touched my skin.

When I opened my eyes the day had already started without me. My maids, Audrey, Kate and Elaine, were fixing my room for a new day. Although I did not really understand why since everything looked extremely resplendent. The bathroom apparently was ready to tell from the condensation on the mirror and my outfit for the day hung neatly from the closet.

I closed my eyes once more wanting to be in my room in Zuni, or even in Waverly's bedrooms. Or anywhere outside of there. I opened my eyes again with the slightest hope that my wishes would come true. Obviously, they didn't, so I sighed and walked into the bathroom, ready to have at least 15 minutes of relaxation and privacy. That was, of course, until my maids started helping me.

"Um, ladies? I don't really know what to call them. Girls? Um well, I can do this alone if you don't mind. ”I tried to speak kindly to them.

"But, miss, we must help you in everything," Audrey replied in a concerned tone.

"I'm sure it doesn't refer to everything," I said, pointing to my body in the process.

"It is our duty, Miss Andromeda," Audrey replied politely.

I sighed “Okay, you can continue to do whatever other crazy duty you are dictated here but please just call me Andy. It is the only thing I ask of you. ” I said almost pleading.

"Okay, Lady Andy," Audrey answered again, who, apparently, was the one in charge of the three.

"Andy, Audrey. Andy. " I looked at her and tried to smile slightly.

"Okay La- Andy," she replied uncomfortably, but she had fulfilled what she had asked and that was an advance for me in the little that I had taken that morning, so I left it like that and I decided to violate what I considered privacy as too many levels.

-

OK. I was not a girl in dresses. And that was clearly inconvenient now. Looking at me in the mirror, I looked like a cupcake. Literally. It smelled of vanilla and everything. The dress itself was beautiful, white with gold accents and such a neat chest. Truly a work of art. But I was not wearing dresses. I felt uncomfortable and constricted, I could hardly breathe, and my arms could not rise more than 10 cm.

And now she was supposed to have breakfast in front of the queen and the royal family like that. Fantastic.

"Miss, you must go to your lesson," Elaine warned me before leaving.

"Lesson? Are we not supposed to have breakfast? ” I asked, starting to feel like my stomach was roaring under the tight corset of my cupcake dress.

"Before having breakfast in front of the royal family you must take an etiquette lesson." answered.

"They think we don't know how to eat? It can't be that different. Finally, it is the same process, you eat and drink. There is not much science. ”

"It is a requirement for all the selected ones," Elaine replied, trying not to get too agitated.

"So now I am that. One "selected". " I said, this time to myself. "Okay, I'll be down soon," I replied, a little more disappointed.

Going down that huge staircase I could see the other girls. All dressed in extremely precious dresses. Splendid walk. Perfect complexion. Hair like silk. And I, holding on tightly to the stair railing, afraid of losing my balance and hitting the living room on the floor. What a contrast.

I entered a large room, where tables were set up with their respective chairs. Several selected ones were already arranged in their places, so I looked for mine in that sea of ​​linen tablecloths and flowers with artificial smells.

Lady Andromeda

Thanks, mom and dad. They seriously couldn't choose another name.

I took a seat and turned the side of the card with my name face down. Then I smoothed down my dress and waited for something to happen, though I wasn't really sure what that would look like.

Finally, Princess Safiya entered the room and addressed us. She exuded airs of elegance and neatness. Almost like her brother but she seemed under control and ready to take charge of any situation.

"Good morning. I'm sure you're all ... eager to start seeing as you're meeting my brother shortly, so I'll try to keep this brief. ”

Eager? Really? Rather terrified of having to meet the prince. Oh, my God. Prince. Know him. Friend, if you want you can have me there all morning because we could say that the prince was not my favourite person in the royal family.

“Today I will begin to instruct you on conduct and protocol, a process that will continue for the duration of your stay. Please know that I will be reporting any missteps on your part to the royal family. ”

This was the most outrageous thing anyone could have said to me. Conduct and protocol? Who I am? A doll? What were the behaviour and protocol? To silence your mouth only and that everything is calm and courteous. Crap.

"I know it sounds harsh, but this isn't a game to be taken lightly. Someone in this room will be the next princess of Illéa. It is no small task. You must endeavour to elevate yourselves, no matter your previous station. You will become ladies from the ground up. And this very morning, you will receive your first lesson. ”

That was exasperating me, that situation they have to change their way of being because we do not consider it highly appropriate. She understood that they were the royal family but they were also ordinary humans. She didn't understand the need to be stiff and perfect all the time, much less at breakfast. It was quite a facade, because, let's be honest, who dresses like that to go to breakfast?

Suddenly, a very elegant brunette woman entered the room. It was Felicity Graham, the prince's ex-fiancée. She saw herself as a powerful woman, even on her own and without any ties to royalty or politics. She was the first person to impress me in the background since I got there.

He approached Princess Safiya and muttered something to her, and so they had an exchange of murmurs and increased the discomfort in the room by 87%.

Neither of us knew what was happening and I personally felt out of place and worse yet, too hungry to have a good attitude. We were there in front of them and they didn't even bother to make excuses.

I was about to get up and go get my well-deserved breakfast without any consideration of what might happen because I honestly didn't care. The faster I got out of there, the better. Safiya said something softly to Felicity but I didn't really bother to understand. Were they really taking away even more time?

“Table manners are very important, and before you can eat in front of the royal family, you must be aware of certain etiquette. The faster we get through this little lesson, the sooner you get to have your breakfasts, so faces forward, please. ”

Against my own will, I followed the instructions and continued the etiquette lesson, ridiculous as that sounds, albeit with some difficulty thanks to my dress. In the end, it was what was going to get me out of here and give me my breakfast without having to disrespect the princess in her face. Despite everything, I had always admired Princess Safiya for her tenacity and intelligence and she was frank, a quality that I will always respect people.

When mentioning the very retrograde etiquette instructions, there were one to two times that I almost laughed out loud. Not speak unless they spoke to us first? Really? She did not know that modernity and feminine emancipation had not reached the court of Illea. Even more so when our president was a woman like the queen.

"If you follow this one, I’ll be disappointed," Safiya added.

Well, one less person to disappoint, and at least the princess agrees with me on that ridiculous rule.

After something akin to a courtesy practice, although it seemed more like a classy torture session, and Princess Safiya completely reproved me with her eyes, we were free. My stomach at this moment was a huge furious mass and when my eyes looked at that oasis called buffet I swear that the angels sang. I'm not fully aware but I think I approached the buffet unusual and not very elegantly, filling my plate with delicacies.

I found my seat and got ready to ... eat. Actually, at first, it seemed like I was stuffed but I hadn't eaten anything since I woke up and that was going to be like two hours! But after the first three or four bites, I tried to keep my composure. Not because they had pointed it out to me but because I wanted to show them that we were perfectly fit people to eat without making a mess.

As soon as the guard who was going to escort me to that small room where the girls came and went came, my back stiffened. Usually, it was good under pressure and I wasn't nervous but this time we were talking about the prince, the actual price. I think the usual was not suitable for those occasions.

I got up from my chair with all the grace that can emanate and accompanied the guard to that little room. The first thing I glimpsed upon entering was the cameras. They were everywhere, pointing at different angles to a chair in the middle of everything. And there was Prince Arin waiting for me, standing a little too straight, a little too stiff, very rehearsed. I approached dubiously, looking back a moment but looking back at the prince, who gave me a small bow.

"Good morning, Lady ..." Her eyes searched for my little tag with my name on it. I guess learning 35 names overnight was difficult. "Andromeda." I almost winced when he said my name. Today had been a perfect day to call me Andromeda. "Please have a seat," he said as he gestured toward the sofa.

I did not know what to answer. My mind had gone blank. She only knew that she was in front of the prince, the heir of Illea. It was as if my conscious part had come out of my body and I was making a fool of myself. I bowed very badly and approached him. Safiya would certainly be disappointed in me, I thought.

"Hello! ... um... Good morning, Your Highness" I answered and took a seat on the sofa. "What the hell are you doing Andy? How old are you? Twelve? Act like a fully capable young lady and stop being silly. ” I said to myself as I tried to get comfortable on the sofa. Glancing back at Arin, I tried to smile slightly, concealing my disagreement.

He had settled next to me, turning his body so he could see me properly. There was something about his actions like they were too methodical and too rehearsed. He didn't seem like a natural person.

"How is your morning going?" he asked in a calm but neat tone of voice. How many times had she done this? He was probably not even paying attention anymore, just following a script and waiting for the morning to pass without any complications.

I, on the other hand, was a disaster. And the most irritating thing was that that wasn't me. I looked him in the eye and I got myself back together. "It's just someone else, there's no reason to be intimidated."

“Well let's say waking up inside a golden palace is a whole other way to start my morning, so pretty good so far. I must say, that breakfast of yours is going to spoil my appetite ”I said, while shaking my head, amused. I wasn't going to tell lies, that breakfast had been the best part of my morning.

He simply nodded and continued.

That’s good to hear. So you slept well then? ”

Again that studied tone. Breathe Although she wanted to explode, I continued the conversation, trying to cheer her up a bit. If he didn't want to have a good time, it was his problem.

"Like a dream, but you must know. I was a bit shocked at first when I got to my bedroom but then I calmed down. ” yes .. that little crisis.

"I'm glad to hear you were able to calm down." He looked for a moment at the cameras. Was that necessary? It was silly to ask, considering my experience with the bathroom that morning. "Which province are you from?"

I instinctively turned my gaze to the cameras for a second, uncomfortable with the situation. A mouse in a laboratory would have felt more comfortable than me. For a moment I felt my dress tighter, my hair straighter, my shoes smaller. I turned my gaze to Arin and replied. He continued to ask me questions and I answered them for a while. The weird thing was that he didn't comment on it like he wasn't even listening to me. I was trying to keep my composure but I was already exhausted. I wanted, first of all, to put on a good pair of pants and a shirt. Sleep all day and in the morning embark anywhere. Probably a remote island, accompanied only by Clifford and a coconut called René.

As the conversation progressed, I became more interested in it. A feeling of relief flooded my body and when I realized I was actually enjoying the conversation.

"It sounds like you enjoy it," he comments as he nods slightly.

"I do ... I think it’s a powerful way to tell the world’s history." I replied, a little excited.

"Do you plan on returning to journalism?"

"I have not abandoned journalism, it's just that I work for an NGO so that keeps me busy"

"What do you do there?"

"Well, I'm practically a wildcard. I've taught English and Maths to kids in Vietnam, I've helped to bring food to war-displaced communities, I've aided to build houses for a community made up of women, victims of family abuse, there's everything where you can help. "

Talking about my job was something I loved, but I didn't want to sound pretentious or anything like that, so I was glad when she continued to genuinely be interested in the conversation, or so it seemed.

He nodded, impressed and continued. That certainly sounds like a lot. I'm sure your family must be proud. ”

It was annoying that his only reaction to everything was to nod but he was so wrapped up in the conversation that I barely noticed. At the mention of my family, I gave a little laugh, funny.

Well, I don’t know. I'm sure my family thinks they contribute a lot to society as well. For my parents especially, it's just a complicated way to help when you can just donate a bunch of money and leave. ”

"Oh well, I'd be proud if I were them. It’s important to contribute to the ways you can. ”

"It is. It absolutely is. I believe that making change happen is the labour of everyone. Grain by grain great things can be built. ”

She nodded, again, and glanced at her watch, then turned to look at me.

"Thank you for speaking with me this morning, Lady Andromeda. It’s been a pleasure. ” She got up from the sofa, saying goodbye. "Please enjoy the rest of your stay."

"I'm sure that my stay he meant two hours while he finished with the rest of the girls," I thought.

But I tried to hide my true thoughts, so I got up and smiled confidently. Whatever happened, I think it would be fine.

“It has been surprisingly a pleasure. And please, call me Andy. My parents have been a little extra since ancient times. ” I joked, trying to make the stiff prince smile for the last time.

And fulfilling my goal, Arin smiled at me and nodded again. "This man and his head," I thought. But I did not care, I got him to show some emotion and that already progressed for me.

"Have a good rest of your morning, Andy."

-

“My parents thought so too but believe me, growing up as Andromeda was pretty tired. "I shrugged." Well, I don't believe so, for now, you are my only friend” me briefly, joking, as I usually did, about my name “the food here is the most heavenly thing ”

She was an extremely sweet and funny girl. I think it was a relief to be able to talk to someone without being afraid of being judged in the background, something very rare to find in the social circles that my parents made me frequent.

She giggled and answered “I can imagine. It's a beautiful name but it's pretty long and I'm assuming people have mispronounced it before? ” Her eyes lit up at the mention of our possible friendship ”That sounds like a deal. I'm your friend and you are mine. Don't take backs. ” And continuing with our conversation he added “It is pretty good. Where are you from? ”

“So many times! plus it is pretty weird so you can imagine ”I shrugged. "Sounds like a deal!" I told her and reached out my hand to close the deal, she took it, laughing, and we shook hands with each other but “From Zuni, originally. What about you? ”

"I kind of get your pain. Not many people know how to pronounce my last name. I'm from Whites! ”

"Well, I sure hope I'm pronouncing it correctly." I giggled a bit, something slightly unusual for me. "Oh! that's a great contrast ”I commented when listening to her native province.

"Don't worry, you're actually doing pretty good." She beamed and continued “It is! So what did you do before… ”she pointed around us, referring to La Selección“ all of this. ”

I smiled nostalgic, thinking about the life I had left behind. That life that had been built by me and only by me, and which was now thousands of miles from my reach.

“Well, I study journalism in Waverly and I work for an NGO, helping in poor communities. what about you? ”

“I have been volunteering in the orphanage here and there. I want to keep volunteering but the career I have makes it hard. ” she pouted a bit, making me smile. Sara was the sweetest person I’ve ever known. Usually, my friends and I expressed love with jokes and sarcasm, so hanging out with Sara was actually pretty recomforting. "I am a manager in my dad's business."

We talk about our jobs and our family. The more time passed, the more relaxed I felt, forgetting everything that had happened in the morning and feeling much more myself. Sara was a very sweet, interesting and impressive person. Being a manager in her father's store and volunteering. It is completely true that appearances are deceiving. At first glance, Sara seemed a very elegant but somewhat reserved person. Turned out to be funny and energetic. With airs of princess everywhere and kindness of heart, I was glad that there were girls with possibilities of winning, like Sara and genuinely began to root for her. We ended up talking about my family, especially my sister, Sierra. My sister was one of the people I missed the most and it had only been a day. We usually parted for months but we were a phone call away. This was completely different and he needed her more than ever.

"I'm lucky to have her. I believe that without her I wouldn't be here right now, ”I smiled wistfully, trying to control my tears instead. “Alright, so topic change because I don’t want to have mascara all over my face and make a fool of myself the first day, mmm what do you like to do outside work?”

Sara smiles and said “You really are the sweetest aren't you…” she gave me a sympathetic look and answered my question. Alright. We can definitely do that another day! ” * joked, making me smile and improve my spirits. "I? Well, I enjoy to read and write. Bullet journaling. Geocaching! I would love to travel more often. I love to learn more about different places. How about you? ”

"Count me in! crying out loud is one of my favourite things ever ”I commented sarcastically. “I have tried to do bullet journaling, trust me, it did not go well. But geocaching? what’s that? ” I've never heard of anything like that but I was truly curious "I LOVE-" had started screaming but then I remembered that morning's sermon and decided it was too early to start breaking the rules. "I love travelling!! it's my favourite thing to do in the whole world, I love to discover how diverse we can be in just one planet. I love photography as well, I have an album with all my trips, to see how a picture can tell a million words and a million emotions. ”

"I mean watching some sad movies can get you to cry out loud" Sara joked, continuing my joke. "Oh, I love it! Oh, geocaching is a bit of a weird hobby of mine. It's basically using GPS to find hidden treasures people have left behind. It's interesting for me. ” added with some regret. “I love travelling as well !! Are we possible soulmates? Long lost sisters? ” I smile with her eyes lit up. "Wow really? I would love to see it. Your album I mean. "

"Only if it's titanic" I joked. "But it sounds interesting like catching Pokémons or something like that, you have to invite me some time" I smiled, interested in my friend's hobby.

"I know! it's crazy!” I laughed and continued "where have you been?” And finally answered her request. “Well I could show it to you sometime, I secretly sneaked it in because my mother almost banned me from bringing it, ”I whispered.

"Obviously only titanic." she chuckled, joking. "It is! I have found several interesting things when I go geocaching. ” she grinned as I mentioned my interest in geocaching “Someday for sure!” she said, smiling widely. "It is! I hope to do that often. Travel I mean. I have been here and there but I barely had time to really immerse myself to each province. The farthest I've gone is New Asia. ” she leaned in when I started whispering “Oh really? I would love to see it. I'm glad you sneaked it in. ”

------

The sun had begun to set over the city of Angeles and a beautiful yellow light sheltered the city. The day that just passed had been, honestly, an emotional roller coaster. I had survived my first day of the Selection and I still hadn't made a complete fool of myself. I didn't know if I was going to be there in 24 hours or if this was only going to be a one-day vacation but at that point, it didn't matter anymore. Despite all my opinions regarding the Selection and what was happening, I was beginning to realize that not everything was completely bad and that in reality if I could not change the course of the river, I could at least travel with the current. I was afraid that maybe I would lose myself in the process for, apparently, it was something I couldn't control. The only thing I could do was make sure that day after day when I looked in the mirror, I kept seeing the same girl who wanted to contribute to the change. No matter what happened.

[cascadedownrush]

my first fight :

Eight years ago, when I was a dumb (not that I'm any smarter now) thirteen-year-old, I got myself into the first real brawl of my life. I watched Fight Club a year after the incident, and man did I wish I could live that ominous evening once again. The paining muscles and bones actually feel better every time they hurt. They feel good. I don't know why. I wanted another fight with the same dude because I didn't fight back as well as I could have that time.

2012, early September: My school was about five kilometers away from my place (you could call it a suburb in the Indian context). Most of the students took a bus to (and back from) school. One afternoon, our day at school ended, and I was sitting at the back of my yellow bus. The buses left the campus about fifteen minutes after the last bell. Many of us used this time to socialize, talking to our friends from different sections and classes. Before getting on the bus that day, I had a verbal exchange with Akshit Bansal (NOTE HIS NAME). Akshit was the mean kid from the other section, but mean is just the tip of the iceberg. (Disclaimer - I don't know him intimately as a person. I'm just writing what I felt about him at the time.) What I mean to tell you is that at the age of thirteen he used to smoke, ride on bikes late at night with older (and seemingly-spoiled) friends, didn't study ... you get the idea. This is not a rant about how bad he was, just what we (average kids) thought of him. Anyway, so, I was anticipating the trouble I had just thrown myself into but did have an ego, which I think suited my age. I wasn't the kind who'd back off because it might get physical (I might not have even today, bad habits die hard).

A couple of days later: I saw him coming towards the gate of our bus (he went on a different bus) and in a few moments right in front of me. He told me that he'd pay me a visit at my place today, I said "Okay." Honestly, there was nothing else I could do. So, that evening he came to the park right outside my place. I and my younger brother, Ujjwal, were returning from our tuition classes (400 meters from my home). I saw Akshit and two other guys (one of them actually a mutual friend) from a distance. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous, but more than that, I was surprised. Aaaand Akshit had a baseball bat in his hand, so I guess that did put me in a tough position. *nervous laughter* Anyway, I didn't change my pace. I asked Ujjwal to go back home (which was just 20 yards away) while I joined the party at the park's gate. Ujjwal didn't know what was going to happen (neither did I really).

The three of them had smirks on their face. Akshit's was the faintest. I don't quite remember the dialogues, but within three minutes, he landed his first punch on me. I tried to balance myself when he shoved me on the ground. Soon, he was on top of me (wipe off that smile, it's serious!), and I was struggling under his weight. Next thing I know, he bit my left bicep so hard I let out a scream. In case you're wondering, that bite left a mark that didn't disappear until November. My mum heard my shriek and hurried outside to the veranda. She shouted towards our direction, alarming my predators, who now were getting ready to flee from the spot (they had a scooter). They scurried off. My Dada Ji (grandpa) and Mum rushed downstairs to pick me up from my misery. I did not cry during the fight, but as I was climbing up the stairs to my home, my vision started to get blurry. I was having one of those moments when you're on the verge of breaking down, but you don't because you don't want to feel weak in front of other people, but then they ask you if everything is alright, and right at that moment tears fall down your eyes. My appearance was pretty shabby from spending that one minute in the dirt and the left sleeve of my T-shirt torn off. Everyone at my house was worried, and they didn't ask me much because well, my condition gave it away.

It was 6'30 PM then, and within five minutes, my Dad reached home. He saw me and that bite on my bicep. He had a look on his face that said 'we can't waste time here, let's go.' Next thing I know, we're at Akshit's door ringing the bell. He comes at the door to find my Dad, Dada Ji (grandpa), Mum, and me. My Dad starts talking (respectfully but firmly, he's particular about not crossing the line when it comes to manners) and asks him about the fight. When four adults are standing on your head (in no mood for bullshit), it's challenging to be cocky. So, he tried twisting the story in his favor and went on to say that I scratched his back real bad. My Dad wasn't buying his story, though. Soon, his Dad pulled up in the street and met my Dad. They discussed the matter, and it was concluded that Akshit crossed his limits. Papa warned him sternly not to touch me ever again else he'd have to call the police. It's hard to look Papa in the eye when he's serious like that. It was sorted then, and we got back in the car to get me a tetanus shot. On our way to the clinic, I remarked to my Dad on how there should be a lie detector or something so we could have caught Akshit's made-up story instantly. My Dad replied, "How do we know you were telling the complete truth?" which pulled me back from the cloud nine of this 'victory' (of getting him scolded). I guess he did not want me to feel that he'll come to save my ass every time I get into trouble and that the whole fight thing that evening wasn't cool.

Had my Dad not taken action as quickly and sincerely as he did, I'd have gone through a lot more trouble at school, I am sure. I know I sound like a pussy, but that's the truth, I just wasn't ready yet to juggle studies and street fighting right then. Although, I still believe hand to hand combat is an important life skill. Akshit never bothered me since that day. We had a mutual friend, and so it wasn't like we never saw each other, but when we did, I did not talk to him beyond a simple 'Hi', and he did the same. No, but that didn't change the reality for him as a person. I still heard of him as the same mean guy as before, just that I was and would never be a part of those stories.

So, yeah, I got beat up in the only fight I got into.