#already having one of the most humiliating depressing weeks of my entire life what’s one more humiliating thing

[kagoutiss]

the newly vassaled gerudo king is inexplicably handed a baby

[7ban-sama]

since someone already asked avvy it just feels right to ask you too - whats it like kinning amane?

You're right, it's only fair. But I must out myself, pretty much immediately after reading Avvy's post, I said aloud to her: "Man I hope no one asks me what it's like..."

Not because it's a bad question to ask (so don't sweat it) but, I just don't think it's going to sound as... fl-flattering? Lol... I must accept my fate.

The first thing I should say though, is that it feels really, really good, to be Amane. (Most of the time.) Does that sound silly? Probably, right...? Haha.

I'm not totally unfamiliar to a sense of ~kinnie euphoria~. I've definitely experienced this before. In general, I've always had issues navigating my very-compartmentalized self, and kin stuff helps me more thoroughly understand who Bird even Is, and what it means to be Bird. Which can feel relieving... it helps me define my art as well, and ultimately I get more satisfaction through it all. Though... eh, kin isn't exactly a 'choice' either, it's more like seeing a photo of yourself and recognizing yourself in it. If you're someone like me, who's struggled to even know what you look like, sometimes seeing that photo is relieving. "Oh, thank god... that's me." Er, but once you're past that stage, it's more often a neutral observation ("Yup... that's me.") and at worst, kind of humiliating. Seeing a BAD photo of yourself... a lame one. It goes back and forth; this is the downside of kin...

So... with Amane, I guess a lot of the time, it's like seeing myself, and it's — haunting. "My god, am I really like that?" But also I look really Cool. This is new, lol. I'm not used to feeling so cool. And like uhh, handsome, and interesting. So it makes me act... cockier, ruder, more insufferable. More arrogantly. My ego is unfathomable, at this point.

I feel so justified though. Maybe I'm prone to acting worse because I know I have a little brother that'll always be into it, though... Hmm, I guess I'm spoiled too. Not a small detail. I understand, implicitly, that I am adored... Tsukasa loves everything I do. Or, he'll have to, if I bully him about it. I'm not really worried about that, ever. At most I just get frustrated he didn't clap at the right time, or he didn't clap hard enough. (Be impressed by me!! Dummy...)

Hmm, I really feel as though my body is being piloted by a shitty 13 yo boy. (And it's one that won't stop watching porn and fucking his girlies.) When I was Actually 13, my life sucked and I couldn't really act like that at all; I had to be passive and meek, for a myriad of reasons. In some ways, it's pretty novel, just being so... unencumbered, at times? I've never felt more like Some Guy. It's a feedback loop also, I think, cuz Avvy's probably never seen me be so... *shitty boyfriend♂️*

Of course, not always smooth sailing, I do feel guilty at times. Amane is errr, unstable, as much as anything; he can make us get obsessively depressed and self-hating for a week straight, like literally making us cry over it kfkfkfkf.... This is the cost for all those high-highs, I suppose. He gets so depressed about how poorly he acts and how the girlies shouldn't be shackled to him (like, is sad for them, to be stuck with a jerk... why... why can't I just be normal... *sulks*) Usually he just needs a blowjob to reorient. You know how it is...

I can say that my favorite moments are like hers. :) I find that I get the most peace out of our day to day exchanges. It's really all about those little moments, like showering together, taking walks, sharing food. Somehow it's like... nostalgic, you get all, natsukashii... As if it's something we've done our whole life. That's nice... I like that. Feeling as though Avvy's always been with me, that what we do now is simply evocative of our entire childhood together. And I can't imagine it being any other way. Very cozy... I love watching my dumb baby brother make weird noises at me and chew on my nose n stuff... and I love to be rude and shove him, or grab him by the throat, or say something to make him go "nuuhhh!!!" and flail... That's the good stuff ❤

I think Avvy went into the 'states' she occupies... I think in my day-to-day, I'm sort of floating around ages 8-12. Kinda depends on how fussy or bawdy or awkward... Depressive states are like, I become ghost boy, at the roof staring at the moon. 'Arghh, I'm so terrible for what I've done, uuuruaruhh,,,, I can't visit your beautiful corpse, I'll just stay here'. When I'm physical agonies, I really regress into 4yo boy, cough cough. But the it's nice when I am brought water and food and stuff. Relief of brother care me... bring me things.

I worry, in terms of 'true self', that bandage boy is the most Me, deep down. I can't word that any more clearly. We haven't seen him in full, so of course, it's just that kind of delusional certainty. No way to "know", I just...

Hah. hahaha... hahahhahaha.

[igsigne]

The pain of a 12 year old

My father never hurt me.

I mean that sentence in the physical sense. Now… emotionally and mentally, that’s different.

I don’t quite know how to put this feeling into words. I never had bruises to hide. Scars, on the other hand; well, one could argue they're a product of him despite being carved by my own hand. Still, I carry the guilt of knowing I “never had it worse.”

Despite that, I was hurt. Actually, scratch that. I AM hurt. Everything in my life is affected by the pain afflicted unto me. The pain that I couldn’t escape. I was alone, despite having a mother and brothers.

That’s not to say that they didn’t take damage as well. A memory that I know will remain at the forefront of my brain for the rest of my life includes my older brother losing breath while pressed against a wall: My father’s hands pressed against his windpipe. Or, another memory perhaps, of my mother being brutally held down and accused of being insane. She had to have an emergency surgery on her back only weeks later. Totally unrelated.

How can I move past that? Just those events are enough to be traumatic to the average soul, yet that is only the tip of the iceberg.

The words I need to get out this night at 2 am revolve around the time I, at the tender age of twelve-years old, was forced to make a decision. A decision on whether my family would survive without my father. A decision on whether we would stay in our home, or move to an unknown residence without his income.

Now, to provide context to this choice, I was currently having a complete breakdown. The only words my scattered brain could manifest were “No,” and “Please Leave.” Mainly because not just 24 hours ago, my dear father went on, for lack of better words, a rampage. 

Let’s start this by saying I probably have something undiagnosed. My medical reports say that I have “General Anxiety Disorder” and “Major Depression,” but there’s this feeling that something lies under those. Stewing. Waiting. Obsessive?

I cleaned the fridge. A normal thing, right? I wasn’t asked to, but I felt a NEED. So, I did it. How naive I was to not know this would end up turning into a question on whether my father deserved to keep living in the same space as me. A question that was out of my control from the start.

Out of a dead sleep, I was awoken. I had already cleaned: the fridge and myself, deciding sleep was imminent. Now, this wasn’t a gentle awakening. Not the sweet nudging, the soft words, care for the person in a far-away dreamscape. No. This was anger. Plain and soul-eating. Anger.

“Yogurt.”

That is what passes through my mind when I think of this incident. How bizarre, right? Something so inconsequential. Something that is $2 at any grocery store.

$2 was more important than me. 

To make a long story short; well shorter, because let’s face it, I am not known for my summarizing abilities. I was forced to dig through our trash can for this elusive yogurt. Full of the moldy, rotten, and expired food that I myself had thrown out only hours before. How dehumanizing.

When that act didn’t serve to satiate the monster, I retreated under the safe zone of my bed sheets. Cowering. Humiliated. Twelve-years old. 

The perceived safety of my room was nothing but that. “Perceived.”

When a monster truly wants to enter your space, nothing stops them. Sobs, screams, or pleas remain unanswered.

Unfortunately for me, this monster was stubborn.

Face to face with the person causing my suffering, I was helpless. The true embodiment of a terrified child. Alone with the only person who willingly took all of my trust and laughed while breaking my soul into the tiniest shards: pieces that, to this day, I’m not entirely sure can ever be put back together. 

Let’s take a step back to talk about the broad situation I was in. My mom, the only one who truly ever fought for me, worked nights. And, as one might assume by my previous unconscious state, the sun had set hours ago. I was alone.

As most children would do, I sought my mother. A phone call. In all honesty, a scream for help. Begging to not be the sole receiver of attention I neither wanted nor asked for. And my mother provided me the most she could with her job on the line if she returned home. Not that it really helped.

In reality, as one might expect, it made the monster angrier.

I hid my sole communication with the outside world as fast as I could, almost as if it never existed. Much like how I wanted to not exist at the moment. 

The makeshift barricade of a bookcase in front of my bedroom door did not deter my furious father from rampaging into my room. I had told on him. That was a big no-no. How dare anyone know about what he did when only his daughter was forced to witness it? And, that includes the wife that was intimate with his rage.

Within seconds, we were in the living room. 

Next to the fireplace.

A hammer in one of our hands.

To no one’s big surprise, my fingers did not know the curve of the handle. I was not the one with the heavy weight in my hand, only equipped with the heavy weight in my throat and tear ducts.

Instead, my cell phone was on the rocky surface of the mantle.

The only mean in my possession to receive help that might never come.

It’s a very peculiar state of being. Your soul, body, and mind calling out for help from anyone who would listen, but to know without a shadow of doubt the chance could be taken away in a second. A quick swing of the arm. How dramatic.

This wasn’t the end of the evening, to my great dismay, but it’s mostly the end of what my memories allow me to see. I know I screamed. I know I cried until my body was unable to produce more tears. I know I thought that night might be my last.

And, to think, in this fragile state of mind that has haunted me since, I had to make a decision.

He stayed.

[living-with-pmd]

11 Women With PMDD Share What It's Really Like

Premenstrual dysphoric disorder is the evil cousin of PMS. They share the same types of symptoms—moodiness, increased hunger, cravings, fatigue, cramps, pain, brain fog, and depression, among others—but for PMDD sufferers, those symptoms get so bad they can cripple a woman's ability to lead a normal life.  

While up to 85 percent of women get PMS, according to the US Department of Health, only about 5 percent of women experience PMDD, according to the American Journal of Psychiatry.

We asked women with PMDD what it's really like living with the disorder. Here are their stories:

"I was diagnosed with PMDD last summer. Six months prior to my diagnosis, I started taking a certain birth control and soon every month I was experiencing severe PMS issues. I am a generally happy person, but during those few days I was someone entirely different. I was extremely depressed and anxious, having much more frequent panic attacks, and was super sensitive and lonely. I was even suicidal, which was terrifying. And the worst part was I was convinced that I had always been this miserable, and that I would always be this miserable, and it was never going to change. It felt as if someone had completely burned out the light in me and all happiness and joy and hope was gone. I didn't make the connection that it was related to my period but thankfully a close friend did. I have since switched birth control, which helped a lot, and increased the dosage of my anti-anxiety and anti-depressant meds. Most importantly, I am aware of the way I feel those few days so I know to expect it, and I can logically remind myself that I will stop feeling that way soon. Looking back, I realize that I've probably always had pretty bad PMS or PMDD. The birth control worsened it but it was also causing a lot of issues I wasn't aware of previously as well." —Katherine H., 22, Edmonds, WA

———————————

"PMDD is out of control. I cry really easily for about a week. My biggest issue is that I am convinced that I am failing at everything—being a wife, a mom, work projects, fitness, my whole life! And even though it feels so real I constantly have to question if my feelings are valid or if they are amplified by my cycle. I just set an alert in my phone to remind me to consider my hormones the next time I feel that way." —Krysten B., 32, Toronto, CA

———————————

"A week before my period, I become a complete psycho, completely unlike myself. I'm tearful, want to eat everything that's sweet or salty, have absolutely no tolerance for anything other than perfection, and prefer to be left completely alone. I already take an antidepressant but my PMDD was a complete nightmare so my doctor gave me Prozac to take for just 10 days a month. Basically, I start it when I start to get that irrational feeling and keeping taking it until my period starts. And that's just the emotional stuff. On the physical side, I have debilitating cramps, backaches, and headaches that last for days. Yep. I'm a peach." —Kristen L., 40, Knoxville, TN

———————————

"In the past, PMDD almost made me suicidal and totally broke my spirit. Yes it wasthat bad. Every month. Eventually I got tired of being a 'crazy PMS woman' and decided I needed to fix this. Since I don't like to take pharmaceuticals, I branched out to homeopathic remedies and I discovered St. John's Wort and essential oils, especially clary sage and Doterra Calm-Its. It's a lot better now but I still have my hard days." —Amy S., 43, Zebulon, NC

———————————

"My PMDD got so bad I had to go to a psychiatrist and be put on Prozac along with another antidepressant I was already taking. I was a mess—anxious, crying randomly over the smallest thing, and eating everything in sight. One example is someone made a YouTube mashup of the Age of Ultron trailers with Pinocchio footage and the 'I've got no strings on me' song and that wrecked me for weeks. Every time I thought about scenes from Pinocchio I would start panicking and crying at my work desk. It's been a few years and I'm better now. I'm off birth control and weening myself off the Prozac. I notice a week before my period I will sob during any sad part in a movie or book I'm reading, and a day or two before, I notice I'm more likely to be anxious." —Kate W., 36, Alaska

———————————

"This has impacted my ability to work effectively. My pet peeve is when people say 'it must be close to your time of the month' when they simply don't like what I'm saying. I have run into that problem a lot at previous jobs and it makes it really hard to be taken seriously. It's bullshit because my feelings are valid regardless and also PMDD is not a joke. I am so lucky now to have a male boss who understands but it wasn't always that way. I have also have found a lot of relief with naturopathic and herbal remedies." —Amalia F., 28, Vancouver, Canada

———————————

"My PMS was tolerable until my second child was born and then everything went off the rails. I'd be looking forward to plans with others, happy, and then about 10 to 14 days before my flow would start, my mood would turn on a dime. I'd be horrible—crying, screaming that ~nobody understands~, just so much emotional pain. I'd basically lock myself up in the bedroom for a full day to cry, get angry, and feel sorry for myself. It took three doctors before I finally found one who would listen to me before I was finally diagnosed with PMDD. I took Prozac for three years for it but it made me feel numb, like a zombie and not like myself. So I quit and my family just deals with me now. As I've gotten closer to menopause the PMDD is not as bad, but can be very unpredictable due to hormonal swings from perimenopause. The worst part now is I feel like my friendships have suffered. I always seem to have episodes around major holidays and events and I end up bumming everyone out if I do show up so I end up staying home a lot." —Colleen T., 50, St. Paul, MN

———————————

"I'm overly emotional for the week before my period. Saying that makes it sound like it's not that bad but I get so distraught that my fiance has actually scheduled it in his phone as 'blood sport' to remind himself what's coming. I'm thankful that he's patient because I also feel like everyone hates me that week, too." —Kenlie T., 36, New Orleans, LA

———————————

"All month long I'm fine and feel even and calm and then suddenly, the week before my period, I can't handle even the tiniest little thing. My irritability goes through the roof (which is not great since I have a 5-year-old) and I feel like I have no friends. It really makes me sad." —Jessica S., 28, Broomfield, CO

———————————

"I know my period is coming because all of a sudden all of my joints hurt, especially my knees and ankles. I also get crazy gnarly cramps and once I even had a cyst that ruptured while I was on a date and the guy had to take me to the hospital! It was so embarrassing. Thankfully my husband now is very understanding when this time rolls around each month. The worst part is people who just think I make this stuff up. Some months are better than others and sometimes the pain is completely debilitating! My emotions are also a rollercoaster. Anytime I see something cute or inspiring, I burst into tears." —Ivie C., 21, Rexburg, ID

———————————

"My PMDD manifests in both mental and physical symptoms. From the time I got my period at age 12, I've had extreme cramps and heavy bleeding. I'd leak at school through a super maxi pad every class so I'd tie sweatshirts around my waist and have to scrub my clothes when I got home. It was super humiliating. I'd have to take six to eight ibuprofen at a time to deal with cramps, and if I didn't I'd end up on the floor sweating like I had the flu. Sometimes I'd even throw up. This meant I ended up spending a lot of time sick in bathrooms and knew where every restroom was at all times. Birth control helped manage the PMDD and other issues, but as soon as I was done having kids, I had a hysterectomy. That was the best thing I've ever done." —Mandy P., 39, Mendon, UT

https://www.womenshealthmag.com/health/a19972132/premenstrual-dysphoric-disorder/

[hatsukeii]

So I was talking with @trashcanweeb right

Talking thirsting over fluffy dom daddy Tsukishima

And I was just mentioning how I was gonna do soft Tsukishima

And she was craving for post-breakup Tsukki

👀👀👀

I think you know which one I chose to do

Let me channel all my pain into this

I might actually end up crying while writing this:D

I apologise in advance

Three months // Tsukishima Kei x reader

Word count: 1600+

Warnings: Angst??? Is that even a warning at this point lmao learn to expect it from me at the worst times

Summary: Tsukishima can’t deal with change, at least not in this form.

“They say the emotion that breaks your heart is the very one that heals it.” Three months ago, Tsukishima would’ve never even thought about the possibility that this shitty, cringy, fake deep quote that he poked fun at so much with you, would somehow become relatable. Three months ago, he would’ve still had a tattered, but intact heart. It wasn’t as if you didn’t know how much even the tiniest betrayal could impact him. You knew fully well, which only added to his misery. Trust? Every little shred of that is long gone. Three months ago, he trusted one person. Now, he can’t trust anyone. No. He simply won’t anymore. Not a day has passed by where he didn’t stare at you hopelessly. Whether it be in class, or from across the hall. He should be mad. Pissed. You were an absolute asshole. Calling you an animatronic dick equipped with balls that was bought off of an eighty year old man in an alley would still be an understatement. Regret, resentment, the bitter disgust of being absolutely played and fooled whilst everyone watched, and yet, he still can’t find a way to stop loving you, even if it’s slowly draining him from inside. Tsukishima never gave much thought to heartbreak, nor did he care. He was good with his emotions, it couldn’t be that bad. Three months ago, the possibility would’ve ceased to unnerve him. However, that isn’t so certain now. He’s terrified. How long will this constant, mental, hell, last for? A few more months? Maybe a year? Only time will tell, and that doesn’t sit right with him. What upset him the most, was how you didn’t even make an effort to explain yourself. How the hell did you expect him to react when he overheard your friends pitying him? Unaffected? How could you even have had the audacity, to ask Yamaguchi why he looked “depressed and suicidal”? How did he manage to fall in love with someone like you?

“Tsukishima! Eyes on the game! Stay focused!” Daichi’s voice resonates through the sports hall, catching everyone’s attention but Tsukishima’s. His eyes are glued to the stands, scanning every single face that was present. The sound of the volleyball slamming into the ground fills the court, cheers from the opposite team booming through the large area as the crowd cheers together. Golden eyes frantically dart from stand to stand. Although he knows what reality is, his mind simply refuses to accept and give in. He still wants something, anything, that can show that you were there, like usual. His mind was empty, your name rerunning like a shitty mixtape as his eyes droop in the familiar disappointment. “Oi, Tsukishima, that’s the third block you’ve missed in a row-” “Daichi, don’t.” The third year freezes, feeling an icy cold hand on his shoulder as he turns to meet the blond’s best friend. Yamaguchi’s eyes show the sympathy he has for his friend, desperately trying to get the captain to lay off. Even the freckled teen can’t understand the middle blocker now, despite being the closest to him. The past three months were gruelling, with Tsukishima being completely depressed and out of it. He stopped waiting for Yamaguchi at the school gates, ignored everyone’s texts, never picked up his phone, and most importantly, stopped trying in practice. When you went up to ask about Tsukishima looking “depressed and suicidal”, Yamaguchi was tempted to strangle you on the spot. However, he didn’t want to waste his boba tea. “Are you serious right now? You’re one to ask, when you’ve been nothing but fake to him for almost half a year! No shit he’s depressed right now! You’re an absolute bitch. You don’t deserve to apologise to him.” You were taken aback, easing your hands out in an attempt to calm the green haired boy down. “Dammit, I know I screwed up Yamaguchi. Just...” Your eyes darted to the sky for a moment, trying to form the next sentence. “Just don’t be mad at Hinata. Tell Tsukishima not to be mad at Hinata. Please.” Now this. This was exactly what made Yamaguchi pop a vein, and hurl the entire plastic cup at you, letting it bounce off your torso and spill everywhere. “Shut up. Tsukki isn’t as shallow as you are. You’re terrible.” And with that, he stormed away, leaving you shocked and humiliated as other students approached you, curious about the commotion that was caused.

Another loss for the Karasuno team. They haven’t won anything in three months. Daichi was gradually getting anxious, as were the rest of the team. No one seemed to pay much attention to Tsukishima, of course, except Hinata and Yamaguchi. Hinata has been feeling terrible, despite none of this being his fault. He doesn’t reciprocate any of your feelings. He only found out through Yamaguchi a few weeks ago, and he hasn’t said anything to the blond since. His usually stupid insults were silenced, anything even the slightest bit offensive to Tsukishima being muted out by himself. Tsukishima was never mad at him, oh no. Hinata was not, and still isn’t at fault. He thinks it’s stupid how the ginger is still apologetic, despite all the times he’s told him not to worry. Time and time again, Yamaguchi and Hinata would convince the third years to understand how Tsukishima “isn’t in a good place right now”. So far, the only person that has figured it out is Sugawara. His mom instincts are far too strong to not sense it. Since then, he’s joined the two first years in helping Daichi cool off whenever he got agitated by the middle blocker’s “less than ideal” performance. 

For three whole ass months, all Tsukishima would do is go through everything that marked your relationship. From old text messages, to the selfies that he tried so hard to delete. Everything that you were a part of felt... fake. As if it never happened at all. All the “omg ilysm”, “you’re amazing”, “Kei, sweetie” texts still made his heart bounce around his ribcage like a hare on crack. It was both painful, and heartwarming. When a hare jumps around your ribcage, expect the bones to break too. He would regularly trace his finger around the selfies, trying to reimagine all the times you two spent together. One of his favourites, is the one of you in his jersey after a game. Were you faking then? Were you even cheering for him? He couldn’t hear any cheers, or maybe he was just too busy breaking his fingers in the court. Who’s to say she wasn’t cheering for the ginger haired spiker, who she ended up infatuated with? Were any of those dates genuine? Was her mind even on himself? How pathetic of Tsukishima. To think that trusting someone would ever lead to something good was the biggest mistake he’s ever made. He trusted his brother. He looked up to him. Look what that led to. Then he trusted a girl. He gave her everything he could. He spilled his feelings, teased her, comforted her, reassured her when times got rough, pulled his heart out and let her handle it because he couldn’t do it himself, and what did he get in return? Betrayal. Yet another betrayal. How many more people are planning to turn on him? Hm? Maybe Yamaguchi? Perhaps his mother would reveal that he was adopted? Those two are the only people he thinks he trusts at this point, and that trust is slowly fading as well. He never understood the difficulty in pressing a delete button until three months ago. His finger hovers above the trash can icon like he’s done so many times before, tempted to press it. Erase the memories, regardless of whether they were fake or not. It’s as if an invisible force pulls his hand back at the last second, making him rethink everything all over again. Is he really ready to trash these photos? Would he really be able to manage himself without you? Why were you the only good thing that has happened in his despair filled life? Night and night again he would imagine you saying the things you text him. You might not have meant it, but it never hurt to imagine. His tears get caught in his eyes every time he does that, but he does it anyway. He doesn’t care if it hurts anymore. Everything hurts. Might as well get hurt by love over and over again, at least that’s somewhat interesting. 

Tsukishima knows that there’s eventually going to be a time where none of this matters anymore. It’s going to take a while, but he simply can’t stay in this depressive loop forever. He knows it’ll get better. Everyone that knows about this has been trying to reach out to him in some way, but to no avail. They should definitely be more concerned than they already are. Tsukishima is not good at emotions. He has no idea what he’s doing as he takes one of his mom’s beers from the fridge and gulps it all down, almost throwing it all back up at the disgusting bitterness. He hasn’t been sleeping at all, thoughts constantly clouding his mind. He’s been terrifyingly hard on himself, making deprecating comments about his personality, his looks, his skills, all to make him feel bad. Maybe he deserves it. Maybe he just wasn’t good enough. That might’ve explained why you went to another person without even giving it a second thought. Despite all this shit piled up on him, he still manages to say one thing to himself every single night. He might be crying, he might be drunk, he might have just shattered something. But without fail, he will say this. 

“Please, three more months only.”

Why is this so shit I don’t understand-

Idek anymore I just made myself depressed writing this

I hate it yaaaaaas

It’s SO BAD I CANNOT WHAT IS THIS???

Tags: @trashcanweeb @sunshines-and-tatertots @izzyphantomgamer @emsvegetables @inlwlevi @just-another-bored-writer @burnt-tomato @justachillgirl @eleiaisagoodgirliswear @kaylacinderella @random-fandomlover @for-ests @bokutokoutarou @poppirocks @tiger1719 @thirstyvolleyballhoe @sakusasgarbage @animebsposts @tiredgr3mlin @mariechan123 @itmekisuu @iwaigroomi @talks-a-lot-of-stuff @agentvicinity​ @ewfilthymundane​ @macaronnv​ @artsamber @sneezefiction @xonfusedsoul

[live-long-and-time-warp]

It’s hard to leave your toxic friends... but it’s so worth it

I don’t normally do this, but as I sat in a Saturday morning meeting thinking about all of the things I felt this past Friday, I felt compelled to share my story.

A brief background: throughout college and for several years afterward, I considered my tight-knit group of college friends as some of my closest. In addition to my best friend of 20 years, some friends from high school, my work team, and some other dear friends scattered across the globe and throughout the U.S., this group of college friends was who I considered to be my foundation. This group of friends was extremely important to me, but it was not without its bumps in the road.

In my senior year of college, I had a falling out with one of these friends, the ringleader I’ll call her. I say this because she is quite honestly the source of 95% of my problems with this group. She is a master manipulator, and an expert gaslighter. There were a few others that contributed to this too, but she was by far the worst.

I can’t elaborate on every single thing that this person said and did over our 7 year “friendship” but a brief summary would be: asking me point blank if I thought I might be a lesbian after coming out as bi (to this friend group and in her presence, I might add) only several months prior; asking me how much money I spend on books about “Chernobyl” every month with the implication that she’s concerned about my finances; telling me that my resume may not be as impressive as I think it is (I’m the deputy director of a nonprofit with both state-based and national projects and had been for close to a year prior to this conversation); would clean up the crumbs from in front of me while I was still eating and comment on my messiness; told me that one of our mutual friends doesn’t like discussing politics with me because I get too fired up (again, I work for a nonprofit that deals with social justice); telling me that crying while comforting my friend who had just lost a loved one to suicide after they began crying was weird and that I “stole her thunder” (we were slightly drunk, I’m an empath, and she was talking about some deeply personal things that moved me and crying was my natural response... and oddly, she was appreciative of my tears because I was “the only person that actually stayed with her”); and so much more that I know I’m forgetting.

There were many other things more insidious, including gaslighting me about my inclusion in several group activities and why it should have been obvious why one friend disliked me enough to not invite me to her wedding after years of claiming cluelessness.

In our senior year, I left that friend for the first time after she humiliated me at a party by commenting loudly and with condescension on my weight. When I cut ties with her, I felt as if I had just left an abusive relationship, and for a while I didn’t want to seek a friendship with her again.

But the other friends in our group still hung out with both of us, so eventually I allowed myself to be sucked back in. 

In the years after we graduated, I thought that this person had actually changed- I worked abroad for a year after college, and after returning I saw a marked difference in her demeanor and how she interacted with us. She seemed more self-aware of how her words and actions adversely affected other people, and I thought that maybe the ugliness of that horrible portion of my senior year was now just a faded scar.

But then things escalated very quickly. Over the course of several weeks at the beginning of this year, I started to feel myself questioning whether I had made the right choice in rejoining the group: I was so sure of how I felt after I left it the first time, I felt so empowered and free. So why did I allow myself to rejoin them? Was it really the right choice?

I got my answer a week after the insurrection at the Capitol. One friend who already had a history of saying hateful things about women (which I tried to put a stop to to no avail) finally went full white supremacist asshole, and instead of joining me in calling his comments unacceptable and defending me as he mansplained my job to me, the ringleader criticized me and told me that “I can work in activism and politics and be wrong”.

That’s the moment I finally woke up.

I left the chat that very moment. Every time they added me back without my consent, I left again.

Every time I got message from the ringleader that was full of gaslighting comments and false apologies, I didn’t say a word. Just deleted the message. Finally, I was able to gather the strength needed to block those toxic friends from all social media and my phone. One of these friends was someone I tried to make like me for years after I was told that she hated me for no reason, by her own admission.

Some may not agree with this approach, but I made the choice to cut contact and go radio silent on my own after consulting my friends, specifically my best friend who had been there for me during the incident my senior year.

As weeks went by, some of the true friends from that group reached out, and then immediately backed off after my polite request for space, indicating that I was welcome back at any time and they were always here for me.

The ringleader chose the opposite approach. She continued to gaslight me, made a group chat with myself, the white supremacist, and herself. She sent me messages from her second account, one that I remembered to unfriend but forgot to block. She told me that if I don’t “course correct” by a certain date she would block me on my account (too late, bro) and that “we wish you all the best”. This implies that it was on behalf of the entire group, something I know three of them would never do. However, at this point, I have had to distance myself from all of those friends so as not to give the ringleader the attention she wants from me.

I lost over half of my closest friends over night. It felt like my skeleton had been torn from my body. I considered giving in several times and reaching out to them. But now, over a month later, I understand how necessary it was to excise what was essentially a malignant tumor. The Chernobyl researcher in me wants to compare it to Acute Radiation Syndrome (ARS): an unseen poison that slowly infiltrates every part of your mind and body and rots them from the inside out.

2020 was an extremely hard year for me, as it was for so many. I am so lucky and privileged to have been in the financial situation that I was and had the support of my genuine friends and family.

But it was still the worst year of my life. I have suffered from pretty bad OCD for most of my life, and while I usually keep it under control, last year it became nearly impossible to do so. I also fell very deeply into clinical depression, and worked to the point of burn out and exhaustion. The primary thoughts I had during this depression were: 

“Why aren’t you working? You’re lazy.”

“You’re a failure, you’re 26 and haven’t applied to grad school yet.”

“You piece of shit, still living with your parents? What a disappointment.”

“What is wrong with you?”

It was unbearable. I’m honestly not entirely sure how I survived it, but I think a certain 3-year-old goddaughter of mine and a few close, real friends had something to do with it.

I worked very hard with my friends, a therapist, and a psychiatrist to overcome this depression and get my OCD back under control. Now, I feel like such a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I still have depression, and the OCD will always be with me (like a bad habit... literally?); but I am so much more happy with myself and my life, as I should be.

And I am very, very, very well aware that therapy was not the only reason I have recently begun feeling this way. It’s very hard to see that you’re being manipulated while it’s happening. Because of my trusting nature, sometimes manipulative comments would be interpreted as heartfelt guidance.

It wasn’t until I started the journey away from them that I saw just how much this group and their negativity (because even the best of them weren’t always the kindest) impacted my mental health.

The event that made me want to share this story is this: yesterday was a rough work day. As a full-time community organizer, I am pretty much burnt out all of the time. Breaks are taken, but with projects addressing issues from COVID relief to systemic racism and police brutality, it never feels like enough. 

I had to officially take a step back as a sole lead on an annual event that I organized for two years, and it was gut-wrenching.

Now, I cry often, but I don’t usually get to have therapeutic cries. You know what I mean? Like, as you cry, all of the tension that built up in your body by negative feelings is finally being released with every breath and sob?

Well, the dam finally broke in a team meeting on Friday. I started sobbing and couldn’t stop. And my colleagues were so, so kind. They let me vent, they let me cry, they would not accept my apologies for crying. They told me that I was strong for setting up boundaries, and that they were here for me.

We spent a lot of time at the end of the meeting each talking about our self-care routines. And as I sit here typing this, I am actively trying not to cry at the purity of their support.

This experience has taught me what real friends are. Real friends do not put limitations on your emotions and fears.

Real friends do not give you deadlines for processing your feelings.

Real friends do not criticize you for things that, while they may not agree with, do not affect anyone’s health or marginalize anyone.

Real friends don’t marginalize vulnerable communities.

Real friends help and support you with constructive criticism (when it’s asked for) and love, not patronization and manipulation.

I thought I knew all of these things before, but I know now that I am still learning... and that that is perfectly okay. I don’t regret most of the times we shared together. I am appreciative of the positive memories that their friendships gave me.

Three of the friends in this group are actually good people, and maybe one day when the dust is settled I’ll reach out to them and establish one-on-one friendships with them (if they want to). 

And I have to thank my real friends, including @tryingtobealwaystrying, for all saying the exact same thing: you deserve so much happiness and fuck all of those guys.

So, the point of this post is to tell everyone this: you can leave your toxic friends. It’s incredibly difficult, stressful, and honestly traumatizing. And there’s no shame in needing time or feeling unable to leave those friends now. There’s also no shame in returning to those friends.

But please know, from this nerd to the reader: anyone that makes you feel any less than the beautiful, amazing human being you are and doesn’t want to help you become an even better human on your own terms is not a true friend. They don’t deserve you or the light you can bring into their lives.

And every agonizing step away from those friends is a step closer to a happier, healthier life.

[straynstay]

10 with Seungmin, please.

hi, darling! I got carried away and wrote too much, but I hope you like it anyways lol thanks for requesting  ♥️

-

Since last week you’ve been avoiding going out with the guys because you still aren’t over the humiliating feeling after your failed confession.

Seungmin’s reaction to your feelings was so nonchalant that you nearly cried on the spot. You never thought he’d be so heartless, but he did surprise you in the most terrible way possible.

But Felix kept bugging you to go out to a karaoke near their building, and to no avail, you couldn’t deny his invitations anymore without making him grow suspicious.

You were friends with the boys, but no one, except Seungmin, knew about your feelings for him. And no one, except for him, knew how hard you were rejected. So you think it’s gonna be fine, you’ll just have to control your urge to cry when you see Seungmin again. Easy peasy.

When you reached the karaoke door, you already heard Jisung’s voice inside. They were at the counter picking a room and buying snacks.

“Hey” you greeted them, noticing that only the virgo-line plus Jeongin were there.

“Hey, you came!” Felix hugged you. “You’re not skipping any classes today, are you?”

“No, no, it’s okay” you smiled reassuring him. Everytime you had to come up with an excuse to ditch his plans of hanging with you, you mentioned you were too busy studiying and you couldn’t go.

“You’re gonna be top of the class if you keep studying like that” Jisung remarked.

“I don’t think so, but if I don’t fail then I’m already glad” you chuckled.

“Ah, school is so hard” Jeongin nodded his head.

“But let’s not talk about it, we’re here to have fun” Felix clapped his hands. Seungmin, who was talking with the employee, called everyone to go to the designated room. He greeted you with a small hello, and you only nodded, feeling a lump on your throat. You tried steading your breathing before getting inside the room.

“I wanna go first, can I go first?” Jeongin asked and everyone agreed. He had already chosen the song before anyone could even sit down. He surely likes going to karaokes. He began singing a trot song which you didn’t know, but you enjoyed his performance anyways. Jisung went next, singing a ballad, and Felix sang a Twice song which you danced to with him. You thought Seungmin would go next, but he passed the mic to you. You quickly searched the catalogue and found a sad heartbreaking song by Taeyeon, which you picked. You sang as best as you could, with the boys pretending to wipe away their tears at the back, and you scored quite a lot. Seungmin then sang an OST, but you busied yourself with the catalogue again to avoid watching him perform.

Then the boys decided to sing the new JYP song together, and then they moved on to Day6, GOT7, 2PM, ITZY and Twice again. You sang with them a few times, but you were too entertained by Jisung and Jeongin’s performances to actually sing anything. And gosh, you were laughing like crazy.

“Alright, I’m done” Felix plopped down on the couch.

“Yeah, I can’t sing anymore” Jisung joined him. “You should sing for us now” he gave you his mic.

“What? No! I’m tired too” you complained.

“Pfff, you barely moved yourself” Jeongin placed the catalogue on your lap. “We always perform for you, now you should do it for us”

“Yayyy, exclusive show!” Felix clapped his hands together.

“So exclusive that’s never gonna happen again” you warned them. Seungmin said he’d buy more snacks and beverages, so he left the room.

“Isn’t he weird today?” Jeongin whispered to his hyungs.

“Well, I’d be weird too if I had to pay for everything” Jisung shrugged his shoulders.

“No, he’s weird” Felix agreed with the maknae. You tried not to eavesdrop too much, but their talk caught your attention. Seungmin was weird. And maybe it’s because of the death glares you’d been giving him all afternoon or because the only time he tried talking to you today you just gave him a rude answer and cold shoulders afterwards.

“Maybe something happened” you heard Jeongin whispering again. You got up after pressing the numbers to the song you wanted to sing, getting ready to wash away your sadness in the lyrics. And so you began your exclusive show, singing four songs the best you could.

“Why are you only singing sad, depressing, heartbreak songs?” Jisung inquired after your score showed on the screen.

“Don’t tell me someone broke your heart?!” Felix exclaimed putting his Coke down.

“N-no…” you tried denying, but Jeongin gasped pointing at your face.

“It totally happened!”

“Who was it?” Jisung asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything about it?” Felix complained.

“Because it happened a week ago and it didn’t go well, but it’s alright, I’m getting over him, don’t worry about it, I’m cool” you replied fast, barely pronouncing the words properly and leaving the mic on the table. Felix gave you a simpathetic look.

“I could’ve been there to help you out”

“It’s okay, Lix, don’t stress over it” you smiled at him too.

“Wait” Seungmin, who was quiet the entire time since he came back with the snacks, spoke. “When you said this happened?”

“I didn’t say” you replied.

“Yeah, you did. A week ago” Jisung answered. You felt numb seeing the look on Seungmin’s face.

“Are you talking about me?” he asked and you felt you could pass out right now.

“Hm, I…” your brain didn’t feel like working anymore, so instead of trying mumbling an answer, you did the only thing possible: you fled.

You were already at the top of the stairs facing the door to the outside world when you noticed Seungmin behind you. You just froze on the spot, not knowing if you should open it and run for your life and never come back or turn around to face him and get even more humiliated. Either way, it would ruin even more your already ruined friendship with him. You let out the breath you were helding, deciding to turn around.

“Let’s talk outside” he reached his arm beside your head to push the door open. You climbed the last step, going out and crossing your arms over your chest for protection.

“We don’t have to talk about this, Seungmin, you already rejected me”

“I didn’t reject you” he shook his head.

“Yeah, you did” you scoffed.

“I didn’t, because you didn’t confess”

“I did!” you almost yelled at him. How can he be this rude?! “I was nervous and almost throwing up, but I managed to pour my heart to you, and you just said ‘right’ while laughing at me!”

“Because I thought you were talking about me as a friend!”

“What kind of friend says they like the other?!”

“You do?! With Felix?! All the time?!” Seungmin was loosing his cool. “So that’s why I thought it was the same kind of feeling. And I said 'right’ laughing because I know Felix is your best friend, so when you said you’ve never met anyone as nice as me and wanted me in your life forever I knew you weren’t being honest”

“But I was, you’re the one who thought it was a friendly confession, you’re an idiot” you exasperated.

“It’s not my fault you don’t know how to confess properly!” Seungmin remarked.

“Oh, enlighten me with your words of wisdom, then!” you rolled your eyes waving your arms around. You had no idea your sarcastic remark would make Seungmin stare straight into your eyes and flush your bodies together in a strong grip.

“Word’s aren’t necessary” he pressed your lips together in a quick but powerful kiss. And he was right, words could never express what he meant with the kiss. You gasped loudly when you separated, and Seungmin seemed to go back to his normal self.

“O-oh, I’m so sorry, I-I just…” he was so embarrased, his entire face was redened.

“Shut up” you said grabbing his neck to pull him into your lips again, and Seungmin didn’t reject your kiss.

[automatismoateo]

Why I left my religion and how it changed my life via /r/atheism

Submitted April 23, 2021 at 09:01AM by Iamnameless_ (Via reddit https://ift.tt/3gzpZxk) Why I left my religion and how it changed my life

I have tried for years to put what I went through into words or to make sense of it, but no matter how hard I try I can never paint a full picture of how awful It felt to be born a girl in a Muslim household.

This is for the many little girls out there who feel what I’ve felt. Who spend their nights crying and feeling lonely, scared and trapped. This is a success story and I hope that it will bring hope to you.

Before I begin, i would like to state that there is a difference between Islam and the culture around it. The problem isn’t Islam nor is it the religion itself. It is the toxic culture that has been built around it by muslims and the hidden truths that women are too scared to reveal.

I grew up in a Muslim household in a western country. My parents were extremely religious - to the point where it was extreme.

My father abused my mother my entire life and in return she took out it out on us. Now of course, not all Muslim men are abusive, although it is easy to get away with and not exactly frowned upon. My father was never involved in our lives, he didn’t know our birthdays or anything about us really. My mother had the obligation to take care of us, she would spend all day cooking and cleaning and dealing with the abuse. She became numb, empty and trapped. Consequently, she became even more religious, trying to convince herself that her sacrifices and her pains were going to be rewarded by god. She became so afraid of my father punishing her for our behaviour that she also became toxically controlling.

I could go on for days and write shocking and horrifying things, but I need to protect myself and I’m also not ready to reveal everything I went through because to be quite honest, I find it humiliating and it makes me cringe (even anonymously).

My parents always told us stories about how woman that didn’t obey the rules of Islam were killed. They would go in specific detail and give us examples and names. We grew up in fear and we were taught that girls basically had no rights, they had to do everything their parents said until they got married and then their husband would tell them what to do. My brother was free as bird. He could do anything he wanted.

My mother would make me clean the house and do the dishes while my brother just sat there playing video games. Whenever I would ask why I had to do it and not him, she would answer “because you’re a girl”. I must’ve heard that sentence a billion times and each time she repeated it, I hated her even more.

When I was about 6 years old, my mother came to pick me up from school and as we were leaving my biggest fear at the time occurred — a boy in my class said goodbye to me. My mother became furious. She told me that I was never allowed to be friends with boys and looked at me with such disgust as If I had done something awful. She told me that in our religion and culture, girls are not allowed to be friends with boys. I didn’t understand what was going on, but I developed terrible anxiety from that behaviour. Every time that my mother would pick me up from school, my palms would become sweaty, my heart would race and all I would feel is fear. It seems to ridiculous and almost funny to write, but at the time it was a genuinely scary thing.

When I was about 8, we went to a park with some family. I layed down in the grass and my mother came to me and grabbed me by the arm violently and told me that girls aren’t allowed to “lie down” infront of men (who I was related to). Again, it was confusing but she had this way of speaking to me and looking at me that made me fear her and do everything she said.

When I was 11, my breasts started to develop very rapidly. All of the sudden, I was becoming a woman. I was forbidden from wearing shirts that didn’t cover up my entire upper body. It felt unfair and wrong. I didn’t understand why my body (that I didn’t chose) was causing so much uproar. I wanted to play, to be free, to wear comfortable clothing. I didn’t even understand sex, I was a child, yet sex (or the fear of it) was the premise of my life. It was who I was, it was everything I did. My parents based my entire existence on sex.

We had a family friend who had a daughter my age. She was born with one of her Fallopian tubes twisted and as she got older the pain was so awful that she would scream in anguish. The girls mother refused the simple surgery that could stop her pain because the doctor had to enter through her vagina and cut her hymen to do the procedure. I overheard my mother saying that she shouldn’t get the surgery because what if one day she gets married and her husband doubts her virginity. It absolutely shattered my heart and changed my view on Islam forever.

Around that age, I got my first period. I was absolutely terrified to tell my mother about it. It was only after the second time that it happened that I had the guts to tell her. She was extremely uncomfortable and didn’t look at me. She didn’t explain what was happening and she made me feel dirty and disgusting. After that, things got worse and worse.

I went to high school and suddenly it all hit me in the face. I understood my entire life. I understood that I had been taught none sense and lies. I understood that I had been mentally abused. I understood that i was going nowhere with the life I had. I became angry, heavily depressed and suicidal.

I wasn’t allowed to have a social life and I wasn’t allowed to wear tight or “revealing” clothes. I had to be home after school on the dot. Literally, my mom would wait at the door for me and if I was even a minute late she would scream at me as I walked in. Like genuinely yell at me for being 5 minutes late and accuse me of being with boys and doing bad things and lying. It was traumatizing, since I was always telling the truth (at least then). Every single day, I would hop off the bus and run home. And then I would fight with my mother over non existant boys and cry all night long- and repeat. This went on pretty much my entire adolescence and I lost my fucking mind. I can’t even begin to explain the pain. I just didn’t want to live. School kept me going, I had good grades, greats friends and I just loved it. But I had an awful secret and I never said a word about it. Every night I would get on my knees and pray to a god that I didn’t believe in and that I hated, that I would die. I just couldn’t imagine getting out of my situation.

I looked up things online a couple of times, wondering if I was the only one going through this and I was shocked to see that it was common. When I was 16, I tried to kill myself. I woke up one morning and I felt absolutely nothing it was like I was already dead. I couldn’t handle it anymore, I was alone. Nobody could see, nobody could tell and this was my life forever. I ended up at the hospital and lived but I couldn’t care less. I told the nurses that I didn’t want to see my family and I was taken to a psych ward where I stayed for a few days. I felt peace for the first time in my life. I was all alone but I was free (ironically I was locked up in a hospital room). When they asked me why I did it I couldn’t get the words out so I was very vague. My mother and brother came to visit me and although they were crying, the first thing she said to me was “how could you do this to us and to your father” and that this was haram and that I needed to pray to god and everything would be ok. I tried telling her that I couldn’t live like this anymore but I was too afraid to say that I fucking hated god and that I felt more oppressed than a dog. So when the doctors asked me if I felt better and if I wanted to leave I said yes and I guess they just assumed I was a stupid teenage girl. I went back home and things were a little different for a few days but then and it got bad again.

That’s when my entire life changed. I tried dying and it didn’t work. So now I had nothing to lose, it was either die or die trying. I became rebellious, started talking back, starting talking to boys, starting hanging out with friends after school and lying about it and wearing clothes and changing them after leaving the house. I realized that whether I did or I didn’t, I was going to get yelled at and since I was a “girl” I couldn’t be trusted, so I decided to make it worth something. I wasn’t scared of my parents anymore because I realized that they were just people- like me. And that they were sad and miserable so I made it my goal to not end up like that. I decided I was going to leave home at 18.

After my suicide attempt, I had to see a social worker once a week. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I never told her what was going on at home specifically because I was embarrassed, scared and in-denial. But I opened up to her in small ways and spoke about the way my mother treated me in general and it opened up my eyes little by little. I realized that I was never the problem. I realized that I was a child. I realized that parents can be bad and wrong. I realized that my home life was abnormal and toxic. I realized that my mother was a victim, that she was an abused woman trying to cope by “protecting” her children and feeling important. I realized that my father was weak. That he was a coward all along and that he needed to feel strong by asserting his dominance. But most importantly, I realized that I was so much more than I was taught I was - I was smart, I was strong and I was a person not just an object for men’s pleasure.

At 18, my mother began to suspect my secret life. She came into my room and told me that girls who do bad things in Islam get killed. And for the first time, I wasn’t scared. I could see how weak she felt and how scared she was. And so one day I went to school, I took the bus back home and a few stops before my house, I thought to myself “oh wow I can’t do it anymore”. So I got off and I went to a friends house and I didn’t go home that night. My parents called, texted, found me on all social media, contacted my friends, sent out threatening texts... A part of me was absolutely terrified that they would find me and do something bad. But the other part of me couldn’t get enough of the freedom and the air. I went to school the next day and told a counsellor and the police everything. I didn’t want to get my parents in trouble, in fact I felt really terrible and selfish. I told the cops that I didn’t get any real threats and that I didn’t want to file a report or anything, but that I just wanted this on record in case anything ever happened to me.

At first, they would send me abusive terrible texts everyday. About how I’m terrible, disgusting, selfish, that god hates me, that I will burn in hell, that I’ve ruined their lives and their honour. And then afterwards they would beg me to come home and tell me they love me. But then they would text me that I’m weak, that I couldn’t handle gods words, that I was a sinner. And then that they loved me and just wanted me back and that we could go back to normal. And then again, I’m ungrateful, I’m dumb, i gave into tentations, I’m a whore.

I didn’t see my parents for a year. They contacted me non stop, begging me to come visit so that the rest of our family wouldn’t notice I left home. They stopped inviting people over so that they wouldn’t ask questions. They told me that if I’m seen with a boy or wearing revealing clothes their lives would be over and they begged me to not do so for them.

I spent the entire year healing my wounds, my trauma and working on myself. I moved into a studio apartment and worked part time while being a full time student. I got a student loan that allowed me to live, i didn’t have much but I had never ever in my entire life felt so happy. I felt like I was on top of the world, I could do anything and be anything. (I had an incredible support system during this period and I was followed by a specialist. I got help and opened up to people. It was difficult, a process and alot of hard work. Without all that I don’t think this would’ve been a success story).

At 19, I met my parents in a cafe out of guilt. I felt sorry for them but I just didn’t feel love. They told me that they accept who I am but the only thing they ask is that I come back into their lives and that I hide this part of my life to the family and friends and that I visit every now and then so that nobody suspects anything. Obviously, growing up in the culture I knew how bad things would be for them and I understood. I saw them a couple of times here and then but I never felt like myself when I was there. I guess I did it for them and because I just felt awful that I had to ruin their lives to make mine better. But as I said, it was death or this. It just was never who I was meant to be.

Today I am happy and so grateful for everything I have and everything I went through. I would never ever change my past or my childhood because it made me into somebody I love and it took a long time to get here. I learned that pain can be worth something and it can be beautiful once it’s overcome. More importantly, I learned that as a girl I am strong and resilient. That I can handle so much more than I thought and that I can achieve anything or even more than what a man can.

I’m fortunate, privileged and lucky. My story could’ve taken several tragic turns. Im lucky that I live in a western country, that I have this possibility of freedom. I’m lucky to be educated and surrounded by wonderful people.

My story isn’t meant to anger people of Muslim faith. In fact, I hope that my story and the many many others that I know are out there will open up a discussion in the Muslim community. Instead of shaming and using scare tactics to control our daughters, we should be teaching them with love, trust and truth. I wouldn’t have left Islam if my parents taught me religion instead of toxic culture. But more importantly, I hope that this might show some girl out there that she definitely isn’t alone and that she’ll make it through.

I know it can be difficult for non-Muslim people to understand how all this is possible or to understand the gravity of it, how common it is and how painful it is. But just imagine all your rights being stripped away from you because you were born a girl. Kind of like being in quarantine for 18 years! It’s funny, I hear all my friends complain about quarantine and not being able to go out or be free and I just laugh to myself and think Imagine that, plus the mental abuse, plus the oppression—because that’s how it felt. Every single day.

How is it acceptable for my father to abuse my mother but not for me to wear a tank top?

How is it okay for my brother to drop out of college but I’m not allowed to stay at the library past a certain hour?

Why is my 40 years old uncle engaged to a 17 year old girl, but I can’t date a man that I meet who loves me and treats me with respect?

Why does a 10 year old boy have more rights than a 30 year old mother?

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The President is having a rough time. That much we can easily infer by reading both the medical and the political tea leaves that have dropped all around him in recent days. As of October 7, 2020–27 days from the Presidential Election — here’s where we stand.

It is a story in three parts:

1. Trump has, or at least had, severe Covid. We can infer that from the drugs he’s been prescribed.

For the past five days he has been on a course of Remdesivir, an antiviral medication that can interrupt viral reproduction. According to the Financial Times, the FDA “authorised the emergency use of Remdesivir for Covid-19 in May for patients with severe coronavirus who need extra oxygen or mechanical ventilation to help them breathe. In August, the FDA extended the emergency use authorisation to anyone in hospital with Covid-19, however severe their disease.”

He has also been given Regeneron’s multiple-monoclonal antibody therapy, a drug that directly kills the virus. He was given an 8-gram dose, which is very high, indicating that his viral load was significant when they got him to the hospital on Friday. This drug has not yet even been authorized for emergency use, but his doctors leaned on the regulatory agencies and the company to be able to prescribe it for compassionate use. This is the drug that, in my opinion, likely saved his life. At least for now. Note, this drug does NOT stop the virus from resurging, but it can be administered again without harm, so long as his body does not develop a resistance to the antibodies, themselves.

Notably, neither of these drugs will help to reverse damage already done to the organs.

The third big-hitter drug he received was a steroid called Dexamethasone. It is used to help prevent the body’s immune system from doing more damage than the virus. When the immune system goes into overdrive, there is significant swelling that can, itself, severely damage the organs. With Covid, that swelling can be so bad that it kills the organs, then the patient. The World Health Organization advises doctors to only use the drug in severe or critical cases, because it can have powerful side-effects — both physiological and psychological.

Physiologically, it SHREDS the immune system. That is, literally, what it is intended to do, which — in this case — is good for him, because he’s getting the Remdesivir and the Regeneron cocktail to fight the Covid, but BAD for him because for the next week or so, he’s got no meaningful immune system and that bathtub mold left behind by William Howard Taft in the White House jakes might take him out quicker than he can kill anyone else with his coronavirus.

Psychologically, it can lead to mania or more severe depressive states — which has got to at least rate a bit of a worry among Trump’s advisors, right?

Well, maybe not — and that brings us to the next point.

Donnie is all alone.

2. The second thing we know, or can infer from the past few days’ events, is that President Trump is finally — and fully — leading his own parade. There really is no sane doctor in the land who, short of wanting to fluff the Commander-in-Chief, would have authorized either his Sunday night joyride, or even his discharge from the hospital as if he’d just come down with a touch of 24-Hour Covid.

But, well, Trump. Even casual observers quickly learn that he does not tolerate independence in his advisors. They either show a willingness to bend to his will, or they are drummed out of service. As such, when he needs someone to finally stand up to him, even for his own good, they are long, long gone. Some folks are lamenting Dr. Sean Conley for tarnishing his reputation this past week, but in truth, you could have inferred that from the simple fact that he’s Trump’s personal physician. It’s the same for everyone. Persistent exposure to his toxicity either leads to outright rejection, or total corruption and collapse. At this point in his life and his Presidency, there simply are no grown-ups left in the room.

That goes for his political team, too. But with them, it’s even worse: Not only have the ones with actual backbone long since been ejected from the West Wing, the toadies that are left are now all down for the count because of this virus. Here’s a list of his people who are currently either ill or in quarantine:

Hope Hicks, chief adviser to the president.

Bill Stepien, campaign manager.

Kayleigh McEnany, White House press secretary.

RNC Chairwoman Ronna McDaniel.

Chris Christie, top political advisor.

Melania Trump, his wife.

Nicholas Luna, assistant and “body man” to the president.

Kellyanne Conway, former White House senior adviser.

Stephen Miller, his pet Nazi.

Lord knows what sort of protocols are in place in the East Wing of the White House, right now, but given the pacing and the lunacy of the Tweets, there’s just no one there to stop him. He is amped up on steroids, likely a bit delirious, and clearly surprised — and offended — that his “triumphant return” was mocked by everyone outside of his Proud Boy Fan Club as a weird, pathetic Evita routine wherein he was clearly gasping for air. He’s pissed off, alone, and facing the greatest humiliation of his life in 28 days. CNN today has Biden up by 16 points — 57% to 41%. That is getting into Ronald Reagan / Walter Mondale ’84 territory, when the Gipper beat the Man from Minnesota by an Electoral College margin of 525 to 13.

Clearly, Donald is losing his mind — likely due to the drugs, but also because he is all alone, scared out of his wits, and can’t seem to do a damn thing about it. There is no one left to bully.

So, what does he do?

He lashes out like a haunted madman at the nation he purportedly leads.

3. In his almost four years at the helm, he has typed nearly every single type of public obscenity into his iPhone that a Manson Family member could imagine — but he save the most purely foolish of them for today. A few hours after the Fed Chair — you know, the guy in charge of global capitalism — came right out and said, in essence, “Hey, Washington, we need massive government spending NOW to save the economy!” Trump tweeted, literally and explicitly, “I have instructed my representatives to stop negotiating until after the election when, immediately after I win, we will pass a major Stimulus Bill.”

Holy shit!

The Fed Chair screamed: “STEP ON THE GAS!” and Trump, instead, slammed on the brakes. The market reacted by cratering nearly 600 points. They will pause for a moment, before again jumping off the cliff tomorrow, when no course correction is offered. This is very, very bad.

Backed into a corner, and with the economy teetering over the abyss, he has decided to take the entire country hostage — with an implicit promise that we either elect HIM, or he will let the entire country burn.

You know, I like to think that if McDaniel, or Stepien, or McEnany, or Hicks, or even Conway were there, they might have at least tried to talk him down from such an utterly insane position — one from which he has ZERO room to retreat without looking like a fool — but maybe not. Maybe after the Covid and the Roids and the Evita jokes, he would have gone ahead and set the world on fire regardless of what any advisor suggested.

Now we’ll never know. That die has been cast. And with it, I believe, his Presidency is all but over — short of straight-up election theft, or an auto coup d’etat.

Both, sadly, are still possibilities.

But shy of that, this President has demonstrated to everyone in the past few days that he has come undone. He is unbalanced, unhinged, disconnected from reality, physically ill, and getting his ass kicked by a dude he calls Sleepy Joe.

To put it lightly: It’s not a good look.

On top of that, his idiot son Eric — a used piece of moral toilet paper, who got busted two years ago for stealing money from a children’s cancer charity — just got deposed in a court case that will almost certainly spit out a basket of Trump Family indictments before Christmas this year, and Vladimir Putin — his patron (and banker) in Moscow is either prepping the piss tape for TMZ once his gimp is no longer useful, or burning the evidence trail so none of this can ever be tied, definitively, back to him.

All in all, Trump should count himself lucky if that Taft fungus rises up from the drain pipe and puts him out of his misery. Nothing good happens for him from here. He can still drag us all down with him, but he won’t get back up off this mat.

Or so, at least, it seems.

Love to you all.

[buckinviteseddie]

911 Week 2020, Day 6: “"I'm not going" + angst

Read it on AO3

Buck was tired of it all. He couldn't stand seeing people leave his life anymore, he couldn't stand being left behind anymore, that hurt him in a surreal way. Abby had left him without even having the decency to say she would never come back to him, Ally simply left because she couldn't deal with the life he had at work and finally had Maddie who abandoned him when he needed it most. Even though he currently knew why she had left, it still hurt to remember all the sleepless nights of anxiety and all the humiliating moments he had to spend with his parents. And in the end he had no one to count on, the only person he could really count on, who was his older sister, had abandoned him. Everyone around him abandoned him at one time or another and Buck was really tired of it, the mental exhaustion was huge and he couldn't understand why he was always left behind. And finally there was the fact that he was in love with his best friend and he knew Eddie didn't feel the same way, and it killed him. Buck had a very strong friendship with Eddie and he couldn't complain about what he had. They shared great times together when it was just the two of them or when Christopher was also in the middle and anyone who saw them from outside could swear they were family and Buck couldn’t complain about what he had, but he wanted more, he really wanted to be able to build a family with Eddie, but he also knew it was impossible and so he was giving up on flirting, giving up trying to miserably show Eddie how much he was in love with him.

It had been almost an hour since Buck sat there on the bar stool swirling his glass of beer on the table and staring at nothing as he thought about all the bad things that happened and continued to happen in his life. Some people passed by randomly trying to flirt with him, but to no avail. If it was a couple of years ago in his phase that he called Buck 1.0, he would be there having fun and being with all the women and men he wanted, but he was now a more mature person and it made no sense to stay with any of these people just to drown their hurt, because whoever he really wanted wasn’t there and even if Eddie wanted nothing with him, Buck didn’t feel good about being with other people. He just wanted to drink a little and try to forget about all these problems, which in fact was not happening.

After a while Buck realized it was time to stop, as he was more than drunk and needed to go home and get some sleep, as he would have a 12-hour shift in a few hours. He called an uber and on the way he fought not to sleep in the car and ended up stopping somewhere unknown, as he was feeling exhausted and his body just wanted a soft place to relax. Buck doesn't know how he got to his apartment. He struggled a little up the stairs while his mind spun with the effect of the amount of alcohol he drank. He staggered a few times as he climbed step by step and when he finally went up to the second floor, he threw his whole body on the bed, not even bothering to change clothes, take a shower or at least take off his shoes.

***

The next day, Buck woke up with his head still spinning a little. He looked at his watch with some difficulty and realized that it was only an hour and a half before his shift started "shit", he thought before running to the bathroom and throwing up the rest of the alcohol in his stomach. He was filthy, not only from the smell of sweat mixed with alcohol on his clothes, but inside he felt rotten, that was not the life Buck wanted for him, at least not anymore. Until when it would be like this and whenever he felt depressed he would run to the first bar he could find and drink until he couldn't take it anymore.

Buck was quick to get undressed and throw in the laundry basket and throw himself in the shower while he turned on the shower and let the cold water run through his body as electricity in the form of punishment. As soon as he left the bathroom, he hurried to put on his uniform and get ready, damn he was a wreck. When he came down the stairs, he went looking for some aspirin and then took a few sips of coffee. When he was finished he took his bag and car keys and slammed the apartment door behind him.

It didn't take long to get to the station, luckily the traffic that morning was peaceful. Buck then put his bag in the closet and went to join the other teammates who were already sitting at the table having their respective breakfast.

"Wow Buckaroo, you look terrible."    Hen waved as he approached.

Buck forced an ironic smile as he approached. "Thank you".

"Good Morning".     Eddie greeted him as he took his cup and sipped his coffee.

Buck sat next to him as usual, but didn't look at him as he said, "Good morning."

You could feel the tension in the air. Everyone was silent and with each passing second the tension worsened.    "Well, I think today will be quite a day."     Chimney forced more than necessary animation.

Buck shrugged while picking up some fruit and forcing himself to eat, he was on an empty stomach so he needed to eat in order to get through the next twelve hours of work.

At a glance he could see Eddie staring at him a few times. Maybe was worried that he was physically awful, but Buck wasn't in the mood for conversation and his head was still pounding from the hangover.

"I hope the fact that you have a hangover is not a problem, Buck."     Bobby said as he joined them and handed him a full cup of coffee.     “Here, it's out of sugar. It helps to reduce the swelling of the blood vessels that cause the headache ”.

“I'm fine, cap. but thank you".     Buck took the cup of coffee and took a sip, wow it was pretty strong.    "By the way, how do you know about these things?"    He gave him a questioning look.

"Well, I was young like you and I loved going out at night to drink with friends ...".     Bobby forced a smile and turned his attention to his own plate while eating some goodies that he had prepared that morning.

Buck just shrugged, not trying to bring it up, he knew Bobby didn't like to talk about it much.

"Young people today just want to get drunk and go out and kiss everyone around."    Eddie had a certain harshness in his voice, but he gave a wry smile in Buck's direction, who flinched in defense.

Buck opened his mouth to try to defend himself from his friend's accusatory tone, but closed it in the same second. He was in such a bad mood that he didn't trust what could come out of his mouth and he didn't want to get into an unnecessary argument. He couldn't understand why Eddie was treating him like this, that he knows the only mistake he was making was being in love with his best friend.

Luckily for Buck, the rest of the day went pretty smoothly. No big calls, just simple things that didn't require much effort. His headache was gone and he was already feeling a little better. His interaction with Eddie was very little, just what they needed while on a call. Eddie seemed to notice that he was not okay, because from time to time he would cast looks that indicated he wanted to talk and know what was happening to Buck, but he was not feeling good, much less in the mood for it, even more after Eddie's comment earlier.

Buck thanked all the gods when his office hours were finally over and he could finally go home and rest and not think about anything else. As he sat on the locker room bench tying his shoelaces, he heard footsteps approaching.

"What's going on with you, Evan?"    Eddie leaned against the cupboards and stared at him with those brown eyes that made Buck melt all over just by looking.

"Nothing, dude, I just really need my bed".      Buck replied while finishing his work with the sneakers and trying not to stare at his friend and end up getting caught up in the tattered lie he had just played.     "By the way, what did you mean with that comment you made earlier?"

"Nothing. Have a good night, Buckley".     Without even waiting for an answer, he left the locker room and left.

Buck sighed deeply at the boy's reaction, he didn't know why Eddie seemed to be upset with him, but at the moment he just wanted to get to his car and go home.

When he got home, he did the entire night route he did every day. He took a shower, this time hot so he could relax his body. He ate some leftovers he found in the fridge and when he finished eating, he brushed his teeth before throwing himself on the bed and letting the tiredness and sadness go out.

***

It was dark when he woke up in alarm with the sound of his own scream. His shirt was damp with sweat as was his forehead. His breathing was labored and his chest rose and fell at a rapid speed. Buck was filling up to get as much air as possible, he was having a panic attack. He didn't know what to do, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled desperately to find his cell phone. All the nerves in his body were shaking and the sensation was horrible, he just wanted it to stop and when he finally found it, he didn't even realize when he already had his cell phone in hand, dialing the number so familiar that he knew in his head.

He thought about hanging up the call when on the third ring when the call was answered.    "Buck?"    Eddie's voice was hoarse on the other end of the line, indicating that he was sleeping when the phone rang.

"Buck ... are you there?"    Eddie spoke as he took a deep breath with the phone to his ear.

He thought about hanging up and just dealing with the situation his own, it wasn't right for him to disturb Eddie in the middle of the night because he was having a panic attack, but at the same time he didn't know what to do.    "I need you...".     Buck replied before he even thought, his voice coming out shaky and breathless.

"Where are you?"    Eddie seemed to be getting ready, as Buck could hear what sounded like the belt buckled in his pants.

"Home...".     It was all he could to say while his whole body was shaking.

"I am on my way".     There was a sound of keys and then Eddie hung up.

Buck stayed with the phone for some time before realizing that the call was over and then tossing it on the bed. He was still struggling to breathe. His face was drenched with tears and his eyes were swollen. He then sat down and bent his legs close to his chest, wrapping both arms around them and burying his head.

What seemed like fifteen minutes passed, then Buck heard the door open and close, and after a few seconds, treaded steps up the stairs. He then raised his head and saw even with some difficulty because of the poor lighting, Eddie standing at the entrance to his room with a concerned look.

"Eds ...".    He called out with a sob.

Eddie went towards him and sit next to Buck.    "I am here".    He didn't think twice before pulling Buck close to him and wrapping his arms around him.

Buck grabbed Eddie's shirt with shaking hands as he sobbed and cried softly. He stayed that way for a few secunds, while Eddie tightened his embrace around him a little and rocked him back and forth as if he were holding a baby.

"I'm scared Eddie ..."    Buck admitted.    "I'm too scared."

“It's okay, it's okay. I am here. It was just a nightmare, I got you ”. Eddie kissed Buck on the head and then touched his cheek there.

"Please don't leave me...".     Buck's voice was almost a whisper within Eddie's embrace.

Gradually he recovered. Being in Eddie's arms gave him a feeling of protection and relief and as much as Buck was much taller than the other, at the moment he was feeling as if he were the size of a baby. What comforted him was hearing Eddie's heart in his ears and gradually his own heart was accompanying the beats and his breathing softening.

“I'm not going ... I'm not going anywhere. I'm here with you".   Eddie still shakes him in a way to comfort him.

They remained silent for some time. Just sharing each other's warmth while Eddie comforted his best friend. And that was all Buck needed right now, he needed Eddie and he went there to console him and the blond couldn't be more grateful for that.

"I'm sorry for making you come here in the middle of the night." Buck spoke as he stepped away from the embrace and composed himself.    "By the way, where's Chris?"

“You have nothing to apologize for, and don't worry about Chris. I brought him with me and put him on the couch. He's sleeping there like an angel ”.     Even in the dark Buck could see the faint smile on Eddie's face.

Buck lifted his mouth a little, struggling to return the smile, even though he didn't know if Eddie could see him.

"What's going on, Buck?"    Eddie asked cautiously, not wanting to upset Buck more than he already was.

"I'm broken Eddie."    Buck admitted.    "My head is in turmoil and I don't know how to deal with it all".

He felt his whole body shiver a little when Eddie took his hand and squeezed it gently. “Evan, be honest with me. Tell me what bothers you ”.

Buck felt his heart skip a few beats. If he hadn't had a panic attack a few minutes ago, he would be having it now. He struggled a little before throwing out what he was feeling.   "I've been thinking a lot about my life, how everyone leaves me, how I'm always left behind ...".    Buck sniffed a little as he straightened.    "And....".

"And?" Eddie asked.

Shit, that was hard.

"And ... I ... I can't handle withe the fact that in love with you."   Buck took a deep breath and continued.     “And knowing that the feeling is not mutual, it destroys me every day. It kills me to have to look at you every day and not be able to have you ”.

Buck tried to pull his hand out of Eddie's grip, but his best friend took it back.    "And who said that the feeling is not mutual?"

"What?"    Buck was confused by the turnaround.

"What I mean is that I...I'm in love with you too, Buck."    Eddie seemed to be a little embarrassed about having to expose his feelings, but he kept his hands around the boy's.    "Right after the process, I was able to understand this feeling and how much I am in love with you, I just didn't have any sign coming from you so I didn't say anything".

"I flirt with you brazenly, Eddie."    Buck snorted.

"I'm sorry, I'm not too good at these things."

"By the way, what was the reason for that earlier comment?"   A questioning look settled on Buck's forehead as he faced his friend.

"I...I was a little jealous that you went to spend the night in a bar and flirting with other people."    Eddie stuttered a little as he scratched the back of his neck and his cheeks burned with the revelation.

Buck reached with his free hand to his mouth trying to stop a laugh and not wake up Christopher who was sleeping downstairs.    “Eddie, I didn't stay with anyone, I went there to cry some sorrows and to try to forget a little about the fact that I'm in love with you. I haven't kissed someone else in a while, I just think about you. It's always you ”.

Eddie wasted no time in giving an answer, he grabbed Buck's neck and pulled him close, kissing his lips with the greatest conviction possible. At first it was an awkward kiss, his lips roaming an unknown place, but soon Buck opened his mouth and allowed Eddie's warm, soft tongue to penetrate the inside and play with his. It was a hot, ravenous kiss. As if they have been waiting for this moment for a long time. Desire and will was all that hung over them. Gradually the kiss softened and became more intense, with Buck biting Eddie's lower lip and making him moan softly. They kissed for a while, experiencing this new experience so that they were both feeling good and comfortable.

A few minutes ago Buck was feeling like he had nothing and no one, like he was trapped in an endless void, and now there he was in the arms of the person he loved and that he was hopelessly in love with and that feeling it was mutual. Buck thanked all possible superior deities as he stepped away and buried his head in Eddie's shoulder, smelling that familiar smell that made him feel at home.

"I love you, Eds."

Eddie held Buck's head in both hands while pulling him in for a light kiss on the lips, then he looked at the boy and flashed a huge smile that made Buck melt all over. "I love you, Buck."

[lezliefaithwade]

The Power of Poetry

When I was growing up, my father would often refer to my mother’s side of the family as though he were speaking in parenthesis. “Your mother’s sister…” or “Your mother’s aunt…” and to be fair, my mother did the same with my dad. Even as a child, the differences between their two worlds were shocking. My mother, nicknamed “Showboat” by my fraternal Grandmother, was both a breath of fresh air and shocking to the strong British stock my father heralded from. There was nothing capricious about the Wadley’s. My grandfather was a train engineer. My grandmother raised five boys during the Depression. They attended Anglican church regularly, played bridge, and ate their meals every night together around the dining room table.   My mother’s family was another story. My paternal grandmother, after having already been widowed twice, lived in “sin” with an Italian cook who worked for my great-grandmother in her restaurant. She had flaming red hair, wore tight dresses, and loved a good time. I can’t ever remember a year my Nana wasn’t on a diet. I never saw her read a book, or cook a single meal – ever. I think she lived for trips to Florida where she and my grandfather would spend days at the pool and nights at the bar.

My parents were a kind of Romeo and Juliet, defying their parent’s wishes for the sake of love. One glance at their wedding pictures tells the whole story. A happy bride and groom stand with their arms entwined while decidedly unhappy in-laws, barely cracking a smile, are photographed outside of the church.

By the time my brother and I were born, we had become the branch on both sides of the family tree that didn’t really belong to either. We were the odd ones out. My mother’s family couldn’t figure out how Anglican children had penetrated their ranks, and my father’s family were apoplectic when they discovered that my brother and I had been enrolled in Catholic school. At Christmas as we opened our gifts inside the home my father grew up in, my grandmother could be heard to comment on the amount, the cost and the suitability of every item. By dinner time, my mother was counting the minutes until we would leave.

The disparity between the two families was never more evident than when my parents would ship us off to a relative when they were going through a particularly difficult rough patch. Most often a relative I didn’t know. Usually a childless female or lonely widow who at a party said in passing something like, “Lezlie is so precocious. I’d love to know what goes on in her mind.”

“Really?” my mother would ask and the next thing I knew I was at my cousin Cheryl’s or my Aunt Gwen’s.  

Cheryl was an attractive woman with wispy blond hair and fine features. A staunch Catholic, she insisted I put a doily on my head then dragged me off to church where I became nauseous from heat and incense. Like many such relatives, Cheryl saw the weekend with me as an opportunity for indoctrination and spent hours reading bible stories about Jonah in the whale and Noah’s ark. Somewhere she missed the memo that I was already reading A Wrinkle in Time and had moved beyond the old Testament to Madeleine L’Engle. I came home insisting my parents never subject me to her good intentions again. Cheryl, now having proven my father’s point about how crazy my mother’s relatives were, would cause him to simply smile and say, “See, that’s what I’m talking about.”

Aunt Gwen was another story altogether. Universally considered “weird” by all my relatives, Gwen lived in a rather nice apartment in the Beaches. She wasn’t religious at all, but an alcoholic who kept her apartment dark and sombre. She’d serve me processes food, that I didn’t like, and once, when I was three, she took me to a funeral parlour. About a month later as my parents were driving past the establishment I blurted out, “I saw a man sleeping in there.” My mother just looked at my father and rolled her eyes. Over time they started keeping score against each other and the points were racking up.

By the time I was in Grade 5 my parent’s marriage was, not surprisingly, on rocky ground. It was probably even before that, but it was Grade 5 when I noticed it for the first time. Both sides of the family were poised for what seemed an inevitable split as I began a new school and a new classroom with my first male teacher, Mr. Koerner. Mr. Koerner didn’t like me. Or maybe to put it more accurately, he preferred the other girls in my class and most notably my best friend, Trinka. Trinka was beautiful, and poised and loved to colour code her notebooks. She cared about her clothes and her nails and had perfect posture. When she started a Greek Mythology card catalogue, she shot up in Mr. Koerner’s estimation as practically perfect. In terms of rank, there was Trinka, Anila, Diane, and then me. I was (before the term had even been coined) the “Duff”.  I wore glasses, spilled food on my clothes, and was a decidedly bad influence on my best friend.  When Trinka and I wrote a radio play about a murderer who chopped up his victims and flushed them down the toilet only to back up the entire city’s sewer system, it was my parents, not Trinka’s who got the call about how disturbing it was. My mother and father knew full well that I was influenced by Creepy Magazine (a series of comic books I loved reading) and thought nothing more of it.

Mr. Koerner did not like my mother, most notably because of two incidents that went all the way to the Superintendent of the school board. The first one occurred one morning when I mentioned in class that she had allowed me to watch the movie “Gypsy.” Never overly concerned with our ability to process movies, my parents frequently watched sophisticated films with my brother and me. They were always available for questions if there was something we didn’t understand and they never subjected us to anything we didn’t want to watch. So, when I happily explained the plot to my classroom one Monday morning during current events, Mr. Koerner was aghast. In front of my class-mates he publicly castigated my parents and humiliated me for what he deemed to be an inappropriate movie for a child of my age to watch (He clearly took issue with strippers). The second incident and probably much worse was the way he insinuated himself into my life when I got my first pair of contact lenses. I’d been wearing glasses since I was two, and by the time I got into grade 5 wearing contact lenses became a viable option…one recommended by my optometrist. Mr. Koerner was shocked the first day I arrived without my spectacles. He told me I was vain and blamed my mother for a decision he thought was not in my best interest. At this point my father got involved. He stormed down to the school and, as I understand it, scared the bejeezus out of Mr. Koerner. For the first time in a long while, my parents were getting along. At night I’d hear them as they shared their common dislike for the man my mother referred to as, “Larry”. I suddenly felt like I was in a version of Disney’s The Parent Trap. What began as me dreading school, turned into me hoping “Larry” would put his foot in his mouth yet again so my parents would come together as a team.

Mr. Koerner had, among his many idiosyncrasies, a penchant for keeping scrapbooks. They weren’t for public consumption, but rather books compiled of our work for his personal pleasure. One day for an assignment, I turned in the following poem:

They’ve all left now

Gone their separate ways

This house once filled with laughter

Must now face empty days

A cold breeze taps my shoulder

And I blink and turn around

I only hope I’ll have such love

For the new home that I’ve found.

Mr. Koerner gave me 90% for the poem with instructions to have it signed by a parent and then returned.

“Returned.” my mother said, “What for?”

“His scrapbook.” I replied between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes.

“What scrapbook?” my father asked.

“The one he keeps our stuff in.” I nonchalantly replied.

“For what purpose?” my father queried.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Beats me. He’s got tons of Trinka’s stuff in there is all I know.”

“Well,” said my mother, “He’s not getting this back.”

I choked. “What do you mean? Everyone has to return their work once it’s been signed.”

“Not this time.” My father chimed in. And that was that.

I loved that my parents were taking a stand as a united front. I did not like being the messenger.

The next day I turned up for school without the poem, hoping Mr. Koerner wouldn’t notice. At the end of the day he stopped me before I could sneak out.

“Lezlie, do you have your poem signed by your parents?”

“Oh, gee, I forgot it. I’ll bring it tomorrow,” I said and left for home.

The next day it was the same. And the day after that. By the end of the week Mr. Koerner was getting wise that something was up.

“Lezlie,” he asked, “What’s going on with the poem? I gave it to you to have signed and then returned. If you don’t bring it back, I’ll have to dock you your mark.”

When I told my parents that I was perilously close to losing my grade if they didn’t return the poem, they were furious.

“He knows what the mark is,” my mother exclaimed.

“Surely he’s recorded your grade already,” my father stated. “What the heck’s up?

In the meantime, my mother had copied the poem and sent it to every member of both her side and my father’s side of the family, selecting to tell them that I had written it and that my teacher was threatening to dock me my mark if I didn’t return it to him. Could they believe the injustice of it all?

For the first time that I can ever remember, there was a universal uproar from both sides.  Even my cousin Cheryl and my Aunt Gwen called to tell my mother how unfair it all was. And the following week, when he threatened once more to dock me my grade, both my mother and my father went to the school to visit him. It was one of those pivotal moments when you know that things will either be better or worse for you, but will definitely not remain as they have been. An hour later when they returned, my father simply said, “Well, that’s that.” Apparently, my dad told Mr. Koerner that if he ever threatened me again about anything, he’d make it his mission in life to have him transferred.  After that, my teacher pretty much ignored me and never asked for a single item of mine for his “scrapbook” ever again.

That year my parents seemed to be closer than ever and the day I found out I had Mr. Koerner for grade 6, I was secretly thrilled.

When my parent’s marriage did, in fact, dissolve a few years later, there was no villain left to unite them.  Lines were drawn in the sand and sides were picked.  Our weird family of four that had never really belonged to either side of the family, were now a family of three and even more conspicuously out of step.

Still, for two brief years I enjoyed the unification of my parents as they fought to protect me against a terrible teacher. And somehow throughout it all, I learned about the incredible power of the written word along with a new found love of poetry.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Starcrossed Losers XVIII (Josh Wheeler xReader)

A/N: You should all go listen to “The only podcast left” if you haven’t cause honestly you’re missing out. Also for reasons I like to call: Daybreak was really vague with how many days went by during the events. I’ll just do whatever I want and you won’t even notice the difference.

Words: 2,353

Warnings: None!

Previous chapter // Next chapter

Alex doesn’t ask questions and doesn’t try to stop me. I supposed he gets what’s going through my head, after all, he’s the only person after my sister who actually knew me.

It takes us about forty minutes to pack our things and leave.

Please do not think I’m a piece of shit, I do care about those kids. I do feel like shit for leaving them like this, but seeing how things are, they’ll be safer without me. I can’t risk another group of kids being taken just cause Maya is out for blood.

I’m not leaving them without help, I left my notebook behind, it’s on the pharmacy’s counter, ready to be used. We also left the spare weapons, turns out Alex still had his gun, and I have Katie.

It’s been two hours and we have no idea where we’re going, but we know it’ll take us a while to get there.

Oh! I almost forgot to tell you. You know how I said I don’t know shit about tribes? Well, today I found another one.

The AV club.

They’re nice and they have a podcast where they talk about Glendale. Or themselves. To be honest, it’s mostly about themselves but I mean, they have the right to do whatever they want.

I found their podcast on Spotify, can you believe that shit still works? I know, surreal as shit.

Anyway, on their most recent episode -most recent for me, I don’t know exactly when are you reading this- Wesley was their special guest.

I guess he didn’t waste his time, huh.

I love Wesley speeches, I always have. Even when we were in Highschool and he was a dick, I must admit he was pretty good with those.

“We’re cowards,” I hear him say, “we don’t speak out heart, now we hang on to hurt...” How the fuck can he do that? I hate that he’s so good, “I did that with Josh and I got exiled. I did it with Turbo and he threatened to kill Josh and all the kids at the mall! I was a coward.”

I am not a coward.

No, see, the thing is that I’m very good at picking my battles, and there’s no way in hell I would ever win over Sam Dean. I won’t admit it for a long time, but I still like Josh. Pretty much. So instead of staying on this toxic as fuck environment and face public humiliation, I think it’s time to start over again, it was nice while it lasted, best two weeks of my summer, I’m done now.

“Well, not anymore. I have to confront Turbo, it’s the only way. Because if we don’t, we’ll just be... asexual virgins- which, you can be! If you want, no judgement, but I’m guessing... you don’t.”

Yeah I... I don’t have a way to explain what he just said, you just... have to listen to the podcast, I guess.

“No one wants to be exiled, no one wants to be alone, right?”

Oh, fuck off, Wesley. Fuck off.

I take off my earphones and angrily stuffed them back in my pocket.

“Is everything alright?” Alex asks beside me.

“I got tired of listening to music, that’s all,” I lie.

“Okay,” He sighs, then he pulls out Maya’s old map of Glendale, “well, most of the area surrounding the school is jock territory, the pretty side with the mansions is fucked, downtown is packed with Ghoulies... Y/N I don’t want to sound depressing, but I don’t think we have anywhere to go.”

“I’m aware of that,” I take the map, examining our options for the third time that day, “we could go to your place?”

“Why don’t we go to your place?”

“My place is fucked”

“Only the garage is fucked, but what about the second floor?”

“I don’t know,” I try to find exactly where we are, “I guess that we can get there before eight”

Half-way to my place, my nerves take a tool on me.

“Do you think I’m a coward?”

“Are you seriously asking this now?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No, I don’t think you’re a coward just cause you left the mall. I do think it was a dick move to leave without saying anything to the kids though, what are they gonna do now?”

“KJ is a good leader, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

“KJ is tricky and she won’t last long, as soon as she feels threatened she’ll flee the scene.”

“Listen, I’m not going back, okay? I’ve had enough of all that senseless drama, I have better things to do, like surviving.”

“We were surviving, dumbass. You just want to mix survival with love life and call it a failure altogether so you don’t feel guilty about leaving.”

“Maybe,” I shrug, “either way you could’ve stayed, I didn’t force you.”

“You threw a backpack at my face,” He huffs, “and you’re my best friend, of course I wasn’t going to just let you go after months of not being together.”

“Well then don’t complain,” I insist, “we left the mall and we’re moving. Today we’ll stay at my place, but as soon as the sun comes out we’ll get out of the city. I know the world is a shitty place now, but at least I will get to see a different kind of shitty every day until we find a nice city to settle.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Alex skates faster, leaving me behind. I rush over to reach his side, losing my patience.

“If something is annoying you, just spit it out! You said it before, we better talk things out before they blow up in our face-”

“You’re difficult, Y/N!” He says in exasperation, “Yesterday you loved the mall, you were their healer. Now you don’t want to see it again cause some stupid kids frighten you. And yes, they terrify you, don’t pretend they don’t.”

“Josh is no monster, I’m not afraid-”

“S’not that kind of fear,” He interrupts me, “his feelings intimidate you cause you think you are bound to fail, you keep saying how he wasn’t on your radar when we were in school but I remember the week after you did the school project with Wheeler... You spent every free period taking any opportunity to pass close to his usual hanging spots, you acted like it wasn’t about him, but I knew.”

Shit.

I was planning on telling you guys.

Alright, let’s make things clear, okay? I wasn’t in love with Josh.

Not entirely.

Did I think he was funny and caring? Yes. Did I think he was cute and nice? Also yes. Did I ever daydream about Josh and I suddenly having another group project in our hands that unexpectedly turned into a love story and after a few days we were the cutest couple in school?

Only once.

My point is, don’t even think for a second that the things that happened after the nuke dropped were on purpose. They weren’t, I wasn’t following Josh I swear! I was looking for a place to stay, our encounter and Josh having the answer to my problem were mere coincidence.

Again, I’m not saying this to wash my hands, but stories like this are often created for the readers’ amusement. Of course there would be drama, of course I decided to keep some things to myself. To be fair I didn’t know you! Why would talk with a stranger about my love life?

Anyway, that’s all unimportant now, Josh proved already that he is not ready to start something new.

And I don’t beg.

“And Sam Dean? You don’t want to admit it but I can tell she scares the shit out of you. I don’t know if it’s her social skills or simply because you think she’s prettier than you, I just know you’re gonna do everything in your hands to avoid confrontation with the only girl that can make you pee your pants”

“This is sort of unfair on me right now, not gonna lie,” I scoff.

“I’m only trying to open your eyes,” He shrugs, but I’m no longer listening, “just like you were trying to do with Josh a few hours ago, remember? Trying to convince him that what he was doing was wrong?... Y/N?”

I stop moving a few feet behind, I saw something messily written on the wall of a convenience store and my heart skipped a beat. I slide closer and touch the red letters with adoration.

“I am here...” Alex squints, “you know what’s that about?”

“I know is Josh’s handwriting,” I mumble, “must be from the time he was alone when he was looking for Sam.”

“He wrote her notes all over the city?”

“He told me he used to leave messages like this on places near his house, hoping that Sam would see them,” I look at him with teary eyes, “Look at this! He wrote this everywhere, he looked for her just to apologize in hopes that she would take him back. Six months, Al. I’ve been in his life for two weeks. It’s just like you and Stuart, I know that if I ask, he’s not gonna say my name.”

He looks at the sentence for a few seconds and then shakes his head, turning to face me.

“How many life-changing situations Josh and Sam could’ve possibly been through during their time together?”

“I mean, she was there when Josh got the call about his dad,” I reply, skating away from the store.

“Yeah, look how that turned out,” He moves along, pulling the strap of his backpack.

“She was the first person to welcome him to school?”

“You were the first person to help him get a better grade”

“Sam was his first time.”

“Does it look like I’m still obsessed with my first time?”

“You’re not like Josh.”

“You’re not Sam,” He retorts, “You and Josh really were something else, he knows it, and you know it. But you already decided to give up.”

“I decided I don’t live in a fairytale,” I scoff, “and I won’t allow him to treat me however he wants just cause he’s a tad angry. Let’s just...”

I don’t finish my sentence and keep walking, lost in my thoughts.

Alex and I walk for another fifteen minutes until we reach the school, I’m about to tell him to hurry up in case there are people watching when I come into a halt.

“What-?”

“Shhh!” I push him behind a tree, “Who are they carrying?”

Alex squints his eyes, standing on his tiptoes.

“Is that..?”

“It’s Turbo”

We jump in our place and Alex pulls out his gun, pointing to the stranger... that is no stranger. It’s Eli.

“Why are you always lurking around everywhere I go?” I ask in exasperation.

“The real question is why aren’t you with your boyfriend Josh?” He sneers, “Thought you would be feasting on my food at this point”

“For what kind of sick dictator do you take me for? I didn’t get to decide on your exile, Josh did that on his own. I left the mall soon after”

“Why would you do that, are you stupid?” Eli replies, “You left? The mall is literal heaven, and now that Baron Triumph took over the school-”

“What?”

“He convinced some kids to get him out of the cereal factory and now he dethroned Turbo.”

“Now what?” Alex inquires, “What is he going to do?”

“Nothing good,” Eli shrugs, then he glares at me, pointing a single finger to my chest, “but you’re gonna help me get the mall back. We’ll kick Josh and the rest of the little rats out first thing tomorrow.”

“And how exactly are you going to force me to do that?”

“I don’t have to. If you’re here it’s cause you probably realized that Josh has gone mad and you know this is just for the best.”

Alex and I consider it for a second. Eli is annoyingly right, Josh is out of control and having an identity crisis that won’t help the kids in the mall, but Eli is no leader, he’ll kick everyone out as soon as he touches the front door, so I can’t help him either.

“I think we’ll pass.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Eli warns us, “you’ll die out here and you know it!”

“Better die than to be a bad guy like you.”

“Bad guy?” He asks in outrage, “All my life I had to work and earn my stuff cause mom couldn’t afford it. I was bullied because of it. The mall was the one thing I had that they didn’t and you took it away from me just cause it was one against five, and I’m the bad guy?”

I don’t have an excuse for that, I can’t and I don’t want to fight back. He’s right, he should be living in that mall, Josh had no right to exile him, nor anyone for that matter, none of us has. If I hadn’t exiled Maya maybe things would be different too.

“Come with us.”

“What?”

“Stay the night with me and Alex, we’re going to my place,” I explain to him, handing him the map, “we’ll be safe there, considering we have no idea of what will Triumph do next. We have enough food. Tomorrow we’ll decide if we help you or not, What do you say?”

“How do I know this is not a trap?”

“Do we look like murderer traitors?” Alex rolls his eyes.

“Besides, I still have a sprained wrist. I can’t do much. I mean Alex does have a gun but-”

“Y/N are you sure about this?” Alex asks me, glancing at Eli with distrust, “not to be rude or anything, but Eli is not the ideal companion.”

“Just like us,” I sigh, “Eli?”

He evaluates us carefully, examining our weapons from a distance. Finally, he gives a short nod.

“A night won’t hurt”

“That’s what I said when I met Josh. Look where it got me...”

Taglist.

@letsbloodmagic @slythermyg @loving-u-3000​

[neverendingparable]

Tw: verbal abuse, transphobia, suicide mention, self harm mention

Somehow it feels like they always end up here. The tension in the air is thick enough to suffocate in. Maso pretends not to notice as he shrugs off his jacket and walks into the dining room.

Ezra is already sitting at the table, waiting silently. His face is neutral but the coldness radiating off him is unmistakable. A calm before the storm and with the stillness he watches Maso, it seems like the storm will be catastrophic.

The routine feels familiar, although Maso can't recall the last time they fought. Perhaps it was always brewing in the underground, waiting for the perfect moment to bubble up.

He sits across from Ezra dutifully and offers a hesitant smile.

'Let's talk,' he wants to say. 'Let's work it out.'

Ezra doesn't return it, but his gaze has darkened.

"I have something to tell you." He says curtly.

"Sure." Maso tries not to sound too eager. Talking is so much better than brewing in this angry silence and he wants to know what he did wrong so he can change it. He feels indebted to Ezra somehow, guilty despite not knowing what he was guilty about.

They've been living together ever since they graduated out of high school and moved from their home town. At first it seemed to go well, and there were times when they could've been called boyfriends. Ezra was supportive despite Maso's disfigurement and it felt like everything that had plagued them in childhood had disappeared. 

It was just Maso and Ezra against the world, until a coldness settled in between them and Maso found his friend distancing himself more and more as the days went by. Maybe now he will find out what happened, what he did wrong to cause Ezra to reject him.

"I feel like you're just using me as an emotional crutch," Ezra started. "Like I am just your toy, your replacement therapist, a boyfriend without me getting any of the benefits. You demand too much from me and it's wearing me down."

The words cut sharper than any knives and for the first time in Maso's life, he was speechless. Ezra showed no sympathy for the shocked hurt on his friend's face.

"You are not easy to love, you know. You are loud, arrogant, you think you can make up for your bad traits by being overtly doting or sexual but it just disgusts me. I do so much to accept your body for the way it is but you can't even decide if you want to be a boy or a girl, Stanley."

I can't stand your constant neediness but I can't say anything because you might end up getting depressed again and we all know how much you make the world around you miserable when you feel so."

Ezra's voice has risen with a hateful vigor. Every word seems to have been bubbling below the surface for a long, long time.

"I'm going to have to babysit you after this to make sure you don't do anything selfishly drastic like cut yourself or attempt suicide. I mean, do you ever think about anyone else? Did you ever consider how it feels to have such a messed up friend? I can't even take you out of the house in the summer because if people aren't staring at your arms they're staring at your scars or trying to figure out what sort of freak you are-"

"Since when has my transness bothered you?" Maso interjects defensively. He doesn't know whether to yell or cry. The latter will certainly get Ezra to make fun of him or worse, walk out for good.

"Since always." Ezra sneers without a moment's hesitation. "I thought it was just a phase. But you kept going, forcing me to defend you to not look like a jerk in front of the others. And then you started 'crossdressing' and it was like make up your damn mind what you want to be!"

"Pssh! You like my skirts."

"You're such a child. You can't take anything seriously."

"Maybe." Maso stands up, trying to get leverage of the situation. Ezra's glare was withering but he refuses to give up so easily without a fight. "If you hate all those things about me so much, why didn't you ever say anything? How was I supposed to know you were just pretending to tolerate me?"

"You would've realized that sooner if you took time to focus on someone else but yourself. I was trying to spare you the humiliation but-"

"But nothing! You should've said something, Ezzy. I could've made it right. I could've done something but if you're just going to hold it in and pretend everything's fine, then that's on you."

Ezra stands up as well and what little leverage Maso had on height is gone. He doesnt think it matters anymore, because now he's mad as well. He has been self absorbed, he can admit to that. And he hasnt always been a good friend. But part of a proper friendship requires communication from both sides.

"You never listen." Ezra's tone has changed. Maso is certain that under different circumstances, he would've never stood a chance. It was so full of hurt, anger and hatred, all directed at him.

"I tried and you ignored me for the sake of playing the victim. Don't you dare blame this all on me, Stanley."

A moment of silence passes between them as the two men glare at each other. And to his own surprise, Maso relents.

"Okay." He says, stepping back. "Okay, I'm sorry. I admit I wasnt the best friend. I want to be though, Ezra. Just tell me what I have to do."

Ezra's laugh is cruel. "Oh, you wish it were so easy, dont you? You're rotten to the core, Stanley and no apology or therapy will help you."

"So what do you want me to do? Leave you alone? I can pack my bags if that's what you want. But I want to do right by you-"

"No. I can't let you go out into the world and mess  up someone else." His path to the front door is blocked now, but Maso can't help rolling his eyes.

"Come on, Ezzy. This isn't necessary. You know I dont go apeshit."

"Don't call me that, Stanley."

"Seriously, why are you doing this? What's really the matter?"

Maso approaches him carefully. It isn't like Ezra to get violent but after today, he doesnt think he knows him as well as he thought.

"I feel like you are just using me as an emotional crutch. Like I am just your toy, your replacement therapist, a boyfriend without me getting any of the benefits."

Maso falters. "Wait...what?"

"You demand too much from me and it's wearing me down. You're not easy to love, Stanley."

"You've already said that, Ezra. Like, five minutes ago?" Something is nagging at him. Ezra keeps glaring at him like Maso is shit he just scraped off his shoe and slowly it dawns on him.

Everything Ezra said, the most painful accusations and insults was everything Maso was scared he would hear one day. He never put it in words but this very situation is one he dreaded he would walk into one day, find out that Ezra's kindness and patience was just a lie and that his best friend hated him deep down. He never was able to convince himself it wasnt true, especially after he left Ezra to return back to the Office.

It's not like I didnt give him the opportunity to join me. I tried to get him to come along. I didnt just leave him, I told him I didnt want to stay and that if he wanted to tag along I would protect him.

The hurt in his chest was replaced with indignation and when Maso looks at Ezra again, he doesn't wither under the glare.

"You know what? Fuck this. If you really hate me so much you dont want anything to do with me anymore, then I'm leaving. I'm sure I'll find someone else who can give me a second chance and if not, then I'll just keep on going alone."

"You're never going to find anyone who tolerates you, Stanley." Ezra spits.

Maso steps forward and his lips curl into a sarcastic sneer. "Eat me, Jaxden. I deserve better than you."

Something in Ezra's face twitches. For a moment Maso is sure he's going to pounce and tear all four of his arms out but then the entire world shifts and suddenly he's snapped back to reality.

He left Ezra. For the Office. He's no longer in that particular Office because he went on a mission to spy on a creepy human Maelle. He got beaten up per request and as he went back through Michael's doors to deliver the information he gathered to Alice, something went wrong. He's been stuck in the loop of his worst nightmare realized for the last week and now it's all coming back to him.

The Ezra doesnt disappear as he expected. He - or it - just keeps glaring at Maso like he wants to rip him apart but he quickly fades into the background of Maso's attention when he realizes where they are.

Standing in an Office he unfortunately knew too well.

Except, unlike before, it isn't bustling with Mariellas flitting back and forth from experiment chambers to research rooms. There are no sounds of machinery or screams or even the buzzing of electricity whenever the hallways got quiet. The entire Office that had once belonged to Jon is still as the grave, dark, depressing. 

A heaviness settles all around Maso as he took it in. But before he can really comprehend where he was, the scene changes.

[nyrator]

some more ny life updates, feat. MBTI stuff, dreams, financial decisions, ACNH checklists, and Radiohead opinions

incredibly depressed lately to be honest, but trying not to be too depressed for this post- basically a place to vent without being super negative because it be public and stuff, helps calm me down, maybe

helping other people with depression is too hard for me, I think. Feels bad to distance myself, but I think avoiding rumination is all I can do when it gets to that point

decided to re-take one of those personality things recently because why not, friends were doing it. I don’t hold much weight to them personally but at least I seem to be consistently this result every few years

for reference, an earlier test:

https://www.16personalities.com/istp-personality

reading through the weaknesses and romantic parts, it almost eerie how it describes me. It’s wrong on the sex part, but feels right just about everywhere else. They even quote me on saying this at the end part. The nice thing is, apparently Kresna’s personality result is my ideal match, which is fitting.

I tend to think my personality is a very flawed one, unfortunately, at least when it comes to social relationships. I don’t like being flattered or praised, nor do I tend to show appreciation to those that deserve it, I feel. Feeling people are slighted by my lack of attention or affection for them more and more.

Energy in general is such a hard thing to grasp. Lately I just can’t seem to do or focus on anything, nor do I have any strong desires to do anything. Feels hard to draw or make anything, and I’m wondering how I’ll finish up that Artfight thing. All I want to do is lay in bed and sleep, maybe just change my sleep schedule and only be awake when no one else is, and just keep to myself

been laying in bed a lot lately, and I’ve noticed a trend in actually having dreams when I’m taking a nap- or at least, that weird “trying to take a nap but keeping eyes half-open basically because I don’t actually want to fall asleep” zone

both dreams I had this week involved different things that I forget, but the core part was basically my family assaulting me, pinning me to the wall, and speaking my darkest secrets into my ear.

First one was my late sister being a prick and possibly uncovering my secret and me trying to get rid of her, while her boyfriend grabs me by the throat and lifts me off the ground into the wall as she mocks me. Second one that I just had earlier tonight, I don’t even remember the context, but basically had my mother disgusted by me, forcefully pinning my arm behind my back and slamming me face first into a wall, telling me she’s aware and disgusted by all my secrets.

Earlier this month, I also had one of my first dreams in months, but it was one of my reoccurring humiliation dreams. Except this time, there was blood. It was a very uncomfortable dream.

I wonder if these dreams mean anything about my psyche or whatever lately.

but yeah, have a lot of money lately, yet still feels sickening to spend money on myself still. I feel like I’ve spent too much on myself lately, and it feels bleh. I like spending money on Kresna, but he doesn’t let me do it often, but it’s always appreciated when he does.

ended up setting up an eye exam in three weeks- decided to order my own frames this time, but shopping for frames is hard. Ended up buying these two (since I always seem to have to buy two pairs for some probably insurance-related reason), but frames are extremely hard to shop for, at least for me, and that lavender look I like is extremely hard to come by

I wonder if I show my appreciation for lavender too much- I think I want to go for thicker frames like the top one, though the bottom ones are like my old frames (same company), and have that metallic lavender look that I love. If I ever had a dream car, it’d be in that color, honestly.

speaking of cars, my neighbor is trying to sell us her old 1997 Saturn for $250, but I’m not sure if I want it, to be honest- One, it’s so old, two, it’s a stick, which I only have basic knowledge on how to drive, and three, I don’t like driving. I think my mother told her yes, which is unfortunate, but we’ll see how it goes.

some other financial decisions lately- bedding, bottles, and slippers (not shown- the more convenient backless purple slippers I now regularly wear, as well as more personal items)

throw pillows are good for holding while sleeping and for preventing my arms from waking up entirely numb sometimes

been thinking about buying more clothes and furniture, but now that I probably won’t be getting the extra $1000 with my unemployment, it’s even harder to justify buying anything. I’d like a new desk, at least- something able to display things would be nice. My boss told me I’ll be going back to work soon hopefully, so that would be nice, especially since this virus is a good excuse to not bring back my coworker and to give me full-time hours, but even then, spending money is hard. Been thinking about a new mousepad since I’ve had this old one for longer than I can remember (probably a college gift), but even something simple like that is tough.

in other random news, slowly trying to make progress in ACNH still- and by that I mean I’ve finally started keeping a checklist for items (had Bugs/Fish already, but now have DIYs and man there’s so many DIYs I’m missing, also Dresses - Umbrella tabs of clothing, basically everything but Tops and Bottoms so far, and mannn, there’s a lot of stuff, but I basically have almost every accessory/sock/shoe in purple/pink at least, now just grinding my way through the rest of the colors I skipped. Also caught a Golden Stag today, only three beetles left (Giraffe, Hercules, and Elephant, I believe)

should probably start saving my extra bugs/fish for making models for Justin Beaver and Hot Topic, I realize- collecting those models really doesn’t interest me much, but at the same time, I have a weird obsession with trying to 100% Animal Crossing games (at a reasonable speed, of course- figure I’d wait until next year to worry about those two)

haven’t tried dreaming yet and honestly my island is still a mess that I’m still hesitant because I still have no idea what to fill it with or how to organize it

one last thing I did buy is the rest of the Radiohead albums though- I now own all their albums, except disc 2 of In Rainbows, though. Should probably listen to that on Youtube, not sure where to find a physical release of it. Decided to rank them, because I like ranking things apparently, even though overall it doesn’t mean much since my tastes shift constantly, and every album is good to listen to in my opinion (honestly more of a way of solidifying a future “best of” playlist)

Personal feelings of ranking at the moment:

Hail to the Thief (every song is top tier, I just want to shout them all out, but in particular I think “A Punchup at a Wedding“, “Myxomatosis“, “2+2=5″, and “Sit down. Stand up” are my favorites)

In Rainbows (my old favorite before HttT blew it away, though I think ”Weird Fishes/Arpeggi” is still my favorite Radiohead song, also shout outs to “Videotape” and “Jigsaw Falling Into Place”)

Kid A (I was lukewarm to the album at first, but it has a lot of tunes that stand out to me, “Idioteque” is also one of my favorite Radiohead songs, also shout outs to "Everything in Its Right Place" and "How to Disappear Completely")

OK Computer (this is where placings start getting fuzzy, “Paranoid Android” was their first song I ever listened to and loved back in high school, thanks to Ergo Proxy, great song, though I think I’ve oversaturated myself to this album by having it play as my driving music when I still had a car. Shout outs to “Exit Music (For A Film)” and “Let Down”. “Karma Police” is also up there but feels a bit less than those I suppose)

A Moon Shaped Pool (I’d place this higher when I’m looking for a more somber/reflective album to listen to, otherwise about tied with OK Computer. My favorite on the album, “Daydreaming”, is what reintroduced me to Radiohead and got me obsessed with them- this album was my first album, though it’s definitely softer compared to their usual stuff. Also driving music so a bit oversaturated, and it feels harder to shout out specific songs, but shout outs “Ful Stop”, “Glass Eyes”, and heck, basically most of the later songs on the album)

Amnesiac (Some good songs, but just not to the levels of the others. “Knives Out” is a great song though, and I tend to like the first half of the album more than the last half, last half is pretty weak to me honestly- though I got it fairly recently, so may require more listenings)

Pablo Honey (the latest album I got, so it’s still fresh in my head and thus nothing is permanent with it compared to the others, but mannn, people undersold this album, it feels solid front to back. I honestly want to put it higher, I think. Hard to identify individual songs, but shout outs to “Blow Out” in particular, “I Can’t” as well- but again, every song is great, so might say it’s close to A Moon Shaped Pool levels in rankings)

The Bends (one of their first albums I got, also a car album, but definitely didn’t click with me like the others. I have warmed up to it more than I originally did at least- I mainly got the album because heck yeah “Street Spirit (Fade Out)” is a great track, also shout outs to “The Black Star”, that’s like, one of my random “mouth out the chorus in the car” songs. I also tend to have “High and Dry” in my head a lot for some reason, but yeah, good car music, but not much else going for it I think)

The King of Limbs (the second-latest album I own and also the least listened to album I own, but it feels very... non-standout-ish. Like it’s almost too simple-sounding, or repetitive, or something, definitely the weakest album in my personal opinion. Can’t even think of a song to shout out, so I guess “Lotus Flower”, honestly, but again, I need to listen to the album more. Good background noise but just nothing that jumps out at me)

but yeah radiohead is definitely my favorite music group, I’d say, and also realize almost every album has a bonus disc, so hm, more music to find it seems (admittedly I’m not a fan of live music in general, which seems to fill up a lot of these bonus discs)

[prorevenge]

When enough is enough, people lose jobs and go to prison

This is my story. I finally feel like I can talk about this particular time in my life and appreciate what it took.

I’m not on mobile, so feel free to criticize my grammar. Although English is not my first language so temper the criticism.

WARNING: This is a VERY long post. TLDR at the end.

Background

This pro-revenge took place when I was in high school in the mid 2000s, a time in my country when there was much public outcry over bullying/hazing in boarding schools. A couple of students in different schools had died from injuries resulting from bullying. Other schools were rioting and burning shit. They were under increased scrutiny. It was a whole thing.

Personally, my life in high school was not fun. I was a fat boy with very low self-esteem going into my first year. The bullying I experienced quickly led to a depression. I was prone to self harm and recklessness and a bit of suicidal ideation. The thing that made high school particularly nightmarish though was the sexual abuse. Low-key comments about my sexuality from this group of about five boys in fourth form. They called me and my best friends gay. The social stigma associated with homosexuality here is really extreme. These boys would stalk and terrorize me. They left threatening notes under my sheets: “we’re going to fuck you up for being a fucking gay,” “we’re going to fucking rape you,” etc. So I had only one close friend who knew what was going on. Ironically, after an entire term of convincing everyone that I was gay, this same group began sexually abusing me. I’ll spare you the details, but my first year in high school was the worst time of my life. But you’re not here for my sad story, so moving on!

Sometime in the middle of the term, the vice principal (VP) of our school was changed due to the aforementioned public backlash from the bullying scandals. The previous VP was a decent man, but the new VP was not. He came with a well-earned reputation of being unnecessarily harsh, dishing out suspensions and expulsions like candy on Halloween.

The Last Straw

A few weeks after the new VP came in, and I’m having an incredibly shitty week that is really battering my mind (yes, the bullying and sexual abuse was still going on). Now, every Friday night, a group of kids used to climb through a window into the computer lab and play video games. The windows had bars on them, but a slim person could fit through. (I am not slim by any definition; unless the definition is fat). Among this group of kids was this troublemaker dude in my class and my dorm with the same common name. Turns out, the VP had confused the two of us, and I was the one who was in his crosshairs.

That Friday, the kids were caught. Some of them, including my namesake, managed to escape. The VP was called in and the students who were caught snitched. Security was sent to the dorms to bring the other culprits. Cue me being woken up at 3:00 am in the morning and dragged to ‘the scene of the crime’ to endure a beating for something I hadn’t done (corporal punishment was tacitly legal then/now). My explanation that there is clearly no way for me to fit through the window were met with more canings.

What really pissed me off was that the VP had us bring our belongings to his office at night for an inspection with the excuse of searching for stolen computer equipment. He came across my very private journal, and like the dick he was, he proceeded to ridicule me for having a diary in front of the teachers, watchmen, and the students I was bundled with. It didn’t help matters that I broke down and cried in front of them. I don’t think I have ever felt such humiliation in my life before. The following morning, we were suspended for two weeks.

Two weeks later, my parents took me back to school. I had only told them of the mistaken identity that I suspected and the wrongful accusation. They already knew about the bullying. I didn’t tell them about the VP going through my diary or the sexual stuff. I was still writhing in humiliation. The VP, being the absolute bunghole that he was, had convinced himself that I was the ringleader of this group of boys (again, mistaken identity), and thus deserved extra punishment. He ordered me to clear out a large patch of weeds and overgrown grass between the rugby pitch and the hockey field, about the size of a football field, using only a slasher.

Just as I’m about to head out, it starts raining and it’s the middle of July, so much cold (temperatures regularly dip to below 10 degrees (Celsius) at night). So instead of going to the field, I head to class to wait out the rain. A few minutes later, the VP barged in furious, interrupting the Geography lesson.

He proceeded to tear me a new one, even mentioning my private journal, and then he threatened to expel me if I left the field before I finished my punishment. Mind you, this was one of the best schools in our region. It had actually been my first choice. He then he proceeded to cane me again just to make his point stick.

At this point I just broke. All of this punishment was due to something that I had not done. I was completely innocent but this asswipe just couldn’t listen. The ridicule, the humiliation, the bullying, and the abuse all just came to a head at that point, and I decided to just fuck it all to hell.

So I walked out into the rain, slasher in hand, with not even a sweater. This was about four in the afternoon. I never returned.

I think the VP never really expected me to complete the punishment. But then, I doubt he had ever met someone who decided they had no more fucks left to give either. My initial plan was to crucify him with his own words.

Dusk fell with me cold and drenched ripping up ferns from the ground. By midnight, I was shivering and crying uncontrollably and it was too dark to see shit. I still persevered and started blindly cutting the grass, driven by this mad desire to just hurt. I really didn’t care who I hurt. Sure, a part of my motivation was that if I did get sick out here, the VP would be in a fuckload of trouble, but there was another part of me that was just like, “fuck it, life sucks anyways.”

By midnight, I was too cold to continue. I ran out of energy and just sat down under a tree. Towards dawn I was so cold from the rain and the wind that my shivers began reducing. It was impossible for me to sleep. The teachers finally found me there a couple of hours after dawn. Apparently, the teacher on duty had found my desk empty during morning study time (between 4:30 and 6:00 am). When he asked where I was, it came about that I had not been in bed the previous night either. He then called the VP and other teachers who began searching the school and they finally found me in the field.

The Pro-Revenge (Yaay! Its finally here!)

I don’t know much about what happened immediately after, I was so out of it. I do remember the teachers rushed me to the school nurse, who immediately recommended I be taken to the hospital. I spent a week there due to complications (pneumonia). And a very expensive week it was, all on the school’s dime. My parents were pissed as fuck, and I couldn’t blame them.

The school’s board of governors convened after my parents contacted them. The days before my parents and I were called in to speak before the board, I had the idea to just face my fears and put everything out in the open. I was just done with that school and everybody there. So on that day, in front of a group of musty old men in the boardroom, I finally shed my burden. I told them everything, my only motivation being to bury the piece of shit VP and my tormentors. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything that scary before. From the mistaken identity, the suspension, the punishment in the rain, the threat to expel me if decided to seek shelter, and the crown jewel the bullying and the sexual abuse, I laid it all out. I knew that would definitely get their attention. The board called my best friend, who backed me up. The VP was in no position to win a he-said they-said contest with us at that moment.

The VP was fired that day. A few days later, a zero tolerance policy on bullying was announced. I think the board was acutely afraid of finding themselves in the news for all the wrong reasons. They didn’t want their school to be one of ‘those’ schools, despite the fact that it was one of the worst. Over the holidays my friend told me that things got really serious after that. People didn’t know why, but suddenly, any act of bullying was met with immediate and unconditional expulsion.

As for the boys who had been terrorizing me, they were arrested. My dad went to the police with the threatening notes I had been receiving all year long. The school board supported us in this, on the condition that we (my parents and I) do not take the story to the media. I was happy with that arrangement. I had no desire to be the face of male rape victims. We had a few meetings with an investigator from the public prosecutor’s office. A couple of months later, the office reached out, told us that the boys had plead guilty. One of them got off scot-free coz his dad was some senior army guy (corruption smh). Three of them got ten years each. The last one got eighteen. The topping: They were all in their fourth and final year. They got arrested just as they were about to sit for their national exams to go to university. Their lives are ruined and I have absolutely no remorse for them.

TL;DR: Abusers made my first year of high school a waking nightmare. Asshole vice principal was the final straw. I decided to face my fears and took them all down. Vice principal gets fired, (most of) my abusers get a decade + in prison.

(source) story by (/u/JimmyChinosKnowsNose)

[finsterhund]

Woah boy

So TLDR: my trip out around town that I looked forward to for a week that I thought was going to be an afternoon long event was not intended to be. I was the only one who had been made to assume it would be. So as well as how angry I am about that, this ended up being largely a bust. Except for something good that happened at the end.

I don’t like when people lie to me. Or change plans. Or whatever this was.

My trust can only take this so many times.

This was a liveblog but I didn’t have wifi so I just dumped it all in one post.

Me: *has to sort everybody else's recycling or else I won't get to go, which is frustrating because I am very up to date with making sure my recycling is clean and organized*

My friend after I did so: "I have work to do so we can't be out for very long and go to the places I promised all week" >.>

I really shouldn't be surprised by this anymore.

The only person who will help me go places reliably will be my service dog.

Pretty depressed about what a bust my "out of the house leisure day" ended up being despite what I was told leading up to today. Hope I'll be able to go to one of the places I wanted to at least. Got a nice amount of money back from my cans.

Currently sitting alone in the car waiting to head off to whatever places I'll be allowed to go to today. If I'm told I'm "wasting time" I'll be mad because I was made to sit in the car for an hour. That's the Finsterhund life.

Well turns out my friend was telling roommate that this was just a "recycling trip and nothing else" so yeah.

I was told this was going to be an all day excursion but in reality I was just being deceived. I was so excited to make some rounds and finally go to places I wasn't able to go to.

Like, this was supposed to be us getting some fresh air and exercise and going to some specialty stores to get stuff we needed. Apparently it’s just a “let Finsterhund do his recycling so he shuts up about wanting to do his recycling” instead.

I guess it’s easier to deceive me on that than tell me the truth.

...

Well surprise surprise

I got to go to the store I've been begging to go for a month. What I wanted was sold out. I am angry. Then even though another store in this chain is near our house I'm not allowed to go to that one to see if it's in stock there because "today wasn't supposed to be a day to do things (even though I told you it was)."

Heartbroken. Angry AND disappointed.

Was this all a waste of time that caused my back to flare up?

Will this be used as a "you already got to go out this month remember?" When I beg to go out to actually get things at a later date?

When I get my service dog we are unionizing. We will be the only ones who benefit from our labor. No errands going out to get things for other people who made excuses when I needed to get things.

Also I got an automated phone call from THAT STUPID SLEEP CLINIC. I HATE THEM SO MUCH.

They sent me a stupid robot call for me to press 1 to confirm that yes, I am going to the damn appointment. I already confirmed, twice, that I have this stupid appointment. Quit harassing me in public with your insulting robot calls asshole. I have had your stupid appointment written on both my phone and the appointment whiteboard on the fridge for over a fucking month can you not send me robot calls that reveal confidential and humiliating information super loud when I am in the grocery store about to have a meltdown because they're all out of these tiny stuffed dogs that my supposed friend put off taking me to buy for a month!? Even though I stressed how important this was to me because a friend I rarely see anymore since moving told me they had these little stuffed dogs that looked like Spot??? So now they’re all sold out!? Please!?

Fuck off sleep clinic. I'm about ready to actually cancel the damn thing I already hate you with every fiber of my being.

Like I had to confirm via phone

And mail in a MASSIVE book of invasive paperwork.

And then you have the never to make me press 1 to confirm fuck off.

I want sleep clinic to perish.

So entirely defeated, depressed, and in the heat of the moment snagging a ham and swiss sandwich because those always help me feel a little better...

We get to go to one last place.

The pet store. I've begged to go for MONTHS. MONTHS AND MONTHS. I originally wanted to get a tag for Outside Tiny but didn’t this time for reasons... Shhhh

So I get there, and I'm able to get something very special for Spot when she arrives.

I don't want to spoil the surprise but I'll be posting it on her social media accounts if you're interested.

I'll officially reveal it at the party.

Needless to say I got emotional. This was a very emotional day.

I cried when making the special thing (yes I made it with a machine with a laser. And that's as most as I'll spoil here.)

So there was one positive today. And the ham and swiss sandwich.

I am tired (and weak) and very upset at the dynamic I have with my housemates. I’m so excited that the northern health people are actually helping me get my service dog because I’m so sick of begging for help and rarely getting it and then feeling like I’m a burden.

I’m only semi serious about the unionizing thing. I’ll probably still be willing to do errands if we are in the area because I like to help people. Even if I struggled to get that same help before getting my service dog. We can use the exercise anyways.