#also lately ive been just feeling more..... disconnected to others... like i dont understand them and they dont understand me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nightswithkookmin · 4 years ago

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MONDAY, JANUARY 18TH: GOLDY'S LOG

I miss Suga. Scratch that. I miss Agust D. My spirit animal.

I've been thinking about him a lot lately, wondering if his injury isn't an exemption to military service. I wonder if he qualifies, in light of his injury, as an able body. I wonder what their law defines as able body.

I wonder if he passed the legal physical exam and health assessment test when he turned 19, since he's had that injury way before debut. Or if BTS have undergone that mandatory military service assessment since they are all past 19 and what their results are.

Jimin has chronic back pain too. That should qualify him for an exemption to military duty. He can still do desk work if it's that serious.

I should talk to ***** and look into South Korea's law on exemptions to military service.

Moon values the arts and culture industry. There's already been an extension for conscription for the benefit of BTS. Their success and longevity in the spot light perhaps influenced this decision. Should BTS maintain this momentum, an exemption would be inevitable I feel.

I miss them. They've been gone for too long. I'm worried about the impact this is going to have on their popularity if they disconnect from fans for so long or be mechanical about the way they connect with their fans.

I hate the limited access to them. But Scarcity increases the value of a product and it's not surprising if this is the approach BigHit is adopting in the wake of the pandemic.

Limited access not only raises value, it creates demand. Bang PD is a bigbrain marketing genius- I hate it.

They are taking a huge risk with this new marketing strategy. Personally, I'd stick to what works but then I am no marketing guru. Just a consumer who likes to play it safe. I guess I won't be getting hired anytime soon. Fuck.

It's all very fascinating.

What's equally fascinating is the shippers out here on these streets. The Jokers.

I... they confuse the hell out of me sometimes.

How are they going to question my rationality when I talk about moments I feel Jikook are having issues in their relationship or had broken up etc but then have no problem with and even applaud that same rationality when I talk about moments that has led me to believe there is lack of depth in Tae Kook's dynamics or that they are not real by any standard or that another ship in BTS isn't real.

Do I have two minds? Or are they more inclined to be selective in their beliefs based on their biases towards Jikook and against other ships? It's weird.

By the same lens I define Jikook as real, I define Tae Kook or any other ship that includes JK and Jimin as not real. And by that same lens if I feel Jikook aren't together then I'm wrong and irrational?

It really confounds me.

Not sure if they expect me to apply double standards to Jikook in those instances.

I don't think there is right and wrong opinions or perspective when it comes to shipping, but I think if they are right about me being wrong about my perspective on Jikook then I must be wrong about my perspective on any other ship in BTS as well.

I can't be right about one and wrong about another. I'm either right about all or wrong about all.

I can't be 'right' about Tae Kook having 'issues' in their bond in such a way I think it often bars them from fully nurturing their bond and developing depth to it but then be 'wrong' about Jikook also having issues that mess with their bond from time to time when it's the same measurement I use in accessing the depth of bond of both ships.

I really don't understand their way of thinking.

What is right and what is wrong and who decides on that?

I think we ought to substitute right and wrong with 'believe and believable.' The approach to such discourse should be about what one is willing to believe or not believe about certain discussions: I believe this. I don't believe that. Because believes stem from our personal biases towards a subject.

And the people that come running to me with 'look, Jikook smiled at each other in On era so change your mind'

I would except I hear this debate all the time. I wonder if they realize they sound exactly like the Tuktukkers in my DMs trying to convince me Tae Kook is real.

'Look Tae sat on JK's laps! How can you say there is no depth to Tae kook' ' He squished JK's cheeks' 'Jk said he wants to ride with Tae, if there was no depth why did he say he wanted to ride with him'

I have a feeling Soft Koo is back. The days of Terminator JK might be over. Too bad, I liked terminator JK. He was a bad ass.

I like that he is experimenting with his looks. But I'm glad his Ravi-esque phase is over. I wonder who he is drawing inspiration from this time. He reminds me of Jimin though. There is something peaceful and serene about his looks.

Can't really tell much because Bighit is sitting on tons of footages. I think I need to send a truck to Bang PD HQ.

I don't like that Jimin posted a Vhopemin photo for Tae's birthday. It was cute and all but I don't like it. That shit felt passive aggressive as fuxk. Lmho. What, he didn't have a V or Vmin photo in his gallery? Sounds like someone didn't put much effort in their VMin agenda for this post.

I wonder if he will keep the same energy come JK's birthday. I mean both him and Tae didn't post for him💀

May be I'm reaching on this one. But a single post where V was not even the focus of the post... I think his birthday means a lot to him and he enjoys when people shower him with love and attention and I don't think his birthday is an exception.

And he kept reiterating after such said birthday how he recently discovered he loves to be loved and how he does most of the things he does in order to be loved by his fans, friends and family.

And it breaks my heart that, the headlines read BTS shower X, Y with love on his birthday but the two people close to him were missing from that list this time. The media talks about BTS posting for eachother as them showering eachother with love. Certainly they all know this.

And the fact Jin posted for Tae after Tae's birthday says a lot about Tae and JK. Tae had no intention of posting perhaps because he left JM a message on the packages. With Jin I feel he was overcompensating for not posting for him on his birthday...

JK gets a pass. If JM wasn't happy about him not posting for his birthday, he would have pulled a Jin.

Jimin talking about coming to the realization he loves to be loved makes me think JK withholding his affections openly made him come to the realization he loves to be loved. Just a hunch. And the only reason JK would withhold his affections is if Jimin himself estopps him. Those two give me headaches.

I think I got the closure I needed from this.

LESSON: dont get on JM's bad side and bloody post for his birthday 💀

Tae been releasing photos of Jimin and Jhope a lot lately. Not sure how that makes me feel either. I think it's beautiful. But when I think about all these beautiful photos he has of Jimin on his phone and how generous he is with them- I think they would have been more meaningful had he released it on JM's birthday. The snow photo he posted still sits in my Vmin heart somewhere.

I really don't like this not posting for each other's birthday business. It's 2021. They need to cut it out.

I feel JK set a bad precedent but personal happiness first so good for him.

This moment haunts me for some reason.

What was going through V's head. I want to know. RM looks done. Lol.

Jimin is really beautiful. I love his eyes when he smiles and the thing he does with his shoulders.

Some people complain I write a lot. Some say I don't write enough. Ayayayai!!!!!!

What to do.

I think I accidentally deleted a post.

I'm looking forward to JKK1. Stay Gold, Still with you, Your eyes tell... I hope he hasn't given his best away cos those were bops.

PJM1... oh God I'm nervous. I'm excited for it but nervous. I think Serendipity is a classic. The Christmas song was equally great and frankly the only good Christmas Ive heard so far and I don't even like Christmas- nothing against Baby Jesus I just think it sucks. That bridge in Dis-ease is something.

I want to read his thoughts. His spotify playlist is insightful but I want to confirm if he really sees himself as a mess who is always causing his lover grief.

I mean he did say he has realized he needs to be considerate towards those that love him. Not sure yet the connection there.

I want to read his thoughts.

PJM1....

I love JHOPE. I think his ship with Jimin is beautiful and healing. They make my insides warm. Not sure if their shippers think they are real. Do they? That would be awkward.

I think RM and Jimin need to spend time together... it would be good for them.

Jimin and Sungwoon shippers are alleging Jimin has been staying with Sungwoon all this while. LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

But the bit about him living with Sungwoon before the start of Bon V 4 has me🤔

Around that period, I don't believe JM was at the dorms and Jikook were not together then too. He must have been staying somewhere...

I'll let them have that.

But around November 2019 when he was having issues with JK he was staying with Tae too so no I don't think that means Sungwoon is queer or that Jimin is sleeping with him💀

They need to get out of their imaginations.

I think Jikook will drive me crazy one day.

I can feel my cranium swelling.

JiRose shippers need to pack it up. They really think Jimin is straight? 💀

It's the bad editing for me.

That doesn't look like a straight face to me. Unless his butt was on fire and he was uncomfortable looking at that black interviewer, I think that's his flirting face.

Lately I've been thinking about what ifs.

What if Jikook is not real?

I wish I believed that.

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unravelling-the-world · 4 years ago

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random thoughts related to kagepro (tw for depression?? death?? suicide ?? implied ?? im not sure and idk what else read at ur own risk)

well idk lately ive been thinking a lot and ik ive uh always (? since i can remember?) have been depressed (i mean...it started around age 12...i dont really remember much before that. most of what i remember are bad moments anyways. or very specific scenes. but they dont feel mine. if that makes sense. its like remembering the scene from a movie. back on track i guess idk well lately ive realized i actually kin some characters and lately ive...been relating a lot to shintaro kisaragi fromkagepro. i mean its ok. there´s always been that specific similarity in us (after all, how many characters in anime are as related to coca cola as shintaro //and me,,im literally a coca cola addict lmao// well anyways. after some days, this lead me to thinking...to a hidden memory within my brain, i guess. I remember introducing my then best friends, to kagepro. one told me haha he´s like u bc the coca cola!! and i think i just laughed and smiled? i truly didn´t see it? i was sad sure, but i couldnt really relate to him. after all, i was the leader of my own little group of 12 year old weebs,right? (i was also 12 btw) i didnt personally dislike shintaro but i didnt rly see myself in him yknow? also i have loved ayano from ever since i have memory so idk like she´s one of my biggest comfort characters and its weird bc if she was ´´real´´ idk if i could date her or anything but im just glad she exists bc it somehow comforts me a lot yeah anyways ayano essay for another time lol. anyways at this age my favorite characters in kagepro were ayano and konoha ( i still love them a lot) thing is, at this point in my life i didnt know/wasnt aware i was transgender but i already kinda liked he/him pronouns so i roleplayed a lot. online. i roleplayed as konoha obviously lmao and actually one of my irl friends related to shintaro ?? and i think we may have roleplayed lmao and stuff.... she even had a facebook account named shin hikkikomori or smth like that. anyways fast forward bc after being 12 a lot of stuff happened obviously. and none of that relates to kagepro until quite some time. i will mention some items that dont really relate to kagepro but marked moments in my friend group that may be relevant later on. Around 2016)? Some of my closest friends changed schools (but we kept contact) yet i still had a big group at school. But it got fragmented along the way. 2017 i went to Japan and formed a new, different friend group with people that even today, are dear to me. When i came back, my friend group fragmented more. I kept contact with other members of the old group but one on one, not as a group anymore. 2018 we graduated, and i broke up my realtionship with one of my former best friends (2016-2018) 2019 was a year of change, and even though i was afraid and shit got weird, i was not doing too bad. i will skip that. Well. Im sure we all know 2020 was a trainwreck, shit happened. i had a villain arc. I lost my shit,definetely. Ups, downs, whatever. 2021 has not been too different. However, even through everything, in early 2020, i kept close relationships with my friend group. as the year moved forward and the restrictions started lifting ( thank you government very cool <3 //ironically obviously, this is the reason this shit wont go away//) some of my friends saw each other irl and stuff, or talked about stuff i didn´t understand/didn´t want to hear while on discord. I felt alienated. I felt empty. I got mad at a friend for the first time, for something he said. I ended up isolating myself. A friend celebrated her birthday. She invited me and never excluded me, asked me a lot of things and asked to virtually include me. But that would just make me feel more alienated, wouldn´t it? I told her it was ok, i didn´t go. Honestly, I felt like a bother. I didn´t want to bother. I wasn´t okay, but i didn´t want to bother anyone, so i isolated myself. I had a very bad breakdown. lasted weeks. When I recovered, it wasn´t the same. It felt like everyone else was closer, while i drifted away. I kind of recconected with some of my friends from Japan after this. In the vacations, i felt like i reconnected with some friends just to drift away again later. However, i never could reconnect with one of my best friends. She never really got mad at me or anything ( i think) but we don´t really talk much anymore. We used to talk daily, be it actual talking, memes, anything. I don´t think we´ve actually talked in weeks. There´s nothing I can do. This year, another friend had a birthday, but I was so disconnected from everyone I didn´t even care. I mean. It´s all broken now, isn´t it? The other day I just started wondering. When did I start relating to Shintaro so much? I had always been like this, hadn´t I? Who am I, actually? Why do I relate so much now? It´s not just about the soda. I had lost friends before, but I never really felt like that. Sometimes I feel like I´ve lost everyone. In a one year span I became a hikkikomori. About a month ago, when I entered classes, I was recognized as Shintaro pfp and I admitted to kinning him to people i´d never talked to before (on chat) // I decided to go apeshit idc anymore about what anyone thinks of me// I had fun. I think I must´ve posted on my stories, because two different people told me they were the ene to my shintaro. I appreciated it. i mean it´s kinda true bc now that i´m only on the pc they do bother me online and try to get me to open up or get better but sometimes the just annoy me lmao but also not bc they all have their own particular lives and they all seem to be doing better than me. Still, my classmates are very nice and inclusive. But it´s not like im close to any of them I guess. I´m just alone now. I´m fucked up man....I don´t feel real anymore. I don´t really know who I am. I guess that´s why I find comfort in seeing a part of myself in Shintaro? But when did i turn out like this? Why didn´t I relate when I was younger? Well, I hadn´t really lost any friends back then. I now know how painful that is. How lonely it is to be alone even when there is people around. idk. and i´ve always been quiet. introverted. shy. a loser. yet now whenever i meet anyone i try to idk connect? but i cant. i wish i could be more evil. maybe it´d just be easier if everyone really, truly hated me. maybe i´d get the strength to actually kill myself then. it´s weird. i really see myself in route xx shintaro. I know that´s fucked up because I know how it ends. but truly, i was trying. I was healing, i think i was going somewhere. and i was trying to keep my newly formed renovated friend group together. I really was trying to. I didn´t mind if we had sub groups on the big group, but we were all there for each other. I tried my best. I felt like i belonged. but now im alone again. and this time there´s nothing i can do. if something, i´ve made it worse. and i keep making it worse. it´s weird. when i first got into kagepro, both shintaro and ayano felt like adults. i thought they were really, really big. im older than them now. now i know theyre not really adults. i get it. i still feel 18. after all, these last two years have been taken away from me. i didnt waste them myself this time. i feel like a rotten 18 year old...when i listen to lost time memory, i just...get it. i always liked the song. i thought the story was so cool. when it first came out.. i still remember. iwas there. i waited for it. i loved it. i still do, but back then, i just saw it all as some really great and cool song. now i feel like i really, really get it. i love it even more. im hiding away in all my memories. but what is my true heart? what do i really want? i don´t know, i don´t know... If I'm 'wise' then, I can't face forward; I have no reason to so, I'll rot away instead It would be nice if time could be turned back. Years may pass but I'll never die I repeat hopeful words to myself, even though I know I still won't be able to reach you. "It doesn't matter, just die already!" I said as I clutched my wrist, simply cursing it. Unable to do anything, I merely indulged myself in life. "If summer can show me dreams, then let's go to before you were taken away" The days where I hid my embarrassment are illuminating upon the atmosphere and burning my mind. If I'm wishing for a dream that can't come true, then I'll embrace this blurry past and have a dream which I don't wake up from and naturally seclude myself from the outside world. "But that means you can't even see tomorrow?" I don't really care 'bout that, so it's ok I stained my hands in order to kill these boring days I'm choosing "solitude" after all A rotten boy at 18 today too, prayed again while clinging on to your colored smile Underneath the blazing sun Asking "Somehow, please take me away instead of leaving like this!" and my murmuring breath was quietly stopped

I guess i just wish someone could actually help me. take me out of this hole. Maybe some kind of closure would be nice. It´s not the same, though. I don´t have enough bravery in myself to actually kill myself. Mostly because of guilt. I can´t take the guilt of dissapointing everyone. I don´t want my parents to get hurt. I don´t want my bunny to miss me. Yet i wish everyday for it to be over. Lately, half of my dreams have been in Japan, with many friends, some who i met there, some who have never been there. Yet my brain shows me the dreams before it was all taken away. I think one of my favorite parts of the day is dreaming. I like to sleep simply because I dream. And i sleep very few. mayb bc i hate myself? I still barely indulge in life. I do anything to stay distracted. If i think, it all goes to shit. it all does. like now. Heh. it´s funny. I guess no one is truly my ene, because no one actually knows how mentally fucked up i got these past months. No one knows how badly i´ve been treating myself and how badly i´ve been doing. Still, i can´t tell anyone but scream it into the tumblr void. No one has to keep up with my shit. No one has to take care of me. After all, it was I who chose solitude. It was me who kept them away. But I don´t get a second choice. I don´t get a change of routes if things go sour. And i guess I don´t get to get a mentally fucked up friend group where I belong for a second time. Once was good enough, wasn´t it? I.. Even when I wasnt as deep as i am now (again) into kagepro, ive always wanted to die on August 15. It holds meaning to me now as well. Every year I used to ask people to go out with me that day. I know im not brave enough to kill myself. I always hoped for a lil miracle i guess. Last year was the first year...I didn´t do anything. I just... I just hope this year i can make it. I hope the miracle happens this year....I can only hope......its too late for me to be saved, isn´t it? I never thought it´d be like this. I don´t get closure. I don´t get goodbyes. I am left behind on a world that keeps moving. I am nothing.

#long post #hinatalks #we live in a society #fr fr #when i die....if god is real..i´ll end this once and for all. all of it #i am left with nothing but pain and anger.... i cant even feel anymore. i think i forgot how to

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5sosbitchfest · 5 years ago

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Alrighty, Nonsters. We currently have 290 Asks in our box! As much as we might try, I know there is NO WAY we’re going to be able to get through all of them. Everything exploded this weekend when MessyGate went down! I don’t want to ignore any asks just because I already answered a similar one. So, I’ve tried to gather as many similar Asks as possible to let your your voices be heard. Y’all are definitely NOT alone in your feelings. Get ready for a lot of opinions on Messy’s Twitter Drama.

Also, if you sent in an Ask and we haven’t answered it yet, please feel free to resubmit it! I do try to scroll through all of them but it is a daunting task and personal stuff and work make it difficult for me to get through everything in a timely manner!

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Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I’m really disappointed in Luke and this band in general, the way they deal with things. “honest policy” with messy? So he knew all of this and it was okay? Or he confronted her on this and he is okay with what she has done? I’m not sure this whole thing would be a deal breaker for me, but it certainly would make me real mad at my SO and some whiny excuses wouldn’t be enough to make things alright. Radio silence would’ve been much better than that story he posted, made himself look like a fool.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: These girls will sooner or later become their downfall if their management or them does not realise they should rely on other things than bringing relationship up front to sell their music. I find it extremely bad that they are behaving as if nothing happened, I hope there will be changes once touring will be possible again and we won’t see these girls tagging along everywhere or being brought up in interviews all the time but somehow I’m not counting too much on that.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I wonder if Luke knows everything that Messy got exposed for or just the parts Messy wanted to show him. Bc Luke said in his Story that he wasn't online lately so maybe he wasn't on Twitter too and Messy just showed him the parts that make her look good and he still doesn't know that she spoke bad about Ashton or how she stalked the fans also after she knew that they didn't hack his email adress cause he wasn't on Twitter so he couldn't see the screenshots.🤷‍♀️

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I'm just waiting for the day one of them date someone who isn't a part of their circle. tired of them passing around the same toxic girls.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: These girls are just digging a whole for these guys and they want be able to get out of it soon

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: It was a chicken move for Sierra to do it as a reply and no one has talked on twitter that she deleted it because they probably think her deleting it is saying it wasn’t true

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: Am I the only one who thinks that guys really only heavily interact with us when they want to promote something or say something about the music? I do understand they have lives so being on Twitter isn't number one priority and with all the drama that surrounds this fandom its very easy to not want to be online a lot, I just can't help but feel that way

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I'm talking about this messy situation (no pun intended) with my friend and she said to me that Messy should consider changing her career if she can't handle that not all people are going to like her. (that ofc doesn't include any form of harassment bc that's not cool)

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I really don't know how to feel about the Luke situation. At first I was upset and disappointed of Luke but now I almost pity him bc real or not either the management would want Luke to defend her or Messy. And I think Luke isn't the kind of person who would stand up against the management or Messy (even though it would probably be better for him if he would). And most people don't realise when they're in a toxic relationship so I can't really blame him. I just hope this ends asap.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I literally was so angry and frustrated with Luke and this whole situation yesterday that I couldn’t even look at him on my home screen, I had to change it. It’s really a disappointing thing to witness. Whether management put him up to this or he genuinely believes this toxicity is okay, I’m just very grumpy with him at the moment. He deserves better and WE (the fans) deserve better.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I think Luke really needs to be in a relationship with sb who either isn't famous and doesn't want to be or with someone who is famous bc they have a successful career too and who doesn't need Like to be famous.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I’ve only seen a few accounts on Twitter who are attacking Messy and Crusty to the core and exposing every bad thing they’ve done with receipts for the sossies defending them! I’m happy that karma is finally getting to those con artist who think they can get away with anything

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: that recent lierra picture is photoshoped lmao. if you look at Sierra's hand you can see color coming off from it and her arm looks hella weird.her forehead looks hella weird and look couldn't have taken the picture because I doubt that he could stretch his arm that far and make a perfect picture. also we haven't even seen Sierra's face so I still don't believe they're together

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: The Lemon pic was like a punch in the face (even though Petunia and Luke are looking cute there). But I've been asking myself lately if Luke has seen the whole drama going around on Twitter or just the posts Messy wanted him to know so the ones who make her look like the victim (and not the ones where she insulted Ashton or she made it clear that she stalked his fans). Cause Luke said he hasn't been online lately.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I mean we dont know how much of the story he truly is aware of and how much s changed to fit her narrative and get L to feel bad for her. Plus he was under pressure from management to do damage control and not standing up for his gf is a very bad look for outsiders who dont understand why she's at fault. It was a pretty neutral statement and he was obviously told to make the post so I dont blame him and just blame her more for putting him in the situation in the 1st place

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I wonder how much toxicity happens behind the scenes, we know S is very manipulative and L is very much a people pleaser so.. and with how much they have to sell their "love" and "happiness" in the relationship. Minipulation is a powerful thing and it could explain why hes out of touch with reality, especially lately since he's isolated with her and doesnt have the voices of the band to raise any concerns and he's been getting skinny again and seems very "meh" rather than happy, idk

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I feel so disconnected with this fandom rn. I feel like no one is streaming CALM and that makes me sad bc it's such an amazing album. The boys aren't even online anymore, everyone is mad at each other and now Luke comes up with this shit... tbh I wish I would wake up tomorrow and see him tweeting something like yeah I'm sorry about my ig story I still love y'all lmao

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: Wait wait wait wait ive been gone from the fandom for a little while now and what the fuck is going on with Luke and S? What did S do that she made a fake ass apology for?? I’m so lost please help me! 😂

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I'm seeing a lot of my mutuals unstanning and I'm just so mad bc Sierra started this drama and got Luke into it and I'm sad that people are leaving bc of this, it's just too much toxicity and it shouldn't affect the band and their connection with the fans but with Luke saying this he makes it seem like he supports the ugly things she does

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I am a Luke stan and I've always loved him bc he has inspired me so much through the years but when he does this things it's like...damn. I feel like he's invalidating the fans' feelings by being like "if you don't like my girlfriend, ur fake" like he has never noticed me on Twitter or anything but my biggest fear is to be blocked by him or just ignored bc I don't like her (although I never expressed it publicly) n yeah anyways :// It feels weird

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: Going back and re-reading the DM’s messy literally confirms that she accesses Luke’s account by saying “we couldn’t get in” or some shit like that

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I hate being a luke stan, sometimes it just seems like he doesn't care? he always puts these toxic gfs before the ones who adore him and pay his bills. might just move into Cashton's lane. unproblematic kings.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: He literally posted a picture of him cuddling her and petunia within the hour

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: The saddest part of this situation is it’s like a repeat of Arzaylea. Luke has no idea what a respectful, mature relationship is. We saw it with Arz and were seeing it again it’s just a little bit different. He stays being controlled and manipulated by toxic partners. I really think homeboy needs to be single for a WHILE and focus on himself. He needs to unlearn the things his past and current relationships have taught him about love because if I know anything, it’s that this ain’t real love.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: Is it bad that I just want the larzaylea drama back?? Like everyone could at least agree on their feelings then...

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: Just checked messy’s insta and of course, everyone that still supports her filled her tagged with just the single picture

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I feel like the reason Sierra is getting away with what she’s done is because she isn’t that known. Like yeah she’s associated with 5sos, but they’re also like not that big which is probably why it’s getting swept under the rug. I’ve only seen the 5SOS fandom calling her out for her actions. If this had happened with a well known celebrity, they probably would’ve been dragged and been trending on Twitter. I might be wrong but I feel like this is what’s happening which is just unfair.

#kirby #luke #lemon #messy #messygate #messy's twitter drama

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system-of-a-feather · 5 years ago

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Due to a general number of asks running along the similar lines of these, I am going to make a general response to those asks and proceed to remove them from the inbox as I don’t feel they will be able to be answered anytime soon and are generally under a similar response and in concept and I felt I would clear these out while I was out for Riku since I have the time and the mental space to read through them. The asks I will be referencing will be at the end under a keep reading - noted in numbers.

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To these asks, and any of those reading that might be wondering similarly, we can not give too much of a say on if something is or is not DID / OSDD considering that we are both not a professional and simply due to the innate nature that DID / OSDD are easy to misdiagnose both for other disorders and with other disorders and do need a lot of context that no single ask - or multiple asks - could properly provide a single person enough context to know for sure. Such topics are best talked to towards a professional that can invest time into exploring and discussing individual experiences, the history, and have a better look at the general presentation of your symptoms, experiences, and life history to come to a conclusion about what might be currently going on.

To the first ask, yes, it is entirely possible for neglect to cause DID and OSDD. The two main components to form DID is childhood trauma (neglect included) that might cause a child to dissociate from themselves in a sense of flight/fight and to avoid confronting the pain an fear that they have at the moment and a disorganized attachment to a parent / caregiver.

To the second ask, I am really sorry to hear that you were treated the way you were as a child and that really is absolutely no environment that any human should ever have to have grown up in. I can’t say if you have DID or not as mentioned above, but I would like to say that it isn’t unheard of for alters to form / originate as characters made up for a story or roleplay. Two of the alters in our system that are considerably out of contact with most of the system and partially dormant originated from characters that Riku had originally made that had some parallels to her life as well. One was a well built character, the other not. Like stated above though, it really might be something work looking into talking about with a therapist since there are some reasons to question it there.

To the third ask, there are a number of things that could present similarly to having that feeling other than OSDD / DID considering dissociation (a symptom found in other disorders such as severe depression, schizophernia, PTSD, and BPD) in general can cause similar issues to a certain extent of disconnect, disruption of identity, and a disconnect from one’s own thoughts into making them seem like they are not one’s own. I am not here saying that it isn’t, but I would look into talking to a professional about it. There might be more context that might lean towards OSDD or DID but also might lead to a different diagnosis that is similar with dissociation. If you are concerned about having something similar to DID / OSDD, it really is something you might definitely want to look into with a professional.

-Lucille (Primary Protector)

1) “I have to ask. As a person who suffered from physical, emotional, and medical (? Idk if that falls under physical or not. Still trying to accept it lol) negelect, I have started to question if I might have DID or not? Can neglect cause it? I know there was some abuse otherwise, but mainly it was neglect and I dont know if that would be bad enough to cause DID or not. If this is triggering, dont feel obligated to answer. Love you and hope you're doing good! ♥️ “

---

2) “Hey, when I was a kid, my parents had terrifying anger. My dad used to be in the army and when I made mistakes or he didn’t like something I did, he went ballistic. There was a time he broke a broom in front of us over his leg. Another time when he slapped me repeatedly and I had to tell my teacher I fell and hit my face - I didn’t even understand why I had to lie. My mom blew up over little things, and I had depersonalization since I was a kid. (1)

A couple years ago my sister made a comment on how my dad used to say ‘I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!’ But I don’t remember that part. I’ve always been afraid to ask for something, only for my birthday or christmas, and felt I was walking on eggshells around my parents. They were still really loving, but I’ve had difficulty with their anger and my response to real or perceived anger is to fawn. And when I perceive a threat, I start to feel detached from myself. (2)

I noticed too that I have different modes I switch between, and lately I’ve been feeling more distressed and feel myself on different wavelengths/sense of self, and when I switch from one sense to another, I’ve been having micro-moments of disorientation. Then I catch up. I’ve felt multiple presences in my head, usually it’s characters from a long developed fictional universe. There’s one predominant one I feel, who seems to have developed sort of recently over the past few years. (3)

He was formed through a role play game and had many parallels with me during his development. I have diagnosed autism and I feel like just now at 24 I’m developing social skills I should’ve learned growing up. A lot of the time I feel like a child still, and when I’m in different emotional states, I feel I can’t relate much to myself. I also have difficulty with a sense of identity. I don’t feel like the same person as I was when going to university. I feel like I have osdd-1. (4?-end)”

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3) “ive been researching did because its the only thing similar to what I experience but I dont think I can have it because ive read the trauma causing did has to happen by a certain age & my trauma happened a bit later than that age. I have no clue what is going on with my brain, I often feel as though my thoughts are someone else & I can hold conversations with this.. other person? but theyve never really fronted. they're just there & I'm not even sure if its just 1 of them or multiple.”

#alter: lucille #ask #asks #actuallydid #did #osdd #dissociative identity disorder

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peri · 6 years ago

Note

❗🥰🏳️‍🌈🤔?

THANK U NOVA I APPRECIATE U SM

❗ when/how did you realize you were LGBT+?

skipping details of all my questioning and life-long suppression due to living in a extremely religious and homophobic household, i’d say i officially “realized” when i got a huge crush on an old bi friend (now ex) and found myself saying yes when she asked me out. this was maybe back in late 2016? idk for sure, timelines are hard for me. and yes it took me getting in a relationship to finally “realize” (or at least start identifying as lgbt)

🥰 have you ever been to a pride parade?

unfortunately no :

im hoping to go someday!!

🏳️‍🌈 do you own any pride things? flags, pins, etc?

no for the same reason listed above :

🤔 did you have any childhood signs that you were LGBT+?

so. fucking. MANY.

the only reason i hadnt embraced it / identified as it / etc etc sooner was Only due to the fact i was made to feel ashamed and hide my feelings abt these things. this goes for both my gender and sexuality.

sexuality-wise, ive always loved girls. i never saw anything personally wrong with girls kissing girls / anyone who wasnt a guy even from a very young age which, i didnt understand when my parents would point and say thats bad. but because of their behavior and hatred toward it, and my used-to-be quiet nature, i learned to not voice myself on it around them that eventually led to self-hatred and a tough time accepting myself for a long while. many more signs of my sexuality throughout my life i could list but yknow.

gender-wise, ive always felt a disconnect to gender. as y’all know, im nonbinary - agender if we wanna be specific. i feel no connection to gender whatsoever, but just use the umbrella term of nb more commonly.

anyways, tying up with my butchness as well i suppose, i never liked wearing makeup. my sister is big on makeup and has been ever since she learned how to use it. she used to always wanna put makeup on me and ive only allowed it like 3 times in my life, however every time led to me feeling really bad and i wasnt sure why / couldnt identify it bc i thought for a long time that i was a “girly girl” and even a femme when i first started using the lesbian term. but yeah i just really didnt like it and i wasnt sure why, considering all those things. spoiler alert: it made me dysphoric. as did everything i used to do to attempt to perform femininity because it caused me to be seen as female, tying me to a binary which i later learned was very damaging to me.

i remember the first time she put makeup on me, i was probably 5? 6? and it was only lipstick and some eyeshadow + blush i think. but after 5 minutes of it on, i panicked. i wasnt sure why at the time. i remember vividly, i wiped it off in the middle of the room and said “this isnt me, this isnt me!” and started crying and my sister made fun of me for being over-dramatic and told the whole family about it. at the time i wasnt sure why i had that reaction and didnt know until i embraced the fact i was nonbinary and also butch. so like. double-whammy. (not to say nbs cant wear makeup! we absolutely can. but for me, being afab, makes me uncomfortable and dysphoric.)

i kinda went on a longish one abt my gender didnt i. KDJDDJF i could say MUCH MORE abt it all bc talking abt gender is like. almost a special interest to me?? i love talking abt it all.

❓ when did you start questioning?

sexuality, i started seriously questioning the label of it all around age 14/15 id say, and facing thats what i actually was finally.

gender, i never rly had a … “questioning” moment for? i kinda just always. was. just didnt have the words for it. which ig u can say the same for my sexuality, but this was much easier for me to accept once i found the label for it. however i didnt come out abt it until i met my gf actually, bc i used to think it didnt matter enough to mention since, at the time, she/her pronouns were fine with me and everything like that (which i ofc later found out makes me v uncomfy, alongside other things like that) but im rly glad i did and embraced it more and allowed myself to be my most authentic self💚

💚send me an emoji asking pride month questions!

#aiden talks to gems #schlurplek #aiden's prompts #tysm 4 asking sm i love talking abt this stuff

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grigio-bone · 6 years ago

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personal lupat thoughts

under the cut

i think that one of the reasons that people are getting frustrated with it isnt necessarily that the story is bad, its that the setup and outcomes of the show have this kind of... slight disconnect? or rather, not a disconnect- its as if the show itself can’t figure out if its going to be lighthearted or serious til the end, when its too late to give a satisfying conclusion either way.

its absolutely fine if lupat is a show with light plot. shows like that have been some of my favorites. but i feel as if frustration is inevitable and understandable when the show keeps hinting that things are happening and either never follows up or follows up far too late to allow for a nuanced exploration. for example, noel not being human was hinted at as early as ep 28, when tsukasa wonders why noel wouldn’t use the vs vehicle that he he made himself, and seemed intent on making the other rangers use it. but by the time the big reveal rolls around, who remembers this? mysteries are fine, but if theyre dragged out for so long that viewers have started to forget there was a mystery in the first place that... kinda makes me sad. if lupats going to be a show with a light plot!!! thats perfectly fine, just make sure to resolve the plot points at the core of your story and stop teasing things that wont get resolved for like more than a dozen episodes?

on that note, theres also this... hm. the worldbuilding in lupat is incredibly weak. theres very little sense that this is an actual world that has people living in it and ive got a zillion questions about everything. why is france hq in france?? what about the lupin collection black market trade that canonically exists? whats public opinion like on literally every aspect of the conflict thats happening? actually i could seriously go on for like hours about this so ill cut it short: basically, i think that the fact that there are hardly any reoccurring or tertiary cast members and the fact that hilltop + jim carter + kogure are vastly underutilized puts all of the focus on the rangers themselves, which is nice but also leaves them stranded in a world not quite real

one last thing. i think that lupat tends to take the cheap way out of things. not in terms of effects or whatever, just that it seems intent on distracting viewers from the fact that it didn’t offer us a solidly emotional conclusion to some arcs? ok this is gonna be controversial so im going to add another disclaimer here that i did think that it was cool that the lupins loved ones became thieves in turn to rescue them, etc, it was a really sweet reunion, they look fantastic in those outfits, i did cry a little bit. however. lets take the finale piece by piece

1) patoranger side. their big speech in the final episode was about how they had to protect the world from a bloodthirsty monster like dogranio, because he made people suffer (people that the patos had failed to protect). ultimately, at the end keiichiro is offered a choice: he can kill dogranio at the cost of knowing that he would be killing 3 people that he knows and loves. we dont get to see what happened to dogranio right away, but the show lets us think for like 5 min that keiichiro too the shot. which... why? almost everything we’ve seen of keiichiro up to this point indicates that he would never do something like that, and if he would consider putting anyone in danger in order to do better, then tsukasa will punch him because that means hes seriously lost sight of things. its not as if hes been struggling more with the notion that he might not be able to save everyone as the series goes on- which isnt a downside at all, lupats characters are its strongest point and keiichiros solid lawful goodness is a core part of his character- but ultimately, we’re left at a point where there is no way that keiichiro would shoot dogranio and kill the lupins. there was never a chance. and with this being the case, the patos last big hurrah is ultimately a failure: they cant get the lupins out, but they also cant get rid of the threat of dogranio for good.

2) lets talk about the loved ones becoming thieves. honestly. i loved it. but its not as strong a reunion as it could have been. the problem with the lupins loved ones becoming thieves is that it raises like a hundred questions in the last 10 min of a show, and we don’t have a good understanding of what the loved ones are like as people without the lens of the lupins’ perspectives to look through. and again, all the meaty episodes with reminiscences about the loved ones were in the first half of the series? i dont feel that the lupin magnum ep bc that vibes more like a i am the shadow the true self type deal, but it does show that the lupins are bringing their loved ones back for at least partially selfish reasons: its not about what they would have thought about it, its about what the lupins want. but with this in mind... we don’t know enough about the loved ones to know many of the nuances of what theyre like, either as people or as thieves? were they worried? angry? would they blame the patos for failing to rescue the thieves? (also theres this whole thing about how if theyre acting as phantom thieves then the gspo should know about them but theres no time to get into that, i suppose) im not saying it was bad! outfits were super cute and kairi and his bros reunion was super touching but im sitting here in complete conviction that their appearance as thieves ultimately raises more questions than it does answers, and this close to the ending (like 10 min!!!!!), hinders a satisfying conclusion

(TBC LATER)

#grigiopost #lupato

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noxrynne · 6 years ago

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tbh i think back on relationships/interactions ive had with guys who wanted relationships and i dont really have any good thoughts or memories either just the awkward always-talking-about-themself w/o talking *to* me stuff and jus being a silent listener the whole time

or the ppl 30+ mins late to a set date and time i showed up to, on time, waiting awkwardly for them to actually show up and knowing if i leave ‘cuz they didn’t show in a reasonable amount of time im liable to be bombarded with confrontational messages

or the ppl who pressure me into sex in the first 15 minutes of a first... well, date; and im not mentally aligned well enough to give a proper “no, i’d rather not” and instead jumble out something that’s supposed to essentially be that, but then ending up continually pressured

or the ppl who are like “hey let’s just go for a walk it’s nice out yeah?” and im like “yeah sure its p nice out and i like the breeze and being able to stretch my stupidly long legs cramped in this shitty seat” who then do what the guys in point 3 do but in a space where i cant really just... leave (yes im an idiot for putting myself in those situations, yes im an idiot for not just leaving, yes i can explain why i end up in those positions and it has a lot more to do with feeling obligated to be there which idk where that comes from it just does and makes it a lot harder to just... no longer feel obligated)

then theres the like, major shit that happened in the past. (ive mentioned it before a long time ago, but i dont have the mental fortitude to go back into this rn)

and also the whole... god i dont know how to really describe this, because i’m still understanding im not being smart in this situation but i dont really have the guts or the confidence or the sense of self-security to be smart abt it, but:

someone who tells me everything i want to hear “you’re beautiful” or “you’re amazing, wonderful,” and even the “you’re sexy and like a dream” stuff for *years* i dont really end up believing it any more than the first time, but im 99 percent sure i latch onto those comments b/c of how self-conscious and even self-hating i can be a lot of the time (like “oh this aspect makes me look too masculine, my voice is too masculine, my shoulders are too masculine, my eyebrows are too big and messy, my forehead protrudes slightly too much, i have a bit of a stomach even losing 50 pounds hasnt really fixed, my boobs are small, i still grow facial hair and the stubble bothers me and makes me feel upset... etc...) and it’s a lot of that dysphoria that’s ever present for me and then hearing “oh you’re a wonderfully beautiful girl” (well, succinctly put) and i just latch onto that need for validation, for that “i want to feel like im attractive, that im feminine, that i dont look like a boy”

and they tell me these things for years, for years and years and i end up unable to separate myself from it, and even feel like i *need* that attention just to feel like a worthwhile human being

peppered in with lots of flirtatious comments, etc...

and i end up of course crushing on said person b/c im an idiot and respond like bird to a shiny object (me = bird, shiny object = compliments) with that

and eventually i develop feelings and everything, i approach the topic b/c “well he’s been flirtatious for literal years, he’s said im literally his “dream girl” before (verbatim quote btw), he’s even said he loved me and cared about me and so on

and then it’s weird b/c it’s still this way and i learned he was dating someone for a *year* or more and i just

i know it’s wrong, and with some of the stuff we’ve kinda done, it’s... basically cheating? maybe full on cheating, i dont know. i just know if the roles were reversed and i was in that girl’s shoes i’d be upset (no idk her or her name or anything)

and im here, i know it’s wrong, i feel guilt every time i think about it all, but i cant bring myself to approach it in any stern manner b/c im scared to lose that wealth of... validating compliments? i guess? and im scared to lose like, the 1 person i can (tbh) count on to be around when i actually *do* need someone to talk to (either b/c im having a paranoid episode and feel scared, or b/c i had an extremely rough time, or b/c i need to just work through things like depression when it comes up and i rely on the such... ever-present socialization).

i mean fuck, he’s told me he’d *rather be dating me* and i dont... know how... to parse that. i dont know what to say? what to even think? i know what i should think, what i probably *should* say, but i just... im too scared to, because im scared about losing (again) the main source of... i guess, comfort? maybe? i have? and maybe that’s because i care so much about what other people think of me i project their images of me unto myself b/c the image i have of myself is *that bad*.

idk it just... makes me feel like... im a terrible person in the end, b/c i dont have the guts to do the ethically correct thing

and it feels really shitty.

and yeah today something else happened that made me feel a lot more hollow and disconnected, but that’s not the last point (the last point is me venting abt a different guy, but like... idk, it fell under the umbrella)

tbh the thing that happened today was more me realizing that... idk, it’s complicated because i dont want to go into some stuff publicly over privately idk

#im just venting

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elliethesuperfruitlover · 3 years ago

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exhaustion at its finest luvs

so um....ive basically been living day to day like.....completely disconnected from everything, both mentally and physically. like haha, mirrors are bad, and so are moments of connecting my mental state to my physical state. because i remember that i live in this body, and i make it do things. and ive literally spent my entire summer without a routine (which kills me) but i’ve been so tired from not having a routine to go by that i physically CANT MAKE ONE, like i dont have the energy. i really......im very tired.

but i have a new hyperfixation on a band so that’s about the only thing going for me (until it runs out).

also i cant figure out if my reactions are RSD or me just overreacting and being sensitive......bc im not diagnosed with ADHD.....yes that’s another dilemma im having to deal with. am i just a weird neurotypical, or is there something actually going on (i dont know brain, why dont you give me some fucking answers)......anyways um.......im suffering besties.

also accidentally offending people is one of the things that fucking sends me into another plane of anxiety and thats been haunting me. and i know i’m probably reading too much into it (like i always do *sad hair flip*) but it could also be directed STRAIGHT at me. i’ve cried over that shit at a point, like i think it’s due to my awful past with toxic friendships (with me being emotionally unstable and lashing out, and the other person microaggressing me every now and then)

my emotions are also a struggling point. like, i recognize them most times, and deal with them, but i NEVER open up about them until it’s too late and im sobbing. i go from oversharing and having too many emotions to hiding everything and bottling things up. and i feel like the pandemic has made me bottle things up more. i feel like everyone’s already having a hard time, and they don’t need my whining about trivial things on top of that. venting helps, but i also feel bad trauma-dumping, and all that shit. like it’s not acceptable to just pour your emotions out there and be like “but im fine” because A........i feel like a burden. and B. nobody needs to hear my bullshit while they have other real world problems. like thats not normal?? and now im understanding and looking back on the amount of times that i just plainly overshared, or said too much and it’s like........damn. (also oversharing is a symptom of trauma, but for me it’s mostly anxiety, and not realizing when to shut the fuck up_

i realized today that im still at the point of grieving over a friendship (its been a year) that i cant say the person’s name, or bring them up without feeling like at least mildly choked up. i feel like that’s a bit rough, huh. i know shit hurts, but i didnt expect my feelings to be that attached.

another thing is that (idk if it’s PTSD or not, maybe it is, maybe it isnt) i dont do well with bad weather. and it’s been sunny, sure, but bugs and shit have been outside, and it’s been raining like.....a good amount of the week. and last night i had a dream about ANOTHER tornado (except it wasnt lucid, so i suffered through the whole thing like it was happening again) and that’s kinda fucked me up. like, i realize that it’s not real, but there’s no other fear that i’ve experienced than that one. whenever there’s chances for severe weather, i cant sleep right, im anxious the whole day. like??? and it was so vivid. like i could hear everything that was going on. i literally cant hear semi trucks going by outside without thinking “haha tornado, lets hide in the tub”. that’s terrifying to deal with. anyways, im sure that thats not normal. but if it is, then i am not only A fool, but i am THE fool, please i need a hug.

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cheezlogerratum · 7 years ago

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A Persuasive Essay

☼

The two duos of half-plastic half-rubber wheels have remained, for the past thirty seconds or so, at rest. Kurtis Spottiswoode, preferably to him Kurt, the owner of the pack, has been repeatedly, over and over, scanning a sign off to the side of the asphalt path. In yellow, it's been telling him:

ATHLETIC EVENT

... with an appropriate arrow pointing to the left. Still, in that same spot, he stands. He can't necessarily tell whether he's trying to understand something he's missing or if he's just spacing out, knowingly looking like a moron, but too afraid to break out of what he believes is a commitment. Even still. Eventually, Mr. Spottiswoode catches onto the fact that the sun has long been set and that there are no "ATHLETIC EVENT"'s in session at this time. His feet succumb to the decline and start stepping across into the parking garage wondering if the sign was placed for a past "ATHLETIC EVENT" or a future one? This is all he seems to think about in the structure, the halides buzzing above and the rumble of the little wheels on his backpack don't even register in his mind. He unlocks and enters his used Camry automatically and realizes he's driving, somehow unable to shake the image burned into his eyes or maybe his head:

ATHLETIC EVENT

←

Mr. Spottiswoode arrived at his apartment complex at around 9:23pm, around a minute or two later than he usually remembers, and follows the rut path up to his apartment on the second floor. The residents on the first were shrieking, almost with no words, but it soon shifted into laughter and niceties he couldn't quite make out. He went to the bathroom, where he unzipped and went about his business looking at himself blankly in the mirror mysteriously installed right above, maybe a little crooked, the toilet. Kurt had small beady eyes and a large forehead mapped out by rows of remnants of brow folds and a receding hairline, brown and faint. The rest of his torso was adorned by a sport coat and a wrinkly plaid shirt, the rest is invisible. It was a lingering revelation in Mr. Spottiswoode's mind that he was wasting away, not really doing much, but he never wanted to address it head on in fear of possible sadness... but, as he undresses getting ready for bed, he wasn't feeling much now? Just sort of following what he'd always been doing and doing at as succinctly as he can, probably to occupy his mind from that "possible sadness".

☼

Kurt was traversing through the input and output population of students in flux all around him, talking into headphones and trading glances back and forth, when he realized—the sign was still up! "ATHLETIC EVENT". He felt a minuscule rush inside of him, slightly increasing the speed of his pace, and making him aware of his breath, of his life. He looked around with his head at anything and everything of interest, impulsively, excited. ECSTATIC! He thought he might be forcing this adrenaline onto himself, but he told himself to shut up. Shut up! He was loving it, and would remain loving it all the way to class, his wheels rumbling at a higher pitch.

Höffus Hall, room 488, was unlocked, dark, cold, and alone for the past thirteen hours or so. Mr. Spottiswoode, with his newfound motivation to live, flicked on the lights and plopped his computer bag onto the table offset at the front of class. He thought of himself as a bearer of life to the once dead or perhaps unborn room, mentally patting himself on the back as students came in at different intervals of time and frequency, totally unaware of their professor's enthusiasm. He unzipped his bag and brought out his old Dell laptop, gray and void of any personal touch. He logged in and fired up Microsoft Outlook, twiddling his fingers as more students populated the room. Outlook revealed itself, updated its folders, and notified the user of an "important message" he received. WOW! Kurt clicked the alert and he was brought to an e-mail sent by an unfamiliar address containing the following:

dear professor,

ive been thinking about alot of things like the paper we were made to write a few weeks ago. i know i haven't finished it and i bet its too late to turn it in now for any grade and i know im failing the class, but i cant fail this class and i think this paper is the only thing that will save me. i hope you understand. ill have the essay done by the start of class on thursday but if you dont accept it or give me a high enough grade to pass the class im going to kill you. i dont want to kill you but i also dont want to fail. i hope you understand.

best, your student

Kurt Spottiswoode read the message over a few more times, just to make sure, again, not knowing what he was feeling, but whatever it was it wasn't exciting. Before he even had the chance to reply, or give the message a sixth reading, or to think about what the hell, just what the hell he was going to do? he looked at the clock in the bottom right and saw it change from 11:13 AM to 11:14 AM right before his eyes, four minutes late. He looked up with a buzzy sharp air behind his eyes, at a loss of what to even do. What to say? Most importantly, WHAT?

"Uhhh," Spottiswoode emitted, "who was it that sent me an e-mail this morning?"

Blank. The look on the students' faces suggested that he had said absolutely nothing. Instead of reading the students for any kind of response, he started to read for any clues, any telling thing coming from any of their persons that might inform him of the presence of a possible murderous psychopath enrolled in his class. There were only 19 students on the registrar but only, after doing the math with his eyeballs for a few seconds, 11 students present. Both the fear of the anonymous student's absence and the regret of not making attendance mandatory via a sign-in sheet and a significant percentage allotted to "Attendance" in the final grade struck him like headlights he wasn't aware he was invading the path of. He quietly surveyed those present in class and what he knew of them. To his knowledge, only 3 students were failing the class, and one of them, Mehi Georgensen, was present, but he knew for a fact she turned in the last assignment. The prompt, by the way, was to write a persuasive essay supporting their opinion on the scientific studies surrounding the spike in American crime rates in the 1970s and 1980s and how experts believe that the trace amounts of lead found in gasoline sold during this time is directly related to the uptick in violence and aggression in people who are exposed to automobiles on a regular basis if not daily. Mehi's essay was roughly 85% blockquotes, 5% topic and concluding sentences, and another 10% dedicated to an enlarged, pixelated image of a red, turned dark gray by the printer, gasoline jug. No, Kurt thought, it can't be her. The other two names failing the class were Eloy Hewitt and Harold Skouras III, both with zeros in the gradebook, but that's all they were to Mr. Spottiswoode. He tried forcing himself to remember who these boys were, what they looked like, who the sick culprit could be. He started to sweat and realized so when a droplet fell from his nose and onto his knuckle belonging to his right hand cupping his mouth out of a side effect of vigorous thought, if you could even call it that. It was now 11:19 AM and Kurt stood back up, hands at his side, eyes open, looking again trying to recognize anyone. He knew who some of the kids were but couldn't remember others because of, what he thought was, a lack of in-class participation. He did, however, recognize Kevin, hands clasped together resting on the table up front, good posture, beaming at Mr. Spottiswoode. Kevin, politely responding to Kurt's gaze, cracked open a smile, unimaginably ready to learn. What a good egg Kurt thought, and looking at this kid, this bright and utterly innocent young man smiling undoubtedly at him, his spirits were lifted by a fraction of security, but that was enough. Kurt breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, clearing his throat, coughing, and began the day's belated lesson.

Sitting in his assigned corner of office room number 528, populated by a desk, a shelf, a disconnected phone with the cord bunched up, various handbooks on MLA, APA, and Chicago format, yesterday's ¾ eaten Subway sandwich, a stack of filled manila folders, a photo of Bruce Springsteen printed out on an 8.5 x 11 inch sheet of paper taped to the wall, and a lamp—Mr. Spottiswoode sat leaned back in his office chair borrowed from the downstairs supply closet, staring, arms crossed, eyes serious, at his computer screen. The e-mail shone through the screen, he couldn't stop thinking. He followed a tangent marveling at the screen itself and its thousands of little pixels made by three columns, red, blue, green, each flickering at him performing as one chunk of some incomplete illusion, creating the image of something that is anything but. Kurt, at a loss, followed multiple tangents like that, perhaps, in a kind of unconscious fashion, trying to find some external excuse or explanation for all this. Surely, surely, it can't be real right? It made no sense, absolutely, completely, totally no sense whatsoever, that this array of pixels that have orchestrated themselves in varying degrees of dimness onto his laptop screen could spell out so plainly and absent of reality his own eventual fate. Well, it doesn't have to come true, does it? Kurt Spottiswoode couldn't believe that he didn't just think of giving in and offering the perp the grade he so desired. Yes. Yes! That was it! He didn't even take into account the circumstance of his academic honor, he had his life! Once again, "LIFE!" He was up, his fists were in the air, his legs were spread apart, and his breathing had escalated into a pant. Yu Quoque, or Professor Quoque as she vehemently prefers, in the opposite corner saw him and witnessing this side of Kurt she had never seen before, she stared, on the phone, mouth slightly agape.

"Where are you," over the phone, "what was...?"

"Nothing," Yu whispered, "just work."

☼

It was Wednesday, the next day, game day! Kurt missed whatever athletic event that happened the day before due to the fact that he was fearing for his life, but now, having found out what to do about the whole situation, he decided to treat himself to a nice, relaxing, athletic event, which happens to be a weeklong championship. Mr. Spottiswoode arrived at the makeshift ticket booth, which was a plastic table with a print out of ticket prices taped to the front side and a cheap cash box guarded by two girls, both with one earbud in whatever ear was facing away from each other, and inquired, "Hello! One ticket for the athletic event and please!"

"Eight dollars please," the girls in unison, almost in harmony.

Kurt immediately took to his various pockets in his coat, pants, and satchel, where he finally found a dilapidated ten-dollar bill with a frowny face drawn on Hamilton's face. The girl on the right snatched it, the girl on the left gave him the ticket, and the girl on the right gave him one dollar in change, but he was so ecstatic and overwhelmed by the butterflies in his stomach that he didn't even realize. He wobbled right up to the bleachers taking it all in, smiling, just like Kevin, and started down the steps. The sun was blaring but the air was freezing, a paradox Kurt pondered on fairly often before, but not today, game day! He found a nice spot just above half way down and sat down next to an incredibly buff guy with, who Kurt assumed was, the man's son wearing a black hoodie and buggy glasses. "Isn't this just great," Kurt broke the ice, "this is just... agh! It! You know?"

"I don't."

"What's your name?"

"... I'm Kurt! Err, Professor Kurt to you though, haha!"

"Goodbye Kurt."

And the big man got up, even more ginormous than he... holy shit—walked down the bleachers, stomping between other attendees and their picnics, to another spot. Kurt stared a while at the man and thought of his nerve, how someone can be so mean and... rude? but he caught himself in the act of negativity and tried to snap out of it, clamping his eyes shut as a reset mechanism of sorts. Upon opening them, he saw the faded green field, but the longer he looked, the more green it got. He started getting the hang of it and tried it on the trees, the bleachers, and even the jumbo man. The spark of an auxiliary cord boomed through the stadium and was shortly followed by T.I.'s "Bring Em Out" featuring Jay Z. "BRING EM OUT BRING EM OUT" The players jogged onto the field and started warming up, running around preset patterns of cones over and over. Just beneath the song blaring throughout the entire area, echoing off the apartments just next door, Kurt heard a voice, "What's today." Kurt felt it to his left and realized the voice was coming from the kid in the hoodie, still sitting where he first saw him.

"Wednesday?"

"And tomorrow?"

"... Thursday."

The kid hadn't even turned his head to Kurt, in fact, Kurt hadn't even seen the kids' lips, only his eyes bulging out of the edge of his hood. "I need you to proofread something for me," the glasses said.

"Do I know you?" Kurt inquired.

"It's important, it's my life's work."

"I can give you my office hou-"

"I feel twisty, I can't move correctly... I'd appreciate this greatly."

"... Ha ha, come on now, let's just enjoy the game?"

"It's only if I express what I mean and get my point across in a certain perfect way and if I have a clear thesis and purpose to the essay and I make myself believable to the reader that I will get an A."

"... Harold?"

"I just need a professional opinion."

"Eloy!?"

"It's not done yet I'm sorry."

And the glasses dropped 8 loose sheets of what Kurt can already make out as a poorly formatted essay and strode his way up the bleachers as swiftly as possible. The sheets were lifted by the wind and flew up down left right forward back, all directly away from Mr. Spottiswoode. Kurt scrambled to follow all of the sheets at once while the image of that hood and those lenses and his voice seared into his mind, playing in a loop, all floating in a superposition playing at the same time, over and over and over again. Kurt caught one of the pages, repeating, "one, one" and so on in his head, adding to the jumble, now worried, now realizing, all at once, that death was way too near. "Two, two two two" but what? He felt silly again, remembering he had a plan, a master one you could call it, but he still felt petrified, sad, wasting away, stumbling over people at an athletic event reaching desperately for pages of an essay a kid is threatening his life over. He lost track of all the remaining pages, looked around, drenched, and saw a page in the middle of the field. He ran down the steps, head bobbing, eyes on the sheet, feeling utterly lightheaded, and sprinted into the field, tunnelvisioned, and bonked heads with a girl swerving out of a row of cones. The audience's collective shocked, "Ooooohh" and a girl nearby's inhaling hissing sound of pain only made everything worse, and he felt like a kid. Mr. Spottiswoode reluctantly opened his eyes and looked at the girl rubbing her head and only thought of himself, how he looked, how people must think of him now, and, somewhat noticing, his stomach sunk. He tried, "I didn't... I'm sorry I'm sorry," under his breath. He grabbed the piece of paper, now grass stained, and made his way up the stairs, eyes down, only wanting to leave, only wanting to go home, and as the girl got up, ready to rumble, the audience broke out in applause.

←

Kurt couldn't even look at Sally Pilckner and her glasses without shuttering somewhat, or feeling some sharp sweat incoming, so for the remainder of her presentation, he looked down at her converse pretending to be following along when really, truly, he's completely lost. He had already taken attendance to no avail, had sort of thumbed through the essay, but hasn't been able to read it, not even knowing if he should or not. So here he is, Kurt, sat, in the back of a classroom, looking at shoes and contemplating his chances of life or death. The ginormous mega man played in his head over and over, torturing himself somehow just for fun, relatively. "Observe," he remembered "Listen, yes!" So he tried, forcing his brain to latch onto everything happening in the room, which—well, he didn't know—wasn't working. He attempted to consciously meditate on the PowerPoint slide stricken on the pull down screen, bleeding off to the edges onto the whiteboard, infuriatingly so, and thought about the words without reading them:

HUMANOID.

CORN.

BC.

And he just thought, tried to imagine. He pictured a humanoid in his head and saw wiggles and a form blinking, on and off. The harder he tried the faster it disappeared. Okay uhh, the corn! He saw a kernel, a nugget, perfectly formed, so well imagined he was impressed with himself. Mr. Spottiswoode sat with that little kernel suspended in his mind, projecting it in front of his eyes, over the words, bouncing it around the room, putting it over Sally's face. "UuuaAAAGGHHHCHOOOO!!"

"Bless you," in unison, harmonious monotone.

Kurt, looking at the culprit's face a bit too long finally realized the kernel had been erased from his mind. The panic struck him and the sweat kicked back in, trying and trying, squinting and bubbling his mouth. Mr. Spottiswoode needed a plan B, so he remembered:

BC.

Okay, this can do. He chugged into his noggin the image of rocks... rocks? And monkeys, for some reason, a wheel? He was doing his best, breathing in and out. "Knowing what uh... how corn was the main commodity in indigenous cultures, what would the world look like right now if we used corn for money?" Dead flat silence, but Sally didn't seem to mind. The class willingly sat in the hoisted dead noise of the room, adding to it every millisecond, everyone thinking someone else will talk, they have to, why aren't they? Why is everyone doing this? And Pilckner, Sally stood face to face to the excruciating silence, swaying, hands clasped behind her back, sniffling, heard a cough, grounding the silence to the utmost potency of bad participation skills. Kurt felt himself walking but didn't remember doing so, and somehow decided to stop right beside Sally, too close, she steps back, and those monkeys are still in his mind, swinging and hooting until they come across a kernel, a big one, glowing in the shattered sun shooting through the tall grass, or the banana leaves, either or? staring at this weird yellow coconut. It's here that they stop moving, their personalities and characteristics put on hold, freeze framed, with the class waiting and peeking under the rim of the table trying to be sneaky superimposed atop the scene before Christ, now at the same time, both immobile, not moving, freeze framed and dead. Kurt stood there until the clock struck 11:58 AM, close enough, and the irresistible sound of ruffling papers and backpack zippers filled the room, sparking some kind of Pavlovian response in the students telling them, "it's time to go", which was probably for the best.

Kurt Spottiswoode decided to keep on driving tonight, not a clear decision but merely allowing himself to do so. Millbrae now, by the BART station, the monumental Chase Bank shining blue up the columns, credit card slots blinking and egging him on, that Peter's Café across the street, still open, still not much business... but boy, oh boy... Kurt took a leap of faith and pulled an illegal U-turn across the yellow line, the toast in his sights. He parked haphazardly and sat for a minute or two, looking at the fog grow on his windows, and waited for it to completely shell his car. He was now encased, in his own little world he thought, free of anything and everything except him and the essay, now sort of dead within the new realm of his. It was only paper, just neatly formed, digitally stamped stains of ink on a page, saying nothing in particular. He wanted to marinate in this, get the feeling then go, and he went. The wet chill struck him as he left the stratosphere he created, and, with the essay in hand, walked into the snoozy joint.

A song he couldn't recognize right away was wrapping itself up, and right when he thought he knew the song, "HI welcome to Pete's Café!" She popped up from right behind the circular bar, knowing he was going to be there somehow. She slapped down the menu, the cocktail menu, and a freshly laminated dessert menu. "Freshly laminated!"

"Yep," Kurt sniffed the menu, "That's fresh for sure, hahahaha!" laughing more for himself than her.

"What can I start you off with tonight?"

"Just toast, please."

"Sweetie, just toast?"

"Yep just toast."

The look on her face spelled imminent harm, then immediately transformed into unconditional hospitality. "Vikas! Toast! Sure thing sweetie," snatching the menus in one swoop.

"Thanks uhh," trying to read her name tag but only caught a V.

He looked around the place, at the lighting hung in trios across the sloped ceiling, the booths hidden by CLINK... Kurt looked down and saw a plastic tumbler, blue and chipped, filled with water and weak ice cubes, but no V in sight. Noticing this, he noticed everything, which wasn't much, just a diner open for business, no patrons. He sat tapping his fingers in a kind of rhythm when "Is That All There Is?" by Peggy Lee jumps on the overhead speakers.

I remember when I was a very little girl, our house caught on fire I'll never forget the look on my father's face as he gathered me up in his arms and raced through the burning building out to the pavement I stood there shivering in my pajamas and watched the whole world go up in flames And when it was all over I said to myself, is that all there is to a fire

Is that all there is, is that all there is If that's all there is my friends, then let's keep dancing...

Once that chorus kicked in he was humming along, eyes closed and drinking out of the mini cup. He opened his eyes and there before him was the essay, off to the side, right where he left it. He was lost in looking, only thinking about reading it, telling himself he wasn't afraid, and then the glasses appeared again, knowing that they belonged to the student, that the student typed this and printed it out, touched it, the net total of his movements to that moment of delivery resulted in the crimps and creases in the pages, the same on every page, again and again.

Let's break out the booze and have a ball If that's all there is...

His hand shot out at the pages and smacked them once, not knowing what to expect, just a release? Kurt looked up and saw V staring at him before she broke out into strides in his direction. He grabbed the paper and started reading it vigorously.

professor Spottiwoods

Rough Draft

Pedagogyy is the study of how tot each a class in school, anywehere, like elementary school or college. I have been in school for almost all of my life and I feel like I have a big say in how I should be taught in school. There has been much discusssion on what progressive pedagogy might look like, but it has always been discussed and taught in regressive pedagogical systems, which is something liek a paradox isn;t it? we seem to think education is the greatest good, it keeps us young, that's what Aristotle thought, but these systems are old, the teachers are old, and theyf ail to realize that they they are only apart of an institu

"SPOTTISWOODE?" Kurt froze in the middle of that word he knew was going to be 'institution', maybe spelled wrong, but couldn't help but feel several shots of adrenaline pumping through his body, his heart trying to compensate. "PROFESSOR SUPERWOOD IN THE FLESH!!"

Mr. Spottiswoode craned his shoulders around to see Zip Baltgalvis—he thinks? —and can only widen his eyes. Zip skips over to Kurt's seat lugging what might be three backpacks at full capacity while Kurt creeps back at the paper, wide eyed, blank, stuck on the same word. Zip spins into the seat next to Kurt's and side hugs him, not responding. "Duuude what's good Spurt? ... It's me!" Kurt turns his head, zonked out, to Zip, frozen in a smile with his fingers turned inwards into his chest. "Zip..." Kurt emitted.

"Ziiiff!" exasperated, "Ziff Baltgalvis! Twenty-fourtee-" leaning in closer for the whisper-shout, "Twenty-fourteen man! Duude! You're here!!"

"I'm... here."

"Yes! Yes!"

"Hey where's my toast..." slurring and directed in the direction of unseen employees.

Ziff looked down at the essay through the blonde frizz hanging in front of his face. "State huh? State huuuhh!!? MAN in the flesh! Front and center, late night!! You know, I've been working on things..."

"Things."

"Things mmhm... some futuristic things," nodding slowly almost to hypnotize Kurt.

"What things..."

"I've been thinking about those things, like to help the future out. Man, Kurt, your mind will be buhlown."

"Uhh... toast," again at the ghost place.

"Yeaaah man toast! You're brain'll fry man right on!"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh you just gotta come and see."

"See what Zip?"

A plate of burnt toast lands and swivels down onto the table in front of Kurt, on top of the essay.

"The future man..." nodding.

☼

Kurt Spottiswoode didn't even know he was fast asleep until his own drool cooled by the leather returned to his cheek, sliding his face into consciousness. Wriggling his fingers, cracking them, still on his side, his arm slept along with him. He was awake, but only with his eyeballs. Everything else was testing the waters. Every few seconds the interior would illuminate, sometimes yellow but most times teal-ish, and Kurt was in it and apart of it, an honorary component of the car. Kurt inched his head up off the seat to get a better look at the LED clock up front. It was 12:02, most likely AM. He plopped his head back down, scrunching his mouth to avoid the drool as he tried making sense of the situation he was in. This wasn't his car, he wasn't driving, he wasn't tied up, he was stagnant yet rumbling across asphalt barely any more than two feet from his wet cheek, as the crow flies. Mr. Spottiswoode liked it here, liking the most being able to pretend to be invisible, or to transcend the state everyone thinks you're in, knowing something no one else in the world knows. It was also the quiet of the interior which implied a disappearance of everything outside and anything in the future, just being able to lay... wait... future...

"COCKADOODLEDOO TEACH! Un-conked?"

"Muh... Zip,"

"Hahyeah,"

"Zi-," stuck on a clog in his throat.

"Honest man, be honest,"

"Where are we going?"

"Dude, you remember this!"

"I...?"

"You can think it man, you can access this,"

"Why was I..."

"If you just reaaally think,"

"Is it... Thursday?"

"Unrelated inquiry, unrelated inquiry,"

"Zip come on-"

"Patience is a virtue,"

"This is fuckin-"

"Woah, woah,"

"This is frankly, fucking stupid Zip!"

"WOOOAH WOOAH,"

"I wanna know! Where am I going? Where am I being taken to?"

"I w-"

"ZIP my foot is down it's being put down right now you got to tell me,"

Ziff looked back over his shoulder at Kurt, now up in his seat drenched in sweat, eyes locked and loaded. The light outside illuminates the car in red for a split second, distant honking. Ziff looks back and forth hoping he isn't seeing and hearing correctly.

"I don't like the way you look right now man,"

"Zip,"

"I don't friggin' appreciate those looks man!"

Ziff is nearly done pulling the car over to the side of the road into the grassy overflow of an empty lot next to them once he says this. The back of Ziff's head jerks about, trying to put the car in park while storming out of the car at the same time. "Jesus... ZIP!! ZIP!" Kurt yells at Ziff with the foggy passenger window in the way, trying to unbuckle himself. "ZIIIIIP!!" It was Thursday, it was without a doubt Thursday, and it all came crashing into Mr. Spottiswoode's stomach. Kurt didn't even consciously think these thoughts, but he knew somehow by the way his neurons scrambled to ignite, scrambling together as one, but the buckle is jammed. Kurt sits back and processes the vagueness of himself at this moment, unconsciously looking around, widening his eyes, tuning out everything in order to tune out himself, and the door closes. He looks up and sees the long hair splitting out from Ziff's head. "Zip, where are we,"

"Mr. Spottiswoode, it'd be really sick if you said sorry,"

"I'm sorry, now-"

"For what?"

"For yelling at yo-"

"And?"

Ziff turned his head around to look through the gap under the headrest, eyes worn and wet.

"And."

"..."

"Ziff."

"No, no no, slip of the tongu- er the mind. I'm sorry. My-"

"I really wanted you to see what I made Mr. Spottiswoode,"

"Sure-"

"When I saw you at Pete's tonight I thought that it was like fate, like that dramatic shit... right?"

"Sure yea-"

"I thought 'Hey Kurt's here, I bet he'd like to hang with me' you know? See me..."

"Yeah,"

"I thought you were gonna be like the guy who pretends he didn't make eye contact or something, and I was bummed out Mr. Spottiswoode. You were like the first guy... to uh... like really, you know, get me stoked on learning shit. And you were eating and I knew that it was like that fate happening maybe, like the universe collapsed on itself for that one time right?"

"Sure,"

"Do you get the same emotions too?"

"Maybe, I don't really know,"

"Cause like, the universe likes us...? Like it doesn't stop turning. It's like it keeps wanting us to know something, like..."

And Ziff stopped, seemingly lost in that universe that led him to what he thought was right now, but Kurt, on the other hand, was back on the paper. "Ziff, I need to sleep I'm sorry."

Ziff dug into one of the three backpacks he dropped in front of his front door to fish out the keys. Kurt was keeping his distance considerable out in the middle of a parking lot, by the car. Ziff tumbled the keys into the lock and cracked open the door, creaky to the point of filing a complaint with whatever de facto powers that be. The place was lit by strung lights around every edge, ceiling, doorway, floor, but only out of necessity of upholding the common courtesy to the household. Ziff lifted his arms in introduction of the place, "Uh, you can crash on the couch probably."

Pots and pans brought Kurt back to the waking world, seamlessly too. What amazed Kurt's brain, the first thought in his head this morning, was how shrill these utensils ringing off each other were and how, somehow, that comforted him. He rubbed the sleep off his eyes and got up to mull. He scuffled towards the kitchen a few feet away and stood in the doorway, drawing a blank at the kid with pleasingly messy hair, jammies, bare feet, flipping a piece of bread with a hole in the middle occupied by an egg. The kid felt his presence and gave a half-nod half-smile, what Kurt came to hypothesize as a newly evolved human instinct. Kurt leaned on this doorway, scanning the room for a clock or any other furnishing that might give him a clue of some kind. A group of kids passed by him, recalling, "...ea and his brother was a raccoon in the firs..." and further down the hall a burst of "pffff" and laughter bounced back to him as he tried logging the series of events in his brain. Looking, still standing, invisible again, superposed in this doorway and periodically thrusting his body off enough to fall back onto the wall. A printer fired up in a room somewhere reciting its rhythm of obeying the data it's been fed, music to his ears but merely instinct to itself. But now the printer was approaching...? It was getting louder and louder, its rhythms becoming more complex, fading into Kurt's range of comprehension, but the closer it got the less he knew, the more it wasn't printing anything. Kurt leaned his torso over to peer through the commons area and into the main hallway, footsteps thrown into the mix now too. An upright arrangement of plastic and spinning metal emerged from behind the opening to the room, then a rubber foot inched down onto the wood floor, and the robot was now recognized by Kurt alone. It continued forward, stopped, made minor adjustments to the placement of its feet, and made way straight towards Kurt. His stomach sank and kicked into some kind of action backwards and to his left feeling his way towards some cover of sorts. Kurt crouched behind the side of the fridge, peering out at the rest of the kitchen. The whirring got louder, again, and the robot emerged, again, stopped, repositioned, continued in Kurt's direction. Kurt stayed put this time only because he couldn't think of anything else other than the fact there was a fucking robot walking straight towards him. The robots innards became clearer and clearer as it approached, stopped, repositioned, and reached for the fridge handle, and pulled it, pinching Kurt's fingers. He freaked out for a split second but didn't want to make any sounds in an effort to preserve the invisibility thing that the robot may or may not have seen right through. The door closed and revealed a jug of soylent in the robot's plastic nubs, repositioning away, and inching back out of the kitchen. Kurt stood up and stared at the robot, mouth wide open, sweat flowing, trying to think of its thoughts and what it must be conscious of to do what it does, where it's stored, what it means to it, does it feel what Kurt feels, does it know? A poke arrived on Kurt's left shoulder and he spun around clockwise to whoever it must be, who turned out to be... "Sorry,"

"Nono I'm sorry," Kurt rattled out.

"Just getting the uh," she reached up to the cabinet above Kurt's head, which he dodged as it swung open.

"Woo heheh,"

"Wanna sit?"

"Wuh,"

"Down?"

"Well okay yeah sure heheh,"

And he looked underneath and around himself and settled on sitting on the tile, criss-cross applesauce. "Do you go here?" she asked, eyes on the readymade pancake mix.

"A- me? No I uhhh... I don't, no. I uh don't. Do you?"

"Yes I go here."

"Pretty cool, pretty cool uhmm... for what?"

"Literature, but I'm thinking of changing,"

"To uhh... ?" shrugging, nervously laughing.

"Electrical engineering,"

"And uh, why's that?"

"I'm working on a project of my own right now with a team of people so I sort of just want time to work on it and E.E. offers independent study in their labs so,"

"What's the something?"

"I've been studying the stichomythia of reading common literature. Technically it isn't stichomythia, but it sounds nice to me for some reason and for what I do. So I study that stuff, the ups and down of laughter, contagious at moments and absent the next. Could you read a book or get its sense and flow from the mere knowledge of the progression of chuckles? Or guffaws? What does a 'guffaw' suggest in a story? This depends on the reader, though, which makes my job complicated. There's a flaw in studying and observing these things with people, who read and re-read, the speed increases and decreases, and this warps and distorts the nature of my work, the laughs and chuckles. Me and my team are now looking at developing a system which reads a book at an average pace, its text, and pinpoints or detects the humorous areas to give us a controlled, concise, perfect result of this landscape, the musicality that might be objective to itself and its language that the common subjective emotional someone simply lacks the capability of experiencing. This is what I do,"

Teams? Landscapes, chuckles, this was all he could pick up on knowing the robot was walking around the place with soylent in its hands. He tried to be interested, but his mind was firing on other cylinders and sputtering out in the process. He was looking at the pan, sometimes focusing in on his periphera and the figures wearing mute colors walking in and out and past in silence—but what was silence to him, Kurt Spottiswoode thought, might have been a universal language to them that he was left out of. "What do you think of that?" He forgot.

"Sounds pretty cool to me!" looking for something to catch his attention.

"Do you read?"

"I uh read lots of things every day yep,"

"Enjoy it while you can,"

"Well, you too heh! I'll uh see you around," offering a small wave and some kind of mouth movement he hoped would come off as normal. As he shuffled his way out, she started to mumble and hum the words to a song, loud and proud, making pancakes. He didn't know, he couldn't know if this was just himself projecting, but it sounded like she was humming the words to "Is That All There Is?", pushing himself away now, embarking himself into the house keeping his ears out for the bot. He stepped softly in hopes of the robot not hearing him, and he waddled and peered around and down the halls, doors open, now releasing lots of machine noise, almost every room. He walked up the stairs with his eyes locked on the chandelier which was smothered in webs and dust blocking the way of any light that might be wanting to pass through and offer itself. He was feeling his way upwards, and at the top he saw another commons area with a few couches riddled in no pattern whatsoever, and on one sat the robot, with its soylent in hand. Kurt sleuthed his way by way of his back to the wall down the hallway, soft stepping. "GOOOOOOD MOOORNIIING PALO ALTOOO," Kurt's body scrunched and searched for Ziff's whereabouts, leaning, dodging nothing, and finally finding it, papers and clutter reaching the ceiling and Ziff sitting in it all like a throne with his soylent in hand. "Where ya been buddy?"

"Ziff listen I have a lot of papers to-"

"Next on the program we have none other than English Composition extraordinaire-"

"Ziff,"

"Bonafide rager-maestro and chug champ 2000,"

"Ziff that rob-"

"AND honorary member of the fun boys themselves, Kurt 'Spurt' Spottiswoode!" as he started clapping by himself, clapping rang out from the rest of the second floor. He wheeled himself on his rolly-chair, stood up, and took Kurt by the shoulder leading him back down the hall. "We are utterly stoked to have you on this morning,"

"Heh I-"

"Mup, I'm asking the questions, I'm the teach... what is the future to you?" holding the air-mike up to Kurt's mouth.

"It's soon,"

"Would you say it's now?"

"No cause... now's the present?"

"But the now always changes right?"

"I guess, but-"

"Have you ever seen the future?"

"No,"

Ziff was now jogging over into the commons area, Kurt already knowing what the punchline would be. "Would you-"

"Ziff, I need to go home,"

"I gotta introdu-," taking the soylent out of the robot's hands.

"Ziff. I'm going," backing down the stairs.

"Kuuurt... Dude..."

And everything seemed to fade out, leaving only Kurt's mind reeling in place. He got out onto the street and started following it wherever it went, freezing cold outside. He replayed that robot in his mind a long while and kept zooming in on its soylent trying to find a semblance of a clue that would lead him to some peace of mind, but he couldn't, just stuck in replay. Whatever direction Mr. Spottiswoode was heading in, there were trains.

Kurt was staring while his mind rambled out the window. The train, he thought, was way too quiet, an environment that discouraged the cocoon of isolation he loved putting himself into. The tracks might as well have been non-existent, leaving Kurt the sole pleasure of listening to his own ears, ringing to themselves to avoid insanity, an instinct. For a moment, Kurt believed that the window his head was leaning on was nothing but another screen, extremely high definition, millions of pixels perfectly and spectacularly calibrated to fool passengers of any scenic route that might have been perceived. It had to be a conspiracy against the senses. What if the screen was hiding something grim and evil? Like an unforgivable violation of human's rights? Dwindling shacks, bodies slogging around awaiting their doom—if his eyes were to penetrate this screen, he wondered, maybe his eyes would meet someone else's, and maybe he would see something rapturous and impossible there in the shared misery, if that's what it was, only to witness it being cloaked by the train's comfy encasing, vanishing behind perspective.

The corridors of Höffus Hall, human activity simmering down to bathroom breaks and "bathroom breaks", stood in preparation of fulfilling its intended purpose. Direction, visibility, transportation, criss-cross applesauce. Kurt lunged himself up through the stairwell, leaning into the curves of the railing for momentum, his rolly-backpack skipping on the steps, and jumped at the last step for the 4th floor, expecting another. He nearly jogged down the hallway mouthing, "Thursday Thursday, this," as he exhaled every other step. He kept his eyes on his door, erasing anything else from his perception to maximize efficiency. The door opened and out came, rushing, faceless, a slew of students escaping Room 488, breaking off into different directions, unsure if their rut is scheduled correctly or not. The students walking towards Mr. Spottiswoode passed with no regard, purposeful or not, either being plausible he thought. His legs and tiny wheels kept on chugging, though, traversing the hallway renewed with activity indifferent to its origin. Kurt swung open the door and immediately saw Kevin hunched over, shuffling with something. Mr. Spottiswoode moved into position at the front of class, behind his tabletop podium, faux-mahogany desk, and in front of the broken projector screen hanging askew, whiteboard neglected by former courses teeming with information, and sat down in his plastic mold desk chair, which let out a rubbery whine as he landed. Kevin turned around revealing his backpack, filled with five 2" wide binders and what sounded like a load of pencils Kurt assumed were infused with varying increments of graphite intensity, pooling underneath the organization. Kevin became pale as he met Kurt's eyeballs, both of them caught in the act of something untold, implied. The kid, his face tense and vulnerable, who Kurt couldn't believe was the same one who beamed joyous respect at him every single day of class, a scholarly constant, dislodged the frog in his throat.

"Thank you for the semester Professor Spottiswoode. I wrote you a reflection highlighting how this course improved my ability to critically think about the world and how it presents itself to us and how I can express my personal perception of it through concrete argumentation and healthy sentence structure," digging into one of his binders from the top, sniffling, "I learned that writing a good essay will help you throughout the rest of your life, establishing pathos, logos, and ethos in order to engage the reader is key to allowing anyone to take what you say seriously, perhaps because deep down these elements and rules that go into a well written essay, like relevant topic sentences, presentation of evidence, and analysis of that evidence..." wobbling exasperation, "perhaps these are the fundamentals of life itself and why we love one another and why we make the decisions we make, even our mistakes. It's all one cosmic engaging, insightful, organized essay that we just can't read quite yet," carefully placing the quarter-inch thick packet on the table, "I learned that from you, and it's something I hope to pass onto my children and their children, and I hope to pursue a Master's so I can teach this truth to the next generation of students like you have. This is a part of my essay, I know it and can't control it, I can only proofread it," he picks up and rushes out the door, teary and red-faced, "You're the best teacher ever!" tripping on the door-stop, his sobs bouncing down the hallway in every direction, the most emotional energy this building has ever experienced, undoubtedly seeping into the firmament of the place, dormant and undisturbed, stored in a feedback loop.

The clock nailed into the wall above the doorway rotated into 11:29 AM, followed close behind by the internal clock in Mr. Spottiswoode's laptop, tucked away in sleep mode inside of Kurt's rolly-backpack. Kurt unzipped the biggest pocket and logged into his laptop, Outlook opening on its own, following orders. The inbox updated and there, waiting, was an e-mail from Ziff with the subject line, "vid of my creation!!!! ;D" Kurt Spottiswoode sat and waited, leaving the e-mail unopened, watching the screen, hand curled into a fist at rest supporting his head, eyes forward. Had he been paying attention, he would've heard the uproar of footsteps outside, vague murmuring, screeching chairs and tables in neighboring rooms to the left, right, upstairs, downstairs, the beeping of high-powered turbo-toasters, motorized longboards whizzing by, trucks backing up, something custodial collapsing, honking, keys jangling to each step, someone quietly running late to class, electrical cars humming, mysterious whooping, and a burst of applause amplified by the valley of dorms just outside the classroom window. Both clocks hit 12:00 PM at almost the same time. Kurt dragged his finger across the trackpad to click the refresh button. Nothing. He hit refresh again. Nothing. He hit refresh. Over and over and over.

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#big #writing #short story #fiction

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