#but this mentality is everywhere around me

[hrrtshape]

things i manifested in the last 5 months.

◞ a trip to paris with my mom, because, obviously, i deserve cinematic montages of me walking along the seine in sunglasses and a red coat.

◞ a trip to italy’s ski resorts with my dad and brother, living my best après-ski la dolce vita moment, probably in a fur-lined coat, giving ‘mysterious heiress with a past.’

◞ a trip to ibiza. . .do i even need to elaborate? the sun, the sea, the absolute lack of thoughts in my head, just vibes.

◞ becoming more prettier. a few months ago, i took that test where a robot “according to science” calculates how pretty you are. i got about 52%, skip to right now and it shows 80%!!!!

◞ a trip to the belgium grand prix because i am a girl of culture and i like watching millionaires drive in circles really, really fast. everyone PLEASE manifest that charles leclerc falls in love with me.

◞ losing weight after ED recovery, but in a way that felt good and right, not in a ‘war with my body’ way, but in a ‘my body is thanking me for treating it with kindness’ way.

◞ and by extension… eating however much i want. not only in that “oh, i eat however much i want and don’t gain” (although, yes!!!!), but also that i don’t feel absolutely horrible, horrid and disgusting after eating past 8 o’clock.

◞ excuse my french, but, growing an ass!!!!!! this one gets its own fanfare because how does one thrive off a diet of carbs, croissants, burritos, and soy milk lattes AND still develop the physics-defying, gravity-defying, renaissance sculpture of a derrière??? the laws of biology are in shambles. the gym hasn’t seen me in months and it will continue to do so.

◞ my mom’s business POPPING OFF. the celebrities in my little nation are in her dm’s, the business is expanding into so many places, and the success!!!!! it’s only just beginning.

◞ shifting to my fame dr for 20 minutes and meeting timmy t!!!!! one second in my bed, the next in a make up chair. a cameo from hollywood’s favourite brooding poet boy. did he fall in love with me instantly? maybe. was i effortlessly captivating? always. the chemistry? palpable.

◞ cocktails!!! everywhere. i don’t even have to ask my parents anymore, they’re always in my hand at the perfect moment. divine intervention in mixology form.

◞ always being at the right place at the right time. no missed busses, no wrong turns, no long lines, no awkward “why am i here” moments. just perfectly timed entrances like i’m starring in my own movie. I AM the meet-cute.

◞ my mom and dad FINALLY getting along. a historic event. peace treaties (actual contracts) were signed, egos were dissolved, and my mental health got a break it so desperately needed. love this for 9 year old me who was probably getting bpd as everything occurred.

◞ my little safe space (shifttblur, my little prophet oracle shenanigans) taking off. the church of muad’dib is THRIVING. and i’ve gotten so many kewlest friends<3

◞ my hair isn’t as oily anymore. and i DIDN’T EVEN SWITCH PRODUCTS. science is flailing, trichologists are confused, but i’m simply basking in my newfound ability to go days without dry shampoo.

◞ my nose??? smaller? upturned?? nature is quite literally BENDING to my will. my face is sculpting itself to perfection, no consultation necessary.

◞ also!!! my lashes have grown an INSANE amount. falsies who???

◞ my intuition reaching oracle of delphi levels. i don’t even need to second-guess things anymore. if i sense something, it’s FACT. the accuracy? terrifying. my inner knowing? undefeated. the people around me? spooked.

◞ eloquence. this is, lowkey (high-key), the most fortunate thing that had ever happened to me. i am patiently sitting and waiting for that 100% on my essays.

◞ me and my dad finally getting along. not in a dramatic, movie-moment way, just in the little things. the conversations that didn’t feel forced. the jokes that actually landed. the quiet understanding that we’re both trying, in our own ways.

◞ money. just… money. not in a lottery-winning way, but in a ��somehow, i always have enough” way. in a “random discounts appear when i need them” way. in a “people keep handing me little opportunities” way. a quiet, steady flow.

◞ my painting and drawing skills getting better without me even noticing. one day, i just looked at something i made and thought, wait….when did i get this good? and that was a nice feeling.

ib the amazing @solanasreality who i got the idea from !!

[spvcekittie]

Wait for Me

warnings. angst (??), maybe ooc , mental health , allusions to schizophrenia if you squint

pairing. jinx / fem ! reader

wc. 940

you’d been out all day, leeching off of vendors and their food. even scraps were accepted at this point, anything to fill the ever-growing void in your stomach.

life in the undercity had always been a challenge, especially for a lower class like you. you’d had to fend for yourself since an early age, having never known your parents.

you don’t remember their faces — out of sight out of mind.

the oppression zaun has faced against piltover is something that has lasted for decades, for centuries. it’s something that only grows worse as time goes on, zaun withers away with it as piltover blossoms.

how are you suppose to remember someone you never got the chance to know?

it’s late when you get back, ducking and weaving through the small system you’d helped map out all those years ago. it’s subconscious at this point in time, and you soon find yourself in the dim cave opening once again.

the only signs of life are the dim fairy lights criss-crossed over the sky-rafts decking, casting pink and purple hues over the railings with the faint hum of some incoherent rock band in the distance.

no sign of-

“Jinx?” it bounces off the walls and right back at you. you strain to listen, but you can’t hear anything.

odd.

usually you hear her before you see her, before you see the long bolted braids swinging in your direction, the gleeful smile that greets your arrival. the sparkle in her eyes that tells you she’d waited all day for you.

you know this is unusual, she’d been acting off before you’d even left earlier. typically, jinx always wants to tag along — she’s the type of thorn in your side you can seemingly never get rid of, stuck by the hip.

so when she said she’d stay back today, you couldn’t deny the pang in your stomach that something was off. anything.

you pressed and pressed but she never yielded. kept up a strong facade, and told you with an exaggerated nod of her head that she was ‘a-okay!’.

with a newfound purpose; find jinx, you carefully set your new ‘belongings’ down on a lone box, doted on with doodles and incoherent scribbles.

you look in all of her usual spots, crossing over the groaning propellers to the centre spot where she does her work. her work is here, half-built bombs and guns strewn about the blue mapping with purpose.

you can tell she worked on these, some being further in their progress than before you left today. you feel your shoulders slump.

so where is she?

“where could you be?” you hum to yourself, stepping down from the platform and off to the drawn curtains of her make-shift tent.

you see her braids before her; their blue a vibrant contrast to the greys and blacks of the surface they’re rested on.

you feel the sour bile in your throat dwindle, and the corners of your lips quirk up.

pulling back the curtains, you’re face to face with her body, strewn over the pile of multicoloured beanbags she’d accumulated over the years. she’s idly curled around a blanket you’d crocheted for her a while back.

it’s one of the only comforts she has in her life, at least you can assume, as it’s something she clings to like it’s her lifeline. she often drags it everywhere with her through the shared space.

if she’s working on her gadgets? thrown over her shoulders. she’s sat crossed legged eating whatever you’d brought back that day? laid down over her lap. sleeping? curled around the blues and pinks of her fingers, bunched up just over her curved knees.

which is where you find her now, only thing on your mind now is how she’d never slept before without you here. it’s something she’d never felt comfortable with doing, said she’s ‘scared they’ll get to her’ without you here, that ‘they’ll take me with them’.

you’d opted to sitting around just so she can sleep, so you can keep watch. you’d promise her that’d never happen, that no matter what you’d protect her.

the first time you told her, you could feel her breath hitch. her purple lips had parted in exasperation, and she gasped out like she’d been waiting her whole life to hear those words.

she had twiddled her fingers shyly, chewing on her bottom lip as her eyes wobbled with tears.

that was the night you’d crotched her blanket, the same night you two slept curled in her tent, arms and legs intertwined between the thick wool.

it was a show of trust, it was vulnerability, and ever since that night you’d been inseparable.

she found herself dependent.

so did you. you couldn’t mind when you felt the same. those same feelings spur up, they warm up your body every time your eyes grace her beauty as they are right now.

smiling to yourself, you let your knees buckle, elbows finding their spot against them as you rest your cheek over your palm.

her soft breaths fill the space, the gentle snores doing nothing to aid in your own fatigue.

you feel yourself growing tired just by looking at her; the most she’s ever looked at peace since you’d known her. you wonder if she’s having a dream.

what kind of dreams would she have? would she dream of her future? would she dream of you?

your lips twitch at the sides at the sentiment, and you take her hand in your own. maybe this is a step in the right direction for her, maybe you’re doing more to help than you realise.

A/N. this is kind of rushed, i wrote it in 2 hours running on about three of sleep :Pc hope you enjoyed regardless & feel free to send me requests!

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: Hey okay so I have a request. I absolutely love your writing it always puts me in my feels I can’t I’m so obsessed so thank you for all that you do OKKK can I get a story where she has some ptsd from a recent hunt from being captured by a monster or something and she’s back home in the bunker and safe now but Sam and Dean start play wrestling as like brothers usually do and she just hears a bunch of banging or noise and it sends her into a panic and once she realizes it’s just Sam and Dean messing around she can’t calm down because of her ptsd and no matter how hard she tries she just can’t relax and stop shaking and crying. I feel like many writers just blow over it so simply when in reality it would take so much to coax someone out of this mental state and I’ve read all of your stories and I believe you capture it the way I always thought it should be. Thank you sooooo much I’m so excited for you to write this if you can🤭

A/N: this was such a good request and so interesting to write for me. Thank you so much for your kind words. I agree and I always try to capture all of the emotions because I feel like that would be reality. I hope this is what you were looking for. If not, just send in another request. Requests are always open :)))

Sam and Dean Winchester x sister!Reader

You were sitting in your room in the bunker, curled up under a blanket, staring at your phone without really looking at it. Your thoughts were everywhere, scattered like leaves in a windstorm. It was hard to focus. It was hard to feel safe. You couldn’t feel safe. Not after what just happened to you. Anxiety gnawed at you, as it often did these days, an ever present companion that no amount of distraction could push away.

Then you heard it—a loud bang, followed by the sound of furniture being knocked over. Shouting. Chaos.

Your blood went cold.

You froze for a moment, unsure if you were imagining it. But the loud crash followed by what sounded like frantic voices... That wasn't normal. You were sure of it. Your heart started racing, your pulse pounding in your ears.

No. No, no, no.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and before you could even think, you shot up from your bed. The air around you felt thin, as though you couldn’t get enough of it. The walls felt too tight, the floor too unstable beneath your feet.

They’re back.

The demons.

The memories came rushing back, so fast and vivid that they nearly knocked you off your feet. The night you’d been taken—the screams, the cold metal of the chains, the overwhelming darkness that swallowed you whole. You could still feel the pain of their hands on you, the torment, the terror that ran through you every time they moved in for the kill.

But they hadn't finished.

They were back.

They were here again.

A wave of nausea rolled through you as your body responded before your mind could catch up. You bolted from your room, your feet stumbling down the hallway, the sound of your breath too loud in your ears. You needed to get to Sam and Dean. You needed to help them. You needed to protect them. You couldn’t let them take any of you again.

No. Please, not again.

You needed to help them.

You had to get to Sam and Dean. You had to protect them.

You wouldn’t—couldn’t—let them take them.

No. You couldn’t lose them. You couldn’t let them go through what you went through.

Your legs carried you down the hall, the panic rising in your chest with every step, your vision blurring as your breath came in ragged gasps. You didn’t even think to stop. You couldn’t. Your brothers needed you. You had to get to them.

You reached the library, the door already slightly ajar. The noise was louder now—shouting, the sounds of rough movements, and what sounded like playful grunts.

But when you pushed the door open, your world tilted on its axis.

Sam and Dean were in the middle of the room, tangled up in some ridiculous wrestling match. Sam had Dean in a headlock, both of them laughing. Dean was struggling, giving exaggerated groans as if he were about to tap out.

Your heart, which had been pounding in your chest just moments before, dropped. For a second, you couldn’t move. Your body couldn’t catch up to the reality of what was happening. That everything was okay. That everyone was safe.

The panic hit full force, stronger than ever.

The sounds of them fighting—the thuds, the shouts, the noise of their bodies crashing together—hit you like a physical blow. The terrifying images of the demons breaking in, of them taking you again, of the torment and the loss, rushed back to the forefront of your mind. Your heart pounded in your chest, your breathing sped up, and you could feel the world starting to slip away.

You stumbled back, your legs weak, hands trembling. You couldn’t breathe. You thought they were here, they were here to hurt them.

To hurt you again.

Your head spun. Your vision blurred. The room felt too small, the walls closing in around you. You tried to back up, but your legs couldn’t hold you. The walls seemed to grow closer with every second, the air thicker, more suffocating. Your body was trembling violently now, and you couldn’t make sense of anything.

“I—I thought—” Your voice cracked, and you felt yourself shaking harder. You tried to make your way toward the door, but your body was no longer cooperating. Your hands gripped the doorframe, your vision swimming with tears. The walls of your mind were crumbling, the panic suffocating you.

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice was suddenly in front of you, his tone sharp, urgent, a sound that didn’t match the chaos in your head. But you didn’t hear it the way it was meant. You couldn’t. All you could hear were the demons, the screams, the sharp clang of chains, the mocking laughter of monsters that had torn everything from you.

You gasped, choking on the words you couldn’t seem to form. “I—I heard the noise... the shouting... I thought—they—” You stuttered, your body trembling harder, your knees threatening to give way beneath you. “I thought you were... I thought you were—hurt!”

Tears blurred your vision, and your voice cracked with the weight of the terror inside you. “I thought they were here... again...” you whispered, the words barely coming out. “I thought they were coming for you. For us. I—I heard it. The noise. The shouting. I thought they were breaking in again, and I couldn’t—” You couldn’t control the shaking now, couldn’t get your body to stop trembling. You backed away from Dean and Sam, desperate to get away from whatever was coming.

Dean’s face went ashen, his eyes widening as he saw you. He immediately stepped forward, closing the space between you and him in an instant. He reached out, hands coming to your shoulders, gripping you with a strength that felt grounding.

“No, no, no, kid, it’s okay. You’re safe. We’re all safe. We’re all okay.” His voice was soft, soothing, but there was an edge to it now. You could hear the weight of it in his tone. He understood.

“I thought you were in trouble,” you stammered, barely able to breathe, reaching out to him to steady yourself. “I thought I needed to help. I thought they were—”

“Y/N, hey kid, listen to me. We’re okay.” He gently pulled you into his chest, one hand moving to the back of your head, the other gripping your trembling form against him. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. We’re okay. We’re not going anywhere.”

You gasped for air, your hands gripping his shirt like a lifeline, nails digging into the fabric as your whole body shook. The terror was still burning in your chest, and it felt like you were suffocating under the weight of it.

“I—I’m so s-sorry,” you stammered, your voice shaking uncontrollably. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t mean to freak out, Dean... I just—I thought... I thought they were here. I thought—” You gasped for air, the words dying in your throat as the panic roared inside your head. “I thought they were coming to—take me again. To take you.”

Dean’s hand stroked the back of your head, his touch so gentle now that it felt like a lifeline in the storm. “Shh, it’s okay, kid. It’s okay, I know. You don’t have to apologize for this. You don’t have to apologize for being scared. We’ve got you.”

Sam stepped forward, his presence solid and calm. “You’re safe, bug. You’re safe.” He placed a hand gently on your back, and you felt the warmth of it seep through you, grounding you in a way you couldn’t manage to do yourself. “We were just being idiots, messing around. We’re fine. Everything’s okay.”

But the panic still hadn’t stopped. Your body was shaking so badly that you could feel it in your bones. You felt your breath hitch in your chest, and your whole body was still caught in that spiral of fear, the past crashing into the present.

Dean held you tighter, pressing his hand against your back, as though trying to keep the world from falling apart again. “You’re okay,” he murmured. “You’re safe. I swear, we’re not going anywhere.”

You buried your face into his chest, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you from floating away. His heart beat strong under your ear, steady and calm, and for a moment, you tried to sync your breathing with his. You tried to make it stop.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered again, apologizing again, your voice breaking with emotion. “I didn’t mean to... freak out. I didn’t mean to...”

Dean’s voice was a low, soothing murmur as he ran his hand up and down your back. “You never have to apologize for that, Y/N/N. Never.” He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his face soft, his expression full of something like understanding and regret. Tears were streaming down your face and he pulled you back into him. Your hands clinging to his shirt like he could disappear at any moment. “I know, kid. I know. We’re here. And we’re not going anywhere.” The weight of the fear was still clawing at your chest. You were unable to escape the feeling of terror, but the warmth of Dean’s embrace, his steady hands on your back, and Sam’s quiet presence were grounding you in a way that nothing else could. “You’re okay, Y/N. You’re safe here. You’re with us.”

Your body was still trembling under their touch. The sobs that wracked your chest weren’t stopping, no matter how much you tried to force yourself to breathe through them.

Dean didn’t let go. He held you tighter, his grip never faltering, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your neck in an effort to comfort you. But he knew. He knew this wasn’t something you could easily snap out of. Not after everything. Not after what you’d been through.

The sobs that escaped you were louder now, messy and frantic, and you couldn’t stop them no matter how much you tried to pull yourself together. “I—I’m sorry,” you apologized for the third time, the words coming out in gasps. “I didn’t m-mean to... I didn’t mean to s-scare you. I j-just... I thought... I thought... they were back.”

Dean’s eyes flicked over to Sam, his face unreadable but his jaw tight, his worry clear. Sam’s hand was still resting on your back, but he looked up at Dean, the unspoken communication between them cutting through the chaos in the room. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Dean’s face, his expression softening but filled with a rawness that made your heart ache.

“Y/N,” Dean whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His hands moved to the back of your head, his grip firm and reassuring as he gently pulled you closer to him, as if he could shield you from everything that haunted you. “You don’t have to apologize for this. You don’t have to apologize for being scared, okay? You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

But you couldn’t let go. You really couldn’t stop trembling, couldn’t make your body stop shaking. Your fingers were still gripping his shirt with an intensity that had you nearly pulling the fabric out of place, but you couldn’t loosen your hold. You were too scared. Too broken by the moment. What if they came back? What if it happened again?

“I’m so scared De,” you whimpered through your tears, trying to force the words out between sobs. “I am s-so scared... I thought... what if they come back... or... or... or what if they come for you now.” Your breath hitched with every word, and your voice broke, like each syllable was physically tearing you apart.

Dean’s face softened, his brow furrowing in concern. But he didn’t push you away. He didn’t tell you to calm down. Instead, he just held you tighter, his hands soothing as they ran up and down your back, trying to calm the storm inside of you.

“Shhh, I know you’re scared, I know,” he muttered, his voice low but firm. “They’re not coming back. You’re safe. It’s okay, kid. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, the gesture gentle and familiar, something that always seemed to bring you a little peace when the world felt like it was falling apart. But even that didn’t stop the tears. The panic had dug its claws into you so deep that you couldn’t break free.

You could feel Sam’s presence, feel the steady strength radiating off of him.

“Y/N,” Sam said softly, his voice like a balm against the chaos in your mind. “You’re okay. You’re safe here. We’re right here. You’re with us. You’re home.”

You closed your eyes, trying to pull yourself together. But every time you thought you could calm down, every time you thought your breath might steady, the fear would flood back. It wasn’t something that could be controlled so easily—not after everything that had happened.

Dean’s hands were still running through your hair, the motions so soothing you could feel yourself sinking into his touch. You couldn’t stop holding on to him, couldn’t stop clutching at the fabric of his shirt with all the strength you had left.

You could feel your body shaking against his, your breath hitching with every sob, and you gripped him even tighter. You felt like you were falling apart, like you couldn’t hold yourself together anymore. But Dean didn’t let you go, even as your own body fought against you.

“I’ve got you,” Dean repeated, his voice a steady murmur as you clung to him. “Breathe, kid. Just breathe. We’ve got you. You’re not going anywhere, Y/N. I won’t let it.”

You couldn’t respond. All you could do was grip him tighter, your fingers still twisted in his shirt, the fabric bunched up so tightly you were afraid you might tear it. But he didn’t say anything about it. He just held you, his chest rising and falling with every breath, trying to match your pace, trying to get you to slow down.

Slowly, piece by piece, you let go of the fear. But only because they were there, holding you together.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe enough to let go—just a little.

Because they were right there, keeping you from falling apart.

[gonnaeatyourgirlfriend]

will the "maybe i should lose some weight" "i'd look better without/less fat" "i should eat better" thoughts ever go away?

[57sfinest]

another thing i realized is that in the crosswalk sequence, dora is only criticizing hdb for 1) lack of success (his poverty mainly) and 2) some of his inherent traits, like his mental illness and age.

she's only being cruel to him over things he realistically can't control. in revachol especially, he can't help that he's poor. there's nothing he can do about his age. there's nothing he can do about the fact that he gets "unbearably sad– no one gets that sad" or is sometimes "hysterical". she calls him a poor, sick, insane old man. but never once does she bring up behavior, which is another reason i think that dream is largely him projecting. there's no way that dora wouldn't have focused on any behaviors of his instead– his lying, manipulation, fits of anger, etc. she definitely was upset about his drinking (like with the flashback while he's hugging billie) but that's really the only time we get an example of her being upset with actions and not an inherent or unchangeable trait of harry's.

harry can't remember the things he did. he doesn't know any of the other things she might have gotten upset at him for– forgetting important dates, never helping at home, spending too much, yelling at her, literally, who knows?– he just knows that he's poor, sad, old (kim thought he was 58!) and deeply mentally unwell. so in his state he just concludes that those reasons must be entirely why she left.

[iholli]

Rat King occasionally just having the Worst Fucking Time mentally because she's "Rat Prime" and essentially binds all the Rats together and has to deal with everything that comes with it. is she the real one and why does she have to carry All That and she can't turn it off anymore and it's so much weight all the time and

[kittyplayz1]

I am genuinely so frustrated right now. I just woke up from a dream where there was a new season of Young Justice and I watched like 3 and a half episodes before I woke up, and they were good, but they aren’t real and I’m already forgetting some of them and I’ll never get to finish the season!

[tommybowefuneralattendee]

so i just imagined augustus picking chosen up and now i'm unwell

[budpuppy]

i legit dont consume any content that even mentions veganism briefly cuz non vegans trigger me so badly. if i post about veganism it is because i saw a glimpse of something that threw me in to a rage

[anaalnathrakhs]

i keep looking at posts like "i stopped a binge" "i prevented a binge" and all of them are like. "i waited until the urge went away". buddy. the urge doesn't go away. there's no urge. there's just nothing else to do. i don't have anything else to do. every time i stop eating no matter how long i sit with the feeling or not, i always go for more food because there is genuinely nothing else in my life. nothing is enjoyable anymore. the world sucks. no matter what i force myself to do it's the only positive thing i can ever find.

[angeltism]

I'm sooo hot

[fernspirals]

I think that

[im2tired4usernames]

I want their fuckin freedom they have no chores no responsibility they can go out with their friends when ever they want for however long they want they can sleep in there bed all day they eat drink drive vehicles use the phone have a home with no bills no expenses they can spend their money on stupid things that bring them joy with no worry of the gas they burned in someone else's vehicle or if there's dinner at home they have no worries about laundry no worries about dishes no worries about the messes they make because they know I'll clean it up always I want to be viewed by my family and by my friends as someone who is an actual person with limits and boundaries and who has goals and dreams they'd like to accomplish in the day besides laundry for 16 people and not a tireless cleaning machine. I want to be able to rest and have hobbies I want to be able to do things with my partner and my friends again I want to be able to fuckin daydream and make up stories again for Christ sake I want to feel like a person and not a corpse forced into playing "tradwife" I want the freedom they all have while I'm in the background doin they're dishes.

[mali-umkin]

.

[cyberstabbing]

i hate bad and abusive parents so much. they're the reason my best friend has so much trauma and so many mental health issues. and then to kick her out? and then to somewhat reconcile like nothing happened? it's just so awful to see my best friend struggle mentally and barely (and not even tbh) make rent and Knowing that her parents won't be any help at all. like if she has to move back with her mom it's going to be okay for a while and then her mom will start drinking again and all hell with break loose. and her dad is either incredibly oblivious or just chooses to pretend like nothing is wrong while he plays house with his new family. when my best friend lived with me for 9 months after she got kicked out, even my stepdad daydreamed about going to meet her dad so he could yell at him for not taking care of his daughter. anyways now she's trying drugs with her equally unwell partner and they're not being safe and her eating disorder is getting worse. so her other best friend and i are meeting up to figure out what to do.

[luv-again]

feeling incredibly upset rn but I'm too afraid to bother anyone so I just brew in my constant state of misery bc I'm too pathetic to sort myself out