#and everyone is boggling because okay third what are we talking month week tell me we didn't miss this for years

[ridiasfangirlings]

Oh gosh I just read your response to someone asking about Saru dating someone so normal [coffee shop dude]. I so need alphabet squad and Yata stalking the guy and seeing Saru do such normal stuff. Like holding the door open for them, or holding their hand, putting hait behind his boyfriend's ear, or even laughing. I need more of this AU pls and thank you! You're the best!

New Fushimi rare pair dropped, Fushimi x Random Guy XD Following this, imagine Fushimi just dating this totally normal guy on the side throughout the entirety of the series. Then post-ROK when he's all healed up from jungle and seems in a better headspace now seems to be the time for Yata and various interested alphabet boys to make a move. Except that's when they find out that somehow Fushimi is already dating someone, like imagine Yata just skateboarding around the city and one day he happens to spot Fushimi leaving a coffee shop. Yata raises his voice to say hi and that's when he sees that Fushimi was holding the door open for some random guy who Fushimi then smiles at (sincerely even! Not sarcastically at all!) and leans in to give the random guy a kiss on the cheek. They hold hands and exchange loving glances and Yata promptly runs into a telephone pole.

The next time Yata stops by Scepter 4 he immediately finds an alphabet boy to interrogate, like imagine Hidaka says hi to him and Yata runs up to him like 'So, uh...about the guy Saruhiko's dating...' and Hidaka's like wait wait who's dating Fushimi-san what. Yata's surprised that Hidaka didn't know and they end up going to stake out the coffee shop, where they get to see Fushimi picking up his boyfriend and being all loving and openly affectionate and Hidaka's like are they holding hands what is this. Yata can't believe that Hidaka didn't know and now they have to check with the rest of Scepter 4. It turns out no one knew but they all do now and everyone needs to see this for themselves, that poor coffee shop is suddenly the subject of a giant sting operation as Yata and the entire alphabet squad surround the place just to observe Fushimi and his boyfriend. No one trusts random guy boyfriend at all either, like Yata's half convinced that this is some secret jungle trick while the alphabet boys are voting Infatuation Strain. No one can believe that Fushimi has just been having a totally normal relationship with a totally normal guy all this time, like this guy must have superpowers or something there is no other explanation.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Mommie Dearest (Ethan x MC)

Summary: After 26 long years, Ethan finally comes face to face with his mother

Author’s Note: I wanted this to be out in time for Mother’s Day, but my writer’s block was like “lmao”, but better late than never, right?

Tags: @fanmantrashcan @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @writinghereandthere @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey @adrex04 @desmaranj @mal-volaris @whatchique @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartwriting @mvalentine @nooruleman @ruinedbypixels

~v~

Ethan Ramsey has never been so nervous in his life. Not when he did interviews for medical school. Not when he met Dr. Banerji. Not even when he finally asked out Naomi for a date.

Walking into an Italian restaurant to meet his mother has him at his peak.

She’s been trying to reach out for months now and he’s been able to rebuff her at every turn, but she’s really kicked it up these past few weeks. It all culminated in her showing up at Edenbrook, in front of his office, telling everyone within a few feet of her that she’s Ethan Ramsey’s mother.

Alan wanted him to reach out at least once, to see if the mother and son could actually make amends. Naveen thought so as well. An hour or so of his time could answer a lot of questions, and maybe help him seek closure.

It wasn’t until Naomi spoke up did he actually agree to give it a shot. She said he deserved answers, he deserved to be heard, and his mother owed it to him more than anything to sit down and face him.

So now he’s here. Coming face to face with Margaret Ramsey for the first time in over two decades. He wants to turn around and run. He wants to hide somewhere. He wants to call Naomi and tell her to come to the restaurant and help him muddle through this dinner. But Ethan doesn’t do any of that, instead he powers through.

She’s sitting at a table right in the middle of the restaurant, casually glancing at a wine menu. A gasp catches in his throat at the sight of her. She’s so much different than he remembers her, his memory only ever able to produce a hazy figure, but she’s still so similar, just older. She’s skinnier than he can recall, more frail. She’s wearing a simple green sweater and jeans, her hair in a bun, with a pair of cubic zirconia earrings, but Ethan can tell this is her version of getting “dolled up”.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing, gaping at her like she’s some sort of museum exhibit, but Margaret breaks the trance, staring up at him. A wide grin breaks out on her face and she instantly stands up. “Oh my goodness, I’m so glad you came!”

She reaches out to hug him, but Ethan bristles and takes a step back, recoiling from his mother’s touch as if it’d burn him. Margaret flinches, but she doesn’t make a fuss over it. “Sit, sit!”

Ethan slides into his seat as Margaret does the same. For a long while, they just stare at each other.

Again, Margaret is the first one to break the tension. “I know you said you’d come, but I’m still shocked to see you. I really thought you’d change your mind.”

He did change his mind. Multiple times throughout the day, Ethan went back and forth on this decision, unsure if it was the right one. “Well, I’m here.”

“I’m glad.” Margaret looks him up and down. Gone is the lanky 11 year old she remembered, and there’s a grown man in his place. It feels surreal, the amount of time that’s passed. “You look so good. Parents often wonder what their kids are going to look like but wow, seeing you so grown up is...mind boggling.”

She isn’t some distant aunt or third cousin twice removed he’s seeing at a family reunion, but his mother. His growth wouldn’t be such a shock if she actually stuck around. “A lot changes in 26 years.”

“Touche.”

Tense silence hangs above them like a dark cloud. The only reprieve they get is when a waiter comes to the table to take their drink order. Ethan springs for a bottle of wine, needing alcohol to get through this.

“Your father tells me you’re some sort of hot shot doctor,” Margaret starts. “And you have a whole team of people under you.”

“I do,” Ethan confirms. “It’s a diagnostics team.”

“A what now?”

“Diagnostics. We treat the untreatable. When no one else knows what’s wrong, we step in and get things figured out.”

Margaret oohs at the explanation, smiling. “You sound so fancy. Like Dr. House!”

“Sort of. I’m not addicted to opioids though.”

“My son, the doctor. I always knew you were destined for greatness. You came out of the womb smart and wise beyond your years.”

The anecdote might’ve been nice coming from his dad, but hearing his mom say it makes him shift uncomfortably. She’s a stranger, for Christ’s sake. She doesn’t know a damn thing about him, about his potential for greatness.

Quickly, Ethan lifts his glass to his lips and takes a sip. He exhales slowly, carefully measuring his next thoughts and words. “What are we doing, Margaret?”

The question catches the older woman off guard. “What do you mean? We’re having dinner.”

“Okay, but why? Why are we here? Why now? I’m 37 years old, why did you pop back into my life at this point in time? What do you want?”

“It would’ve been a lot sooner, but you weren’t too receptive to a reconciliation,” Margaret points out.

“So it’s my fault? Is that the angle you really want to go for?”

“No! No, of course not.” Margaret’s eyes shift around the dining room, casually observing her surroundings. She feels anxious now, jittery.

Eventually her gaze reruns to Ethan and she gives him her full attention. “I guess I’m just tired of running. I know I’ve missed out on so much, more than I can ever make up for but, I’m here now. I’m here and I’d love to be in your life again. You asked me what I want, I just want you, in whatever capacity you’ll have me.”

“Why’d you leave in the first place?” Ethan asks. “I thought we were a family, I thought we were happy.”

“Ethan…” she doesn’t want to go down this road. “Can’t we leave that in the past?”

“No.”

“I don’t have an answer.”

Ethan shakes his head. “That’s not good enough. There had to be some reason you left your job, your home, your husband, your child. You left and you never looked back. I deserve an answer, any answer. Witness Protection, alien abduction, anything.”

“I was young,” Margaret says. “I was 19 when I had you, I was still a baby. And we just settled into...monotony and routine, and I felt antsy. I didn’t think I could be a good wife and mother, my heart wasn’t in it. I thought no mother or wife would be better than a crappy one, and you guys would be better off without me in the picture.”

“You have some extremely flawed logic, Margaret.”

She only shrugs in response. “I know, but you weren’t anticipating a perfect answer. So...can we please just try to enjoy this dinner?”

Ethan ponders the question. He is starving, and this is a restaurant he’s been meaning to try. While the company isn’t what he’d usually want, Ethan is sure he can make do.

“We can enjoy dinner.”

Margaret smiles, her eyes crinkling slightly as she does so. “Yay! I hope they have a good chicken marsala because I am starving.”

~v~

By the time they’re finishing appetizers, Ethan has relaxed considerably. Maybe it’s the glass of wine, maybe he’s finally ready to ease up around his mother, but whatever it is, Ethan is grateful.

“Tell me more about your job,” Margaret probes. “I may not know all the medical mumbo jumbo, but I’ve seen E.R. I can kind of follow along. How long have you been in Boston?”

“Since I graduated medical school, 11 years now. I did my internship at Edenbrook, and I never left.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“You don’t ever want to be somewhere else? Like Stanford? Or Johns Hopkins?

“They’re great, but no. And I went to Hopkins for medical school, I’ve had my fill of them.” Ethan’s phone vibrates in his pocket. “Excuse me.”

He slips his phone out and looks at the screen. It’s a text message from Naomi.

How are things going?

He quickly sends her a reply.

I think they’re going...ok.

And you know I hate texting.

It takes her less than 10 seconds to respond, his phone beeping multiple times.

Yay!! I’m so glad things are going well!

And you love me, so you’ll deal

Ok, I’ll leave you alone now.

That makes Ethan roll his eyes, but he smiles at the message.

“Talking to someone special?” Margaret asks, gaining his attention.

Ethan’s head snaps up and he looks at his mom. “Huh?”

Margaret points to the phone. “Your face just lit up when you read your messages. Your dad told me that you’re seeing someone. Is that her?”

“Yes.”

“What’s her name?”

Ethan doesn’t know if he’s willing to talk to Margaret about something as precious to him as Naomi. Does she deserve to be privy to his personal life?

He decides to take the leap. “Naomi.”

“Ooh, like the supermodel,” Margaret coos. She raises an eyebrow. “Are...you dating the supermodel?”

“No, I’m not dating Naomi Campbell. Naomi—my Naomi—is a doctor at Edenbrook.”

“How long have you guys been dating?”

“Seven months now.”

“Do you love her?”

“Very much so,” Ethan confesses, not a hint of trepidation in his voice.

“Well what are you doing still being boyfriend and girlfriend? Sounds to me like you should lock things down and marry her.”

Margaret Ramsey is the last person Ethan will ever take relationship advice from. “Naomi and I are perfectly fine with the pace of our relationship. I’m not going to rush anything.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Margaret sighs wistfully. “”I just...I've wasted so much time, and I’ve missed so many moments. And now that I’m back, I’m projecting. It’s misplaced, and I overstepped.”

Ethan softens slightly. “It’s fine, no need to apologize.”

“Besides, there’ll be plenty of time for me to one day see you gg walk down the aisle. I don’t know if your father told you, but I’ve been looking for a place of my own.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. I got a job at a local grocery store, and I’ve been trying to find something close by, ideally in Boston or close by.”

“Good for you.”

Margaret looks around, unable to meet Ethan’s gaze and she rings her hands together. After staring at the passing waiters and patrons for a while, she turns back to the table, though her eyes remain fixed on the tablecloth. “I’ve been trying my hardest recently to get my life back in order after spending so much time aimlessly flitting around New England. But no one tells you how challenging it is to do that.” 

Finally she meets Ethan’s eyes. “In my hunt for a place of my own, I’ve come to realize that it won’t be smooth sailing. My savings is abysmal, and my credit is shot, so passing credit checks is hard and banks want such high down payments on houses and even higher interest rates.”

“I know you’ll probably think I’m ridiculous for bringing this up, and I hate to even mention it, but I just thought if in order for you and I to get on the right track, you’d maybe want to help. I guess it’s safe to assume you’re doing well…”

Ethan sees his mother’s mouth moving, but the rest of her spiel fades out like white noise. This is what she really wanted to meet with him for? Money?

A chill runs through his body, starting at the base of his skull, traveling down the length of his spine, and moving outwards. He feels frozen in place, like he’s being forced to sit in this chair.

Everything is jumbled and he can’t form a coherent thought to save his life.

Whatever it is, he wills it to pass. He doesn’t want to cause a scene in the restaurant, and he doesn’t want to be emotional in front of this woman.

It takes a long time for him to regain control of his person, but when he does, he releases a breath. Margaret is still going on, talking about a loan manager, but he holds up a hand to stop her in her tracks.

“You’re good,” he says. “Like...really good.”

She feigns confusion. “Good at what?”

“Acting. You’re so good at being a grifter, the lies and tall tales come so easily to you. You begged me to meet you, forced my dad to beg, and for what? Because you’re flat broke.” Ethan chuckles humorlessly. “What, did you Google me and dig for my net worth? Find out what type of car I drive? Research how much condos in my neighborhood cost?”

“Ethan, I–”

“Save it!” His tone is so sharp, it makes her flinch. The couple at the table next to them stop talking in order to stare. “I can’t believe I let my guard down around you, even slightly. You’re still the same piece of garbage you were 26 years ago.”

“You know Margaret, I would’ve respected you more if you would’ve been upfront and said you wanted money. Sure, I would’ve still said no, but there was no need for the disingenuous long con. You didn’t have to pull my dad into this, you didn’t need to show up to my job, you didn’t have to pretend to care about making amends, about being a part of my future, any of it.” Ethan hastily stands, pulling out his wallet. Hands trembling and clammy, he pulls out a crisp hundred dollar bill and throws it on the table. “Don’t ever, in your pathetic excuse for a life, reach out to me again.”

Ethan doesn’t bother grabbing his jacket. Instead he just turns around and walks away, ignoring Margaret’s pleas and shouts.

~v~

The drive home is long, silent, and tense, but Ethan makes it without snapping his steering wheel in half or causing a rage induced accident. He’s trying his hardest to remain calm, because who the fuck is Margaret and why does she have the right to get under Ethan fucking Ramsey’s skin? But it’s not working. He can feel all of the emotions simmering under the surface, crackling with a sharp intensity.

He opens the door to his apartment and crosses the threshold. His eyes fall on Naomi, sitting on his couch, curled up in a thick blanket, watching some silly reality show. Jenner’s on her lap, happily watching the show with her as she scratches his ears.

His entrance garners their attention and they look up. Naomi’s eyes widen and she cranes her neck, hoping to get a look at the time on the microwave from her spot on the couch. “Ethan! What are you doing here?”

“I live here, Rookie,” he quips. Ethan kicks off his shoes, leaving them at the door

Naomi rolls her eyes. “Obviously, smartass. I thought you’d still be having dinner with your mom.”

“I don’t have a mom,” Ethan says, his voice taking on an edge she’s not used to. “I had a surrogate who stayed 11 years too long.”

Naomi stands up and walks towards Ethan, who’s heading into the kitchen. She watches as he rinses out a glass and pours himself some scotch. “What happened? I thought things were going well.”

“I thought so too.” Ethan downs the drink in one gulp. “We were doing okay, she asked about my work, she asked about you, about us. And then it all culminated in her asking me for money.”

“What?”

“Yeah, she claims she wants a down payment for a house close by, but who knows if that was the truth. I could cut her a check and she’d be out of the state within an hour.”

Naomi frowns. “Baby, I am so sorry.”

“What is there to be sorry for?” Ethan asks. “Seriously, what? This isn’t your fault. Margaret showed me the type of person she was 26 years ago when she said she was going to the grocery store and she never came back. She showed me who she was when she never once tried to see me. I didn’t hear from her on my birthdays. I didn’t hear from her when I graduated high school, college, medical school, nothing. She wasn’t there when I got my tonsils removed, or when I won the science fair.  She disappeared like a thief in the night without a backwards glance and without a shred of remorse. And even tonight, not once did she apologize, she just gave me a shitty excuse about how she thought I was better off without her, and you know what? She was goddamn right. Margaret Ramsey showed her true colors a long time ago, hell, even all those months ago when she stole out of the convenience store.”

“Birthdays, Christmases, 26 Mother’s Days came and went without her. You know what was really fun? Seeing my friends in school have moms that participated in bake sales, and ‘Back to School Nights’ and field trips. It was great having the other parents and classmates take pity on me because I was the motherless child.”

“And she just waltzes back into town thinking, ‘Oh wow the kid I abandoned actually made something of himself. I researched doctor’s salaries in Boston, Google tells me he lives in a multi-million dollar apartment complex, he drives a Mercedes. Maybe I can swoop in and upend his life once more.’” Ethan takes the tumbler in his hand and throws it against the wall. Naomi jumps back, startled by the loud crash. “Fuck her! She’s dead to me.”

Naomi sucks in a deep breath and takes a step closer to Ethan. “You don’t mean that.”

“I absolutely do mean it,” Ethan argues.

“No you don’t. Because if you were truly done with the situation, if you were truly healed, you wouldn’t be so worked up over it.”

Ethan glances at the shards of glass littering his kitchen floor. “No, I think that did it. I think I got it out of my system.”

“I think you should–”

“You know what I think?” Ethan interjects, not giving Naomi the chance to speak. “I think we should move on.” He turns to his girlfriend and takes a step closer, eyes raking over her. “Moving on, hello. I don’t think I greeted you properly.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. I’m sorry I even let thoughts of that woman follow me home.” Ethan surges forward, his hand curling around Naomi’s waist, pulling her closer. He bends slightly, inhaling her scent. Her skin is soft and she smells like coconut. “You smell good.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I even went to that dinner,” Ethan murmurs. “I could’ve been here and showered with you.”

Naomi can see right through him. He’s deflecting, trying to push his feelings aside. He’s so good at it, bottling everything up, but she doesn’t want that to happen. “Ethan–”

He cuts Naomi off again, this time slanting his mouth over hers, enveloping her in a kiss that threatens to steal the breath straight from her lungs. She scrambles, arms flailing as she tries to hold onto something that will keep her upright. Thankfully Ethan walks them backwards until her back is pressed against the fridge.

His tongue sweeps across her bottom lip before invading her mouth, deepening the kiss. Desperate to touch her, Ethan grips her hip in his hand, reveling in her warmth. Naomi is here. She’s here. She’s real. And she’s not going anywhere.

She breaks the kiss, the urge to inhale too strong to ignore. Her palms rest against his chest, and she can feel just how erratic his heartbeat is. Sparing a glance upward, Naomi’s breath catches in her throat as she sees Ethan looking down at her, tears in his eyes.

“Ethan, talk to me,” Naomi pleads, taking his face in both of her hands. “Don’t shut me out, don’t try to deflect.” Ethan shakes his head, unable to find the words, unable to say them out loud. Naomi sighs. If he won’t start the conversation, she will. “I love you. I love you so much, and I am so sorry. I’m so sorry about your mom. You deserve so much more than she’s ever given you.”

That seems to help push things in the right direction, as Ethan slumps forward and rests all of his weight on her, his false bravado gone

“Why does it s-still matter?” Ethan asks, his voice breaking as the sobs settle in, wracking his body. “Why do I still care so much?”

“Because you’re not the robot you pretend to be.”

“I’m so stupid. I should’ve never agreed to do this.”

“You’re the furthest thing from stupid. You needed to see her for yourself. She owed you answers and closure.”

“I didn’t get it.”

“You did, it just wasn’t pretty. Now you know for certain the type of woman she is.”

But why did he have to throw himself back into the lion’s den in order to find out what he already knew? Now all of the old wounds have come back to surface, open and raw, ripe for picking. He feels like he’s been turned inside out and left for the taking.

“All these y-years later, and she still doesn’t...love m-me,” Ethan cries, fat tears rolling down the apples of his cheeks. “She st-still doesn’t want me. What did I do?”

Standing in front of her isn’t her 37 year old doctor boyfriend, but a heartbroken 11 year old who desperately wants his mom to come home from the “grocery store”. His pain is palpable, and Naomi’s heart aches for him. Ethan was dealt a shitty hand, and he didn’t deserve it at all.

His weight becomes too much for her to bear, and they sink down on the kitchen floor. Ethan buries his head in Naomi’s lap and she just cradles him. She’s never seen Ethan this upset and out of sorts, not when Delores died, and not when Naveen was on the brink of death, so she feels like a fish out of water.

“You didn’t do anything. You’re the child, you can’t carry this burden. Your mother is at fault, and it’s all her doing.”

She doesn’t know what else to say to him. She can tell him that he’s smart, and successful. She can tell him that he’s a wonderful guy, and that he deserves the world, and his mother is a selfish idiot for not seeing what she sees, but she doesn’t know if it will help. All the compliments and platitudes in the world can’t make up for your own mother not wanting anything to do with you.

So she doesn’t say anything. Silence falls between them, the only sound to be heard coming from the television and Jenner occasionally whining from his spot on the couch. Naomi simply strokes his hair and other places she can touch on his body.

They stay in that position for a long time, but the cold tiles of the kitchen floor become too uncomfortable to ignore after a while. Naomi stands up and drags Ethan along with her as they make their way to his bedroom.

Ethan is dead weight and doesn’t offer much help, so Naomi rids him of his clothes by herself, until he’s left in nothing but his boxers. His last bout of energy is used to collapse into bed, where he curls into Naomi’s side, holding her close.

“I’m off tomorrow,” Naomi says, breaking their silence. “I think you should take a personal day. You deserve to get some rest.”

She expects him to argue. He’s Ethan Ramsey, a workaholic, and if anything, he’ll use this as a reason to bury himself further in his work.

But he doesn’t argue. He nods and says, “Okay.”

“I’m sorry if I was too aggressive earlier,” Ethan continues, his voice still soft and quiet. “Yelling, throwing that glass, kissing you like that, it wasn’t appropriate.”

“Apology not needed. But thank you anyway.”

Ethan rolls over and stares at Naomi, analyzing her features. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Naomi kisses his bicep, too lazy to stretch up and kiss his lips. She rolls over and turns off the lamp at his bedside.

It doesn’t take long and she can feel herself getting sleepy, the events of the past hour taking their toll, a heaviness settling in her bones. As she starts to doze off, Ethan calls out for her. “Hey, Naomi?”

“Hmmm?”

“You’re the most important family I have.”

And with that, he falls asleep.

[dedalustephen]

kimochi warui: an evangelion inspired self-reflection

12AM, 25 January 2021.

I am a sum of everyone who has ever touched me, and yet I hate that people are touching me and I hate that I will be touched and I hate that I have to be felt and perceived and to perceive and that I am not alone in this world.

As I try to pull my earphones off to hear if there are voices, voices of people I’d love to feel secure in calling my friends, people I would love to be able to love properly, I accidentally tug on my dangly earrings a bit too hard. 

It hurts. A sharp pain nothing like the dullness I’ve been feeling all evening for whatever stupid reason I’m Going Though It. It hurts like hell and it reminds me that I am a sum of everyone who has ever touched me, that I got this piercing two months ago from one of my uni friends. That i got this piercing and we had fun piercing my ears and that I’ll never forget them because they pierced my ears. That I am, yet again, a sum of all the people I’ve been touched by.

Our third topic last term in our philosophy course was on personal identity. Is identity a matter of bodily sameness, or is it a matter of psychological continuity/connectedness/whatever? Right now, I don’t think I’m held together by any of that. All the cells in my body switch out every 7 years. I will eventually lose the memories of when I was younger and my aspirations will change and I will in every sense of the phrase become a different person. But people will still find me the same. The people who will recognize me will recognize me as the same person the same fucking person from when I was age 3 and when I’m 19 in two weeks.

I have been built up by the people around me and I will always be identified by the people around me and the way they’ve impacted me, the way I’ve impacted them.

I cannot exist without being perceived, yet I hate it so much.

The things I’ll do to live in isolation, so every thing I say doesn’t have to be followed with an “I’m sorry” and a “stop saying sorry!”. So every time I want to talk about my friends I don’t have to hesitate between calling them a friend, or something more detached. So I don’t feel like everyone hates me.

And yet I love being perceived. Please look at me, as I put up marginally worrying stories on my finsta. Please listen to me, as I invite everyone else to talk about their trauma while drunk just so I can tell them about my own. Please pay attention to me, as I listen to my Evangelion playlist with Car Seat Headrest songs on it on Spotify where all my friends can see. Please, please, please, please, please acknowledge me, please look at me, please don’t hate me. 

Please don’t hate looking at me.

I’m sorry you had to see me.

I’m sorry you had to see me weak.

But if you never see me weak, you’ll never let me see you weak. We’ll never get closer. And you’ll continue to hate looking at me. Right? I hate this feeling.

The hedgehog’s dilemma, spines poking at each other, it hurts. It hurts like my earlobe is stinging, it hurts like my head when I realise that I’ve drunk too much and said too much and done too much and existed too much.

I feel sick. I hate being a sum of everyone who has touched me. I hate that I am everyone I love and everyone I hate and everyone I know. I hate that they know me and I hate that I know that they know me but not that they love me. I hate everyone, but I hate myself most of all.

Walking around the mall with my friends back home, I bought a 400 HKD pink crystal bracelet. It’s supposed to bring you luck with relationships, or something. I’m desperate to be loved to be held to be seen so I bought it, and also because I hate myself. I don’t think it works. The tarot card reader told me if I told the boy I liked I like him I’d just regret it and that I’d hate any relationship I’ll get into in the next 3-6 months. It was a reading bleaker than I’d ever be able to expect, even my friends who went there with me were shocked. I say I trust her but I hate that I do. I hate that she told me I’d rush into a relationship just to feel something even though I know that I hate things that can’t be genuine. I hate that she so easily reached deep into my heart and spoke out a future I was so terrified so afraid of.

Maybe my personality is just unlovable. Maybe I’m just terrible to look at.

Maybe my mom only loves me because I’m studying in O*ford now, because I’m piloting the EVA. She’s writing a column, you know, on parenting. She said that when I was young, she hated me. Hated me for not being the child she could show off, hated me for being difficult and not anything she expected, hated me for being a child other parents would comfort her for having. Well, maybe she wasn’t being that mean, but that’s what I got from it. She hated me, until I did something she could be proud of.

And I mustn't run away, I mustn't run away, I mustn't run away. I have to pilot the EVA, I have to be someone who can be looked at and praised.

So, please don’t hate looking at me.

And when we touch, I’m sorry our spines prick at each other and I’m sorry that I say I’m sorry too much and I’m sorry for moving away because your spines are prickly and I am terrified I am terrified of being hurt and hurting you.

Loneliness is a bitch because I’ll never be anything more than I am now without other people continually building me up. I can never be more than what I am now if I keep running away from other people. I can’t run away from who I am now if I run away from others. I can’t run away.

It’s a disgusting feeling.

I don’t think I can live with it. Maybe I’ll just walk to the Jericho canal, and maybe I’ll wander too far down the canal, and maybe I’ll slip on the melted snow, and maybe that’ll plunge me into the canal, which maybe is really deep, and which maybe makes my fluffy coat so waterlogged I’m dragged down to the bottom of the canal, and maybe then I’ll stop breathing.

That means I’ll be seen though, and I can’t allow that. I can’t die because I will be seen. I can’t attempt to die because I will be seen. I can’t even run away from life itself because that means I’ll be walking straight back into people.

But do I not want to walk straight back into people? Do I not want to be seen? Why do I want attention so much? Am I just human, or am I simply-

Disgusting.

Asuka’s last line in End of Evangelion is “kimochi warui”, the famous untranslatable line that has boggled and fascinated fans since the movie’s release. A line that encompasses everything I am feeling now. The feeling of dirt being left on my psyche that I can’t manage to ever wash off. The disgusting feeling that I am stuck with this forever and ever and ever until I am finally released from my human cage by natural death of old age.

Instrumentally won’t happen. I would not want it to happen, because I will be left alone, and that was the problem in the first place. I will never be away from people and the worries people give me, even if I lock myself in my ensuite room for all the days to follow. The moment I take off my earphones I’ll hear people outside chatting laughing existing. I’ll be forced to acknowledge them and when they see me go out of my room eventually I’ll be forced to be acknowledged.

How disgusting, the hedgehog’s dilemma. 

I cannot escape that I am what everyone has built me up to be, I cannot escape that I am a culmination of all the people I’ve been touched by and all the people I’ve touched. I cannot escape people. So maybe I will learn to be with them. 

I’m forcing myself to write something reflective, to float above the primordial soup of human consciousness, or, if you want to be funny, depressed Fanta, that I want to turn into. It’s not a genuine feeling, but I know I can accept that my skin will bleed and be hurt by others if I love myself and let myself be loved. It doesn’t feel real. But I have to believe it, even if it feels like I’m lying to myself.

One of my highschool friends once told me that I only found myself to be an awkward person because that’s how I view myself. She asked me if I’d ever considered that other people don’t find my conversations with them annoying and awkward, that maybe other people actually don’t mind, and might even actively want to, perceive me. That my existence isn’t the annoyance I think it is for everyone else.

That maybe, I am loved.

It shattered my worldview, and for around two weeks, I was happy. Now I’m like this again but that’s okay, because I have those words from then and I have Evangelion. 

It’s okay because I will always be reminded that, when I tug on my earrings too hard by accident when taking my earphones off to let my friends’ voices in, the people who touch me may hurt me, but that’s okay.

Because the pain itself--I don’t think it’s a feeling I hate after all.

1AM, 25th January 2021.

[jessiesmentalhealthjourney]

November 28, 2017

So. Yeah. Melancholy. It’s got me.

Last night I told Ben I didn’t want to do our normal Thursday anymore. I told him we could hang out on occasion but I wanted it to be intentional. I don’t know if he quite understood that I didn’t mean “Sometimes not on Thursday but on other day instead”, but that I meant “I don’t want to spend as much time with you.” He didn’t even ask why. But he followed that up by saying he wanted to have dinner with me this week. So… yeah. I feel like this is yet another instance of me saying what I wanted and him sidestepping it and keeping the status quo. Frankly, I can’t keep seeing him every week. I’m only getting more and more bitter about him and the miserable failure that was our relationship. I can’t just forgive him and move on and HEAL because there’s constant reminders and constant ongoing failures.

Yesterday morning I woke up and found myself completely fixated on how hurtful it was it know how deeply he’d brought Tmara into his life while he kept me so isolated. The last month coincidences have shown me all the little ways she’s been accepted in ways I didn’t even know were possible. She attended weddings with him, went to North Dakota with him, spends time with his parents… He met us around the same time and yet I was purposefully held completely apart from his life while she was welcomed in. And she’s the one who was dead set AGAINST any sort of relationship in the beginning, which boggles my mind more. Maybe it’s the whole wanting-what-you-can’t-have thing. I don’t know. Honestly it shouldn’t matter anymore, but it does because it highlights the failure. And other people having what I can’t.

Also yesterday, Kysen was joking about giving Dempsey and I a room in his house when he bought one, like ten years in the future. I joked back that I was flattered that I was in his 10 year fantasy plan, to which he responded I’d probably be married off and gone by then anyway. That stung really bad because my gut reaction was “yeah, right.” I honestly can’t believe that it’ll be possible for me to find someone to marry or have a committed relationship with in ten year’s time. The thought that there might be a future where I’m not alone seems so ridiculous and unlikely that it feels flat out wrong and hurtful to pretend it might actually happen.

Also yesterday (okay, there’s a theme, I can see why Max said I’ve had a rough few days), I learned that the way they were going to consolidate our department into our office space was by taking Marissa and I, and my students, and put us up on the third floor in the student organizations space. We’ll have to squeeze ourselves into an already cramped space far away from the other 12 people in our department. I couldn’t sleep last night because my mind was thinking of all the ways this was an awful change. The space is cave-like and dark (while still being obscenely fluorescently bright), it’s crammed full with crap for student organizations to use. We’ll be completely separated from the office chatter and talk that keeps us amused and connected. We’ll be left out of important impromptu conversations. We’ll be left out of the office jokes and dynamic. We’ll have to make a lot more effort to get basic questions asked. It’ll be just the two of us shuttered away in a corner far from everyone else… and it’s heartbreaking. This will be the fourth move I’ve made since I started here three years ago. This is almost as bad, if not worse, than my time out in the SRC. The isolation during that year was awful, to the point where I almost quit a few times. I’m dreading going back to that so much. And because it will only be 2 of 14 people rather than 3 of 6, the effort to include us will be far less than when it was literally half the team in another building. I have a deep seated fear of being forgotten. It happens to me all the fucking time. And here I am being shoved in a literal corner and left. It’s awful.

I know it’s not malicious. It’s really one of the few options we have. We’re being told that our department has to be in the same building now, and the space we have now is already bursting and we’re supposed to cram 4 more people in here. The upstairs space is literally the only space we have to expand to, and there’s not much space up there. So… it makes sense. But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

I have my follow-up appointment from my surgery tomorrow. I’m hoping they’ll tell me I can schedule my next surgery and get on with things, but I don’t know. I’m so exhausted of this all I don’t have the energy to care. I’m still struggling to make it through a day, though now its mentally. It feels wrong to be at work since I’ve spent so much time in bed. I also feel like I’m just laying around while my life passes me by. Which, really, I am. There’s probably something I could be doing, some way to make the most of this, but fuck, I’m not some inspirational story or some such sappy shit. I’m exhausted. I’m tired. I don’t give a flying fuck. All I want to do is lay in bed and sleep and play with my yarn because everything else is too fucking hard to deal with.

So I guess Max was right. I have had a rough couple of days.