#calming down anxiety by deciding nothing actually matters and falling into depressive episodes

[chestersbraincell]

The highest level of grifting I reached in my life was using one mental disorder to cope with another mental disorder

[ridiculousn3sswrites]

Disappear

*Lafayette x Reader

*Request: ‘Anonymous asked: Can we get Angst 8 [Nobody’s seen you in days.] with Laf? Because I've been retreating into my shell recently and I need H E L P’

*Warnings: Depression

*A/N: Okay so I lied about only working on my requests from Wattpad. Also the Ten Years of One Direction is making my middle school heart happy.

My Ko-Fi if you want to support my writing

**********

There was no going around it - your mental health was bad at the moment. You felt trapped in the routine of just going to work, coming home, going to sleep, and doing it all again the next day. Normally you were a fan of routine - knowing what to expect during the day helped to ease anxiety of the unknown - but you were just getting into a slump at this point. By the time you got home from work, you were drained and didn’t want to do anything other than crawl into your bed, watch some show or videos, and try to forget everything going on in the world.

These episodes came by every once in a while when things got to be too much, so you were used to dealing with them by now. Your friends and boyfriend, on the other hand, weren’t so used to them. If anything, Peggy was probably the only one who understood what you were going through from when you roomed with her in college. The first time it happened (you only going to classes and then coming back to the room to sleep, not talking to Peggy in days), Peggy thought she had accidentally done something wrong and made you upset. It took a few days for you to get out of your slump, and once you started talking to her again, she asked you if you’d been mad at her. You didn’t really tell her the depth of the problem though, just that you were really stressed and that’s why you were acting odd.

When you were in college, living with Peggy kept you from getting completely the way you are now. Peggy had her friends coming around all the time, so you never really had the chance to fall back into your shell. Even if you had your episodes, it never got as bad as it could have. Eventually you started dating Peggy’s friend Lafayatte, and he started helping you through your lighter episodes. He would be there to hold you and just comfort you with his presence, even if the two of you didn’t say much during these times. He made sure you ate and took care of yourself before he had to go off to work or other obligations. You really couldn’t ask for more.

You hadn’t had an episode like this in a while. You would go to work, just eat your lunch in the office, go home, turn off your phone, and go about your night. You were constantly tired, and you just didn’t have the energy to talk to anyone, even just to send a Snap or a message to let them know you were physically okay. You’d gone through a few days just stuck in this little funk, just looking forward to the weekend so you could just try to work your way out of it. When you got home from work on Friday, you were about to turn off your phone once again when you saw your group chat with the Schuylers lighting up.

From: Peggy Five minutes ago

Bar tonight? My supervisor has been giving me hell

From: Angelica Two minutes ago

Peggy, *I’m* your supervisor

From: Peggy now

Exactly

From: Eliza now

I knew you two working together was a bad idea

From: Angelica now

(Y/n), you in?

You smiled a bit at the messages, but as much as you wanted to go hang out with your friends, you knew you wouldn’t enjoy yourself with the mood you were in.

To: Schuylers now

Sorry guys I’m not feeling too great

From: Eliza now

Are you okay? Do you need us to do anything?

To: Schuylers now

I’m fine, I just need some rest. Have fun though :)

Ah yes, the smiley face will definitely throw them off. Even you couldn’t believe your thought process. There were more messages, but you put your phone down. You could deal with those once you had some sleep, and maybe a pizza and some cheesy bread delivered to your apartment. That sounded immensely more appealing than the alternative: getting ready and heading to the bar just to spend too much money on watered down drinks.

You took a long, hot shower with your depression playlist blasting, then got into your most comfortable pajamas, ready to spend the night on your couch with pizza and Netflix. You ordered on the app so you didn’t have to talk to anyone, wrapped yourself in your blanket, and settled in to watch your favorite movie.

It wasn’t more than twenty minutes later that you heard someone knocking at your door. You figured it was a little fast for your pizza, but you weren’t complaining. There was a second before the knocking continued, and you called out a quick ‘be right there’ as you grabbed some cash to tip the delivery guy. When you opened the door, you weren’t met by the delivery guy. “Are you okay, mon amour?”

“Oh, uh, hey Laf,” you said, feeling your face heating up. You hadn’t talked to or seen Laf in a few days, just like the rest of your little group, so it was a little embarrassing for him to see that you were actually physically fine. “I thought you guys were going to the bar tonight?”

“Eliza told me how you said you weren’t feeling well and I wanted to check in on you. Nobody’s seen you in days. Are you getting sick?” Laf asked. He was right; you weren’t making lunch plans with anyone like you usually did, you weren’t answering texts and calls, you weren’t doing anything other than just going to work and coming home. You stepped to the side, letting Laf into your apartment.

“No, I’ve just… I dunno I haven’t been feeling good, but I’m not getting sick,” you tried to explain. Laf looked at you, trying to understand but falling short. You took a deep breath before trying again. “You know how I have my episodes? I’m just having a really bad one right now.”

Lafayette took your hand and directed you to sit on the couch, sitting next to you and directing his full attention to you. “What’s wrong? Do you know what’s going on? I’ve been worried about you, chérie.”

“I don’t know, Laf. I’ve just been so drained. Being at work just takes everything out of me and when I come home I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to talk to or see anyone, I just want to lay in bed and try to get enough energy to do it all again the next day,” you finally spilled, voice thickening as you went on. You hated when it got this bad, but when it did, you didn’t know what to do to stop it. You didn’t want to burden your friends or boyfriend, and asking for validation felt like you were doing just that. Lafayette pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you let the pent up emotions from the past few days just wash over you. You’d just felt off over the past few days but other than that you weren’t really feeling anything. Now you just felt hollow, empty. You wanted to feel that nothing again, it was easier than feeling empty.

“I don’t know what it’s like for you, so I’m not going to act like I do. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you, even if it’s just being close to you. I’m here to help you, chérie.” Laf pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “What do you need me to do?”

“Can you stay with me?” You asked in a small voice, your words muffled by Laf’s shirt. He squeezed you slightly, bringing you close enough that you could hear his heart steadily beating.

“Of course I can,” Laf said. You focused on his heartbeat and breathing, using it to calm your mind. When Laf was with you, everything turned peaceful. You didn’t have to worry about everything else going on, you were able to just focus on the two of you existing in the same place. Everything else in the world just melted away. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, but your moment of peace was interrupted by a knocking at your door. You moved to answer it, but Laf pulled you back to sit down. “I’ll get it.”

You watched as Laf got the pizza from the delivery guy, pulling money from his wallet to give him a tip even though you had tip money sitting right by the door. It was a small thing, but you still couldn’t help the small rush of affection at the action. When Lafayette turned around, now holding the pizza, he furrowed his brow slightly. You tilted your head. “What?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Laf asked, setting the boxes on your coffee table before sitting back down next to you. He put his arm around you, pulling you into his side.

“You’re just really good to me. Like, even if I’ve been absent, you’re still here for me and it’s just,” you paused for a second, trying to figure out what you wanted to say. “I can���t believe how lucky I am to have you.”

Lafayette pressed a kiss to the top of your head again. “I know you need some time to get things right, especially when you’re having your episodes. I’m never going to fault you for needing some space, though I would appreciate if you could tell me that’s what’s going on. But if anything, I’m the lucky one.”

That made you stop, pulling away from him a little so you could look at his face. “Why do you say that?”

Lafayette laughed as though he couldn’t believe you just asked him that, but when he saw you worrying your lip, he got serious. “I’m lucky because you’re so incredibly caring, nice, and just genuinely amazing. You help when I can’t remember the English for something-”

“That’s happening less and less,” you decided to joke. Lafayette looked at you deadpan, so you motioned for him to continue.

“If you even think I’m sick - or any of our friends are - you immediately are there with medicine and soup and offer to help with anything I need. If I need someone to talk to, you’ll stay on the phone with me no matter how long I need to talk. Everything about you is just amazing, and I want to help you when you need it. With everything you do for me, I just want to be able to reciprocate it,” Laf continued, rubbing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. You brought your hand up to hold his in place, enjoying the feeling of his touch.

“Thank you,” you nearly whispered. Lafayette gave you a small smile before leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Come on, let’s eat and watch your movie,” he said, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Bold of you to assume any of this food is for you considering you showed up unannounced,” you teased.

“You wouldn’t let me go hungry, now would you, ange?” Lafayette asked, pouting. You laughed, opening the box and handing Laf a slice. 

“You know I wouldn’t.” You grabbed your own slice and relaxed into Laf’s side, letting him start the movie again. You’d been having a rough week, but just being able to sit here with Laf was making everything better.

**********

You woke the next morning with Laf’s arm around your waist, holding you close to him. You could feel his deep breaths on the back of your neck, steady as sleep held him. His hold around you loosened just enough for you to turn and look at him, studying his features. His hair was wild, curls down from the bun he normally had it in. His mouth was slightly open before it turned into a small smirk. “That’s weird, mon ange,” he said, not opening his eyes.

“How do you always know?” you asked with a laugh, turning to lay on your back.

“I could feel you staring.” Laf propped himself up on his elbow so he could look at you better, using his free hand to run his fingers along your arm. “What do you want to do today? I should probably run to the store later so we can have an actual dinner.”

“Actually, I was thinking maybe we could meet up with the others later and have a group dinner.” Lafayette’s fingers stopped where they were as he searched your face for any sign of hesitation.

“Are you sure, chérie? I don’t want you to do anything if you won’t enjoy yourself.”

“I’m sure. I mean, it would be okay for us to leave a little early if my social battery runs out, right?”

“Of course. I’ll text everyone in a little,” Laf said, leaning in to kiss you. “Now, what do you want for breakfast?”

**********

Permanent Tag List: @treatallwithkindness

[frickfracksnatchisback]

If you'd be willing, could you do some hcs about smatcher & moonie who have a S/O who has ptsd, kinda similar to them, but from their biological mother? I see my mother a lot in Venessa, so I tend to mentally cling to snatcher n mj bc they remind me a bit of what I went through, I wish I could be there for them to help ease over the pain, yaknow?

Sure! I can understand having them as comfort characters! (But if you don’t mind, I won’t outright say the S/O’s previous abusive relationship and keep it very vague, that way it can be more inclusive. I’ll also throw in some extra HCs with Snatcher and Moonjumper dealing with their own trauma/PTSD) Also! Just a fair warning, I know nothing about this but I’ll try my best, so if any of these HCs seem insensitive please let me know and I’ll fix them right away! (Warning for mentions of abuse and past trauma under the cut!)

We all know that Snatcher is generally loud with his voice, even when speaking normally. However, if S/O tends to cringe at loud or heightened voices, Snatcher actually starts to become more quiet around them. He speaks softer, in hushed tones, and even when he’s angry or upset he reassures them that everything’s alright and that he’s not too mad at them. It’s rare to hear Snatcher speaking so normally, but if it comforts S/O then he’ll speak as quiet as he possibly can around them. And if S/O happens to be having a traumatic episode or a panic/anxiety attack? He will be especially quiet around them, showing the softer side of himself for once by holding them in his arms (if they don’t mind) and promising them that they’re okay and he’s here if they need him.

Moonjumper tends to be very clingy, wanting plenty of hugs and cuddles from S/O. But once he finds out that S/O is uncomfortable with sudden physical touch (after the giving them a surprise hug on accident), he makes a vow right then and there to always ask before even thinking about touching them again. If they say no, they’re not comfortable with that just yet, then he’ll be sure keep his distance while still giving them encouraging words and compliments. But if they say yes, he’ll be extremely gentle with them, hugging them so lightly he’s barely even touching them, or being very considerate when holding their hand, asking them again and again if they’re alright with what he’s doing before going any further.

Snatcher has a habit of sneaking up on people and scaring them as “pranks”, but with S/O it’s actually quite the opposite. They are the only one who he never does his normal routine with and/or tries to jumpscare (he made that mistake when he first introduced himself to them, and now he’s promised never to scare them like that again). He tends to tap their shoulders lightly and tries to announce himself before teleporting next to them or popping out of the ground randomly. It’s tough, because Snatcher really wants to be his normal, menacing self, but he puts their comfort first because he wants them to feel safer around him.

If S/O has depressive moments and/or deals with intrusive thoughts because of their PTSD, Moonjumper tries his hardest to encourage them and find ways to make them smile and feel happy. Like with a previous HC I mentioned, Moonjumper gifts them blankets, pillows, and/or plushies, but now he gives them to S/O whenever they’re in need of comfort or as a way to de-stress. If they’re okay with more physical affection, he’ll cradle them in his arms gently, telling them just how much he loves them and that they’re perfect just the way they are. And while he knows he can’t make their depression or intrusive thoughts go away completely, he will try his best to make sure they know that they are loved, despite what their brain tells them.

Now, with both Snatcher and Moonjumper, they tend to have nightmares about their trauma from the past. But if S/O has the same problem? They’ll both try to wake S/O up gently, making sure they’re alright and wiping the tears from their eyes if they’re crying. Neither Snatcher or Moonjumper will try to push, so S/O doesn’t have to tell them about the nightmare if they don’t want to, but they still hold S/O close, hushing and comforting them until they can fall back asleep again. If S/O has trouble falling asleep, however, Snatcher offers to read one of his law books to them and Moonjumper will offer to sing a lullaby for them. Neither of them will fall back asleep until S/O has, making sure they’re safe before doing so (they’re both ghosts, so sleep isn’t really necessary for them).

No matter who the person is that S/O has distanced themselves from (an abusive family member, a past lover, or even just a toxic friend), both Snatcher and Moonjumper promise S/O that they will both keep them far away from said individual(s) as possible. Both of them become very protect around S/O, even Moonjumper, and they reassure S/O that they will never let anyone hurt them ever again (even if no harm was actually done to S/O, they’ll still be protective of them and make sure they’re safe). Snatcher and Moonjumper also take note of things and tiggers that remind S/O of there past trauma, making sure to avoid the topics all together or help them through those issues, whichever it may be.

Snatcher & Moonjumper HCs:

During winter, Snatcher becomes very...distant, for obvious reasons. He doesn’t like the snow, ice, or the cold in general, because it reminds him too much of her. He’s very reclusive when this happens, refusing to go out into the cold at first. But, with a lot of convincing, S/O helps Snatcher overcome this, bringing him out into the snow slowly, hand-in-hand, showing them that there’s nothing to be afraid of. S/O might even convince him to have some fun playing in the snow; having a snowball fight with Hat Kid, Bow Kid, Mu, and even the Subconites, making snowpeople, snowforts, and snowangels. And when all’s said and done, Snatcher and S/O get to cuddle up close to one another, with some hot cocoa and a good book as the snow continues to fall outside. Snatcher mutters a quiet “thank you” to them, for helping him feel happy for the first time in years.

Moonjumper has a conditional sense of perfection, scolding himself whenever he thinks he’s not acting politely enough or even when he makes little mistakes (I bet you can guess where that came from). It gets so bad, to where when he really does mess up badly, he flinches at S/O sudden movements. It’s a reflex, as Vanessa used to slap the Prince across the face if he ever made her upset. And while he knows very well that S/O is nothing like Vanessa, and they would never hurt him, it still brings back some unpleasant memories and he apologizes to them for “not being good enough.” If S/O reassures him, telling him that he is enough and that he shouldn’t worry about trying to impress them, Moon will then embrace them, crying happy tears and saying how much he loves them over and over.

Snatcher has a similar thing like with Moonjumper, where he doesn’t like sudden or abrupt touches. If someone were to hug him or touch him suddenly, with no warning, he’d flinch, before calming down once he realizes there’s no danger (unless it’s someone he really doesn’t like, then they’d better run). It takes awhile for Snatcher to become used to physical contact, but it takes surprisingly less time with people he trusts, like S/O. He finds it very considerate when S/O asks him for permission before hugging him, holding his hand, and especially kissing him, liking how slow and patient they are with him. And when Snatcher displays some of his nervous habits, like fidgeting with his claws or grabbing at his wrists, he finds it comforting when S/O asks him what’s wrong and offers to cuddle him, which he gladly accepts.

(This HC is a bit more angsty, so fair warning) Moonjumper has scars that he, at first, hides from S/O. He has slash marks (ones that look eerily like claw marks) that adorn his chest, shoulders, arms, and thighs; white marks that stand out from his blue skin. No surprise here, they came from Vanessa (after she had turned monstrous) and he hides these scars because they bring back unpleasant memories of his time locked away in the basement... that, and he’s very self-conscious about them, fearing that S/O might find them disgusting. But when he finally does decides to show them, after S/O convinces him, he finds their reassurance heart-warming, with them showing empathy/sympathy for what happened to him and letting him know that he isn’t ugly or unattractive because of his scars.

Back to the nightmares HC, whenever Snatcher or Moonjumper wakes up from a nightmare, they usually wake up S/O in the process. With Moonjumper he’s immediately crying, curling up to S/O suddenly and hugging them tight, like he’s afraid they’ll disappear. With Snatcher, it’s rare to see him cry, and at first he’ll be defensive about it if S/O finds out... but eventually he’ll give into them trying to comfort him, holding them close and reluctantly asking for cuddles so he can calm down again. In both cases, both of the ghosts feel much better talking it out with S/O and having them in their arms, falling back asleep once they know they’re safe and, more importantly, that their S/O is safe.

Whenever they’re reminder of Vanessa, both Snatcher and Moonjumper act differently. With Snatcher, he becomes more distant and irritable, shutting himself down emotionally and keeping away from others. With Moonjumper, he becomes reminiscent and sorrowful, knowing that while he doesn’t love Vanessa anymore, little things still tend to remind him of her, so it’s hard for him to let go of the memories of what they once had. In both cases, it helps tremendously when S/O offers to comfort either Snatcher or Moonjumper. It will take plenty of time patience with Snatcher, as he normally pushes anyone away who even tries to bring up his past, but eventually he welcomes S/O help and kind words. And with Moonjumper, even he is reluctant to open up at first, thinking that his feelings are unnecessary or foolish, but when S/O offers to listen to him it’s a huge weight off his shoulders. In both cases, both ghosts make it clear to S/O just how lucky they are to have such an understanding soulmate, and that they’re so happy they gave love another chance.

[saltymcsaltything]

So tired of being in pain and simultaneously being in a mental fog that keeps me from taking care of myself.

I wake up everyday with my joints and muscles aching. My nerves randomly decide to light up like thermite and make me wake up screaming. My stomach is an absolute fucking mess constantly. I am depressed and anxious 100% of the time and I can't remember what I need to do or what I have done.

Did I take my meds and supplements? Have I drank my water? Where the fuck did I leave my water? Why am I in the kitchen. Why can't I find anything in this house anymore? When was the last time I brushed my teeth, washed my face, showered? When did I last eat something? What was it, and was it something that is going to mess up my guts? What did I eat in the last two days that has me trapped in the bathroom? Was there wheat in that? Did I eat any of a dozen vegetables that I love but shouldn't eat because they wreck me?

And household chores? I hate them now. If it isn't something that requires careful attention, it means my anxiety-riddled mind declares open season to start thinking of every bad thing in my life, and when it runs out of those everything that is wrong in the world. Queue the panic attacks, flashbacks and dissociative episodes. There goes the next 2 hours while I collapse and breakdown or stare at the wall and go bye bye. I think I prefer the dissociation, at least it's a break from the pain.

Try to do something that requires focus? Can't even start. If I somehow manage I forget the steps, or forget which steps I've already done. Guaranteed to fuck something up. Failure? That's game over for the rest if the day. Time to shutdown. Maybe I'll go to sleep.

Sleep? Don't make me laugh. Lie down and mind goes brrrrr. Get up and distract myself. Maybe have a drink. Oops, forgot I took a Xanax a couple hours ago to make it through my grief support group. Now Im fucking wasted and feeling sick. Stupid stupid stupid. At least that turns off the nightmares. Yay for accidentally mixing alcohol and controlled substances. Would have been even more fun if it was muscle relaxers instead so I could be a drooling mess for the next 18 hours.

There's another wasted day. You know what sucks? I can't even do yoga or meditation anymore, and I used to love that so much. Savasana was my jam. But I can't do a good routine that wears me out the right way to calm my mind, because every move hurts too much no matter how I modify it. And so can't meditate if I can't physically calm myself first, because mind go brrrrr when I try, and I'll have a panic attack or dissociate. Closest I get to exercise these days is pacing and rocking, or getting some of that good sitting still with my uncontrolled anxiety cardio action.

What the fuck am I supposed to do? I don't even know where to start with this shit. There's too many moving parts with all this shit and I'm just so done with it. This has been building up for almost a decade, but the last 5 years have been hell because that's when my life essentially blew up.

I'm in therapy, but just when I think I'm learning to cope, some new terrible event happens and I fall apart again. Coping skills? I forget how to do them. Deep breathing? Oh yeah, now I'm focused on doing something critical to survival in a way that feels unnatural, and if I try to go back to breathing normally I can't remember how. Now I have to actively to breathe until something distracts me enough to break me out of it. Mindfulness? Carefully observing everything to try to focus on the present moment? That used to work, but now the calm narration gets shouted down by the heckling critic. "Look at you acting like you can function if you just put your mind to it, you broken piece of shit. Stop pretending you can actually focus or think. It ain't gonna happen. Nothing works and you know it. You're done, give up. Just crawl into a hole somewhere so nobody can see you fall apart."

Fucking hell, how is functioning as a middle aged person so fucking hard? I'm about as emotionally mature as a toddler at this point. The world makes no sense to me anymore and I have no idea why people can be so casually awful to each other. I don't understand anybody else's behavior or motivation to be absolute hateful asshole garbage bastard shit weasels, and everything anyone says to me feels like an attack no matter what their intentions might be.

Wasn't this supposed to get easier as I got older and wiser? Wasn't being sorta financially secure and taking care of all the basic needs supposed to reduce the stress? How can betrayal and grief and illness completely derail my entire life? Why am I so fucking weak?

And why can't I stop screaming into the void?

[justjeonday]

Solace | kim namjoon

Solace; comfort or consolation in a time of great distress or sadness.

- pairing: kim namjoon x reader

- genre: angst, fluff

- word count: 4,400

- warnings: reader fears what the future holds, very brief mentions of anxiety, includes descriptions of feelings/behaviour that might be associated with mild depression (the reader is only stuck in a rut in this fic and it’s nowhere near as critical as depression, but I still wanna be safe and warn about this in case it might be triggering for someone!)

- rating: PG

- notes: I’m excited to finally post on here again! I’ve had this idea for a while, but I haven’t had the time to work on it until now. I think I like how it turned out??  I’m not sure yet lol. I’ve been working on a few fics over the past few weeks, but I keep getting stuck and this is the only thing I’ve managed to finish since I last posted. Since I have a little more free time, due to the quarantine, I’ll hopefully be able to post some more soon! But for now, I hope you’ll enjoy reading this - thank you for all your support! <33 (this is still not completely edited btw so I apologize for any mistakes you might find)

- inspired by: this vlive.

- song: Solace by mell-ø & Ambulo

You stare blankly at the screen in front of you, eyes heavy and mind dull as the seconds count down for the next episode to start playing. This is all you’ve done since waking up, binge-watching some random kdrama you found online. It’s not great, and you’re not focused - but you figure it’s enough to keep you occupied for at least a few more hours. Enough to push most of your gloomy thoughts to the back of your mind.

You feel exhausted, the past four days mostly consisting of work and very few hours of sleep - plus added pressure and stress of having to keep up with studying during it all. Your arms ache from serving and cleaning up tables until late after midnight. After finishing up and closing the place, you’d go straight home to sleep - not having the energy to care for yourself. Then you’d wake up at noon, and have some breakfast before yet again making your way to work. Many people this time of year, during spring break, take vacations with their families so your boss needed you to put in more effort than usual to keep it all running smoothly. You’re grateful for the opportunity to make some extra money, but at this point it feels like you’re doing too much and your body isn’t willing to keep up anymore.

You feel overwhelmed - lost. Are your efforts even worth it when they’re not going towards something you want in the future? Thoughts like these have been weighing you down ever since you woke up, and you had decided it’d be best for you to call in sick and just be sad today. You had moved from the bed to your sofa, and here you’ve been laying ever since then. All the blinds in your apartment are down, no hint of sunlight peeking through - no trace of hope seeping in, no light capable of bringing color to your sombre day. 

You sigh as another episode starts playing, mind brought to the small recap that’s starts playing across the display. You try your best to pay attention to it in hopes of you actually starting to like it so that watching it won’t be so boring. You pull your covers up to your chin, basking in the scent of your boyfriend’s cologne stuck to his shirt you’re snuggled up in. It brings you comfort, soothes you and calms you - it makes you feel secure where you are.

You breathe it in, the longing feeling to hold your boyfriend intensifying as you do.

A sudden chime makes you jump slightly, eyes landing on the door as you sit up  - heart beating quickly in response to the unforeseen ringing disturbing the calm atmosphere in your apartment. You dread leaving the comfort you’re sofa is bringing you, but you feel impolite leaving whoever it is waiting. So you get up and mope over to the door, your body feeling heavier than usual, as if a force is pulling you to the ground.

With lethargy still clinging to you, you don’t bother looking through the peephole before unlocking and pulling the door open - wanting to get it over with and get back to hiding under your covers. Your eyes squint slightly at the sudden light leaking in from the hallway, but you instantly recognize the tall figure stood in front of you.

“Joon?” You gasp quietly, heart skipping a beat in surprise. 

His lips stretch into a smile, arms reaching out and inviting you into his embrace. Immediately you walk towards him, wrapping your own arms around his neck as his end up around your waist to pull you against him. You smile, face laying in the crook of his neck.

“Hi, baby,” He mumbles, a smile evident in his voice as he presses kisses against the exposed skin on your shoulder that’s peeking out through the collar of Namjoon’s oversized shirt you’re clad in.

“I missed you so much,” You say against his skin, voice strained from not uttering a word all day. You enjoy the presence of your boyfriend for a few more seconds before pulling away to look at him, “I thought you’d be gone until next week?” You utter, confused.

“Plans got cancelled,” He whispers, leaning forward to plant a kiss onto your nose - causing you to scrunch it as he does.

You smile in content as you look at him, eyes scanning over his face before unavoidably landing on the pink of his lips. You reach up and press your own lips against the corner of his mouth, before you change target and kiss him - your eyes fluttering close as you cherish the feeling of them against yours again. He kisses you back and you taste the rose lip balm coating his lips, the one he always has with him in his pocket. It makes you smile into the kiss and pull away, suddenly turning shy as you feel blood rush to your cheeks. You hide by his neck again, lips brushing over the mole just under his jaw.

You feel his chest vibrate against yours lightly as he chuckles at you, arms squeezing tighter around your waist. Your fingers start playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s been growing it out for a few months now and the mullet is now very apparent - even more so than when he left. He dyed his hair a beautiful lilac shade not too long ago, and you love the way it looks on him. Nothing beats his natural dark brown hair, but somehow he manages to make every hair color look just as good and at this point you just can’t decide which one’s your favorite. He’s making it very difficult for you.

You walk backwards, making Namjoon follow you as you’re still secure in his arms. Once back in the darkness of your apartment you kick the door shut. You give your boyfriend a peck on the cheek before you pull away from him, letting him get comfortable and take off his shoes as you return to your sofa.

Namjoon, now that he’s able to focus on his surroundings, takes instant notice to the darkness that suffocates your apartment - and the messy sofa. If anyone knows you well, it’s him. After knowing each other for almost two years, he can read you like an open book without problem. One of the many things he’s come to learn is how much you hate wasting the light of day, and especially so during this time of year. You love spring, it’s your favorite time of the year and you always long for it whenever it isn’t current. He also knows that, if you’re not up and getting ready by 9 AM, you’ll most likely beat yourself up for it. However, on rare occasions, you’ll let yourself lay under the covers for another hour or so - but that's only if he’s there, laying next to you

Cuddling is something you simply can’t say no to.

Automatically, taking all these things into consideration, Namjoon starts to worry.

He kicks his sneakers off as his gaze follows you, watching as you fall down on the couch of which looks like it has been occupied all day. Your figure disappears under the cover, and he makes his way over to you. “Is everything alright?” He asks, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

You register his question but you don’t answer it, instead you reach your arms out and gesture for him to join you on the couch. His features soften and he manages to squeeze down next to you, despite the small space left to be occupied. Your leg comes out from under the covers to lay over his hip, holding him close to prevent him from falling to the floor.

You let your eyes shamelessly admire his face even though he’s aware, your fingers once again coming up to brush through his hair - strands of lavender running softly in between them as you do.

He lets his own gaze roam across your features, searching for any sign of anxiety or sorrow. “Hey,” he says, bringing your attention back to his previously asked question.

“Everything’s fine now that you’re here, don’t worry Joon,” you mumble, your focus still on his hair.

Namjoon doesn’t fall for your excuse. Grabbing your wrist softly, he removes your hand out of his hair and lays it over his chest, making you look at him. “Please talk to me.”

You sigh, avoiding his gaze as you attempt to sugarcoat what’s really going on. “Work’s just been really tough, it’s not that serious.”

You always feel bad complaining about work, or sharing the weight of your problems with Namjoon. You know how tough his job is compared to yours, and his schedule is never really empty. You know he loves what he does more than everything, but you’ve seen how hard it can get as well. So compared to your job, you realize the hours you put in are minimal next to the amount of time he dedicates to his job. Complaining just doesn’t feel right.

“You really underestimate me,” He sighs, eyebrows raised at you. “I can tell it’s not just work, it’s almost five in the afternoon and you’re still laying on the couch with my shirt on - you only do that when you’re feeling really low.”

You give up, accepting the fact he can see right through you no matter how hard you resist to let it show. “My head just feels kind of crowded,” you start. “I feel like there’s so many thoughts in my head, and I can’t organize or figure any of them out. I feel lost, I have no idea what the future holds and that’s fine - but I don’t even have a vision of what I want it to hold. I’m just not sure I’m walking down the right path.”

With Namjoon being back next to you, you certainly feel better - but still, it doesn’t remove any of your worries. You wait for a response, but a few seconds go by and there's still just silence. You look up to meet your boyfriend’s gaze, his eyes showing empathy as he looks back at you.

Without a word, he slips out of your embrace before he gets up and walks over to your windows. Before you know it, he pulls one of your blinds up. The sun shines straight in your face, making you quickly seek cover under the pillow next to you. As you hide, you hear Namjoon proceed to pull every blind up, the room becoming even brighter as he does. After he’s done you hear his footsteps close in on you, and suddenly he rids you of your shield - leaving you exposed to the blinding rays of light that are now touching every possible surface in your living room. Your hands come up to cover your eyes, groaning. 

He gathers all your blankets and pillows you’ve taken from your bedroom before disappearing to put them back where they belong. Even with the low state you're in, you feel appreciation and adoration causing tickles in your belly. He always does this, always makes it his priority to bring you up when you're down. You find it endearing, how dedicated he gets - and lucky to say the least.

“What are you doing?” You ask out into the open, Namjoon still fixing your bed in the other room.

“I’m taking you somewhere,” says your boyfriend, walking into the room again.

You furrow your eyebrows, eyes finally adjusting to the light as you stretch - limbs splayed across the couch. “And where may that be, Mr. I’m On A Mission?” 

He snickers at the name, reaching his hand out for you to take. “You’ll find out once we get there.” He pulls you up from the sofa, making you stand before him. “Go put something warm on, the sun’s really nice but it’s still quite chilly,” he says.

Your heart flutters at his sweet gestures. Having been with Namjoon for such a long time, you’d expect the flutters to fade and his gestures losing impact along with them. But it’s all still there, just like when you first fell for him. Your heart still flutters at the dimples in which appear when he smiles, and at how his eyes turn into crescent moons as he laughs - how he shows affection but then becomes shy after. You’ve realized it’s those small things you usually wouldn’t think to pay attention to, but to you they all still cause butterflies to swarm in the pit of your stomach, and you swear you fall in love with him over and over again every time.

You still feel a force pulling you to the ground as you make your way to your closet, but not as intense as it was before Namjoon showed up at your doorstep. You’re still having to push thoughts back, still have to prevent them from getting the best of you. Knowing you have Namjoon with you, and knowing he’ll listen if you’ll talk about it, does bring you comfort. You’re well aware he isn’t capable of helping rid of these thoughts in your head, as he can’t assure you what the future holds or what path you should go down so it all works out - no one can. But still, you’re more than grateful because you’re certain he’ll be the one to at least make you feel better about things, and keep you from giving up.

You grab a lounge set from your drawer and slip onto it, the soft fabric fitting loosely over your body just like how you want it - only really seeking for comfort. Taking Namjoon’s words into consideration, you also make sure to grab a warm coat from your closet before heading back to the living room.

You find your boyfriend sitting on the edge of the couch with rays of light reaching him, a golden aura forming around his figure, making him look like a fallen angel from heaven. And thinking about it, you’re convinced he is one. Where would you be without him? 

You take a moment to enjoy the magical sight, your fingertips starting to tingle as you get an urge to skim them over his beautiful golden skin. Namjoon looks up, catching you as you eye him with a small smile on your lips.

He chuckles. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you mumble, walking up to him.

He stands up, arms capturing you in a hug once again. Your cheek ends up pressed against the soft fabric of his sweater, the scent of his favorite cologne stuck to it, making you breathe it in and relax against him.  

“You look cozy,” he comments, pulling away to look you up and down.

You mumble a quiet thank you, your hands finding his and intertwining your fingers.

“Ready?” He asks.

Your nod doesn’t come off too assuring, making him laugh as the both of you slip your shoes on. Namjoon grabs his coat and with that you make your way out of your apartment, your hands interlocking again as you do. You exit your apartment complex and brisk air surrounds you, causing you to shudder and walk closer to Namjoon as you search for any source of warmth. The two of you stop at the side of the curb as your eyes search for your cab that has yet to arrive, the sun now hitting you and warming you up slightly.

As you wait you turn to eye your boyfriend, love swelling in your chest.

“You look really handsome today,” You say through a smile, eyes meeting his.

You hadn’t seen him in this particular outfit before, but he pulls it off really well. He’s clad in a denim on denim outfit, with a jean coat that reaches all the way to his calves. You’re not surprised it looks amazing on him, everything does.

“Thank you,” he says, cheeks rubescent as his eyes scan over his own body before looking at you and squeezing your hand in his.

You lean into him, nose scrunching at his adorable shy behaviour. Getting the sudden urge to peck him, you get up on your toes and press your lips to the dimple that dents his cheek. He pulls you into his side, hand laying on your hip. As you pull away your attention turns to the black car pulling up in front of you. Namjoon steps forward and opens the door and beckons for you to get in before him, being the gentleman that he is. You climb into the car, moving over so your boyfriend can get in next to you. He sits down and closes the door before reaching into his pocket and grabbing his phone, leaning over to show the driver where he wants to go. Gazing over, you try to catch a glimpse of anything that might reveal what location you’re going to but you manage to get nothing.

“No peeking, baby,” He teases as he puts his phone back in his pocket.

You pout, giving him pleading eyes.

He laughs, his hand coming to lay just above your knee before squeezing lightly. “Be patient.”

You let out a chuckle at your own childish behaviour, laying your hands on top of his before turning to look out at the surroundings as they flash by in a blur. As the driver takes you through Seoul, you find your mind wandering again as thoughts start filling your head. To distract yourself you turn to your boyfriend and ask him about his recent work trip.

Before you know it, the car comes to a stop and with cheeks still aching from a joke Namjoon whispered to you just seconds ago you watch him get out of the car. He holds the door open for you, a grin still on his face as you get out - the adorable indents in his cheeks once again appearing. You always get an urge to kiss them, but if you’d act on it every time that’s all you’d do.

Once you’re out of the car, you glance at the scenery of which you’re very familiar with, and which you’ve come to love and appreciate since being with Namjoon. One thing you learned very early on about him is how much he loves and treasures nature. You didn’t really see the point before, especially since you live in such a big city you don’t really think of it that much. On your own, before meeting him, you’d never think to go to a park just to relax. But now you’ve really learned to appreciate it and the healing powers it holds, something Namjoon also taught you.

“You took me to Hangang Park?” You say, a tinge of excitement in your voice as your eyes take in the beautiful view of the setting sun reflecting in the river.

Namjoon looks at you lovingly as you view the location. Hangang park isn’t away from any civilization, there’s still skyscrapers in view and it’s crowded. It’s not what you consider a traditional park, there’s not grass everywhere you look or trees surrounding you. There are platforms in stone and bigger patches of grass scattered around evenly. Even though it might not be the most green park, something about it brings you more comfort than others do. You think it might be the combination of city and nature, since you’ve lived in Seoul your whole life you’re used to tall buildings and city lights - all that comes with it. And with what Namjoon has taught you about nature, and how you’ve become someone who appreciates that setting as well, you really feel at home when you’re at Hangang Park. 

You said this to your boyfriend when you came here with him for the first time, and that’s probably his reason for choosing this specific location. It makes you feel warm inside, happy he takes all these things and uses them to make you feel relaxed and calm when you need it.

Namjoon comes up behind you and lays a hand over the small of your back, the two of you starting to walk slowly closer to the river. The sunset induces beautiful hues of orange and pink to paint over the blue sky, making the world around you breathtakingly beautiful. You feel some of the weight slowly ease off of your shoulders, and you feel as if you’re finally able to inhale and exhale deeply with ease. The both of you walk over to one of the grass-patches by the river, sitting down on it with shoulders touching and fingers intertwined.

You sit like that in silence for a few minutes, and you sense Namjoon knows you need to just be for a while. You enjoy the feeling of him next to you, his presence as the both of you watch the sky and its reflection in the body of water before you. Surrounding you, there are groups of friends, couples, families, also enjoying the wonderful time of day. The atmosphere around you is happy and tranquil, in contrast to your dark apartment you’d locked yourself in earlier.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumble, laying your head on Namjoon’s shoulder as you watch the hues of the horizon fade into the light blue above you.

A few more minutes of comfortable silence pass by, before he brings his attention to you.

He brings your interlocked hands up to plant a kiss on your knuckles. “Let it out.”

You look up at him, your response lazy, “Hmm?”

“Whatever you’re holding in, whatever’s bothering you. It won’t do any good for you to keep it in.”

You exhale, resting your head against his shoulder again as your eyes return to the skyline. “I’m feeling overwhelmed, and every thought that has entered my mind I’ve been overthinking for no reason. I feel like I’ve gone down this path that I’m now stuck on and I can’t see any lanes or exits for me to lead me in another direction. There’s so many outcomes that could occur if, when the opportunity comes, I choose to walk another way - so many things that could go wrong.” You stop, fingers of your free hand coming to fiddle with the cool metal of his rings as you think of what to say next. “I feel like I’m putting in a lot of effort to do good at work and with studying, but it doesn’t feel worth it when I’m not sure the hard work I’m putting in is doing anything for my future.” You look down at your hands as you feel the familiar lump of anxiety form in the back of your throat.

“It’s normal to have thoughts, and to overthink them. I’ve been where you are right now, and I get you. It’s normal to worry about the future, everyone does - because it’s full of uncertainty and you can never really know what to expect or what it’ll turn into as time passes.” He pauses, and his words bring you comfort - knowing you’re not completely alone in feeling like this. “Someone told me once to think of my mind as a tree, and of my thoughts as branches. For these branches to grow, you’ll have to experience a lot of different things - hurtful things, things that’ll anger and confuse you along with happy and hopeful things. Your mind consists of so many of these branches, there’s happiness, pain, hope, desperation, devastation - everything.” He speaks, hand coming up from time to time in front of him to gesticulate.

You listen carefully to his words as your eyes follow pastel clouds that float across the sky. You’ve always loved how self-aware Namjoon is, you’ve come to think of it as one of his most beautiful traits - one that you really adore. He’s always stayed true to himself, no matter what. He recognizes his mistakes and faults so that he can better them and become someone who’s greater than the person he was the day before. You wish you can be that one day, as good of a person as he is. He always tries to be the best version of himself.

“You’ll need to prune and cut them to take care of the tree, to care for your mind and for it to keep growing beautifully. The hurt will be unavoidable, but you’ll have to make these choices so you can continue to grow and blossom. These thoughts and feelings you’re currently feeling, try to think of them as branches of your young days, as branches of a young tree. When you’ve experienced all of the hurt, the grief, the happiness, the love - you’ll be a beautiful tree, the most beautiful tree.” He says. “I know you’ll be,” He turns to search for your gaze, wanting you to see and notice the sincerity of his words.

Your eyes meet his, inside of which sunsets of their own exist as the sky reflects in them. You feel the force that’s been pulling you down fade, and you feel yourself tearing up as you look at the man in front of you, whom you cherish most out of anything. You realize how blessed you are to have met someone like him, someone with a precious soul like his own.

“Thank you,” you whisper, feeling yourself starting to tear up.

Slightly embarrassed, you look away but you feel Namjoon’s finger nudge lightly at the underside of your chin - making your eyes meet his again. “No need to thank me baby,” He says softly, wiping your a few tears that escaped with the pads of his thumbs “I just want you to be okay, that’s all that matters.”

The love you feel for him spreads like a wildfire through your body. “I love you so much,” you say, eyes still looking into his.

A smile grows on his lips as he looks at you. “Come here,” he mumbles, hand reaching to the backside of your thigh.

He pulls your leg over both of his, so that you end up straddling his thighs before his arms snake around your waist to pull you into him. You embrace him by putting your arms around his neck and pressing your cheek against his. With your body now filled with relief and comfort, you find yourself wishing you could stay like this forever - keep him this close forever.

“I love you too,” He whispers in your ear.

The future remains a mystery, something you’ll never be sure of.

But in this moment, what you’re completely certain of, is your everlasting love for the man in your arms.

He’s your everything.

He’s your start and your end.

He’s your Solace.

[queercode-my-minecraft]

Bottles of Tears

Summary: Bad days happen, especially for Patton, not that his friends know, of course.

After a rough depressive episode the night prior, that might not have ended the moment he finally fell asleep, and after a restless night, where he couldn’t seem to want to remain asleep. Patton only wanted to do one thing:

Crawl under his sheets, in fetal position as he listened to sad and melancholic songs, wishing for the tears to stream down his face. The ache he felt was physical, tangible. A way to show that he was actually suffering and not making it all up.

However, that wasn’t the case because, soon enough, he found himself sat at a desk of his College, laughing with a friend in the same course. And acting as he didn’t feel hollow.

At the beginning, when depression had slowly and quietly come, taking residence in him, he hated faking a smile. Despised not showing his emotions, how he really felt.

He had even planned on telling his friends but…

Roman, confident and stubborn, Roman Garcia has broken down. Crumbling on the floor of the empty classroom, his tears falling with him.

Crippling insecurity. Feeling unworthy of everything, even his friends and his family’s love. Believing that he could never be as good as anyone.

The three friends, who had been stunned seeing Roman fall, had rushed to his side, hugging and promising that what his mind told him was just a lie.

And Patton promised himself he would tell them, not now, of course, since he knew that Roman was more important.

Then, one afternoon, he was gazing at his phone on the sink from the bathroom tiled floor. Willing himself to grab the machine and text someone. Anyone.

However, that was when Logan called.

His voice, at the other end, was collected, and he talked slowly as if not to alarm the person that was with him.

“Virgil is having an anxiety attack. Please, come to our apartment, Roman is already on his way here.”

Patton still remembered that afternoon, recalled the tormenting thoughts that wouldn’t stop as he sat next to Virgil, murmuring soothing words.

After calming Virgil the four had moved on the couch, huddled together as they watched movies, where the perfect and happy characters received their perfect and lovely happy endings.

Virgil, who was sitting between him and Roman, leaned towards him, whispering: “That’s you.”

Patton simply smiled fondly at his best friend, hugging him protectively.

If only…

He had stopped promising himself he’d tell them, knowing that he couldn’t. Because he didn’t deserve it, the others had it worse and it wasn’t his place to steal the attention the others rightfully deserved.

He didn’t deserve a happy and lovely ending like the others.

When finals week had come and Logan had his third tremendous breakdown in two days, Patton was the first to drive to Logan and Virgil’s shared apartment. Quick to speak those comforting words that came from experience, and that the others didn’t find curious since they thought of it as “such a Patton thing to do”.

After convincing Logan to retire to bed, when the moon already shined between the stars and sky was dark, Virgil stopped him from walking out of the apartment. His eyes wondering.

“Y’know Pat, you saw and helped every one of us as we cried, but, we never saw you cry before.”

Patton giggled, his mind already trying to sooth the sudden jolt panic that scorched through his body.

“You saw me cry just yesterday, kiddo! When we saw that cute, adorable, fluffy doggo! Remember?”

Virgil smiled fondly and Patton continued. “Besides Virge, I’m never sad!”

At those words, he internally squirmed, which only got worse when Virgil offered a melancholic smile.

“Of course, Dad.”

That night Patton crawled under his heavy, fuzzy sheets, hugging tight his legs to his chest. No music as background, only the whirling of his thoughts.

In fact, he was too lost in those same thoughts to hear his roommate, Dorian, enter the apartment way after midnight.

The next morning though, his mind foggy from the lack of sleep he found cookies on the counter, to Patton’s immense surprise. It was, also, fair to say, that the day only progressed better and when Dorian returned home that afternoon he found a soft melody pervading the kitchen.

He might have hated lying at the start, but now he found the fake, happy mask a secure place, some kind of comforting hug. But, he wasn’t ready to give that up, not so soon, at least.

College, take notes, stay focused, smile, go to work, stay focused on the road, prepare drinks, smile, keep calm when the clients are being awful, smile, smile, smile, SMILE.

He made his way back home at three in the afternoon, and he immediately crumbled on the couch. His gaze lost, scrutinising the blank ceiling.

Patton’s eyes were burning from exhaustion and his face, usually sporting a kind smile, could only be described as lost.

“Patton?” Asked Dorian, Patton only saw with the corner of his eye his head peeping from his bedroom. However, the moment he saw Patton laying on the couch his voice became a murmur and he came out of his bedroom.

“Bad day?”

“Mh-hmmm.” A rustle, Patton guessed Dorian had taken his phone from his pocket and was ready to call anyone. He didn’t seem like the type of person to be fiercely protective of those he cared for, but once, when tipsy, Dorian had admitted that he would hate himself for causing any trouble to his friends. To anyone he loved.

“Did you take your meds?” Silence, and Dorian curiously peeked down at him.

“Ho- How do you know I take meds?”

“You leave them out of the medicine cabinet.”

“Oh. And yeah, today is just… a bad day. But-“

“Do you like hugs, babe, I mean, Patton?”

Usually Patton would have giggled at the nickname that would accidentally fall from Dorian lips, he always found it extremely endearing. However, Dorian was only met with the quiet of the apartment, confirming that no, everything wasn’t okay.

He quickly tapped something on his phone’s screen.

“O-okay.”

At those words Dorian sat on the couch, Patton crawling on his lap, melting in the embrace, and hiding his face in the crook of the other's neck. As Dorian began rubbing soothing circles in the others back, Patton decided that Dorian’s heartbeat and steady breathing was his favourite sound.

“If you don’t mind me asking: why haven’t you told your friends you suffer from depression?”

“How-?”

“Patton, darling, they don’t even know you take meds! Is everything okay between you guys?” Asked in a whisper Dorian.

“Everything’s fine between us, they’re the best b- but, I just, never had, or found, the right opportunity to tell them, I guess.” Patton tightened the hug, feeling Dorian’s caring gaze on him.

That was the moment when the doorbell rang and Patton threw himself from Dorian’s embrace, eyes wide and full of surprise.

“Wha-? Who?”

“Well, now you have that opportunity, darling.”

Dorian smiled, going to open the door and revealing three worried faces. The first to rush to his side was Virgil, kneeling before him and holding Patton’s hands, an action that would always calm him. In the meantime Dorian welcomed the other two, who after leaving seemingly heavy bags in the kitchen, joined the two on the couch.

Logan was the first to break the ice and voicing the thoughts that the three of them had.

“Dorian told us about you taking medication for depression, expecting us to know what he was talking about, obviously. Alas, we didn’t know and this has raised several questions.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Murmured Virgil, and Patton slowly gazed at him, meeting his eyes. Dark and worrisome. It was Virgil, his best friend, who had went through so much and was so incredibly strong.

“I-“

Patton turned towards Roman, whose eyes, although softer, still sparked with fierce protectiveness. He had grown so much in the past years, from an insecure teen to a confident and talented actor. His arm around Patton’s shoulders, promising to fight by his side no matter what.

“I didn’t want to-“

And, at last, he looked at Logan. Whose brilliant eyes were filled with compassion and, although had a hard time understanding and coping with emotions, had left what he was doing and had run to come and help him.

“- let you down.” He gazed back at his laps, a laugh escaping from his lips, “But, it seems, that I managed either way.”

“Oh, Pat, no.”

“You could never let us down.”

“Pat, please, look at me…” He slowly gazed at Virgil, who couldn’t hide the surprise in his eyes, exactly like the other two. Seeing Patton so quiet was incredibly unusual. “You did nothing wrong. I know how hard it’s to say how you feel and how vulnerable that makes us, even if we want so badly to admit the truth. It’s okay to be sad and afraid, Patt.”

Virgil stopped, taking his hands to rub his eyes to try and hide the tears welling up. Roman, finding the opportunity, gracefully took Patton’s hands in his, focusing the attention on him.

Such movement was the same that Patton had done so often when the other felt just as low.

“It’s okay to feel, and now, we’re here. We support you and we’re here to help. Please, Patt, let us reach out and help you, like /you did for us.”

Patton inhaled deeply, closing tight his eyes, knowing that when he saw the other’s heartbroken expression that would hurt more than anything.

“I’ve known I’ve been suffering from… depression for some time, but, I only started meds and therapy three years ago, probably less. I wanted to tell you, but, you guys have it worse, harder and I’m happy pappy Patton, I can’t let you down and I can’t let you worry about me because-“

“Because we have already so much on our plate?” Finished Virgil, anguish seeping in his voice, and Patton nodded, too scared to to meet their gaze.

“Patton,” Logan finally spoke, “If you don’t tell us anything we won’t be able to help you and we’ll worry even more than if you did talk and open up.”

He gazed at Logan, mildly surprised. He wasn’t expecting him to talk about being sincere with them all, since it was a speech that Patton usually did to him.

A proud smile etched on Patton’s face before he let his gaze turn back to his laps, guilt taking over. How could he-

“It’s okay Patt, we know how hard it is. We’re here, though, we’re here and we want to help you.”

That was all it took for tears to begin rolling down his face.

Numbness swiftly replaced by crashing emotions, clashing and shouting above each other, taking Patton down with them in a spiral of tears.

Arms reached, hugging him, protecting him.

“It’s going to be okay, Pat.”

“We’re here.”

“It’s okay to cry, you’re doing great, Patton.”

And, although Patton wanted wanted to thank them, to hug them and reassure that, yes, everything was going to be okay, especially with them now at his side, all that came out were strangled sobs and tears. So many tears, it seemed that all that was left from the sour numbness that had taken control of his day, were tears.

At least, now they were with him and, knowing them, they weren’t going to disappear so soon.

______

Hours later, Patton laid sprawled on the couch. Virgil pressed by his side softly snoring and Roman with a protective arm around the two of them, protective even in his sleep. Logan, though had fallen asleep in a rather uncomfortable position, half of his body on the couch and the other on the ground. His fall was imminent.

Patton had been sleeping too, until silent footsteps had woken him up, followed by a faint light from the kitchen.

Carefully detangling himself, he got up and softly padded towards the kitchen. He peeked his head and quietly observed as Dorian worked around the kitchen, careful and graceful as always.

However, Dorian soon realised he was being watched, and stopped in his tracks once he saw Patton.

“I’m sorry I woke you up, Patton.” Murmured Dorian, before turning back to what he was preparing.

“Oh, don’t worry. What are you doing, though?”

The tips of Dorian’s ears became slightly red, and Patton could only smile wider. “Midnight snack. Want some?”

He offered, handing some toast with chocolate cream to Patton, who took it without complains. The two are in silence, Patton sitting on the countertop and his feet dangling as he returned to gaze at Dorian. Even with the faint light, he could tell that Dorian was blushing, even if lightly, which made him giggle fondly.

“What is so amusing? Is it the situation?” Simply wondered Dorian, eyeing Patton curiously. However, the smaller man shook his head, returning in his feet, his toast finished.

He padded towards Dorian, so close he could feel the other’s rhythmic heartbeat speed up, and cupped his face; kissing his cheek.

“Thank you.” Whispered Patton, before smiling softly at Dorian and returning to the couch.

Maybe things would really be okay, at the end.

[smhtaehyung]

when all daisies disappear🌼 || chapter 4

• masterlist

• Pairing: taehyung x OC (mental hospital au)

• Genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, romance

• Word count: 4.6k

• Warning: swearing, will contain themes such as suicidal thoughts, depression and physical violence. Some of the backstory for Taehyung’s character is taken from the BTS concepts during the hyyh era. if you feel uncomfortable with the topic of mental illness, I advise you not to read further.

•••

chapter 4 ➸ 478 🌼

As seconds, minutes and a full hour passed by, I found myself getting gradually worried. Living in this hospital, I've seen many mental breakdowns. But something about this particular one, with Taehyung, made my anxiety fly through the roof. I’ve never met a person with Haphephobia, let alone shared a room. This being Taehyung’s phobia, confused me because I couldn’t decide whether I should be harsh on him or not. Is it worth it?

Two hours ago they took Taehyung away to the to the emergency office calm him down. I sat in the interaction room, his fake letter still in my pocket. Jiyu walked past and I rushingly sent a worried stare her way. She waited for me to ask a question, looking at me as she asked patients how they were feeling. She did it on purpose, wanting to hear my rushed, desperate question. She walked past me, but I stopped her, jumping over the couch as I landed on my legs "Is he okay?" I whispered

"Why are you asking?" She asked in a curious tone. "I don't know. Probably because if he's feeling bad enough, they'll switch him to another ward, meaning I'm going to have a room all by myself." I lied in a exciting tone to which Jiyu just shook her head in huge dissappointment. I raised my voice saying that, so other people would hear me. But as soon as Jiyu walked away I quickly walked towards her and stopped her. "Ji, I told you many times to not be like that-" She started speaking but I cut her off, explaining. "I actually want to know. I'm worried." I said as we walked to her medical reception. "What? What game are you playing this time?" She asked, taking some medication out of the boxes and reshuffling them. She stopped all her movements for a second. "Really?" She asked. "Yeah, why? I'm not that mean." I spoke, trying to make my words sound casual. She hesitated with confusion of my words, until she sighed and finally told me.

"Due to his condition-" She started speaking, trying to avoid actually naming his diagnose. "I know he's a haphephobe and a germaphobe, but did his panic attack have to do something with his PTSD?" I whispered as Jiyu opened her mouth in shock. "How do you know-?" She asked in a overreacting confused tone. "I always know everything." I said but quickly spoke again. "But not now, Jiyu. Please tell me what happened." I said, resting my hands on the pult. She sighed again and continued, whispering. “He’s better now. He went through his episode and got scared. He remember what he had did, so it triggered his mind and led him to the feeling of paranoia. Us being there, trying to comfort him was an even worse fear for him. It’s hard to comfort someone with just your words.” She softly spoke, feeling sensible about his story. “What did he do?” I asked in confusion. She just immediately shook her head and looked down. “Tell me, Jiyu. Pease.” I said but she widened her eyes to something she saw behind me. I turned around and saw Taehyung. He was walking from the hallway towards the interaction room.

I remember thinking in that moment: Where are his white clothes? At that moment Taehyung wasn’t wearing his usual clothes and he wasn’t his usual self. His eyes were red and slightly swollen from crying. He wore a red cap that tried to cover his bloodshot eyes. He had on the t shirt he wore to breakfast, but it was almost covered by his all black tracksuit with little details. His look was numb, his lips didn’t move as if they were sculpted out of stone. His perky ears were peeking on the sides of the cap that in this awful moment, gave him the only charm he would get recognised by.

I moved a little to the side when I saw him approach the pult. Jiyu was inside, looking concerned. Taehyung ignored me completely, proving his point that I’m not always the main motive of the painting. Even as he coldly walked, the breeze tried to avoid him, so it hit me when he walked by. Not looking at me had me frustrated and overthinking every move I made. I looked up and down, each second different. Taehyung stood in front of the glass, looking at Jiyu, who was sitting down. “Came for meds?” Jiyu softly asked, speaking a bit louder so Taehyung could hear her through the sound slits. He nodded and slid a piece of paper that had his medication listed by his therapist, through the hole at the bottom of the glass. His fingers softy brushed the pult as he slid the paper in, looking down. He didn’t acknowledge my existence at all. As if I wasn’t there. Jiyu looked for the little plastic bottles. She put her gloves on and put a few pills of different bottles in a small paper cup. The way he ignored me made me so puzzled I didn’t know what to say or how to react. So, not knowing how to comfort people, I spoke the first thing that came to mind. Just so I don’t drive myself insane. "You look like shit." I whispered, trying to break off the silence. Jiyu’s eyes immediately found me, freezing in place after I spoke. But in a split of a second she continued and uncomfortably stared at Taehyung. Taehyung ignored, looking down to the hole. Jiyu slid him the paper cup with medication and a plastic cup of water. “I know.” Taehyung said, not looking at me. He downed the pills and drank the water in a matter of seconds. I observed his adam’s apple twitch as he gulped. He put the both cups down and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Thanks Jiyu.” He said in a cold tone as she nodded. Taehyung only sent a numb glance my way and walked past me, incredibly far from me.

Was he always walking this far away from me, or am I just noticing it now?

I followed his movements with my as as he walked to our room. He took a napkin from his pocket and opened the door knob, entering inside. I quickly tried to follow him, but Jiyu stopped me. “Why would you say that?!” She raised her voice in sudden ridiculousness she expressed with her facial features. “I don’t know what to say to people when they’re feeling like that! This was the softest approach i came up with!” I yelled in a whisper, being angry at myself too. I tried to continue walking but she stopped e with her voice again. “Ji, your meds too.” She said already filling the cup.. Being in a hurry, and not wanting to argue, I quickly walked to the pult and as the pills entered my mouth I positioned them under my tongue. I put both cups down. “Open.” She said and leaned over to observe my mouth. In complete calmness I opened my mouth and she observed for a few seconds. “Can I leave now?” I rolled my eyes. She nodded with a sigh and I quickly walked down the hallway to our room.

When I got in front of the door completely stopped. The shiny doorknob left by Taehyung made my mind wander to many places again. He really didn’t leave any mark behind him. Only occasional daisy that would fall fro his pocket. But not today. Is the letter I carry inside my pocket the only thing that keeps and carries his touch?

I sighed and opened the door. Taehyung was sitting on his bed and this time, observing me. I quickly walked to my bedside and lifted up the heavy mattress. I pulled out the wooden box I made and unlocked it with the key I carried around my neck. There was at least a hundred pills inside, all of them being there when I didn’t need them. I spat out the pills I had inside my mouth in my hand and I put in in the box. I locked the box back and noticed Taehyung still staring at me. I lifted the heavy mattress and put the box back under it. “You should drink your meds.” He softly spoke. “They don’t help.” I said as I adjusted the mattress back onto it’s place, but I couldn’t get it positioned completely back in, some edges lifting up from the others. I tried to force it back to its place but that didn’t work too. “Not like that.” He said and voluntarily got up to help me. He kneeled down next to me, still keeping his distance. My hands instantly flinched as I got a closer view of his hands. He softly pushed the mattress further from himself and lightly pressed it down as the mattress softly slipped in back to its place. “Not everything is dealt with force.” He said and quickly got up to wipe his hands onto his antibacterial wipes he always carried inside his pockets.

“Thanks, rat.“ I said in an unusual endearing way that made the whole sentence seem completely ironic. A giggle escaped his lips that didn’t match his cried out eyes. He walked to the window as I subtly observed him the entire time, waiting fro him to notice that his “letter” is missing. But he didn’t look to his drawer at all. He was watering his daisies and re positioning them to fit the places his troubled OCD mind pictured. I sat in silence, pretending to draw. We did our own thing, separated. I missed his dumb questions and things he wanted to get my attention with.

We both slightly flinched when each of our concentration was broken by a knock on the door. It was one of the nurses, gently opening the door and peeking their head in. “Hey guys, some of us are about to take a walk around the garden  to watch the sunset, want to join us?” I looked at Taehyung, waiting for his response. He nodded in affirmation and got up. I looked at him and got up too. “You’re going too?” He asked. “Yeah, why? I want some fresh air, what’s the deal?” I asked, in a slightly panicked tone that desperately tried to stay stone cold. “Nothing, I’m glad you’re coming.” He said in a calm tone. He seemed quite distant, meaning the his pills started working. I sighed and followed him and the nurse to the hallway. We went down the hallway where Jiyu was, standing with a few of the patients on this ward. She was surprised to see me come to. ”I thought you hated walking in the garden, observing the sunset.” Jiyu spoke. “I do hate sunsets.” I lied, in a completely numb tone. Taehyung observed me with a stare I couldn’t really describe or know. Numb yet soulful, or perhaps casual but with a hint of a endearing emotion.

Everyone stared at me. “C’mon losers let’s go.” I nervously said, playing it casual in my head. Jiyu and her friend nurse let a breath out with a hint of a disappointed chuckle. Jiyu walked by me after she made sure Taehyung was okay. I walked with confidence. I pulled my cardigan sleeves down so I wouldn’t get cold when I get outside. And to hide a situation that took place last week that is yet for Taehyung to discover.

Jiyu unlocked the door where the staircase was and we slowly made our way down that same staircase. I glanced up where the way for the roof was and slightly smiling, in hopes no one noticed. But the one person I hoped the most wouldn’t notice my smile, actually did. Taehyung of course, who was still observing me like I was some painting or that garden I stared through the window almost every day when I didn’t want to go out to walk with these people. Then I moved my look away for him, explaining to myself that it’s only pills that are making him this way. I remembered how powerless he looked today, all weak and hurt. That Taehyung wasn’t looking at me right now. What was looking at me right now was a slightly drugged up version of Taehyung that didn’t know for many problems. That forgot how it feels good to ignore me and not give me attention I get frustrated over. This was a version of him, not his usual self. Kind of like I am. I am a hundred of versions of myself that come through every day. I am an emotion. A ton of emotion that got all mixed up. And after it got mixed up it got diagnosed, and labeled and people didn’t try to understand how I felt. They only tried to understand the definition of bipolar. Nothing more.

Then they only looked down on me upon hearing about my kleptomania, hiding even their useless things away from me. All I'm known for as a person is a thief and a unstable person. It amuses me how people these days find definitions and labeles for everything. They judged my past, present and basic emotion I showed and forced a label down my mouth. All these labels: BPD (Bordeline Personality Disorder), Kleptomaniac, Bipolar, Anxious and manicly depressed adolescent was the only thing they wrote on their papers and sent me off to someone knew, who knew even lesser of who I truly was.

The cold breeze hit my face as we walked outside. I observed the pink sky that was mixed with the previous blue colour of the sky. I walked on the stone path, following Jiyu. I observed in complete silence and let myself enjoy the silence. After a few minutes, Jiyu and a few patients sat on the bench, and the other nurse took a few flower lovers, like Taehyung, to observe many plants and flowers. But Taehyung didn’t come with her. In stead, he sat on the green swing that was under the cherry blossom tree that had plastered the entire ground around him with its petals. It was one of the most beautiful sights to see. I don’t think anyone knew I loved vividly visual sights like that, or knew that I was human. All my drawings represented vivid beauty but people seem to think I do not feel what I draw, which is quite an absurd thing to think about. Is Taehyung really the only one who realises that I’m hiding behind a tough character to not get hurt? 

I took a sigh and crunched his empty letter I gently held with my hands inside my pockets. I walked over to him and sat in silence, kind of disappointed he was drugged because of his medication. He observed me so carefully, his distant eyes staring at me but not entering my soul and piercing through it. The sound of birds filled in the silence before I figured a sentence out and finally spoke. “Rat?” I softly asked fro his attention, in an endearing way, leaving the question hanging in the air. ”Yes?” He whispered, his sculpted lips finally moving, breaking off the figurative stones that blocked his tongue from creating a word. “If you weren’t high on your meds right now, would you ignore me like you did before you took them?“ I asked in a slightly timid tone. His eyes fluttered in a slight panic before he looked away from me, looking straight forward. “It’s not all about you, again.” He said, switching to a more direct tone, still looking numb. “Not what I wanted to hear.” I rolled my eyes and got up but immediately heard his reaction. “No, please stop, don’t go.” He said and motioned his hands up towards me, keeping a far distance away from me. “I barely noticed you, today. I was afraid.” He said and looked down. I sat back on the swing next to him. “What were you afraid of?” I asked. “I don’t wanna tell you, or speak about it. We only know each other for a few days.” He said but I tried to prove his point wrong. “Well yeah, but when you look at someone the entire day and live with them, you get the sense you knew them for years.” I explained, looking up the sky. 

“You look at me the entire day?” He said in a flirtatious tone and I panicked and brushed it off quickly, and aggressively. “I talked about you, rat.” I scoffed and looked down. “I don’t know, you’re a very interesting person.” He randomly spoke. “So you just admitted you stare at me, a lot.” I commented. He nodded and accepted my words. “Dude, that’s weird.” I said with a disgusted expression on my face, praying to heavens I don’t blush. “I know.” He said and looked down. After many moments of silence I broke off the silence again. “Why are you like this?” I asked him. “What do you mean?” He asked in a confused tone that didn’t match his expressionless face. “Seeing you today, being that fucked up, why did you pick an act so bright and childish to usually go by? Why did you pick a character at all, if it doesn’t match who you are on the inside?“ I asked and immediately heard a response. “Why did you?” He asked, making me puzzled. “Why did I what?” I asked for explanation. “Why did you pick a character too?“ He asked, this time staring into my eyes with some emotion. “I didn’t- You do realise that I am mean and fucked up on the inside so when I act out it’s all part of me.” I said in a casual tone. In a sudden change of emotion I spoke again, trying to stop showing sides of me that were used to hidden. “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you right now, about this.” I scoffed, shaking my head. He adjusted his hair under the cap, his ears perking up slightly after I finished my sentence. “Maybe because I’m the only one you can open up to.” He calmly spoke, coming across as timid as his gaze piercing through me. A sudden panic washed over me. In one moment I was ready to tell I boy I knew for 3 days everything that was on my mind, but the other part of me was beating me to a pulp inside of my head, repeating over and over how it is a bad idea. How it’s a bad idea to open up, let alone open up to such a fool that wouldn’t understand my thoughts. “No you’re not.” I immediately spat out, sounding even more panicked. My chest started hurt as the two sides started to argue with each other inside my head. My breathing sped up and I couldn’t sit still. “That’s not a bad thing-” He tried to speak but I immediately cut him off. “Stop.” I raised my voice and got up, leaving the swing. “Hey, Jia. Stop, please.” He pleaded, realising he might have said something wrong.

That was one of the worst things here. If you managed to find a friend, saying things that would potentially trigger them was always a risk. Because how can you know their entire past without asking too much and making them feel even worse? So as soon as I realised a person, this time Taehyung, hurt me in a way, my only reaction would be self defence. I carried such a heavy shield around me and lashed it out onto people even if they tried to touch it. Even them looking at my strongly built shield over the years, made the provocations stir up in fear they would get close to it and tried to break it. Because to them, that shield might seem as a shield with the strongest metal or material in the world, but that shield is just made out of fragile glass, that could cut into me. It’s only painted on to seem strong and to mask the fragileness it carries around.

“Don’t go.“ He got up as we both realised we got unwanted attention from the others. “Stop me.“ I coldly said, frustration built in my eyes. “What?“ He asked in a confused manner. “C’mon, stop me.“ I said and slowly started to walk backwards. “Words can’t stop people, Taehyung.“ I provoked his fear of touch, moving away. “A touch can-” I continued speaking but got cut off. “Jia, that’s enough.” Jiyu warned me, trying to make me stop provoking him. “People grabbing people, or pulling them back stops them.” I said and continued. “If you stop me,you know, physically, I’ll stop. Because why would I listen to a rat?” I continued speaking the same way. Taehyung looked down and didn’t even move. After a few seconds, I spoke again. “That’s what I thought so. Don’t talk to me, rat.“ I said and walked past Jiyu, back to the staircase inside. She followed me back inside, trying to catch up to me when I was walking up the stairs. I rushed through the hallway and she stopped me by holding me by my shoulders, where she always holds me to calm me down. The only thing to calm me down.

“You didn’t take your meds, did you?” She asked in a worried tone. “I did.” I said in a hurtful tone. “Then why are you-don’t feel afraid, Ji.” She said and continued as I tried to brush it off and deny it. “Why are you so hard on him? Especially after what he went through, today?” She asked, stroking my shoulders. “He’s being hard on me ever since he came here. All his little analysing and trying to understand shit, IT’S NOT HOW IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE.” I raised my voice and she tried to shush me, and calm down my upsetting body. “I’m the one who does that! He should be scared of me and not try to get under my skin!” I continued speaking and felt my eyes water. I quickly wiped a tear away and whispered. “How can you all love him so much? How can he manage to get you all to adore hi by just his words? That’s ridiculous!” I said in a absurd tone. “He learned how to do that. That was the only coping mechanism. Ji, that boy went through a lot. He’s a very strong soul-” She spoke but I tried to deny it. “We all went through a lot!” I spoke and she nodded, trying to explain something else, but I was quicker. “I don’t want to fall for his pathetic fake charms like you all did.” I said and moved away from her grip. “That would be even a worse mess than it already is.” I said and walked away. She tried to stop me, but I quickly spoke. “I’m sorry Jiyu. I’d love to be alone right now.” I spoke and she nodded, leaving me be, something I greatly appreciated.

But when I entered my room to leave myself be, unfortunately it didn’t last for very long. I walked around in faster pace, trying to collect myself by facing away from those stupid daises that seemed to stare at me the same way Taehyung stared at me. A lot of thoughts went through my head as both sides still argued. I sat down on the cold  floor and covered my ears and tried to shut my eyes in hopes of protecting my mind from myself. What helped to slightly block the noises was the door that clicked open. I quickly removed my hands from my ears and tried to wipe away my wet cheeks, putting back the shield onto its well known place. I heard Taehyung’s steps as I blankly stared at hard and grey polished floor. Taehyung sat on his bed as the mattress left a few squeaking noises. He looked down at me and I just glanced at him and hid my head between my knees. “I can’t stop you. And I’m sorry for that.” He spoke and I tried to provoke but he was quicker to forestall what I was about to say. “You don’t want my apologies, I know. But I’m sorry if I tried to get too close to you. Mentally.” He said and I immediately responded. “Okay. I know. Whatever, it’s not bothering me.” I desperately tried to brush it off, refusing to apologise to him like he did to me. I noticed my response was bothering him, but this day being too awful for the both of us, we decided to just end that topic at that note, before we lost the remains of our less troubled selves.

As the sky got darker, the pink colour almost disappearing, I fiddled with some of my stuff out of pure boredom. I noticed Taehyung’s quick steps behind me, finally realising he’s looking for his letter. “Jia?” He asked in a soft voice. “What do you need?” I asked in a quite direct tone. “Did you see my letter?” He asked and my face froze upon hearing his question. I got back to my provoking ways to tease for a bit and answered his question with another question. “You mean the one from your girlfriend?” I questioned, laughing on the inside. A small smile escaped onto my lips but I quickly held myself contained. “Uh-y-yes.” He nervously spoke, panic plastered onto his face. “Did you perhaps take it?” He asked in a more directed tone before I provoked. “Oh please, why would I need an empty letter?” I said whilst focusing on what I was doing. I glanced at Taehyung who swallowed a hard lump in his throat. “Relax, you look like you’re going to pass out.” I joked, trying my hardest to not bomb him with the questions. “Uh-about that...” He tried to speak but I couldn’t keep my questions away. “My question is, why did you do that?” I asked, completely staring into his eyes. Taehyung somehow immediately switched from his panicked self to a more bright and lovable version we all knew and found endearing.

 “It’s kind of a funny one. Very random actually” He said and stroked the back of his neck. “Oh really?” I spoke, feeling my usual persona.He walked to some of his daises he kept in vases and rearranged them again. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” He spoke. “No shit.” I giggled. ”I did it to test you." He smiled, sitting down, counting some of the daises as I looked at him from across my bed. "To test me. Why?" I confusedly asked. "To see your reaction. And to see if you're interested in me.” He casually said, licking his lips as he lost his track of counting. A bad multitasker. “You looked so disappointed and pissed when you stared at me “reading” it.” He giggled and air-quoted. “I did not.” I immediately scoffed, shaking my head in disappointment."You're insane, why did you do that? Jiyu handed it to you." I asked in a confused tone. “Yeah, Jiyu helped me.” He nodded and continued smiling. I repeated his words out loud. “To see if you’re interested in me? Pfft- never in a million years, rat.” I answered, hoping I wouldn’t blush, once again. “Sometimes I like it when you call me rat. When it’s less aggressive.” He commented out loud. “Aggressive or not, rats are always disgusting.” I teased and got up, walking to my closet to pretend to look for something else.

“Touché.” He said as he pointed with one of his daisies towards me.

part 5

[digthe60s]

“I existed in a world that never is – a prison of the mind.” (Gene Tierney)

As I am sure most of you are aware, the world is currently going through a health crisis regarding suicide and mental illness.

“The rate of suicide in the United States increased 28 percent from 1999 to 2016, according to a report last week from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.” [...] Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the United States. [x]

And that is just mentioning one country.

I wondered if I should approach such a delicate topic on my blog, and how. I decided though, that as someone who is mentally ill and has struggled with suicidal thoughts, I should have a word or two in the matter. For me, it is not only very important issue which concerns and saddens me deeply, but also a personal struggle.

I was diagnosed with depression (and later on, insomnia and generalized anxiety disorder) a few years ago at the tender age of 16. I’ve been in and out of therapy, and taking medication, ever since. I have struggled with self-harm, suicidal ideation, disordered eating, and (to a lesser extent) substance abuse. I saw, and still do, mental illness ruining what are supposed to be the happiest, most productive years of my life. April and May were particularly difficult months for me. If you struggle with depression and/or other disorder(s), you probably know it sort of comes in waves — you’re doing alright, going about your life, taking care of business. Sure there is a bit of struggle in living every single day, but overall you can manage it. It’s all right. Then something happens, or nothing happens, and it gets bad. And you find yourself going through one of those episodes. I swear... Feeling like you are actually losing your sanity is one very, very scary, and very, very real thing. If you have never experienced such a feeling, consider yourself one lucky human being. In early April I suffered a tragic family loss (which I briefly mentioned here on the blog) and obviously that didn’t help any. I went through one very difficult week, barely keeping myself together. It gets harder to eat, to sleep, to think, to shower, to not break down in tears several times during the day and (especially) during the night. I decided to drop out of college after only two months. I felt like my world was spiraling out of control. I eventually managed to get back on my feet — stumbling, but still. The calm before the storm.

On May 29, I suffered a nervous breakdown. I was taken to the hospital and checked into the psych ward as an emergency case because I was at the risk of committing suicide. I had said out loud: “I want to kill myself.” I talked to professionals (including my current therapist, who begged me to go to the hospital in the first place) and was given medication to reduce the physical symptoms — I was shaking and stuttering all over the place, literally falling apart. I spent about seven hours in the hospital, but felt safe enough to go back home with my family. Ever since that day, my family has been giving me a huge amount of support, even though they don’t quite understand why I am mentally ill. Well, I am none the wiser! But seeing the actual grief — and guilt and concern, too — in my parents’ faces was a life-changing thing, I can tell you that.

For what might have been the first time in my life, I actually realized that they care. That a lot of people care. From parents to distant relatives to online friends to complete strangers. They actually do. That was a mindblowing thing for me because, as it is known, depression and mental illness in general distorts your thoughts and doesn’t let you see things very clearly. Let me tell you, I am making this post because I care. I care about all the people committing suicide and I care about all the people thinking about it, all the people who are in unimaginable, debilitating pain, and are staying silent, making their plans to end it all. I care enough to open up about this to an online crowd of 40k+ people. And if one, or two, or ten of you are struggling right now, I want you to see this. And I want to tell you: get help. 

Every person has a breaking point. Try as we might, it comes a time when we just can’t push any further. In my case, I could not go on feeling heavily depressed and suicidal, and just not say anything. Because I knew I was going to end my life if I didn’t say anything. That is not to say I am “cured”, mind you. I don’t think I will ever be. Every day is a battle. You ever heard the Fiona Apple song, “Every single night is a fight with my brain”? Yeah, that’s pretty much it. I actually had a nervous breakdown last night. But one thing has changed — I talk about it now. Obviously I don’t go out and say to every person I encounter: “Hey, I am suicidal!” But when I feel like I might break down and hurt myself, I turn to the person next to me — who is usually my mother — and say “I don’t feel so good. Actually, could you help me? Because I might die.”

It is one of the worst things in the world, hiding your feelings. Just pretending to be happy and that nothing is bothering you. And at one point, it becomes literally impossible to keep up the facade. It’s exhausting. Reading about the suicide increase rate all over the world, and seeing successful, billionaire people ending their own lives, and talking about it, and hearing from others, made me realize that I am not alone in this world of sorrow. You, who are reading this, are not alone. And I beg of you, if you are struggling, to get help. I know, from personal experience, how disappointing and unnerving the public health system can be. But even if you can’t get in touch with an actual professional, just talking about it with someone, anyone, is already a huge step. It could be a loved one, a relative, a friend, a complete stranger, me. My ask box and messaging system is always open for anyone who might want to say something to me. If you are struggling, I do not want you to go through this alone. You do not deserve to go through this alone. Mental illness and suicide are taboos in our society, and I know most of us feel like pariahs, but we don’t deserve to be. And if we talk about it, there are people — lots of people — who are willing to lend us a helping hand.

I know there are people who check and read this blog and the posts I make, so I felt like I could not stay silent about this subject. And as someone who is going through this and dealing with this pain right now at this very moment, I certainly don’t want any of you to feel like you are alone and uncared for, or that no one understands your pain. When I say “I understand what you’re feeling,” I literally do. I care about how you feel, I care about you living, and you can count on me.

[decadentbirdtyrant]

Feeling Numb

TW: Mental Illness, smoking, disassociation, bipolar disorder, mentions of death, medication 

I don’t know what to post as triggers hopefully.

This is wrote in second person, I’m not sure why that’s just an easier way for me to write. Almost feels like I’ve removed myself from the equation in a way. 

You're doing it again. Staring at the wall unmoving, but as your vision fades from clear to blurry and back again the tell tale static clouds over the image. That's what it is though, an image. It doesn’t feel like real life anymore just like you are floating and staring at a paused screen. An image of a wall. The subtle movement in the lines before you as they bend back and forth are all you really need to know you are still breathing. You aren’t sure how long you have been blanking but noticing is a good sign that it’ll stop soon. That being said you still can’t feel your limbs and so trying to move them is nigh impossible. Finally though you manage to move your sight it's sluggish and it means you're coming back. The next thing you can move is your neck slowly looking back and forth and down to your hands. Slight twitches at first until you can flex your fingers then moving up your arms the feeling and movement returns to your control. But honestly the hardest part is last. You have to stand up, not that it is necessary but if you don’t you run the risk of spacing out again, and no one wants to be held hostage by their own body. It takes a while to gather the gumption to move your feet, they tingle from the numbness subsiding and soon there are pins and needles running up your legs. Now put it all together. Move your eyes and head, find a place to put your hands, use your arms to push yourself up, search again for a stable surface to grab onto, stabilize yourself while your legs continue to stall. Take one step and then another after four steps you start to feel normal again, you start to feel in control again. You feel like you have made it out of the woods, that you have accomplished a difficult task, just for it to all come crashing down. You don’t remember why you froze, what happened that made you become near catatonic. It wasn’t something big, there was no unexpected death, no terrible news, no real danger. Just the accumulation of stress and anxiety, the depression and anger dragging you down and finally your mind shutting itself off in a state of protection. It never helps. Instead of allowing yourself to fall victim again you make yourself move, distraction is the best method and games are a good way to keep mind occupied instead of fretting. 

Leaving the Living Room, keeping your head down and eyes cast to the floor while going through the Dining Room and through the door into your “office” the only thing that makes it your office is the expensive PC and dual monitor set you bought when you were manic. At least you were happy then. Other than that the office really just has some work out equipment (that you bought when you were manic and hardly touched), boxes from Amazon purchases, your old monitors that go with your old PC, and a wall mounted TV. All of which were impulse purchases, subtle reminders all over your house that you are in fact not well, not doing good, and hardly in control of yourself. Hell even this house is an impulse of a manic episode. Being both your escape and safe place and your biggest regret. 

Now that you sit at your desk you can’t help but notice the mess your life has become as the Dining Room sits right there in your peripherals. The table is covered in junk and more boxes of more things you bought when you shouldn’t have. There is hardly a Dining Room any more. You always tell yourself that you’ll stop, but all it takes is another obsession, an inkling of a thought that blossoms into an unneeded need. You need even more now to distract yourself. So you do the only thing that seems to work. Play a game on the computer and zone out on it for hours. 

By the time you decide to check the time four hours have passed and they felt like only one. Your joints are stiff and you can’t straighten your pinky finger without a little pain. That only really means you need a bit of a break before you continue this gaming endeavor. Standing up you feel multiple joints in your body pop and crack. Your muscles ache with the strain of moving for the first time in hours. Keep your head down as you walk through the Dining Room, but nothing can save you from the heart ache at seeing your kitchen. You suppose it could be worse but you were raised in a very clean house with a relatively strict mother who would definitely not be approving of the state of your house. It’s always the kitchen that hits the hardest though. When you had bought this house a year ago that kitchen looked completely different. You spent four weeks straight working on this kitchen, from repainting to putting in a new floor just so you could let it fall apart. But you do what you do best, avert your eyes and open the fridge which is honestly no better. Old food that should have been eaten days ago sits there mocking you. Another way of wasting money, it’s become a trend with you. Those around you tend to think you are good with your finances and if paying bills on time is all there is to go by then yes, you are good with your finances. Making a mental note to clean the fridge, which you will forget every time you look at the fridge for the next week, you grab out an energy drink. It feels like an addiction now, it kind of is a caffeine addiction Soda just doesn’t do it and the cans are just too small, say that to all the half drank cans of soda and energy drinks on the coffee table in the Living Room. No use thinking about that now, this can will join the ones in the office that are also half drunk. Moving along you whistle for your dog, and just as she always is she bounds up happily and wags her tail, her mouth open in a way that it looks like she is smiling at you. 

“Let's go outside” To that she jumps around and heads to the back door. You haven’t spoken in probably the last six hours and you can feel it in the way your throat felt scratchy and mouth felt dry. Going through the back door you once again move quickly as to not remind yourself of the mess your life is. When was the last time you cleaned the litter box? By the smell of it, it had been awhile and in this downward spiral you can tell it’ll be awhile more. 

There is something to say about fresh air, it always has an uncanny ability to make you feel ten times better than you felt in the stale indoor air. Yeah you may live in a city, and yeah you may live in a poor area of the city that is predominantly populated by meth addicts, and yes sometimes you can smell someone cooking meth in the air and the only reason you know what that smells like is because you have lived in this neighborhood for a long time. That does not diminish the fact that fresh air no matter how hot or how cold will always make you feel better. It’s dark out right now, there is a distinct lack in sound other than the buzz of bugs, a few cars, the occasional sirens and of course your dog. She has a hatred of anyone walking near her yard, bikes, motorcycles, and the mailman. You sit down on the back steps and pull out a pack of cigarettes. Cigarettes stopped feeling cool around the time you could legally buy them, but at that point they were no longer an accessory but a necessity. They calm you but really it isn’t the tobacco or the nicotine it's the deep breathing. The way you smoke a cigarette is actually very common to deep breathing exercises. You put the cigarette to your lips and take a deep breath in, holding it for a moment and then slowly releasing the breath. After the first drag you already feel calmer. Sure you could stop smoking and just take up deep breathing exercises but something tells you that you will never stick to it. What do you care about honestly, you obviously don’t have an issue wasting money on frivolous things, and you aren’t planning on living long and for as long as you can remember you never thought you’d live long. You just don’t see yourself growing old and wrinkly, in fact you have currently made it much further than you even considered possible. 

After finishing that cigarette you consider lighting another but your dog saves you from yourself by deciding then that she needed to bark loudly at god knows what. So you call her back in and though she too can be rather distracted she eventually comes happily inside trotting by you without a care in the world. Retracing your steps you keep your head down to not focus on the mess areas of your house until you are sitting back at your computer chair, your still unopened energy drink in front of you perspiration gathering on the outside. You’ll continue to ignore it though as you are back to the game and the outside world once again ceases to exist. Thankfully you can’t remember why you were so upset in the first place. 

This lasts until well past your bedtime with work coming up next evening you should really get to bed but if not the computer keeping you up the YouTube videos playing on the TV as background noise will. There is just something you hate about stopping a YouTube video in the middle of it. So you have to finish it. It’s fine though you know yourself and you know that you can run on little to no sleep. As it finishes you have to physically force yourself to shut down the PC and TV and make your way to the Bathroom. Unlike the rest of your house the Bathroom is relatively clean, it's just one of those places that drive you insane if it isn’t clean. Reaching above the medicine cabinet you grab down two orange pill bottles. ‘Lamotrigine’ and ‘Buspirone’ are supposed to help fix your head, maybe they are working but you honestly can’t tell. The only one that you can tell is doing something is ‘Bupropion’ and really that's only because it wakes you up it’s why you have to take it before work. It’s also why you feel more and more comfortable pushing the limits on bedtime. “If I don’t get enough sleep its fine, my meds will make me more awake and alert.” You also have prescribed sleeping pills but you don’t take them. They are only for dire situations but the last time you took them your dreams took a dark and rather gruesome turn so you stay away from them now. You glance over to the shower and consider that you should take a shower but “I can’t I have to go to bed for work” and “I don’t want to I’m too tired” also “I’ll just take a shower after I wake up” Which you know is a lie, they all are. You aren’t too tired, you don’t care about getting sleep for work, and you won't do it when you wake up. You can’t say why but you just can’t take a shower right now. So you don’t. You leave the bathroom without another thought and grab the cup by the kitchen sink, fill it with fridge water, and swallow back your pills. You hope the neighbor hadn’t seen you through the kitchen window. It’s an absurd thought but the idea of someone knowing you have to take pills to feel a semblance of okay is terrifying. 

When you were first diagnosed with a mental illness you were around the age of 7. It was depression and anxiety, things you started suffering from after your parents divorce 4 years ago. Though being 7 now and understanding divorce, try explaining that to a 3 year old who doesn’t understand why Daddy isn’t at home with them and Mommy. You were given your first prescription pills at the age of 7, and though she meant well your mother lied to you about what the pills were for. Your father on the other hand did not lie to you, was it because he cared? Maybe but mostly you think it was to be defiant towards your mother. The two hated each other at this time period. By not lying to you he made you upset with your mom for not telling the truth and resentful of the pills or as he referred to them “crazy pills”. 

“Crazy Pills” that's what you think when you take them, when you look at the bottles in the bathroom, when you even remember that you need to take them. One little phrase from nearly 20 years ago and it still haunts you to this day. It has foiled every other attempt at getting better mental health. But this time will be different. You hope. 

Once you have downed your pills, you start to feel this strange anxiety. It’s a morning anxiety usually where you feel this need to move and everything is going to slow. Quickly turning you head up the stairs to the second floor, it's more of a finished attic space where the ceiling height in the middle is just an inch or so above your head. This is the best part of your house. It’s the cleanest because you only come up here to go to sleep or fold laundry. Ducking through the bedroom door. Hurriedly you get undressed down to your boxers and turn on the fan. Crawling into bed you plug your phone in and grab a dissolvable melatonin, hoping that it’ll act quicker than your sleep anxiety can. If the sleep anxiety hits first you’ll be up for another three hours at least. It’s then that you remember what had put you in such a terrible mood. Scrolling through your phone you come across a post from a member of your “friend” group talking about how they all went and did something “had so much fun with all my friends!” You weren’t invited. You had always felt like you weren’t really a part of the group but you had always said it was because of your paranoid thoughts. Day by day though you start to notice that no, no you were right. They don’t care that you aren’t around, they don’t miss you, they wouldn’t notice if you disappeared, they wouldn’t care if you died other than to garner sympathy for themselves. You realize once again how much time and energy you’ve wasted on people trying to be who they want you to be just to be thrown away. Again. It stings a lot worse now, they are still friends with your ex, they still hang out with her and talk to her. Your breakup was mutual but no one thought to ask you if you were doing okay. Why would they? You don’t show your feelings, how could they possibly know you have any if you never show them. Robots don’t have feelings and at this point you just feel like a robot. A shell of a person. You do as you always do, distract yourself. Flipping through tabs on your phone you find one of fanfiction and start reading until the melatonin kicks in and finally you are asleep. You’ll wake up multiple times before you actually get up. You may get up in 3 hours or 8 but at least now you can sleep and forget all your worries until you wake up and they all come crashing back down on you. 

When you finally wake up you don’t leave your bed for a couple hours, just sit there and snooze the alarm over and over and once it’s almost time for work you pull yourself out of bed, get dressed and take “crazy pills”. Today is going to be a good day. It won’t but as long as you lie to yourself it's easier to face each day.

[lil-lycanthropy]

Belong

Words: 5,250 (or something like that)

Parings: None??? This can be read as platonic or romantic idc

Warnings: Angst, Dissociation, Anxiety/Panic Attacks, Nightmares, Flashbacks, slight Blood (nothing gory really), slight Burns (once again, not really bad or anything), Self-Loathing, Negative Thoughts, I think that’s it?

Summary: Everyone’s trying to accept Parker, and Parker is trying hard to be accepted. But the fact of the matter is, he traumatized the sides and they’re not coping well.

Notes: This is for @parkersanders​ as my SAD entry. It’s late (I’m so sorry) because I’m a depressed procrastinator who has to edit things 434753947 times and rewrite all the chapters. Also sorry it’s so long I have no self control, and go big or go home so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Anyway, hope you like it! I’m in love with your verse and hope you have a happy birthday!

Disclaimer: The fic is based on @parkersanders​‘s fic Silence and Duality (read here), and I use one quote from it in here somewhere, I think in the fourth part? Yeah. Enjoy.

Roman was lounging on the couch when it happened.

Everything was fine, until he thought about Parker. The new living situation wasn’t as fear-mongering as he thought it would be, yet there were still tensions. They were all still slightly worried as Parker settled in, but were trying to hold it together so they wouldn’t trigger anything.

Parker was...interesting, to say in the least. With all their history, it was surreal with him back in their lives now. Dealing with his absence for two decades to having him be sleeping next door felt unreal. It would have been unimaginable even a couple weeks ago, and yet that was their reality now.

Then there was the whole drama of Parker escaping his prison, only to put the other through the same hell he experienced—if only for a much shorter time span. Usually Roman was more than okay with drama, but the things that happened in there, only for Virgil to be the one to save him. It left him feeling very defeated in a way he hadn’t ever been before. The shame, the fear...

Suddenly, Roman’s breath started coming in short pants and he could no longer feel the couch beneath him, the pillow under his head, or the clothes he was wearing. He couldn’t feel...anything.

It was like he was having an out-of-body experience, except that didn’t make sense, because as facets of Thomas personality, they were not capable of such things.

He went completely limp on the couch, not having the strength or mental presence to hold his body upright anymore. Focusing on one thing became impossible, his eyes darting back and forth without taking in any information. Roman didn’t know what was happening.

Roman...

Was that even his name? He couldn’t remember. Why did he even have to have a name? It’s not like he even existed...

Roman continued thinking everything and nothing at once, thoughts crossing his mind so quickly, little bits of nonsense that meant nothing.

After a time, Logan walked into the scene—the Prince, sitting on the couch, limp except for the shallow rise and fall of his chest and his eyes flashing a mile a minute.

“Roman?” Logan said, rushing over and kneeling down.

Roman glanced over, barely acknowledging the presence of the other side. “I-I don’t—”

Logan took a breath to steel his nerves. “May I touch you?”

Roman looked confused, then gave a jerk of his head that passed as a nod. Crouching down, Logan took one of the Prince’s hands and placed it on his chest. “Okay, we’re going to go through some grounding exercises to get you feeling calmer. Can you breathe in, as deep as you can?”

A shuddering breath, then a slower exhale.

“Good. Now, repeat.”

They carried on until Roman was breathing fairly regularly, but he was still far from his normal rambunctious self. “Roman, could you do me a favour?” Another nod. “Can you name five things you can see?”

The Prince looked anxiously around the room. “Um, you, the-the TV, the, uh, carpet, table, and-and the blinds over the window.”

“Four things you can feel, now.”

“Your h-hand, my shirt, the couch, and...exhaustion.”

Logan cracked a smile. “Yes, that I can imagine.”

They went through the grounding exercise until Roman was sitting up and didn’t look quite so pale. Logan summoned a glass of water, which Roman chugged gratefully.

“I know I’m not the best at dealing with emotions, but I am curious—do you know what exactly triggered the attack?”

Roman put his head in his hands, mumbling something incoherent.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t catch that.”

Roman raised his head and said, “Parker.”

“What about Parker? I know our situation is going to take some getting used to, but what about that would cause something this bad?”

Hands now shaking again, Roman brushed back his hair. “I was thinking about, how, y’know, we did all this horrible stuff to him, and then he put us through all that when he got out, and it was terrifying. I’m not saying we didn’t deserve it, but, god—”

“Roman, please calm down. You’re rambling, and I know you well enough to recognize when it’s not coming from a place of stability. You’re right; we have done some unacceptable things in the past. We’re all guilty—”

“Virgil’s not.”

“Well, I’m not going to contradict that statement. However, we’re trying to make things right. As for what you faced in there—Parker preyed on our fears. All of us. But fears are often irrational, and even if they’re not, almost any problem can be solved in some way. As long as you remember that, your fears will have no power over you.”

Roman gave a slightly tearful nod, trying to hide the drops through a smile.

Across the room, hidden by shadows, another figure was also trying to hide his tears. Not with a smile, though—with the sleeves of a faded hoodie and the long edges of his sandy hair.

Parker sunk out, retreating back to his room. Just another day where he was to blame.

There was no shortage of those.

A crash broke the relative silence in the mindscape kitchen as Logan dropped the coffee pot, spilling its contents all over the floor.

It was still early—only 9:00, still an hour before regular scheduled time to go to bed—but Thomas had once again decided to procrastinate on a video, so it was likely they both were going to be awake for awhile yet (Roman, too—no video could exist without his input).

Prolonging the inevitable was fruitless, so Logan decided he may as well start early and get some heavily-caffeinated bean water into his system to give him the energy he would require to get through the night.

Making a pot of coffee was pretty much second nature to all the sides by now. With the amount of times Thomas stayed up late, they had all gotten used to rapid-heart rate, shaky-hands, slightly-nauseated feeling. While drinking coffee in the mindscape was more of a habit than actually useful, they all still did it whenever Thomas would be up late. It was really the only way they would function (except Patton, who preferred hot chocolate and was bubbly around the clock).

However, sometimes things go wrong. Logan was distracted, thinking about both the video and Roman. He had been better since his his dissociative episode three days ago, but it had still bothered the analytical side. He was thinking about how Roman’s own mental state might affect the quality of the video (along with the worry for his friend, not that he would admit that) when he dropped the full pot of coffee, shattering it all over the kitchen tile.

As the coffee flooded the floor, they soaked Logan’s fuzzy socks (he was going for comfort rather than appearance. Just this once. One-time thing. Definitely). It began burning his feet, but worse than that was how Logan’s breath stopped.

Being a side meant not having to shower or bathe. It meant not having to go swimming or step in puddles or going in the rain. Being a side meant that dealing with water was a complete rarity, unless one enjoyed baths for leisure (like Virgil sometimes did. Roman had found that out one day, promised to keep it secret, then proceeded to tell Logan, Patton, and Thomas about Anxiety’s guilty pleasure). The last time Logan had been in water was...

The flashback was the only thing occupying his vision. He could vaguely take in his surroundings, but his immediate thoughts were get out you’re going to drown if you do not find a way to GET OUT YOU’RE GOING TO DROWN—

Gasping for breath was a painful affair as Logan forced his lungs to take in oxygen. He wouldn’t be able to escape unless he could think rationally and come up with a solution, but no matter where he stepped, water squelched between his toes and he knew he was still in danger.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure wearing loose clothing, a hood draped over its head. His mind immediately went to Death.

As he tried to get away, his back hit something solid. He slid down, landing in the puddle on the ground.

A wall, it’s a wall, you’re trapped and you’re going to drown and now you’re cornered—

“Logan? Logan! Can you hear me, kiddo?”

Yes, I can hear you. Who are you, though?

“Are you okay? Logan?”

Please, stop pestering me with questions. I need to think of how to escape this torturous flood.

“We’re gonna go to the couch now, okay, buddy?”

He was abruptly pulled upright, his one arm draped over someone’s shoulder. Shuffling forward, he eventually dropped onto something soft—and dry.

Dry? Soft? No water, no flooding, no walls, what—?

“Can you hear me, Lo?”

Logan looked over to see a gentle face, with worried eyes peering behind a thick pair of glasses.

“Pat-Patton?”

“Yep, I’m here.”

Logan leaned forward, placing his head in his hands. He was slowly coming back to reality, but everything still felt wrong. He was the logical side! He wasn’t supposed to succumb to irrational fears! A flashback, of all things...

But it felt so real.

“I thought I was back...in the place, the one where Parker put me when he was getting out of his own prison...”

Patton’s brow furrowed, and he placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Do you wanna talk about it? Now, I know you don’t like all this ‘emotional crap’ stuff, but I’m always here for you. As your dad.”

A small smile crept out against Logan’s will. “You’re not my dad. And no, I don’t need to talk about anything. It’s stupid.”

“Kiddo, it’s not stupid. I know you think you have to be 100%, all the time, but all of us know you have emotions. Especially me. I know you, Lo.”

Logan shook his head. “I dropped the coffee pot—oh no, it probably made a mess, I should go—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, it’s fine, we’ll get it later. No use crying over spilled milk—er, coffee, right?”

At that moment, Logan realized how much his feet hurt. “I think it burned me, and I need to go remedy that now.”

“No, let me! Be back in a jiffy!”

Someone else suddenly appeared in Logan’s line of vision.

Patton spoke up. “Oh, Parker’s here, too,” he said as he raced up the stairs

Parker looked distraught, then pulled off the hood on his dark sweater. “I’m-I’m sorry. I’ll leave now.”

Logan nodded mutely, regretting opening up and being so vulnerable, not only in front of Patton, but Parker, too (though inadvertently). He felt slightly remorseful about having Parker hear what he’d said, but he was still trying to pick up the pieces.

Parker sunk out, leaving Logan alone for only a moment before Patton popped up with a first aid kit. While he could’ve easily summoned one on his own, Patton liked to have some realism in the mindscape. Said it “made things interesting”.

He flipped the top open, bandaids spilling all over the couch. “Nice socks,” Patton said, before shimmying them off.

Logan’s feet were bright pink. Patton looked them over, but it was all superficial. He slathered on some aloe vera, and put Logan’s socks back on.

“That was one of the most unpleasant things I have ever experienced.”

“Are you talking about my first aid skills, Lo?”

“Of course. But putting my socks back on after? That was low.”

“-gan.”

“Stop.”

---

Parker reappeared back in his own room, which was still almost blank, and he threw himself on his bed. Was he being selfish, making Logic’s breakdown all about him? Of course he was. Logic was the one struggling right now, all because of him.

Guilt washed over him. Even Logic was crumbling because Parker had decided revenge was better than compromise or forgiveness. At the time, he had wanted to break them, but now...

Parker knew what he did was wrong. He wished for some way to undo all the damage.

But what’s done is done. He just has to keep trying.

A couple days later, Patton was laying in bed, looking up at the fairy lights on his ceiling. The little patterns resembled stars, which usually relaxed him. He had designed his room entirely for comfort. Patton was a homebody, and his room reflected that.

However, tonight was different. His mind was replaying Logan’s little breakdown on the kitchen floor. He’d said it was a flashback.

“Triggered by dropping the coffee and getting liquid all over my feet. Roman also might’ve helped with the intensity—he had some trouble a few days ago. My best guess is dissociation. I suppose that was on my mind, distracting my focus.”

That prospect was terrifying. The most logical, grounded side falling victim to the mind’s whims? What chance did the rest of them have?

The lights dimmed as he closed his eyes, falling into an uneasy slumber.

---

Several hours later, Parker awoke to screaming coming from down the hall.

Even with Anxiety, Thomas was a pretty chill guy. Screaming in pure terror was not a very common thing heard around the mindscape, especially not this late at night.

Heart racing, Parker leapt out of bed and threw open his door.

Morality. It was coming from Morality’s room.

Parker burst in, catching sight of Morality thrashing about wildly on the bed, tears streaming down his face from his scrunched-up eyes.

“Morality, wake up!”

Parker rushed over and began desperately shaking Morality’s shoulder. “It’s just-it’s just a dream!” Tears began to flow from his own eyes.

The Heart’s eyes flew open, and he gasped in horror, shoving Parker away with a choked gasp.

Virgil appeared behind them, pushing past Parker in an urgent, but not unkind way, and gathered Patton in his arms. Usually, he was vehemently against physical contact, but he couldn’t leave Patton like that. The moral side needed comfort, and judging from how clingy—er, loving, he always was, it was safe to assume physical contact was what he needed at the moment.

Patton clung onto Virgil, bunching up the darker trait’s shirt in his hands and sobbing into his shoulder. Virgil tentatively wrapped his arms around Patton while Parker stood off to the side, looking distraught.

“Um, I got this...I think. Can you, uh, make sure Logan and Roman are still asleep? I don’t want to overwhelm Pat right now.”

Parker left gracelessly, stumbling into the doorframe on his way out.

“Hey, Parker?”

The side reappeared at the door.

“Thank you, for trying to help him.”

Parker gave a meek nod, then disappeared from view.

Virgil turned his attention back to Patton. His tears were still coming, but his breaths were at least slowing down. “I’m s-so sorry you have to see me like this, kiddo...”

“No, it’s fine. I mean, you’ve seen me during some pretty rough times, and you’ve always helped me through it. Least I can do is return the favour, y’know?”

Patton sat back up, and Virgil summoned a glass of water. He handed to Patton, who drained half the glass in one go. “Thanks, Verge.”

Virgil gulped a little, then nodded. “So, what happened? Was it, like...a nightmare?”

“Yeah,” Patton said softly after a beat of silence.

Nightmares were nothing new to Virgil. Heck, Patton knew that. Ever since he became more comfortable with the other sides, he had still really only opened up to Patton about the nightmares. He was sure Logan and Roman knew about them, but they never brought it up. But Pat said his door was always open for Virgil, any time. So Virgil had taken to going to Patton for comfort after night terrors.

Virgil leaned back, waiting to see if Pat would open up or not. Oftentimes, all Virgil wanted was some comforting after a nightmare without having to relive it. He wondered if Patton was the same.

Eventually, Pat sighed and looked up. “It was about Parker.”

Virgil’s interest was immediately piqued. “Parker?”

“Well, not Parker exactly,” Patton rushed to clarify. “Just...going through that prison again, and the others’, too. Like a mix of the nightmares Parker made for all of us.  Logan and Roman told me about what they went though, so it was like a...mega-terror-extravaganza thing. I can’t really figure out why theirs were in there, I don’t exactly have the same fears as them or anything.”

“It’s because you’re an empath, Dad.”

Patton smiled at him. “Thanks, son.”

“I’m notcha son,” Virgil said, hiding a smirk behind his hand.

“Ok, whatever you say.”

The tension was broken, and even though Patton still had drying tear tracks on his face, the twinkle that was usually in his eye had returned.

But not everyone could recover so easily from emotional turmoil.

Stupid. You should’ve done better. Helping people is easy when you’re a good person, which is why you’re still struggling with it. You only ever bring bad things to the table. What’s even the point in trying to help if everyone’s just trying to push you away?

Parker curled up as his mind realized how hopeless he was. No matter how hard he tried, he would never measure up to the other sides. That’s why they locked him away in the first place, wasn’t it? He contributed nothing. Even Anxiety had a purpose, to keep Thomas safe from harm. Thomas definitely didn’t need another side helping with that.

What exactly was Parker’s purpose now? How could he make it up to the other sides and prove he belonged?

Virgil was having a bad day.

This in itself wasn’t unusual. With him being the embodiment of anxiety, he was always feeling as if his emotions were heightened in a negative way—which is why he was almost always on edge. Then there was the messed up sleep schedule, unhealthy eating habits (whether it was a “physical” feeling or just a placebo effect, the sides all felt happiest when they stuck with somewhat healthy eating, along with cookies where Patton’s involved), and a reliance on caffeine.

He was not exactly a role model regarding self care.

Since a few months ago, after they did “Accepting Anxiety,” he did feel like he belonged with the group more. They made an effort to make him feel welcome, and it did help.

However, that didn’t mean Virgil never had issues anymore.

Today was one of the days his “issues” were making themselves known. He hadn’t slept in over 36 hours, and in that time, had been drinking coffee almost non-stop. Even his body, ever used to being heavily caffeinated, was struggling. His pulse was racing and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

The worst was that Virgil’s mind refused to stay focused, and turned to negative or intrusive thoughts rather than the task at hand. He had been flitting around all day as a result of the caffeine, but he still felt completely drained.

He remembered how Patton would cook or bake while stressed, as a way to take his mind off things.

And that’s how Virgil ended up standing at the counter, trying to slice up a red bell pepper with a giant santoku knife for his homemade ratatouille (alright, yes, he was thinking of the movie the entire time).

But shaky hands and large knives don’t mix. One wrong move, one second of attention being elsewhere, is all it took for Virgil to miss the pepper and instead slice straight into his thumb.

Blood began to flow out of the wound, dripping onto the counter. Virgil stared at it, fixated on the deep red colour.

He looked like Thomas, in a demonic sort of way. His hair was dark, yet paler than when they were young. His skin was tinted blue and the shadows danced around him like a hazy mirage. His nails were long and black like they belonged on a monster’s hand, not his. His eyes were the scariest: black where the whites were supposed to be, the pupils a deep red instead of black.

The same crimson colour that currently flooded out of Virgil’s hand.

Panic overtook him, spiralling him into the all-too-familiar anxiety attack. This one was worse than any he had ever experienced. Along with the rapid heart rate, the growing pressure on his chest, and his throat closing up, he began to feel lightheaded at the sight of the blood.

The red that looked so much like Parker’s eyes when they first met again after fifteen years...

Tears pricked at his eyes, and every time he tried to catch his breath, it was knocked out of him again as if he had been punched. He collapsed to the floor, wheezing, desperately trying to breathe. When he couldn’t, that just made him more distressed.

It was a never-ending cycle when he got like this. Alone, Virgil was powerless to stop it. His breathing would become more useless until he passed out and his body reset itself. Which wouldn’t be so bad, except when his attacks were that severe, it usually incapacitated him for days while he tried to recover.

Passing out never did seem like a good option in these times of distress. His primordial reaction was to get out of the situation, which would make sense except he couldn’t move, he couldn’t escape the situation, he was helpless on the ground. Thoughts of death always crossed his mind because he couldn’t breathe...

A slight whimper came out against his will, using up what little oxygen he had left. He was truly, undeniably going to die like this.

“Anxiety, please, breathe!”

A voice. A voice belonging to a person. Someone familiar, maybe.

Virgil turned over and was greeted with the face of Parker.

Despite Parker’s appearance being drastically different than when they first saw him a few weeks ago, it was still him. And at that moment, him was a threat.

Rather than hyperventilating, Virgil’s breathing screeched to a dead halt. A tiny part was saying Parker’s fine, Parker’s safe, Parker’s changed for the better, the larger, instinctive part was screaming danger. Absolute danger.

“No, no, no, no, no, please breathe, don’t stop, don’t—”

“What’s happening?” a new voice boomed.

“He—he—”

“What did you do to him?! Never mind, just get out and let me deal with this!”

A face appeared in Virgil’s line of vision, close to the ground. “Verge, bud, I’m gonna wrap this towel around your hand and I need you to take some deep breaths. What’s that little pattern you do? 4-6-8?”

Virgil jerked his hand away as...Roman? Roman bundled up Virgil’s hand, holding the towel in place.

“Sorry, but I need to stop the bleeding, and...Ah! 4-7-8! We’re gonna do that, okay, Finding Emo? Copy me; in for four...”

Roman counted as he took an exaggerated breath, and Virgil followed, choking a bit at four.

“Good, Verge, now hold,” Roman said, silently counting.

“And out.”

They repeated it several more times, and Virgil slowly sat up. He clutched his hand with the towel still on it close to his chest, blood soaking through the fabric.

With a flourish of Roman’s hand, a first aid box appeared next to the pair. Roman popped it open, pulling out some antiseptic, gauze, a butterfly bandage, and the medical tape.

He held out his hand, and Virgil hesitantly placed his own in it.

Roman got to work, applying some antiseptic and the butterfly bandage to hold the edges together. He wrapped it in gauze and finished by taping the edges down.

As he was putting everything back in the kit, Virgil spoke up for the first time.

“You shouldn’t have yelled at him.”

“Who?”

“It’s ‘whom’, and—”

“Ok, I’m going to have to ask you to stop hanging around Logan so much.”

“Anyway. Parker. You shouldn’t have yelled at him. He didn’t do anything wrong; he just wanted to help.”

The Prince huffed out a sigh. “Yeah, I know. I’ll go apologize to him in a bit.”

Looking displeased, but too tired to argue, Virgil nodded his assent.

After being shoved out of the kitchen, Parker had sprinted up the stairs back to his room. His knees buckled and he pitched forward onto his bed, his weak resolve crumbling. Great, heaving sobs made their way out, his chest clenching painfully.

Everyone hated him. He made everything worse, and everyone was suffering because of his actions.

The grief was too overwhelming, and Parker didn’t know what to do. His body shut down, and he fell into a deep sleep.

---

As soon as he was unconscious, Parker’s mind flashed back to all the damage he’d inflicted.

Not only on the other sides, but his host, too. He had almost gotten Thomas killed because he couldn’t control his fear. Then, after escaping his prison, forced him to go though those horrible hallucinations when Thomas had done nothing wrong.

Pitting Creativity against an unbeatable enemy, making him think Virgil was in danger, coating the prison in blood.

Giving Logic a problem with an impossible solution, drowning him in cold water with no escape.

Putting Morality through emotional turmoil, which would be so much worse for the Heart, then falling for eternity.

And Virgil...

Virgil had stood up for him. He had refused to put up a wall, and the other sides had just thrown him in with Parker. Torturing him for five long years, going through unimaginable horrors. Virgil escaping, then having to go through that same hell again to rescue the other sides.

They all hated him now. His purpose, originally to protect Thomas and give him courage, was abolished. He had changed, going from Fear to Sadness.

In reality, he was a traumatized kid that didn’t know what he did wrong, so he was punished for it. His revenge for that had been petty and cruel.

No wonder they never wanted him around.

Parker awoke with a jolt, an unbearable pressure on his chest. He wasn’t breathing, he couldn’t breathe, he didn’t deserve to breathe.

In his mind, he was straddling the border between sleep and consciousness. Enough that he could see is surroundings, but not make sense of what was happening.

He couldn’t feel his arms, or his legs, and even the vice on his chest began to seem less important than before. It was like he was floating away from his body, back into the prison, reliving all the pain he had inflicted on himself and others. The hellish hallucinations swirled around him in his mind, feeding his panic.

It was as if he was still in a dream—no, a nightmare. He wanted to disappear, and he already felt like he was fading away, being stretched too far by regret.

A voice permeated his thoughts, but they sounded muffled for some reason.

“Parker, can I come in?”

He gave no answer. He could give no answer.

“I know you’re in there, I just wanted to, ah, apologize for my un-princely behaviour. If you need your space, I’ll go, but—”

Parker let out a gasp as he choked on air, he didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t think, and suddenly his door was being pushed open by the frantic hands of Creativity.

It was like Parker was watching things happen from an outside perspective. He could hear Creativity calling his name and shaking him, but he couldn’t respond.

“Parker, c’mon, stay with me here—Pat!”

Someone thumped down the hall, and Morality appeared at the door. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I walked in and he was like this!”

Tears poured out of Parker’s eyes and he was trembling even harder. His mouth open and closed like a fish, but nothing came out.

“Oh, crap, Parker, honey, can you hear me?” Patton grabbed one of Parker’s hands. “Can you squeeze my hand?”

Parker continued to heave, making no move to squeeze Patton’s hand.

“Shoot. Can you get Logan, please?”

Roman raced off, then returned with a slightly dishevelled Logan in tow. “What’s going on?”

Logan caught sight of Parker on the bed. “Oh dear. No, that’s not good.”

“What do we do?”

Suddenly, Virgil popped up at the door. “Geez, Princey, you were just supposed to say sorry to him, what could you have possibly done—”

He was cut off when he saw the situation. Parker was spasming in bed because of how hard his muscles were shaking, his face turning blue (due from lack of oxygen, not as an illusion), and he was barely breathing. The other sides were huddled around him, with Patton holding one of his hands.

“Guys, what the heck?” Anxiety said as he rushed over. “Parker, listen if you can; we’re gonna sit you up because, believe me, laying on your back makes it harder to breathe when you’re like this.”

Parker couldn’t respond, he still felt as if he was dying, and no one was trying to do anything to help. They were going to let him die.

Two pairs of hands gently hoisted him up so he was against the headboard of the bed. The pressure eased somewhat, but his body began falling forward.

“Verge—”

“I’ve got him,” said Patton.

The emotional side wormed his way in next to Parker and slipped an arm around his shoulders, holding him up. Morality’s thumb moved back and forth in mini circles, attempting to soothe Parker’s distress. Creativity grabbed one of Parker’s hands and squeezed it, trying to ground him. Logic did the same on the other side.

Slowly, Parker came back to himself, fresh tears spilling from his reddened eyes. He sobbed, utterly exhausted and full of loathing. He took his hands away and buried his head in them, his shoulders shaking with every cry. He mumbled something through the noise, then curled in even further.

“What was that?” Anxiety asked softly.

“I-I’m so sorry. F-for everything. I was h-horrible to you, to everyone, to Thomas,” he gasped out. “I’m sorry.”

Morality wrapped both arms around him. “We forgive you, kiddo. Always.” Logic and Creativity both nodded in agreement.

Anxiety grabbed both of Parker’s hands, gently pulling them away from his face. “Look at me.”

Parker glanced up, fear in his eyes.

Anxiety placed his hands on either side of Parker’s face, and brought their heads together. They rested for a minute as Parker continued to cry silently.

“We forgive you, alright? All of us. We’ve all made mistakes, we’ve all done crap we shouldn’t have. Hell, it was a mistake on these guys’ part to lock you away, and mine for not helping you get out when I did. It’s in the past, okay? And we’ll work things out. Got it?”

“Got it,” Parker sniffled.

“And we’ll always need you. You’re not unnecessary, you’re not evil, you’re not a burden. You’re you, and that’s all we could ever ask for.”

Parker began crying harder, and Anxiety placed a kiss on his forehead. The other four wrapped themselves around them, forming a cocoon of safety.

Creativity, Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Sadness.

Roman, Patton, Logan, Virgil, and Parker.

Wanted. Good. Loved. Safe.

Enough.

[12nightreflections-blog]

BDt2# 3 “The Other Side”

(That moment when you were writing and your post just got deleted.) As I was saying, before my fucking Internet decided to prank me after writing down my fourth paragraph, I was saying that last time I wrote about one of BD II main characteristics: Irritability.

It appears both in depressive and manic episodes as well as in the transitions between. One of the things you may not have understood from last post is how much this can go up. There are days, like the one before yesterday, where you actually feel rage against everyone who dares saying something to you that you may not welcome. You can feel your blood burn and your head heating up, thinking, not for the first time, but with very vivid tones, that you want to beat up that person to shreds. Doesn’t matter who that person is. And you know it is not your usual thoughts. You even know that your rage is unjustified. Even if it is justified, you can feel that those thoughts and feelings do not belong there, but you feel very capable of acting upon them unless you breathe deep and calm your mind.

That same day I experienced the other side of the symptoms of Hypo-mania. It is not only feelings of invincibility, an attitude of “doing”, and rush of energy to use. It is also waking up to discover that your heart is not at rest. It is not as bad as those who deal with anxiety, panic attacks, or the like, but your heart is pumping and pumping fast, and it stays that way all day, or most of the day. You know it will be one of those days. Your thoughts are not in place. You do not recall what you want to do next, or if it is what you should do next. You want to try doing everything at once. Your thoughts are racing, deciding if you should play World of Tanks or try to hang out with someone or write or try to play your other game or began to job hunt again or help in your house...or...or....you get me. All of these thoughts happening while you are playing World of Tanks but your head is not in the game; yet, you can’t stop playing. What time is it? I have so little time to do everything (It is 11 a.m. in the morning).

Even if you try any activity, you discover that you will not be able to do anything right. Your hands are trembling, so you can’t write peacefully. Your mind is unfocused, so you can’t stay in an activity long enough. Somehow, I calmed down, and was able to play decently. I wanted to do everything, but I felt like wanting to do nothing at all. Those days are of the worst, for I feel like I should be doing something; and despite this, I also feel that there’s nothing I can do.

I cannot name this episode as an hypo-manic episode. They are not so close to one another, and they do not present falls as quick and drastic as the ones I felt. Yesterday it was the complete opposite: I felt like my energy was drained, like I would not be able to complete any task in which I gave my time, like I was not the person I should’ve been, and that I was of not help whatsoever to anyone. (Still I am proud that I indeed made me some fried eggs with rice) A Mixed episode is how you may call it. They tend to present themselves more in BD I than in II, but they are cycles in which you experience symptoms of both ends.

If you have any cycle-like condition, you end up learning that you cannot completely trust your thoughts and feelings. Even more, that those feelings come in cycles. Every person has cycles; every person feel different things at different times, and people change all the time. We are in-congruent. Yeah, this is true, but there’s something special about cycle-like conditions...changes are not transitive but sudden.

You try hard enough to conserve the feeling of openness. You write it down and refresh your memory every moment you can; still, one day some weeks later, you discover that there’s something wrong with your realization. You can’t “feel” why it happened or how it had “changed” you. And it does not happen one time. That same revelation frustrates you, since you know you have had it before. How the hell do you mess that up!? It also happens with depressive thoughts, for they disappear after a while.

It becomes a frustrating routine. Indeed, your life is actually quite stable. You do not have many problems. You can rationally think of yourself as a member of society whose life is not a hot spot for the community. Hey, other people consider you one of the most healthy persons they have known! Still, you can’t shake the feeling that you experience life in such a blurry nature with thoughts and feelings that you had before but at the same time never feel like you experienced them. It is a contradiction, but you feel that way, and it repeats itself.

The good thing is that you can notice that you can change and grow. But is a very slow process, which requires so much of your effort. But hey, is very rewarding when you look back and see that you actually changed the cycle in some way.

***Later I will tell you about how I identify my mood changes. Remember that I can do research for you, write articles for blogs, proofread essays, and more! Also, you can submit your own posts and I may publish them here! Write your Pseudonym (if any)!** To the anonymous ask: I wrote an answer, but it got posted in the blog. Then I couldn’t answer it directly, and I deleted it by accident. Thanks very much for being the first! Hope you’ll like my entries!