#and underlying all of that my family fucking sucks and i can't do anything about that. and the world fucking sucks too
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#and i think they expected my partner to cave and say yes get it since they asked more than once but we didn't like the location either#which was by the way RIGHT NEXT TO A HIGHWAY RAMP. can you imagine the fucking noise?!#i was already depressed living in their hoity toity neighborhood and hearing the highway all the time despite seeing so many trees#no fucking way i'm going to move to an apartment complex basically on the highway that purports itself to be just as good as owning a house#when i know I wouldn't be able to modify the property or have a yard or do gardening or fucking anything#and i'm still fucking mad we're moving into an apartment and not renting a house right now#we could have had a house for less than this a year ago but my partner said the rent was too much#now we're in a fucking apartment for more#i wanted a yard#i have been so frustrated and feel like i have no control over literally anything recently#i'm very happy to be out of their place and maybe it will help me feel like i have some control again#but man like nothing has been going my way and a bunch of my stuff depends on other people being open especially my partner#who keeps turning down various things on the basis of needing to do other important stuff AND THEN NOT DOING THAT STUFF EITHER#my pain makes me feel extra out of control#i can't do a task myself and ask my partner to help or do it for me. they've chastised me for not asking for help in the past. i ask.#the task is determined to either be not important enough to actually be done or they don't do it the way that i want and are defensive when#i ask that it actually be done the different way. like i go above and beyond for them and sacrifice time to go do menial stuff#because i currently have more time than them. like getting this outfit for them. i want to tear my hair out and scream#and underlying all of that my family fucking sucks and i can't do anything about that. and the world fucking sucks too#i need to go back or i'll get too tired to drive
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"that shouldn't have happened" for charlie...(sorry) (not sorry)
this got away from me but it was worth it
tw for ptsd, unhealthy coping mechanisms, implied past sa
He shouldn't have come.
The beer tingles the back of Charlie's throat, leaving him pleasantly warm. He's had at least one too many, if the slight haziness of his mind is any indication, but he has a feeling it would take an entire gallon of alcohol to block out the memories stirred up by tonight.
There are familiar faces dotted all throughout the room. Boone is singing along to Major Egan's terrible rendition of Blue Skies. Sawyer is talking to Hambone. Max and Gabe are leaning against the far wall with whiskeys in hand, pretending to scope out the room as if either of them has the slightest intention of dancing with any of the girls there.
If he'd had two or three beers more, Charlie might tell them to stop fucking around and actually talk to each other - but he's just sober enough not to do that right now.
A glint of gold hair and broad shoulders catches his eye.
Forrest, of course. Still in military uniform rather than civilian clothing like most of the men, obviously continuing his family's oh-so-proud tradition. The ring on his left hand is new. The misery underlying his broad grin is not.
Charlie knows how he feels.
Forrest must sense him watching somehow, because he looks across the room. The expression in his eyes is one Charlie's seen a dozen times before: hunger, underpinned by shame.
Charlie had promised himself a long time ago that he and Forrest were never fucking again. Had meant every word of it. But he's tired and a little drunk and there are too many ghosts in the room, hovering in the corners with hollow eyes and burnt faces.
He's still trying to decide what to do, Forrest approaching steadily, when there's a voice at his elbow.
"Want to get out of here?" Jamie's smile is bright, but his hands are shaking a bit, eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal. He's never gotten used to crowds since…since…
Fuck off, Charlie tells the ghosts in his head. Maybe this is just what he needs. "Sure."
He follows Jamie outside. Doesn't bother to turn and see if Forrest is watching.
The air is just starting to turn cool, the sky a hazy colour between purple and navy. It's a nice change from the heat, the music, and the smell of cigarettes, whisky, and too many bodies inside.
They find a half empty crate of beer by one of the storage sheds and grab a few. Jamie's cheeks are flushed a bit, and he coughs after his first few swallows. That doesn't stop him from finishing the bottle, or opening a second. Charlie watches him and tries to remember if he'd drunk this much back when they were at Thorpe Abbotts. He can't recall.
Then again, war changes everyone.
"How are you doing?" Jamie asks, because he's nice like that. He always had been, even in the st–
"Okay," Charlie says. It's a fairly truthful answer. "You?"
Jamie takes another swallow of beer before he answers. "My brother got married."
"Oh." Charlie's not sure what to say to that. He remembers Jamie talking about his younger brother. Kid was a paratrooper in the Airborne or something like that. It had been obvious that Jamie adored him. Yet his tone sounds anything but happy. "Congratulations."
"He didn't tell me." Jamie's voice is soft, defeated. "It happened a month after I got back. I only found out because I saw it in the paper."
Oh.
"I thought it'd be better after the war, y'know?" Jamie swirls his bottle around aimlessly. "Thought he'd stop hating me so much. Guess I didn't realise how bad it was."
Charlie sucks in a breath. "I'm sorry."
He's not sure what else to say. Jamie's always been the "mom" of their crew - mama bird, Sawyer and Denny used to call him. Looked after everyone without a word of complaint. Charlie's pretty sure he wouldn't even be talking about this if he were sober, but nights like this have a way of opening up every wound, fresh and raw and painful.
Yet another reason why he shouldn't have come.
Jamie inhales shakily and puts his hands over his face. He's crying.
Fuck, Charlie hates this. He's no good at this kind of thing. Part of him wants to get up, slip back inside and let Jamie cry it out alone.
But that's cruel. Too much so, even for him. It's Jamie, for pete's sake.
He swallows his discomfort and puts his bottle down, slipping an arm around Jamie's shoulders.
"I'm sorry," he says again. It's all he has.
Jamie turns into him, burying his face in Charlie's shoulder. He's still crying, quietly and hopelessly, like a kid who knows no one is coming for him.
It makes Charlie ache and rage at the same time.
"It's going to be okay." Probably a lie, but he doesn't know what else to say. He rubs his free hand lightly over Jamie's back, up and down. "It'll be okay."
Jamie pulls back a bit, his breath hitching raggedly. His cheeks are wet, eyes red-rimmed and glossy. He's too close.
Something kicks to life in Charlie's gut.
Forrest had called him fucked in the head once after a mission, saying he didn't know the difference between sex and comfort. Charlie had smiled at him and asked if that meant he didn't want his cock sucked. An hour later, he'd returned to the barracks with a split lip and the taste of Forrest in the back of his throat.
Jamie isn't Forrest. Hell, Charlie doesn't even know if he likes anything other than girls. But the beer is clouding his head, and the ghosts are whispering in his ear, and Jamie's looking at him, all big eyes and shaky hands and so much hurt bleeding out of him Charlie can all but taste it.
In the end, he's not sure who makes the first move. Doesn't really matter, to be honest. His mouth collides with Jamie's, wet and messy and more than a little desperate.
Jamie tastes like salt and beer. His lips are soft and a bit chapped, and he's awkward at first but so so needy, kissing Charlie like his life depends on it.
It feels good to be needed.
"Get on my lap," he says, and Jamie does. It makes Charlie's head spin a little bit, though that could be just the beer. He tips his head back, out of reach of another kiss, and Jamie fucking whines.
"It's okay," Charlie says softly. He kisses the tears on Jamie's cheeks, grazes his lips just a little. "It's gonna be okay. I'll look after you."
This is such a fucking terrible idea. But in another scenario, he could be on his knees sucking Forrest off before being left alone to clean himself up. Kissing Jamie, rocking him back and forth along his thigh, can't be so bad compared to that.
Right?
He bucks his hips a bit, prompting a shudder as Jamie whimpers into his mouth. "It's okay," he says again, and this time it's true, because there's no one better at this than him. Even the fucking Nazis had known that.
The thought leaves him cold and sick. He kisses Jamie again to make it go away.
This isn't the fucking stalag. He isn't anyone's toy. He's doing this because he wants to.
He tells himself that over and over as the band plays on inside and Jamie grinds against him, breath short and uneven. For someone who's never done this before, he catches on quickly.
Just because he can, Charlie reaches down and palms him through his trousers. He barely manages two strokes before Jamie comes, going rigid, a bitten-off gasp escaping kiss-swollen lips. He collapses against Charlie's neck with a little sob, trembling all over.
It takes approximately thirty seconds for the awfulness of what he's done to hit Charlie. No longer tipsy, he's suddenly very aware of the sticky mess soaking the front of Jamie's trousers, his own arousal, and the fading sparks in his stomach now souring to shame.
He's been to three reunions since the war ended. Hasn't managed to make it through one yet without fucking somebody. Yet this time it's so much worse, for more than one reason.
Jamie shivers against him. Charlie can't tell if he's still crying or not. Suddenly, violently, he wants to cry too.
"I'm sorry," he says. "I…that shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry."
Jamie doesn't say anything, but he doesn't let go either. Unable to move, Charlie closes his eyes and lets the tears fall.
He shouldn't have come.
~
forbidden kiss prompts
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Hello hello, some asks for Fleabag and Sun~
3. How did your oc discover themself? Did something cause them to question, or did they always know?
9. Are there cultural or lore specific aspects to their identity? If applicable, does their species affect it?
Yesssssss so excited to talk about Fleabag in this
3. How did your oc discover themself? Did something cause them to question, or did they always know?
Fleabag Fleabag's WHOLE story is about this, they were raised by their father who was opposed Papa Khan and what he was doing to the Khans. Fleabag's dad was wildly homophobic and transphobic which was the basis for a lot of his hatred of Papa (who in my world is gay and trans) and Fleabag unfortunately internalised a lot of that. He was very hard on Flea growing up, policing all of their actions to make sure they were acting like a good masculine man and not anything that could be mistaken for one of Papa's Khans. However when Fleabag passed through the Khans initiation rites and (as part of my hc for the Khans) was taught all the steps of making a leather jacket by the community, Fleabag saw all these Khans they'd been taught were their enemy being-- happy as themselves-- which Fleabag was not. And that ate at them for a long time. Fleabag kind of had to explore their own identity on their own, or in secret, and it wasn't until after their dad died did they truly start living as themself.
Sun ON THE OTHER HAND. Sun has basically always known. I think I've explained enough already but Sun's very lucky to have always had a big accepting family and the ig awareness of what he can be? He probably just thought he was gay for a little while at first when dating Manny but then realised he was bi later.
9. Are there cultural or lore specific aspects to their identity? If applicable, does their species affect it?
I'll just answer them together because they're from the same group just different subsets of it but it'll make more sense if I do it this way. So I've mentioned this already a little bit but I think the Khans especially have a weird kinda relationship with gender/sexuality that's born from them being raiders. In general, I think relationships in raider groups are very 'fast and loose', you never know who will die next or stab you in the back so it's better not to have commitments unless you're certain. People obvs are yknow trucking n fucking but things are just a lil different, and it was like that in the New Khan days but things have changed by the time of the Great Khans. The New Khans were a long time ago for a lot of Khans but for some its still within their lifetime (it's 40 years between the two) so some of this stuff is kinda new to them, within a generation or so! And the same goes for queer acceptance, in my hc, Papa being gay and trans and taking over the Khans flipped the New Khans on their head. The underground queer scene in the New Khans was suddenly the only community left to rally the survivors into the Great Khans. Papa Khan's Khans who evacuated California became the most powerful splinter of the New Khan remnants because the other splinters either tore each other apart OR got ripped apart by the NCR. most Khans were just grateful Papa was a fair and just leader and if they had any homophobic feelings about it they either had to suck it up or die out in the wastes. All this is to say that in my hc, by the time of the Great Khans acceptance is very high and the small groups of homophobes who want things to "go back to the good old Darion days" are very small, and also can't do shit about it except occasionally rock the boat i.e Bitter Roots parents and Fleabag's dad. It really just depends on what part of the Khans someone was raised in, and there is some underlying toxic masculinity that hasn't been scrubbed out yet which affects some people like Fleabag or Jerry. ANYWAY. in general I think raiders tend to be a little more loose unless they've got something going on like Garl Death-Hands whole shit with his dad. They kind of don't care what you are as long as you can fight and you're cool and badass. The Great Khans specifically have been carving their own path in terms of queerness and tbh NOBODY is doing it like them and I cant fully explain without making this post even longer but like. you understand.
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got out my laptop to write a vent post like it's 2014 idk i'm just like ruminating on every breakup i've ever had and realizing after 15 years of trying to fit the role of girlfriend that is really just not for me lol! like i really thought i was on that path but if there's been any theme to my life so far it's that my path is not straightfoward like i transferred high schools i transferred colleges i moved to a new state without knowing anybody lost my housing immediately in a pandemic and still made it fucking work now i manage a restaurant which i could have NEVER seen myself doing 4 years ago even tho i always wanted to. the first most significant relationship i had when i was 18/19 was with a really genuinely great guy, i broke up with him because i knew somehow that i was too young and had a lot more to experience. it sucked because i loved him deeply and still did for years afterwards to a painful degree lmao. that colored a lot of my subsequent relationships thru college and beyond, which mostly: sucked. and they sucked because they all paled in comparison to the great relationship i had given up in order to have the freedom to have shitty relationships lol. so then i had some shitty relationships, interspersed with periods of girlbossing, then when i was 26 i started dating someone (long distance that i met thru a friend) who was really a perfect match for me in so many ways and i genuinely thought like this is it. literally had king of my heart on the relationship playlist, baby all at once this is enough. but then over time the realities of what it would take to really build that relationship, especially if it meant marriage, actually sank in for me and all that i would have to give up about myself, the life that i've built here, that i fought so hard to build. also i've said it before and i'll say it again.... this grown man let his mother do his laundry. this red flag represented more family dynamics that i won't get into for his sake but it was like once the puzzle pieces fell into place about what i was being asked to sign up for re commitment and marriage it was like omfg no. i will not be doing this man's laundry in 5 years' time fuming and resentful. so i ended that relationship which sucked because all my breakups SUCK i can never have a half decent breakup to save my fucking life, but i was still of the mindset that he wasn't the one for me and i needed to keep looking/waiting. i've dated here and there since then. but what took months and months to sink in the aftermath of that breakup was that the little details like the laundry and the distance that caused that breakup and not the underlying cause of all my breakups since i was 16 which all boil down to i don't wanna do this anymore lol. some people think the term honeymoon phase is controversial or whatever but that has been the case for me in every single relationship ive had that's gotten off the ground. relationships that don't get off the ground are a completely different story lol the only similarity is that every breakup ive ever had big or small sucked ass. to the point where it would lead to me staying in relationships way longer than i should have to avoid a traumatizing breakup which as we all know only makes the breakup worse [[laughing emoji x 13]]. so now like thinking about a guy a like and care about and him hypothetically asking me to be his girlfriend and i can't think of anything fucking worse. like no shade to the girlfriends out there. but my experience of being a girlfriend, even of a guy who treats you well, is that they are using the experience of possessing you to feel good about themselves. all guys do this. the guy who wanted to marry me treated me like aphrodite and worshipped the ground i walked on. and i believe he truly loved me, in a way no one ever has. but it felt perverse after awhile, like in the end it was really serving him. my laptop may die and i don't wanna lost this post, if you're still reading tysm for reading my stream of consciousness <333 if you didnt read this far sorry for not being perfectlol
#wow i hit character limit on this#i used to write posts like this allll the time especially in college#forgot how much it helps me think
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Wanting to weigh in here as a light skinned native person (specifically Mi'kmaw) its really complicated..
On the one hand colorism is real! My light skin let me & my mother (& lots of other ndns) survive, by keeping our heritage secret. In my area this is almost a universal experience, due mainly to the enslavement of natives in the Atlantic provinces that my people are native to. So a lot of Mi'kmaq are light-skinned, even after reconnection in later generations, with Mi'kmaq people marrying each other rather than being forced into relationships with settlers (like my grandparents for ex).
But my darker skinned family couldn't do that. My moms sister is darker than her, more like my nan, & got clocked, & harassed for it. Really the issue here is that, stereotypes make it so ppl like me find it difficult to feel "native enough" because of how people racially profile natives as all looking one way. And stereotypes also make it that people like my auntie are actively harassed by settlers, without any means to protect themselves. Which is a awful, dangerous position to be in, even when you DO get accepted as being native enough.
But I think it's important that these issues also aren't exclusive to us, mixed Black natives deal with the same things, only exacerbated by a fuck ton because they have no access to the shelter of white privilege. They don't have that access the way I do- the access that is able to keep you safe, at the price of assimilation & insecurity. For mixed Black and dark skin natives, even if they do assimilate & reject their nativeness because of the way they are perceived physically - they're still going to experience racial discrimination.
Basically what I'm saying is: this issue is nuanced and to focus in on light skinned suffering in our community, while not *untrue*, does the underlying issue a disservice. Because yeah; the stereotypes suck, the assumptions suck, the fakeclaiming sucks, it makes assimilation more and more forceful in a way non natives don't ever think about.
But its not a light skin issue, its a racial stereotyping issue, and one that dark skin natives struggle with too, & often have very little - if any - protection from. I've repeatedly seen this phrase but using Black rather than white being thrown at fellow natives to harass them more than once, & the aggressiveness of it is just as if not more intense, & a lot of non native people don't seem to realize this is even happening.
Its incredibly important to highlight that when talking about this phenomenon of being fake-claimed. Native people can look like anything. We can be light, dark, brown, we can have monolids, we can not have them. The reality is that there are native people across the entire globe, & through years of colonialism, a lot of the community are mixed. Alot of us don't look like how we're "supposed to".
The lesson to take away is: no, you CAN'T tell who is and isn't native by looking at them. Ever. And if you're non native & think someone is lying, please do us all a favor and keep it to yourself - our community is perfectly capable of regulating ourselves without your intervention. Your insistence that we need you to harass random native people because they don't check all your boxes of what we are and aren't, is frankly, just an extension of colonial violence- Stop it.
And yes, I can tell when you think I'm lying & won't say it, I can feel how uncomfortable you get when you realize I'm not shying away from who I am regardless of how I look. But at least when you don't say that shit out loud we don't have another keeler situation. And yes, even though it does effect me, and other light skin natives, we absolutely have to acknowledge it is impacting *all* native people who don't perfectly fit the narrow stereotypes of what native people look like. That's all.
something that may shock you all is that repeatedly insisting a native person is white because of what you perceive to be them not looking native enough is not only racist but one of the oldest forms of racism against indigenous americans lol
#ndn#sorry this is just something I'm passionate about#and no hate to op i am really happy to see someone talk about this#just wanted to provide insight and make sure Black natives aren't left out of this conversation again#because its definitely telling that its people like me who are highlighted in these posts#instead of both people like me and people who are darker than the stereotypes too!
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@yeetyeetyeetyeetnonono Sorry for pulling this out of the replies but I exceeded the character limit so here we are!
But anyway I want to clarify right up front that there is literally nothing immoral about needing/using drugs, any drugs, for any reason. I never said that nor did I intend to imply it.
The issue is that english "drugs" covers everything from ibuprofen to meth and there isn't really a concise way to say "drugs like weed that are usually illegal but sometimes not and not prescribed by a doctor" so I just said "drugs" assuming(wrongfully) that people would understand what I meant.
But tbh I've had the rest of this kicking around in my head for a while, so while I'm probably preaching to the choir I just gotta get this out:
I have several friends and family members who struggle with drug addiction and/or with convincing doctors to actually help them with their problems. I know for a fact that the majority of people who turn to (usually)illegal drugs do it because they are experiencing profound suffering and are desperate to find anything that will make life bearable for them.
As an example, I know someone who became addicted to opioids bcs they have debilitating OCD that makes it near impossible for them to even exist in the world, and opoiods were the only thing that helped them relax enough that they could live a normal life. They don't want to use illegal drugs or be addicted, and they've tried to stop before, but they've failed because they don't have any other options to alleviate their suffering. And while I am not on good terms with this person for other reasons, I can't really blame them for not wanting to suffer.
I also know someone who is disabled and has been dealing with debilitating chronic pain their entire life. Their new doctor refused to prescribe them a dose of painkillers that would actually help them(or do much of anything other than tell them to suck it up), and bcs they were in angony and desperate for relief they turned to street fentanyl, but when their doctor found out instead of seeing that as like, a sign that their patient wasn't getting the help they needed, they saw that as a sign this person was an addict and immediately completely took away the pain killers they desperately needed which like?? How does that make sense?? This person didn't resort to further fentanyl usage thankfully, bcs it's dangerous and way more addictive and they could face legal trouble, but if they had...idk if I could have blamed them. They had their only safe venue of help taken away when they needed it most. Why not turn to street/illegal drugs at that point?
Or, for me, I have been put through hell for like a year trying medication after medication to help with my debilitating insomnia. Despite the fact that I have Bipolar II and even on a mood stabilizer SSRIs have always ruined my ability to function, and I have taken ambien before and had no issues, AND I had a note from my current therapist saying that I would not make any progress addressing my trauma if I wasn't sleeping, and not sleeping also triggers my migraines and my migraines are bad enough it makes me feel suicidal, my doctor made me try a bunch of SSRIs.
When that put me in the fucking hospital I asked her if I could please just try ambien or something like it, she said "narcotics are bad for you" and made me try other meds that thankfully didn't mess with my serotonin but also didn't help. After that she literally told me I had exhausted all of my options and there was nothing she could do to help me, and I should try therapy to see if addressing the underlying cause would fix the sleep issues. She didn't listen when I reminded her my therapist said I wouldn't be able to do that if I wasn't sleeping. She didn't care that it could take years to fully resolve my trauma, years where I not sleeping would be further destroying my health to the point of making me want to kill myself, that suffering is "better for me" than using narcotics. I'm just supposed to suffer to avoid MAYBE becoming addicted to ambien.
But like...she said she wouldn't help me. I had my safe venue of receiving help denied to me. And on top of the suicide risk, that would only make my risk of addiction worse bcs now my only options are suffer, which I obviously don't want to do, or do something illegal that is far more likely to actually lead to an addiction or death.
And I can't just suffer like that, I don't want to be in so much pain that it makes me want to die, so bereft of options I started taking weed gummies, which have worked wonders and helped me finally get some sleep. Thankfully, weed is legal where I am, and my doctors can't do anything about me using it like refusing me service or taking away my other medications.
But again, I don't really think this is that different from what the previous people I talked about did, or anyone else I know who has struggled with addiction. The only reason I'm not facing backlash or putting myself at risk of death/legal trouble/worse addiction using illegal drugs from a likely less than reputable source, is bcs this is legal where I am and I can buy safe weed at a dispensary. If it wasn't, I'd probably be in the same boat as them. Bcs chronic insomnia is life-ruining and makes me suicidal and the thought of going back to living like that terrifies me to the point of having anxiety attacks just thinking about it. I can't do it. If I didn't live somewhere with legal weed idk what I'd do, but it would be hard to not at least think about turning to an illegal substance for help when the alternative is agony so bad I literally want to die. (Or alcohol which while legal would also probably put my life at risk, I'm on a handful of meds that make it VERY dangerous for me to drink.)
So I have to keep using drugs that are technically illegal but not really to make it so that I can live a normal life, and that is a fucking failure on the part of my doctors.
Bcs doctors, and society, frames turning to illegal drugs as a moral failing, something someone only does when they are lazy or stupid or selfish or not strong enough to put up with a little character-building honorable suffering and just do what the doctor said. But that's not true. People turn to illegal drugs when they are in hellish agony and have no other choice for relief.
Bcs if you have been denied safe help and the alternative is agony and/or suicide, you kinda stop caring about illegal drugs potentially killing you or you going to jail or becoming addicted. People want to live, and they will do anything to alleviate their suffering, and the onus for becoming an addict is on their doctors/our medical system (and society as a whole tbh), not them. And I really think more doctors need to contend with that reality. If your patient turns to illegal drugs it isn't because THEY failed. It's because YOU(and/or our system as a whole) failed to help them. If they were getting the help they so desperately needed they wouldn't think to turn to dangerous, illegal drugs for relief.
And I know some doctors want to help but can't bcs of the law or w/e and that sucks, but that's a failure as well, just of the medical system as a whole, NOT their patient. And I just think that's a better way of framing it. Addiction isn't a moral or personal failing, it's a systemic failure. The addict has not failed anyone, they have been failed.
And I'm just so fucking tired of living in a world where addiction is blamed on the individual and people who are at their lowest and suffering so profoundly are abandoned bcs they did whatever they could to end their suffering. And nothing has put that into stark focus for me like ending up in a position where the only reason I'm not demonized for making the SAME choices is bcs weed is legal.
I'm also tired of living in a world where people like me are denied help because the "risk" of addiction is worse than just treating our health problems, where we should just put up with our health being destroyed bcs it's "better" for us than narcotics, bcs that isn't fucking true!! Suffering is bad and denying people help makes the risk of addiction and death HIGHER bcs they will turn to other, unsafe substances to end that suffering.
That's what I was trying to say.
I really am starting to be impressed with the sheer power of my insomnia, like my doctor will be all "here have some hydroxyzine this is what we give people before surgery to calm them down, it should knock your ass right out" and then a week later I have to come back and hope they believe me when I say I didn't feel a single goddamn thing.
#long post#very long post#ask to tag#cw suicide mention#cw addiction#cw alchohol mention#suicide mention#suicide#addiction#alcohol
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