#but when ive seen the doctor each time its been when im exhausted and numb and i don't care but that is not the case always.

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

.

[colonel-insomniac]

Wait

@my-blood-is-maple-syrup @pawsomelybuggy ive done it again, don’t be mad at me though :D. potential sorry in advance for what im about to do. OH listen to  this playlist but only if you want 

After landing on earth, Kai and Pon were instantaneously dazzled by the dizzying brightness. It was such a stark difference to the darkness of Azurelle that for a moment, everything seemed perfectly balanced, like a piece of glass saved from teetering off the edge of a table. 

But of course, as is the case, glass fragments and shatters. Ezra fell to the dirt, gasping for air, though he couldn’t be choking, because he wasn’t eating anything. He wrapped his hands around his neck, trying to convey his need for help. Kai didn’t realize at first, his mind dark and empty in response to the dazzling light, blinded by the beauty of it all. 

He turned his head at the continued sound of coughing, dropping to his knees when the situation registered. Pon had been kneeling by Ezra’s side, trying to help the boy, and Kai checked for breath exiting Ezra’s body, trying to narrow down what might be happening as he tried to push the rising panic and fear down, if only for Ezra’s sake. Unfortunately, no air was entering or exiting from Ezra, and Kai looked at Pon, frozen with horror. With Ezra rapidly turning a pale blue-purple shade, Pon began attempting to physically insert air into the other boy’s body through mouth-to-mouth resuscitation methods. 

Kai thinks it works for a bit, but doesn’t know how to contact emergency services. Does Earth have emergency services? 

Abandoning all care, he pats down Ezra in case he happens to have a phone on him, and thankfully finds one, which he flashes to Ezra, who grabs his hand and traces the following numbers: nine, one, and one. Kai dials and is bombarded with questions that he does his best to answer, eventually giving up when they ask for his location, opting to ask if they can instead trace the call, as he isn’t too sure of where he is at the moment. 

The lady on the other end of the line asks for him to stay on the line, and after a couple minutes tells him an ambulance, police officer, and fire truck being sent over. Kai pleads with them to hurry, unable to hide the fear in his voice anymore.

It seems they’re too late, though. By the time the medics arrive, Pon has reported the worst news that Kai thinks he could ever hear. There’s no breath, no pulse. 

Kai felt that his own breath and pulse were completely gone, his world shattered. It feels like it doesn’t matter whether he were on Azurelle or on Earth. What was the point of life if your lover was dead, taken by some unknown force? He found himself unable to convey the overwhelming sorrow, eyes dry and mouth glued shut. 

Kai watched as the medics loaded Ezra into an ambulance and had to be dragged by Pon to said vehicle. He felt stuck, like he would forever be rooted to this very spot, his heart shattered.

But later, it seems all is not necessarily lost, because somehow the doctor’s are able to locate the faintest of heartbeats with their fancy medical technology, and Kai desperately holds on to that sliver of hope. They are not allowed to visit Ezra, his condition to unstable and unique that they must put him in an intensive care unit to closely monitor him. Without any reason to be there, Pon throws an arm around Kai in nearly matched misery, and guides a still numb Kai out of said care facility, despite a nurse calling attention to Kai’s various wounds. 

He genuinely had forgotten about that, had been too consumed that his brain allowed him to bypass the cruel pain that was gradually settling back into his bones. Kai thought of both nothing and everything, his mind searching for answers, because something told him that Ezra wasn’t choking because of some typical medical thing. All he could think of was what if they had done something wrong, and Ezra was still somehow tethered to Azurelle? What if this was the Azurellian government metaphorically pulling the leash, reminding Pon and Kai that they won’t ever escape, not when they have this venomous grip on Ezra. 

The pair slowly make their way back to the spot they had landed on, now filled with memories of horrific events that had just taken place. Looking off into the distance, Kai can just barely make out a trail, for some reason, before the war, Ezra had wandered off the beaten path and ventured into raw nature instead. 

There had to be something poetic about that, but Kai’s mind didn’t have the capacity to consider that at the moment, still could barely form a coherent thought. The pair make their way back to the path, and looked both ways. One side led further into the forest, further into a mystery promising adventure, and the other back to society. They go back to society, not willing to embark on another journey after the hurt had still been so fresh. 

Kai kept a firm hold on Pon’s hand the whole time, fearing that the moment he let go, his best friend would disappear too. As they approach the cross section between nature and society, a couple that looks oddly familiar run up to the two boys. 

The woman, her voice watery asks if either of them have seen a boy “...named Ezra Watts.” A thousand memories flash in Kai’s mind in less than a second. “It’s hard to explain,” The man adds, “but he was supposed to be back today and we aren’t sure what’s happening.” Kai looks wide and watery eyed at Pon, who thinks for a moment, not sure how to order his words. 

“This is going to seem crazy, but we know your son. The rest would be easier if we were away from prying eyes and ears.” The man who Kai now assumes to be Ezra’s father nods, and wraps an arm around his wife, gesturing for Kai and Pon to follow.

They have a nice house. That’s all Kai can get through his brain, which is a slight improvement, tracing patterns on the couch he’s currently sitting on. He lets Pon do most of the explaining, but can’t miss the curious glances at him. 

“...from Azurelle,” He picks up on the spark of fear at the name of their home planet. “I’m Pon, and this is Kai. We managed to escape, but only thanks to the kindness of your son. He saw something in us that convinced him to help us out. If he hadn’t, execution is what we would have faced.” Pon places his hands in his lap, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. 

They nod, but look over to Kai, because the look of distraught that has been etched onto his face is a tad bit more concerning to them. Something more is going on there and he knows they know. Pon places a hand on Kai’s shoulder, “Kai and your son, they—well, that is to say that they mutually appreciate each other in the way that you guys do.” Pon then nods, happy with being able to dance around outright saying it, and despite his negative emotions, Kai can’t help snorting at his friend’s ridiculousness. 

Ezra’s mom blankly regards Kai, before nodding and smiling at him, and Kai can feel the heat rise in his cheeks. With a shaky breath, Kai opens his mouth, knowing that if he loves Ezra, he has to say something. “When we arrived here, your son began choking, we don’t know exactly why that happened, but we managed to get hiim to a hospital, and they put him in this thing called an intensive care unit. They found he was still alive so they’re monitoring him right now.” Kai inspects his hands, eyes stinging. 

The mom nods, standing and offering a hand that Kai takes. The dad gestures for Pon to follow, and remains seated himself, face sad and staring out a window into a sunny lawn. She opens a door, leading to a bedroom that’s decorated with foreign posters and objects. Kai realizes at once that this has to be Ezra’s room, and presses his hands to his face. Ezra’s mom tells them to take as long as they need before backing out and leaving them. Kai glances around the room, landing on the bed, with a blanket patterned with some sports ball. 

There’s a childlike air to his room, a messiness that comes from never resting and being in a rush. There’s a small squeak, and Kai finds Pon opening Ezra’s closet doors, peering at the different items stored within. He hesitantly walks over, fingers catching on a soft cotton material. He pulls it off its hanger and finds it to be a hoodie. He glances at Pon, cheeks burning when Pon smiles and nods, sliding the garment on. 

At once, he’s overwhelmed with the scent of Ezra, and he stumbles over to the bed, head in his hands and just cries. All this buildup, but it feels so good to let it all out, and Kai knows he needs to let himself just feel this pain and anger and sorrow. Pon sits beside him and hugs Kai, doesn’t move until Kai wipes his eyes and hugs his friend back. 

When he’s ready, they leave the room, Kai still wearing Ezra’s hoodie, and join Ezra’s parents, who don’t comment on the apparel change or his puffy eyes. They do, however, express a desire to see their son, even through glass windows, so they pile up in a car and drive around until Pon points out the building they had gone to. 

The doctor’s deliver a grim prognosis: there’s hope for Ezra, but due to the amount of time without oxygen, he’s in a coma. They aren’t too sure when—or if —he’ll wake up, or what his brain activity would look like. 

Exhausted and out of tears, Kai puts a shaky hand on the window, the cool glass serving as the barrier between them. Ezra’s mom cries quietly, turned with her face pressed into her husband’s shoulder. Pon’s quiet, as he typically is during times of grief and sorrow, and with his other hand, Kai grabs a hold of Pon’s hand. 

A month goes by, and Ezra still hasn’t woken, doctor’s determined to not give up on him. Kai visits every day, walking to the hospital on his own sometimes, and always asks for any updates from the doctor’s. They’ve begun to give him cookies when he visits, silently fearing that he isn’t eating. Which he is, but his appetite isn’t really there. 

But soon after that one month mark, Ezra has stabilized enough to be let out of the ICU, where they let Kai in to visit him. After a while the receptionist stops asking for information and lets him find his way to Ezra, for which he’s grateful. When he’s alone in the room with Ezra, he can almost pretend the wires aren’t there and their in a home all their own, with Pon, of course. 

And he just talks. About anything and everything. He discusses his found love for classical music, specifically a composer named Bach, he talks about the weather, he tells him how much he misses Ezra, how much he wishes that Ezra were awake so he could say all the things he didn’t realize he should have said back on Azurelle. 

Another two months pass, with Kai still visiting, Ezra still improving but not responsive. He still talks, or sits in silence, holding Ezra’s hand, sometimes places it against his cheek to feel the miniscule warmth. Today he just sits, nervous for some reason, his fingers at first fussing with the hem of his own shirt before moving to frantically comb through Ezra’s hair in an attempt to comb through it. It’s gotten longer than it had been when he first arrived on Azurelle, and something tells Kai that Ezra wouldn’t like it like that. Not that it’s extremely long or anything, but it’s something that he just feels within his heart of hearts. 

He misses the furrowing of Ezra’s brows, overtaken by an urge to do something. But when Ezra moves his head, Kai freezes, his eyes widening as he looks down at Ezra’s face. He holds his breath, heart beating frantically with hope. And then Ezra opens his eyes, looking slightly confused before turning his gaze to look at Kai, who’s pressing the button he was told to push if—when— Ezra woke up. Two nurses walk in, and after a minute of poking, prodding, and taking notes, they finally begin to remove the breathing tube. Ezra never takes his eyes off Kai, swimming with an unreadable emotion. He briefly looks away when the nurses ask him questions to assess any brain damage, but shortly after, the nurses leave, reminding the two boys they’re just outside, one of them intending to let Ezra’s parents—and by proxy, Pon— know. 

Ezra slides his gaze back to Kai, squinting as though he were thinking hard about something. After a moment, he whispers “Kai?” 

The shorter boy nods, and throws his arms around Ezra, sobbing with relief. Ezra pats his back, returning the embrace. “What happened?” He asks after a moment. Kai pulls away but doesn’t let go of Ezra. 

“When we got to Earth, you began to...choke, and we couldn’t figure out why or how to help, and you lost consciousness. I thought— you... it’s been three months and I’ve been so scared.” Ezra looks away, something like fear floating in his eyes. But he shakes his head and when he looks back to Kai, any sign of that is gone. 

“So, Bach? Not a Mozart fan?” Kai’s mouth falls open, and he’s not sure what Ezra’s getting at, at first. 

Then everything clicks when Ezra laughs at Kai’s stunned face. ���Are you seriously talking to me about music right now?” Ezra shrugs in response. 

Kai can’t help feeling overwhelmed, so he blames what happens next solely on that. He places his hands one either side of Ezra’s face and closes his eyes, pressing his mouth to Ezra’s. His stomach churns in fear of being rejected, but then Ezra pushes back slightly, and Kai relaxes, his hands still on Ezra’s cheeks. 

When they pull away, Ezra’s quiet for a moment, looking closely at Kai’s red face. “Honestly,” he begins, “I have been wanting that to happen for a while now.” And Kai snorts, resisting the urge to be sarcastic. 

Not knowing when to stop, Ezra adds “Who knew it took me almost dying for that to happen.” And abandoning his morals, Kai slaps his arm, not lightly, but not hard.

“You need to shut up.” Is all he responds with, grabbing Ezra’s hand, placing it on his cheek. Outside, the sun glows golden, as though she is positively pleased, and Kai has to agree with her. 

[alicezan-ncgred]

Bleeding Red

Preface: I’ve been bitching around the bush of this long enough. So, I’ve been really silent on a bunch of stuff that’s been eating me alive which has made me both inactive and unproductive. I’m going to get straight to the point, starting off with the TL:DR from my post on my main blog. Context: An anon asked me if I was alright because I hadn’t updated in a while.

TL:DR You probably didn’t ask this to hear about all the bad shit of my life so here’s the short of it. No, I’m not doing fine. I will try get next weeks post out on time and I’ll work on making up on the lost posts. Updates will return regularly, ‘ite.

Time for the thick and thin of it.

Insecurity and being shafted: I’m stoic, even at my worst I won’t say anything. I’ll push through regardless of my current condition and since I’ve gone years like this, it’s not hard for me to do. In my real life situation, I’m currently in a place of social isolation. This has lead to a somewhat near reliance on Tumblr to be my social outlet. This present many issues.

The main one is that I’m quite the isolationist. This has only been reinforced by many interactions throughout the entirely of my life. Because of this, I can’t say I’ve ever had anything really more than two friends at a time. While in a way this has helped me express myself so well through writing, it’s come at the cost of social skill. I don’t talk to anyone.

With this kind of issue you could easily imagine that the THREE PEOPLE (four now, but very limited) to ever directly talk ended up in a way shafting me. The first blocked and disconnected with me without warning or reason. At this point we’ve been talking to each for about a month and we hit it off very well and then one day, silence. Never heard from them again. That fucked me up hard when I finally realized what happened.

The second person left during the Tumblr P**n Purge. We were talking about how to contact each other on other platforms and then they stopped responding. I had already given contact to other platforms of which they pinged me in any way. Another person that I trusted massively on here just abandoned me and I’m still hurting from that. Wasn’t fair at all.

Then the third person was someone that I been following for a while. This person is actually the reason that I’ve been putting this off for so long. I don’t want them to see this post but they will. I got an ask from them that ultimately turned out to be misinformation. I said I wasn’t mad but I was. I was so fucking angry about it and I’m still kinda mad, but I didn’t want problems. I still don’t. I just didn’t want them to worry about it. This will come back later.

I try my best to be as inoffensive as possible. The problem with that is that much of the things I believe or enjoy are highly divisive. Hell, even my own identity can be seen as offence. I’m bisexual, non-binary (I’m currently still questioning this. I might actually be gender fluid but in the overall scheme, that’s worse than being non-binary), and nonreligious. I’m in a very religious area so you I’m still “in the closet” about much of this IRL. I though it would better online but with how much people are saying bisexuality doesn’t exist, or that non-binary isn’t a valid gender (or that being gender fluid make you insane and you should be locked up) and all the hate people who say they are this are getting, the very community that’s supposed to accept me, HATES me. I had a bi pride flag icon last year during Pride Month. I never doing that ever again. It was terrible.

I’m trying my best to come out of my shell like I said I would when I made this blog but it seems I’m just crawling further into it. People I think I can trust keep setting me up to fall, people I know in real life won’t ever accept my existence if they knew who I really was, and my own mental health problem and self loathing are eating me alive. But that isn’t the total of it.

Crumbling Pillar: I’ve always ended up in the position where things were thrown onto me. In which no one wanted to do, I was stuck with. Because of this not only do I have a severe distaste being around my family (beyond everything mentioned before hand) but I grew to have a negative out look on everything. This effect is still quite obvious in my writings, especially my poems. Out of the 14 poems on my poem blog @washed-soul​, only one has a happy meaning.

The one happy poem was called dreams. Under a metaphor it talks about how a demon kept me trapped in a dark space. I start to get better and nearly break free before I have a negative relapse back to my old ways. The poems ends with the demon putting a end to itself leaving the nightmare in which it was keeping me in to slowly fade away, letting one crack of light peeking through to become a window to a door until one day I walk free. When writing this poem, I never thought I would find myself rebuilding the nightmare but that’s where I am.

I’m done with holding things together that other people have placed onto me. Because of this, issues have began showing in my private life. Issues that should’ve been solved decades ago are only now being addressed. This change in the status quo of my life has caused many issues in my productive and mood. Between everything else I’m too tired to do anything.

Is that a reason, is that an excuse. No it isn’t but it’s the best thing I got as a reason. I’m doing my damnedest to do the best I can but of course, when it comes to the thing that matter I just fall short. Big fucking whopha my intelligence and capability does me if I can’t use it for anything that means a damn.

Meaningless Triviality: I’m a very emotional person. I’m very strongly bound to my emotions and if everything above hasn’t given it away, my emotions are very negative prone. But it just doesn’t stop there, it goes back into my memories. I can only honestly place 3 happy memories for certain that aren’t either A) a dream or B) me escaping reality through my mind. Besides that, almost all my memories are negative. 

People like to throw around the word Nihilist to describe themselves because today's culture is very, god while I hate to use this word, edgy. For those who don’t know a Nihilist is someone who views the world as being completely  meaningless and reject all religious and moral principles. I very truly struggle with this outlook of life. It’s a daily for me to berate myself saying “just kill yourself” or “I want to die” or just shutting down and crumpling up while say “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” over and over again. Hell, I did that while writing this. 

I take things very hard, even the slightest transgression. I’m so used to trying to make things perfect and because people have the image that I’m the smart one, the mature one, the capable one, I’m left with the over hanging expectation of excellence. Almost no room for margin of error or being human. Since I’m the silent type, I put up no challenge and work to meet it. Only time I get any praise for anything too. 

I guess as a little self promotion to my main blog, for those that have read the very first few updates of my main blog @the-truth-behind-redacted, or read Defiance’s character sheet, while The Machine and Defiance are separate character, they both share the name Machine. That in part is a reflect of said above expectation. How ravenous and inhuman it can be all under the guise of something human. Those characters are the two sides to the same coin. 

Remember how I said I try to be un-problematical and how I try to avoid any potential conflict. In the first segment I told on how I lied about my feelings just so another person didn’t have to worry over something that honestly, in hindsight, wasn’t even really a big deal. But I also said how it consumed me in anger. I just don’t want to bother anyone over anything. It’s part of the reason why I am writing this post, as some way of a self enforced rehab program to get better. 

This absolute consumption of negative emotion has pushed me into a non human state before. I hit a point of absolute mental exhaustion and in such a self enforced bubble of actual hatred I became completely apathetic. I felt numb to everything. I watched and heard of terrible things happening to people, and felt nothing. I watched people lives crumble before them leaving them nowhere to go and LAUGHED. “Just another worthless pathetic worm on this rotting carcass of a planet being hit with the hard reality that life doesn’t care for them. What whimsical pathetic bullshit they deluded themselves with to think otherwise.” This isn’t an exaggeration on how I thought, this is what I actually thought. Which brings me too.

The Mandatory Sob Story: Roll your eyes everyone and get the tiny violin. I guess in order for everyone to exactly understand the place I’m coming from when it comes to mental health I’ll have to detail my experiences. I have a long standing history with mental illness. I have professionally diagnosed OCD, Bipolarism, Anxiety, Chronic Depression, and visual and auditory hallucinations. I take 600 mg of Seroquel a day as well as Amitriptyline when needed. I’m also still currently in therapy to deal with said OCD, Bipolarism, Anxiety, Chronic Depression, the visual and auditory hallucinations, as well as Suicidal thoughts, and my Nihilism. There’s a reason to why I’m so god damn familiar with mental illness and treatment plans.  

OCD and Bipolarism run in my family on my fathers side. My Father’s Father had them, my Sister has them, my brother most likely has them (however he refuses to see a doctor because he uses said possible mental illnesses as a get out of jail free card. He doesn’t want to be treated and he has FUCKING ADMITTED IT), my father has them, and I have them. I, however, have the misfortune of having it real bad. I said yes to well over half of all the total symptoms when I was being tested (I don’t remember exact numbers but I remember there being three pages worth of common symptoms) which was very worrying to the doctor. I was currently in an inpatient hospitalization program at the time for both suicidal thoughts and actions, and severe depression. 

On that, my graze in with suicide. Before I went into my first inpatient program I was contemplating suicide. I was sat in front of a mirror with a bottle of over the counter medication. It was an unopened bottle of ibuprofen, 1000 200mg tables. What I planed to do was down the whole bottle with benadryl and die in my sleep. I had the small box of benadryl got from the Kroger pharmacy and a hand full of ibuprofen poured out looking directly into the mirror. My suicide note was sitting on the desk on my room with an online copy on my laptop open.

I sat there for an hour in the dead of midnight complicating my life. I had lost all hope in the world, filled with hatred, anger, pain, and despair. I had no god or after life to look forward too, part way hoping that a Hell existed for me to burn in. I hated myself that much. I was close to taking the first handful before before I caught a glimpse of my own eyes in the mirror. In what was in a weird sudden epiphany I realized that I truly did become what I hated but not for any reason I told myself. I became the very bastion of negativity I sought to fight and rid of in what little friends I did have. That was what set off my path to recovery in spite of the medical system. I guess if people care I’ll make a separate post on that. 

Before I move on, I feel I should explain my history with the visual and auditory hallucinations. It should be no surprise that with everything else above, I also had extreme paranoia that led to me having very bad insomnia. Insomnia is, just like most other medical disorders like Depression, Self-harm, Anxiety, OCD,  Bipolarism, is romanticized to hell. Insomnia isn’t having one nights bad sleep where you got 5 hours of sleep instead of 8.

You know what Insomnia is? insomnia is being physical incapable of sleeping despite not sleeping in 2 to 3 day while your body suffers massive agony brought on by this. Muscle spasms and seizing, difficulty breathing, your eyes feeling like fire ants are eating them, and of course visual and auditory hallucinations. Now I already had issues with visual and auditory hallucinations even when I could get sleep regularly but the combined effects of my OCD and Bipolarism made this perfect condition of Insomnia, Anxiety, Paranoia, with the already added in disposition to hallucinations and I felt like I was actually losing my mind. 

My hallucinations presented themselves in three forms. Disassociation of reality, night terrors, or alterations of reality. Disassociation of reality often were complete black out moments. I would lose any perceived connect to reality and enter an episode of my mind. I can’t remember what they actually were but I do remember what it felt like. Cold sweats, anxiety to point where if I didn’t lock up I would vomit, actual physical pain, mind numbing fear, and intense fatigue. 

The second were night terrors often in the form of horrific “things.” I do remember these and most of them were as best as I could describe, forms of things that were vaguely human and formations of industrial machinery. The most vivid one I remember was of a long lengthy apparition that was for the most part human but many locations of it’s impossible physiology were rebar beams and mechanical sockets. It began when I was about to fall asleep and it was next to my window. The thing was making week groaning and gasping sounds before it violently slammed against my window breaking it then letting out a horrific howl that I can’t describe as it tossed itself out followed shorty after with the sound of bones breaking against the dirt. 

Now that might not seem so bad, exspecally with everything that is in horror movies or games now, but keep in mind that was fucking real to me. It was as real as the clicking of the keys of my keyboard as I’m writing this. As real as the chair I’m sitting in and as real as the wall in front of me. As far as my mind was concerned that thing, what ever it was, actually existed. It took me physical touching my window to make sure it wasn’t actually broken and checking outside to see if there wasn’t a body there. This isn’t the type of thing I talk about lightly. 

Finally there is the alteration of reality. This is very simply but it’s something that fucked with me hard. For very little meaning or warning, I would have trouble interpreting the world around me. My hearing and sight would be warped and there wasn’t any real way to tell what I was hearing or seeing was real or not until the episode was over. The way I got through these was the ultimate fake it till you make it. Obviously, very often I failed and this created issue in my schooling. 

Ending Message: I’ve been in a very bad state for a while now and as it is now, no signs of getting better. I also strongly believe my medications are being to fail me which I’ve been telling my doctor and therapist for over a year now but nothing’s been done. Mainly it’s my Depression but insomnia episodes are beginning and my own paranoia been on the rise. It’s gotten to the point where I can’t even look at a creepy image or thumbnail without having a very bad episode. 

I’ve managed to eat something today which was nice but my body is cramping hard. And to possible stave of a possible comment, I’m biologically male. Like I said I’m not in the best head space, or living for that matter. If this gets better, only time will tell.