#convincing myself i am being a burden i am the problem i

[bluestjayy]

Maybe I'm just cursed 🤪

[gaystardykeco]

fun wednesday night activity: thinking about all the ppl who left me and how much better their lives are because of doing so

[eden-djarin]

The Rain Song - Chapter 1 "Spring"

Summary: You met Joel Miller by chance. Getting on his good side isn't easy, but maybe with the help of Ellie, you can get closer to him.

Word Count: 1.2K

Pairing: Pre-Jackson!Joel Miller x Female Reader , Jackson!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Chapter Warnings: no physical description of reader, mild angst, sadness, reader is bad at expressing emotions, unspecified age gap, Joel has a hard time being nice

A/N : This is my first time trying to write a longer chapter/multi-chapter fic, so I hope y'all like it. Also, very minor proofreading lol :) - Eden

It is the springtime of my loving The second season I am to know You are the sunlight in my growing

You had met Joel Miller in the springtime. Everywhere you looked, blazing stars and milkweed were blooming due to the newfound warmth in the air. Budding leaves on new branches filled the trees around you.  The pastures were green, and the meadows had a gold spilling through them.  Too busy finding some peace in the day, you hadn’t noticed that two unexpected strangers were coming up on your back.

Your soon-to-be friends hadn’t been paying attention to their surroundings, that is until the man heard you humming to yourself. He quickly grabbed the girl, shoved her behind his back, and put his finger up to his mouth, silencing her before she could say anything out loud.  The man reached for his gun, silently cocking back the weapon.

“Hands up,” the man yelled loud enough for you to hear through your humming

Quickly turning around, immediately lifting your hands into the air, you yelled back, “I’m unarmed! I only have a small tactical knife in my back pocket!”

As your hands remained in the air, Joel immediately started walking towards you, grabbing your hands and placing them behind your back, searching you for any weapons. He found the knife that you had put in your back pocket and chucked it to the ground, well out of your reach.

After he was convinced, you weren’t any harm to him or the girl, he let you go and asked, “What would a young girl like you be doin’ in the woods all alone? Hmm?”

You had escaped the Chicago QZ about a month ago. It was a last option for you, finally having enough of the constant abuse you had endured. You were not sure where you were planning to go.

“I left the Chicago QZ. I thought it would be better to be by myself than with people who didn’t care for me or my well-being.” You stated.

Finally being able to turn around and look at the people who had bum-rushed you, you could see that it was a man in his mid-50s, tall, and stocky. There was also a smaller girl, who barely looked more than 14.

Allowing yourself to have some courage, you asked the new people what their names were and where they were going.

“I’m Ellie! This is Joel. We’re going to- “Ellie was silenced by the older man immediately, him not wanting you to find out where they were going.

“Where we’re goin has no concern to this young lady, Ellie. Now, if we could be on our way. “Joel tossed you a quick side glance, not wanting you to bother them any more than you already had.

Silence was something you were good at. Staring back at them, you could tell that Ellie didn’t mind you tagging along, but Joel didn’t want you to be a burden on their team. Ellie started talking to Joel in a hushed tone, not allowing you to hear the full conversation. Joel kept glancing back and forth at you and Ellie, not wanting to back down from his previous statement.

Looking fully at you, Joel stated, “You can come along. You better not cause any problems, or we’re gonna have issues.”

Running towards them and silently thanking Ellie for putting up a fight for you to join them on their journey, you started along the path to wherever they were going together. As you start to walk away with them, you mumble under your breath, telling them your name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Learning to be around others for longer than a few days is deemed to be more difficult than you had initially thought. Joel was hard to read. He didn’t trust you, and you could tell. He was always around when you were with Ellie, to the point where you were a little scared to be the real you. You never intended to harm anyone. Battling with your past, you thought it best to be quiet, and not try to set Joel off.

Ellie was great at breaking the mood. Always telling her jokes, was a way for you to take your mind off Joel and his brooding stature. Joel would joke along with Ellie, but he would never give you the time of day.

Being alone at night was the hardest part for you. You weren’t truly alone, but you felt far away from any resemblance of friendship, or trust with the man that laid ten feet away from you. Turning to face the opposite way of Joel and Ellie, allowed you to finally let yourself feel your flood of emotions that had been bottling up all day.

As you silently sniffled to yourself, trying to get comfortable in your sleeping bag, Joel turned over to look at you. He hadn’t noticed before how you would turn yourself away to not look in his and Ellie’s direction. He knew he was being harsh to you. He was not easy to trust others, and you unexpectedly coming into their lives was certainly not what he wanted. Secretly, for the past few months, you were growing on him. He loved that it was easy for you to get along with Ellie, and it seemed like Ellie liked you too.

Quietly, Joel whispered, “Everything alright?”

Freezing in your spot on the ground, you whispered back, “Yeah, everything is fine. Just a little cold I guess.”

Joel didn’t take that as an answer. Getting out of his sleeping bag, he walked in front of you and saw your red eyes and runny nose. Going to sit on the ground, he lowered his knees to the ground, making a slight popping noise. “I know you’re upset. I know I'm cold to ya. ‘S not my intention. I’m just tryin’ my best to protect Ellie. Ya get it, right?”

“I suppose.” You said while looking up at him blankly.

“If you want, I can sit with you for a while if you want. I know it can be a little scary being in the woods for a while with nobody else around.” Said Joel, while looking into your eyes.

“If you want. I don’t want to be a bother. I promise.” Starting to close your eyes again.

Joel moves to lie down next to you on the ground. Willing his heart to slow down a bit, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. You fell asleep surprisingly fast with Joel there, and Joel fell asleep within mere moments.

Ellie woke first in the morning, looking to see if both of you were still there. When she fully looked at you and Joel, you had moved to where your head rested upon Joel’s chest, and his arm was wrapped around your waist. Ellie chuckled to herself, laughing about how this whole time, Joel seemed like he could care less about you, but Ellie knew. Ellie could sense how he was starting to change his thoughts about you, even though Joel was not aware himself.

So little warmth I've felt before It isn't hard to feel me glowing I watched the fire that grew so low, oh

[jessicaslittlelovesickmess]

Anatomy

Pairing: Olivia Benson x Daughter!reader

Warning: Angst, emotional neglect, bad mom Olivia for a moment, hints of being a young mum, unedited, self hate almost, mommy issues, let me know if I left anything out

You excitedly ran to the door as you heard the jingle of your mother’s keys, your latest artwork held tightly in your hand her dinner in the microwave. Your mother steps into view just as you open your mouth to speak she raised her hand “I’m tired it’s been a long day, I have a migraine and I don’t want to hear it” you nodded with a swallow.

“Dinner’s in the microwave” you whispered placing your artwork on the counter as you walked to your bedroom passing Noahs ignoring the burning jealousy. Olivia shook her head “she’s always got to be so dramatic” she groaned entering the kitchen, you were sixteen she couldn’t understand why you always acted the way you did.

The rare day Olivia had off was the day that really changed your relationship, you laid on your mother’s big bed ruffling the sheets slightly as you giggled trying to talk to her. “Get off Y/n. I just made the bed, you’re too old to be acting like a child” Olivia scolded so I rolled around more pulling at all the edges she grabbed me by the arm. Kicking me off the bed to remake it with an eye roll like I was never there, ignoring the problem doesn’t make it go away so I left passing Noah on my way.

I could hear them laughing from my bedroom the loud squeaking of my mother’s bed as they jumped on it how strange it was to think as I messaged Eliot to pull me out. I hated to be Olivia’s daughter if only I could’ve been Noah someone she chose- she was stuck with me, I was half of her simply anatomy.

I waited by the door patiently for his message, convincing myself she was just struggling that she was a mother too young or too soon, I was a burden she couldn’t afford. I wanted to explore her mind know what she was thinking when the doctor placed me delicately in her arms, hear what alarms blasted in her head.

“Hey mom, I got you these I thought-“ I was cut off “you didn’t tell me you were leaving” I sighed walking further into her bedroom “I didn’t think you would care”. Olivia laughed thought it wasn’t genuine “no but I noticed, you’re too emotional anytime something doesn’t go your way you run off”.

“I just wish you understood mom” I placed the bag on her bed leaving once more “this is what I’m talking about Y/n” she followed me into my room. She paused at the doorway looking around as I curled up by the windowsill “has this always been here?” Her fingers grazing a portrait “It’s old”.

I watched her through the glass as she takes the room in “I haven’t been in here for so long” she whispered to herself “you’re always too busy for me” I shrugged with a scoff. “That is not true” she argued “you’re right, you just make sure to spend every second with Noah instead” her face dropped. “Y/n I am your mother” Olivia began to scold “you have a funny way of showing it mom” I sighed with a humourless laugh.

“I love you but I struggle to believe you love me too” I stared out the window to avoid meeting her gaze though I still saw her reflection. She sat on the bed with a sigh “I understand you didn’t get to choose me but you had options” I whispered pulling my knees to my chest.

“But I did choose you Y/n” she glanced up at the ceiling “I just struggle to always choose you because I like to believe you don’t need me, you’re so mature and headstrong I forget you’re only young”. She breathed in loudly as I tore my gaze away from the glass “you’re so much like me it’s scary sometimes Y/n and I’m scared- I always have been that I would ruin you if I stayed too close baby”.

“I work everyday to protect girls your age, connect them with their own mothers while I neglect you convincing myself you understand. I’m so proud of you baby girl and I know I don’t show it enough, I never wished to make you feel anything less than important to me”

“Every part of you is me, I am so lucky to have a daughter like you Y/n. To watch you grow into this incredible young woman and know you’ve done it on your own? I’m both extremely proud and saddened.” I couldn’t help but stare at her as the tears welled in my eyes “You are the best thing that could’ve happened to me, I was young but you gave me reason honey you saved me from self destruction. The hours of torture I inflicted, now you’re all grown I’ve ruined it like I knew I would and you don’t need me anymore” I flung myself into her as I cried.

“I’ll always need you mom”

[vandalizingyourschool]

just had the most amazing conversation with my mother

Warning - probably gonna be a bigass post and also mentions of sh and su!cide

Yesterday I had a pretty big relapse after my dad freaked me out about how he probably was gonna influence my future as much as he can (long story) I contacted my cousin bcuz i had blacked out after trying to choke myself and i was too scared to even unlock my room. She listened to my rant and was really sweet and supportive and told me yet again, that there's no point in hoping my father will understand. She then said that enough was enough and that she was going to tell my mom that I need a psychologist asap. And I guess I was opposed to that idea because I just wanna repress all those feelings and pretend they don't exist so I don't burden anyone else. But yeah she convinced me that this was probably the best thing I could do for myself at this point bcuz i can't transition to make a large portion of my problems go away. So yeah I wrote her a 9 page essay at 12 in the night explaining every single thing. Every. Single. Thing. And then five minutes after I sent it there was banging at my door and my mom was outside and she looked like she'd been crying and she told me to give her the keys to my room (which she's been wanting me to do for a long time) and bcuz it was 12 in the night and i was exhausted I agreed and she went back to sleep. The next morning I found out that my lovely mom had been up till 4 yesterday panicking about how she was gonna help me bcuz yeah very serious. I was still too scared to unlock my room door so i was just lying in my bed motionless for 4 hours and then at about 1 in the afternoon she gently opened the door and lied on the bed next to me and hugged me. She told me that everything was gonna be okay and that I could talk to her and she'd help me get professional help. And yeah I thought she was mad at me but idk. Then she finally coaxed me to eat something and then she went back to catch all the sleep she lost last night. I was supposed to study today but obviously i couldn't bcuz of how stressed and distracted I was so now I just feel like I've wasted the day.... But that's fine who cares. An hour ago I just went to my mom's room bcuz i was feeling lonely and she tried to make small talk for sometime but then it obviously deviated back to all of this and she was holding my hand and saying that it's okay, and that unaliving myself has no impact on the people who want me like that. And staying alive is telling them to go to hell (she literally said that) and she said that i shouldn't try to label evrything bcuz it would just feel overwhelming. Feeling are feelings in the end. Also apparently she was diagnosed with adhd at some point but it wasn't that socially accepted before so she hasn't done anything major about it yet?? So apparently everyone in my family except my brother is neurodivergent 😭

My mom's probably adhd, depressed and has anxiety, my dad has narcissistic personality disorder, and I have bpd and possibly ocd. Ok whatever bunch of unnecessary details

She also said that I'd only earn the respect of majority of people by being powerful and being self sustaining. Which is true honestly. And then she said that being gay or trans is perfectly fine and that I shouldn't worry too much about other people validating who I am bcuz i know who I am and that's all that matters. And she said that if anyone tries to hurt me for being who I am she'd murder them. And i literally started crying out of joy here bcuz she's come such a long way since I came out to her as bisexual 3 years ago. Shes become so open minded and I love that for her

Then she hugged me and reassured me that evrything would be okay and that If I wanted she'd take me to a psychologist

I love her so so much

[lilyevanstan1325]

❤️ Built For This World ❤️

Chapter 11

“Ya don't have to, ya know?”

“Yeah, I know”

“But ya'll do it anyway, dontcha?”

I sigh deeply trying to stay calm.

The archer's strong yet delicate hands gently caress my back as I snuggle against his chest.

His steady heartbeat punctuates my breathing.

“I know.But I have to.I won't let you carry this burden alone” I murmur against the damp fabric of his shirt.

It stopped raining a few hours ago and now, hugging each other inside Daryl's tent, we are waiting for the fateful moment.

According to Rick we need to get rid of our problem as soon as possible.

Finally the decision was made.

Randall will be executed tonight.

And as much as I know it's the safest choice for us, there's still that little voice in my head that wonders if we're really doing the right thing.

“I can hear yer thoughts from here, sunshine” Daryl whispers, pulling away just enough to look me in the eyes.

The darkness around us is interrupted only by the dim yellow light of an old lantern lying in a corner of the tent.

His hands move from my back, in a delicate caress that slides along my arms and then finds their place on my face.

His blue eyes carefully study my face in search of any sign that could show my real nervousness so he can immediately use that pretext to convince me not to go.

And even though I would like to stay in this tent far from what awaits me, I know I can't.

Him, Rick and, why not, Shane too already carry a big load on their shoulders and with my presence I just want to lighten their souls.

Make them understand that they are not alone, that they can count on my support.

I shake my head weakly, bringing my lips closer to his in search of another kiss.

The umpteenth.

I absentmindedly wonder if he'll being sick of it.

But his mouth, as hungry as mine, quickly cancels out this thought of mine.

My hands caress the man's muscular biceps, my fingers travel undisturbed following the contours of the veins.

Daryl sighs resting his forehead against mine.

“It's just…” I whisper against his lips, “I know we have to keep our people safe, that's it our duty...it's just stressful.That's all”

The archer shakes his head in response.

“Ma’ duty is to keep ya safe.Not just from the walkers but from these things too”

The sweetness of his confession makes the corners of my lips lift up.

I bring my hands into his hair, pushing it back, pushing the messy wild locks away from his face to get a better view of the magnificence in front of my eyes.

“You can't protect me from everything, big boy.You know it?I am a strong and grown up girl.I can take care of myself”

He chuckles, with that half smile capable of making me melt.

That half smile that every single time awakens a pleasant sensation in my lower body.

That half smile that make my pants go on fire.

“Oh, I know” he whispers, grabbing my hips and scooping me so I can find myself straddling his lap.

Our chests touch.

I can feel every curve of his body molding against mine.

“Ya’re my strong and brave girl but tha’ doesn't mean I don't wan’ to protect ya anyway”

I pinch my lower lip between my teeth to try to stop the satisfied smile that threatens to spread across my face.

Again that pleasant sensation in the middle of my thighs, the same place that is currently rubbing sensually against the crotch of his jeans.

Trying to distract my mind from those thoughts, I bring my attention back to his words.

“So…I'm your girl, now?” I tease him by digging my fingers into the hair at the base of his neck.

His.

Oh, I know so many ways I could really be his…

Ways that involve a lot of things and no clothes on.

I gently rock my hips trying to find some relief to ease the pleasant sensation I feel teasing the point where our bodies meet.

A flash of lust seems to cross the man's blue irises while his digit forcefully digs themselves on the skin of my hips.

I already feel that will leave its mark, but it's something I'm not complaining about.

I would gladly and proudly carry those marks on my body every single day of my life.

His lips crash against mine, his tongue raids my mouth, tearing the air from my lungs.

His velvety muscle explores every crevice of my mouth with ferocity, with such lust that it makes me dizzy.

His hands travel up my back, insinuating themselves under my shirt, making me let out a pathetic moan.

The man swallows it happily as his teeth grab the flesh of my lower lip, pulling it slightly.

Slowly with a wet obscene sound he loosens his teeth's grip leaving my lips swollen and plump but without stopping.

His lips immediately find my chin continuing their descent along my neck leaving a wet trail in their path.

It's amazing how this man can reduce me to a panting mess with just one kiss.

“Why?Dontcha want to be mine?” he whispers against the sensitive skin of the juncture between the neck and collarbone, “Would ya like someone else?Maybe Shane?”

His mouth doesn't stop, slowly moving up until it stops in that small portion of skin behind my ear and then lightly scratches my lobe with his teeth.

This time I can't stop the smirk that presses against my lips.

“Are you jealous, big boy?”

Daryl snorts as his lips resume their journey across my skin.

“Wan’ me to ask ya?Like with some official bullshit?”

I shake my head no at his question, trembling under the sweet torture of his lips which finally stop their race at the corner of mine.

“Ya mine?”

Unable to find my voice I just nod.

“Words, sunshine”

His words are followed by his fingers gripping my hips tightly.

His lips still at the corner of mine.

It's a sweet torture.

“I'm yours”

How could I not be his as his mouth tastes everything it can reach.

How could I not be his as his fingers dig furrows into my skin, burning in their wake like molten lava.

Every inch of my body belongs to him.

Every single piece of my soul belongs to him.

���Good” the man murmurs with his lips pressed against mine, “Good.’Cause I hate sharing”

Another sweet bite on my upper lip and then his tongue takes possession of my mouth again but this time with more sweetness, more calmly, as if he wanted to enjoy every moment to the fullest, aware that maybe we won't have any more moments so only for us.

When the archer's mouth moves away from mine I find myself panting heavily.

All hot and bothered.

Shit!

I smile like an idiot as I look at his beautiful face.

With the tip of my finger I trace the line of his nose and then slowly go down and caress the mole above his lips.

My hand moves slowly, as if dancing to the rhythm of an ancient melody.

The soft and irregular beard under my fingers is an invitation to tenderness.

His face is a mosaic of lived stories, tears and pain.

His blue eyes, deep like the stormy sea, capture me and drag me into a vortex of emotions.

Around his eyes his skin is furrowed by a few small wrinkles, now more relaxed than when he is out in the world, with that frown that often makes him appear older than he really is.

Running my fingers around them I can feel every little roughness, every sign of time, and yet I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Moving down, I trace the outline of his lips with the tip of my finger, tracing a path of love that has gone through storms.

The man closes his eyes, as if he wanted to imprint every detail in his memory.

His breathing is calm and regular but I know that beneath this apparent calm there are oceans of feelings hidden.

His cheeks are warm under my touch.

Suddenly a realization hits me.

I never asked him how old he is.

No that this would make any difference after all.

I'm just curious.

“Daryl?” I ask in a whisper, afraid of interrupting the magic that surrounds us.

“Wha’?” he breathes towards my lips without opening his eyes.

“I was wondering...how old are you?”

I immediately regretting it when I feel him stiffen under my touch.

I remain silent, holding my breath for fear of saying something wrong.

After a few moments the man's shoulders relax imperceptibly, reopening his eyes and gracing me again with their splendor.

“Does it matter?”

“No” I reply with conviction and without giving him time to dwell on it too much I grab his face in my hands kissing him again.

This time I'm in charge and I try to dominate.

Daryl lets me take control.

With my tongue I trace the boundaries of his lips silently asking for permission.

I would never do anything to make him feel uncomfortable.

And so, erasing all my fears, he opens his lips allowing me to feast on his mouth.

Pressing my knees against the hard ground I push myself further against his body, I press myself with so much force against him that it is difficult to understand where I begin and where he ends.

A tangle of limbs, tongues and souls.

Something sublime that goes beyond mere physical pleasure.

It is a communion of souls, of kindred spirits.

The famous two halves of the same apple.

Timidly my hands descend along his broad and rocky chest until they find the hem of his shirt, a border that I overcome putting my hands under it.

The skin of his abdomen is like velvet covering the steel that is his muscles.

From the defined abdomen I move up towards his pectorals where I find defined muscles that welcome me flicking under my touch.

Daryl moans into my mouth as one of his hands grips the back of my neck forcefully while the other hand rests on the crown of my head, grabbing a fistfuls of hair between his fingers, pulling it forcefully.

I moan back.

With our lips locked together we swallow each other's moans, welcoming them as a thirsty person would welcome a sip of fresh water.

We part ways only when the need for oxygen becomes more burning than our passion.

Daryl brushes the tip of my nose with his and then his forehead rests on mine.

In a gesture that now comes naturally to him.

Almost domestic.

“’M old” he whispers, taking me by surprise.

I move away looking for his eyes who promptly denies me.

“Daryl” I call him softly, a note of pleading envelops the syllables of his name and his eyes shyly return to mine, revealing to me a labyrinth of doubts, an intricate path in which every step is uncertain and every crossroads hides a choice difficult for him.

“You're not old.How old do you think I am?” I giggle, kissing the tip of his nose.

Daryl shrugs.

“Dunno.Maybe, twenty?”

I wrinkle my nose smiling.

“Twenty-four.Almost twenty-five.I don't think you're much older than me.And if you don't want to tell me, I don't care.It wouldn't change anything for me.I don't care how old you are, big boy”

I stroke his hair again trying to convey the truth into my words and gestures.

I don't care about his age.

It's enough for me that he's here, with me.

And that he considers me his.

That's all I want.

His eyes carefully examine my expression looking for some hidden lie and I let him do it because I'm sure he won't find any.

He brings his lips closer again, slowly rubbing them against mine, letting me get drunk on the essence of his breath which delicately breaks on my face.

“Thirty-nine”

His words are so whispered that if there had been a stronger gust of wind at that moment they would have flown away and I would have lost them.

His eyes don't leave mine probing my reaction to his revelation.

Maintaining my composure I wink in his direction earning a raise of his left eyebrow in response.

“Wha’?” he asks.

My smile widens into a grin.

“I like old men.I think it's because of my daddy's issues.This would make sense…I don't know” I blather, gesturing frantically with my hands in front of his face.

The archer looks at me with confusion written all over his face.

“Sunshine, ya know tha’ I didn't understand anything of wha’ ya said, ya know tha’, righ’?”

I laugh, throwing my head back and placing my fingers behind his neck.

“You're lucky you're cute, my big boy”

“’M yours?”

He promptly replies to my statement, his sly eyes hide an infinite sweetness.

I bite my bottom lip between my teeth as I squint at him from under my lashes.

“Don't you like the idea?” I whisper languidly with my lips brushing his earlobe.

Without waiting for his response I grab it between my teeth and then suck it.

And the sound Daryl gives me makes every inch of my body crawl.

It is a sound between a moan and a whine.

But before I have the chance to delve deeper into this sweet sound, the sound of footsteps resonates loudly and decisively on the grass outside the tent.

Immediately every excitement dies bringing me to the harsh reality.

Time has come.

I lift myself from Daryl's lap, my knees creaking in protest at the prolonged position they've assumed.

I leave the tent without saying a word while Daryl follows me closely, positioning himself at my side with his arms crossed over his chest waiting for the two men to reach us.

When Shane and Rick pass us, Rick nods towards the barn.

Sighing deeply, I walk behind the two friends but a steel grip around my wrist prevents me from doing so.

“Ya sure?”

The archer asks for the umpteenth time.

And I nod for the umpteenth time.

But despite this, the grip around my wrist does not loosen, on the contrary, it tightens as the man forcefully pulls me against his chest.

I cast a quick glance towards the barn where Rick and Shane are about to cross the threshold.

I look back at Daryl as his face gently drops towards mine.

Just a breath from my lips he whispers three simple words.

Three simple words that have the power to make me go weak in the knees.

“’M yours too”

I smile again and standing on my tiptoe I kiss him for the umpteenth time.

It is a moment suspended in time, an instant in which everything else fades away.

I wish I could stop the world, stay here forever wrapped in his warm embrace.

Words are superfluous, because our souls are already communicating through this delicate contact.

Right here, between the folds of his beard and the deep gaze of his blue eyes, I know I have finally found my home.

In the silent cold of the barn Daryl grabs Randall by the arm, yanking him to stay upright.

The boy whimpers begging us to let him go, not to kill him.

The dim moonlight illuminates his pale face and frightened eyes.

Each of his tears reduces my heart to a mass of nothingness.

Seeing this poor young boy cry and beg for his life destabilizes me more than I thought it would.

I feel my knees wobble, my breath catching in my throat as I try to tame the shaking of my hands.

I hug my mid section trying not to shatter in front of my friends.

Rick slowly joins Daryl while the trembling boy kneels on the ground after the calm but peremptory order from the former officer.

I am aware that I myself agreed to be here but now, as Rick loads the gun, I feel the anguish and horror suffocating me.

I know this is necessary for us, for our safety, but my mind and my heart are in conflict.

Randall's eyes beg for mercy.

He is just a boy, with a life, with stories and perhaps many regrets.

I close my eyes trying to block the image.

But I can't.

Horror and sadness surround me like a suffocating cloak.

The weight of this choice will remain with me forever.

Shane at my side nudges my arm gently with his elbow.

Grateful for this distraction I turn my gaze full of desperation towards his face.

“You can go” he whispers so that only I can hear him.

I shake my head no, thanking him with my eyes for the humanity he is showing me.

He nods once, leaving my side to reach Randall and blindfold him, trying to silence him with the same delicate note of voice that he had addressed to me a few moments ago.

As absurd as it may seem, even Shane finds himself feeling a minimum of pity for this poor boy whose only fault is having found himself with the wrong people at the wrong time.

Daryl moves nervously but his gaze shows no sign of weakness, no second thoughts, but the moment his gaze meets mine something cracks him.

Something that makes him come closer to me and wrap his arm around my shoulders.

His large, warm hand rests on the crown of my head, guiding it to his shoulder.

His lips caress my hair, I don't know if in an attempt to console me or to ease the turmoil inside his heart.

Peering over at Rick I see him nod briefly at Shane and then bring his gaze to Daryl and me.

In his tired eyes there is all the pain a man can feel.

Because one thing is kill to defend yourself and another thing is to execute someone for your own gain.

I would never want to be in his shoes now but I certainly won't leave him alone in this fucking shit.

So, as a lone tear rolls down my face, I nod in response.

Rick returns his gaze to the boy kneeling in front of him.

“Do you have any final words?” he asks, triggering an uncontrollable cry in the boy who, trembling like a leaf shaken by the wind, whispers only a weak please don't, immediately suffocated by whines of pure terror.

My heart beats so violently that it echoes in my ears.

The gun is ready, cold and inexorably pointed towards the boy's forehead.

The sound of the bullet being loaded into the barrel of the gun makes me jump, Daryl tightening his grip around my shoulders.

“Do It, dad.Do it”

Carl's voice tears us out of our bubble.

Rick gasps, immediately shifting his gaze to his son standing on the threshold of the door.

Shane immediately abandons his position to reach Carl, scolding him harshly and grabbing his arm he drags him out.

Rick seems torn by his own feelings and his stormy gaze returns to rest on us.

Then he lowers the gun and turns to Daryl whispering “Tie him”

The archer does as he is ordered and this triggers a nervous reaction from Shane who, slamming his hand against the barn door, turns on his heel and disappears into the dark of the night.

I slowly approach Rick, placing my hand delicately on his forearm.

“It's ok, Rick.It's ok”

Our eyes meet again.

I try to smile at him even though I'm sure that more than a smile what came out was a sympathetic and pained look.

“Your son needs you.Go” I encourage him.

Rick nods and walks away taking Carl with him, Daryl and I follow them in silence, reaching the others gathered around the fire.

“We’re keeping him in custody, for now” begins Rick.

I look around at the tense faces of my friends.

“Where's Dale?” I ask, addressing no one in particular.

“Him and Amy are walking around checking the perimeter.I'm going to look for them and tell them the news” Andrea replies, offering me a shy smile.

I nod without saying anything else.

Carol watches me from afar.

A shaky sigh slips from my lips, immediately catching Daryl's attention.

“Wha’?” he asks me, coming closer and looking for my gaze.

“I need to talk to Carol.Apologize to her, you understand?”

He nods reassuringly and leaving a delicate kiss on my forehead encourages me to go to our friend.

With an uncertain step I reach her and sit next to her on the cold ground.

The fire crackles happily in front of our eyes.

I made an unforgivable mistake by hurting with sharp and senseless words the only person who doesn't deserve it.

“I thought a lot about the words I said to you” I whisper with a lump in my throat, “I don't know what happened to me.I was angry.I'm ashamed of myself.I'm really sorry.I swear that I will do anything to make it up to you, anything to make you understand that I am truly sorry for the horrible words I said to you”

My river of hasty apologies is interrupted by my friend's hand which delicately rests on my hands clasped in my lap.

“You have nothing to make up for, Summer”

I shake my head as if to dismiss her words.

It's not true.

With my behavior I hurt everyone, especially her.

The one person who didn't deserve it.

I didn't care about her pain, I was selfish.

Yet Carol is here, next to me.

She is ready to forgive me.

The tears begin to flow timidly as I rest my head against her shoulder, searching for that consolation that was offered to me and which I denied.

Not wanting it, not feeling adequate to receive it.

But everything changes quickly.

A scream pierces the silence.

A desperate scream, full of terror.

Then a shot.

More screams.

I jump up, my heart in my throat and my heartbeat racing madly in my ears.

Without even seeking the gaze of the others I launch myself into a desperate run using the screams carried by the wind as if they were a compass, orienting myself in the dark night.

My legs burn as my breath rasps my dry throat, but the adrenaline keeps me going.

Behind me I can hear more heavy footsteps.

His unmistakable breathing.

Daryl.

Reaching the edge of the woods, what I find in front of me freezes my blood in my veins.

Amy is struggling with all her might to keep a walker away from her face.

The girl lies on the ground, her limbs moving frantically as she screams and tries to defend herself.

Daryl passes me, lunging towards the girl.

Recovering from my moment of confusion I continue my run but my feet trip on something sending me to the ground.

I try to cushion the fall by putting my hands forward but the impact is equally violent, capable of tearing the air from my lungs with a hiss.

Trying to stay clear, I immediately get back on my feet, grabbing my knife from its holster and slowly walking towards the point where my feet lost their grip on the ground.

It could be another walker but to my surprise it's Dale.

The man lies supine on the ground.

Putting the knife back in its place, I kneel down, placing a hand on the man's neck, searching with my trembling fingers for his pulse.

And thank goodness I find it but my fingers get damp.

Behind me, Amy's agonized scream pierces the night and Daryl begins to scream for help, urging the others to reach them.

My heart tells me to go to him but I can't leave Dale, not before making sure he's okay.

I gently run a hand behind his neck, where a thick liquid flows between my fingers.

“Dale?C'mon man”

I shake him delicately and after a few moments his eyelids flicker, opening and revealing a haunted look.

“Amy…Amy…”

The man whispers agitatedly, coughing.

With effort I help him sit down again.

His eyes travel from one side of the field to the other as if he expects to be attacked at any moment.

“Dale.Dale it's over.Stay calm” I reassure him but my words are drowned out by Andrea's scream.

A scream full of pain and desperation.

And I understand.

Amy.

We're late.

Dale forcefully avoids my hand and staggers dangerously when he reaches the others.

I followed him, already knowing what I would find.

Lying on the cold, bare ground, Amy gurgles meaningless words while her insides glisten with thick dark blood from her totally torn abdomen.

Rick yells to go get Hersel.

But even if the old doctor tried hard there would be nothing that could be done.

The sweet Amy is slowly dying in front of our eyes.

Her sister kneels next to her, crying desperately while her fingers move delicately through her hair, whispering sweet words of love and comfort.

Don't give up.

Hold on.

I'll not leave you.

Many small and painful goodbyes whispered by the trembling and desperate lips of the woman.

Daryl stands still with his knees sunk into the cold ground, his eyes full of pain and guilt.

Yet another victim that he failed to save.

Yet another family member that this world is taking away from him.

Hersel comes running in followed by Maggie and Glenn.

And the moment the vet's eyes stop on the girl on the ground it is clear as day that there is nothing left to do.

A sob shakes my chest.

We have lost another person.

The acrid smell of death fills my nostrils.

In this new world ruled by walkers I tried to close my heart.

I have seen many, too many, people die and yet every time a face fades away, the pain hits me like a punch in the stomach.

Amy's blood flows, staining the ground below, glistening macabrely under the silvery moonlight.

Cries and sobs pass through my ears.

Rick's scream of rage fills my spine with shivers.

Letting my arms fall lifeless to my sides I notice all the people surrounding me and with a trembling step I approach Amy, stopping right behind Andrea.

Shane next to me offers me a look full of anger and pain and in a completely spontaneous gesture I tighten my fingers around his strong upper arm, demonstrating my closeness to him in this terrible moment that has shaken everyone's hearts.

The roars of her pain hurt.

Amy is in pain.

Poor little girl.

The painful moans and whines that roll from her lips are a stab to my heart.

Every gasp, every gurgle, every whine only increases the anger.

The frustration.

The impotence.

“She's suffering.Do something” Carol whispers through her tears, begging anyone to put an end to this havoc.

Shane next to me moves, pulling out his gun and when the sharp noise of the bullet loaded into the barrel resonates in the air Andrea raises her head abruptly, interposing her body between her sister and the man's gun.

“Andrea” the man murmurs, “She's in pain.We must give her a dignified death”

Andrea, with a look full of anger, gets up and with an unexpected move grabs the man's gun, ripping it from his grip.

Shane takes a step in her direction but I quickly stop him by wrapping my fingers around his wrist.

His eyes move quickly between my grip and my face.

I shake my head no slowly.

Shane seems to think about it by taking a step back and letting Andrea decide what is best to do.

It's right that she makes the choice.

“She's my little sister.I'll take care of her”

The woman's words are decisive.

No tremor in her voice.

The resolve in her eyes is icy as she turns to her adored and beloved sister.

With a firm hand she raises the gun pointing it towards Amy's forehead who is now breathing heavily while with an imperceptible nod of her head she makes it clear that she's okay with it.

“I love you, Amy” whispers Andrea.

The words wrapped in infinite love hover lightly in the air, dispersing among the stars.

I squeeze my eyes shut, holding my hands to my ears, but this isn't enough to cut out the reverberation of the shot that makes the depths of my soul vibrate.

We find ourselves in a distorted world, where life and death are intertwined in a dark embrace.

Despite the eyelids closed, behind them the scene repeats itself in an infinite loop.

Amy.

A young woman, once alive and vibrant, brutally devoured by one of those rotten, disgusting beings.

Beings who in turn were human beings with a life, with dreams.

Her poor body torn from her, her insides exposed, her scared look slowly fading away.

I feel paralyzed with horror.

My heart beats wildly in my chest, as if it wants to break through my rib cage to escape this ominous reality.

Anger envelops me, making me tremble, my hands closed in two trembling fists, an impotent rage against the injustice of it all.

Why?

Why Amy?

Why the walkers?

Why has life become so cruel?

The pain clouds my mind.

The pain for the young woman, for Andrea, for everything that was torn away in an instant.

The pain for the fragility of human life, for its ephemeral beauty.

Anger at a plague so devastating that it erases everything.

I just want to scream but my voice is lost in the depths of my dark mind.

Defeat envelops me, its claws planted ferociously in my heart.

I have seen death in the face, I know there is no escape.

No matter how bravely I fight, how much I cling to hope, death will prevail in the end.

I feel helpless, useless, like a leaf blown away by the wind.

Like someone at the mercy of a greater force.

Indestructible, unstoppable.

Only emptiness and darkness remain.

An arm wraps around my shoulders while another sneaks around the bend of my knees and a moment later someone is carrying me away in his arms.

I don't have the strength to open my eyes again but the intense smell of woods and leather under my cheek makes me understand who he is.

And this only triggers a crying fit.

Big, fat sobs shake my chest as Daryl's soft voice whispers words of comfort that vibrate through his cozy chest.

My hands grip his vest tightly.

“Ya'll be fine, my sunshine.Ya'll be fine”

And for the first time I find myself doubting the man's words.

For the first time my heart doesn't believe in Daryl Dixon.

Please share, comment and rate ❤️

🔥 Masterlist 🔥

❤️ Taglist ❤️

@deansapplepie @celtic-crossbow @daryldixmedown @duckybird101 @thebadbatch2022 @winterassassin1804

[rebellenotes]

I hate being asked "how are you?"

It doesn't matter if it's just a greeting. It'll always make me look inwards and think, how am I, really?

The answer will always be somewhere on the "not good" side of the spectrum (whatever that spectrum is). I know the appropriate answer is "good," or "fine," because the person asking isn't really wanting to know how I am doing, but it physically pains me to lie and say I'm fine when I'm not. I can't do it.

I am a great liar, but I can't lie when someone asks me how I am. It feels too raw, too exposed, like opening a wound in front of someone who just expected a wave and a smile. But I can’t keep it all inside, either.

When someone asks me how I am, a part of me wants to answer honestly. I want to say, “Actually, I’m not okay.” I want them to know that I’m not coping, that my thoughts feel too heavy, that sometimes I can barely make it through the day without collapsing under the weight of it all. I need to tell someone—someone who isn’t the relentless voice in my head—that I’m struggling.

It’s not about wanting to burden them. That’s the last thing I want. I just need to hear the words out loud. I need to feel like someone else knows, like I’m not carrying this entirely on my own. Because the more I keep it in, the louder it gets in my mind, and the harder it becomes to convince myself that I’m okay.

So when someone asks “how are you?” I hesitate. I want to scream, “I’m not fine!” but I worry about their reaction. What if they don’t care? What if I scare them off? What if my honesty makes them uncomfortable? But then I think: maybe that’s not my problem. Maybe my honesty is exactly what I need, even if it’s messy, even if it makes someone else squirm.

Because sometimes just saying it—just admitting that I’m not okay—feels like a tiny victory. It feels like I’ve broken free of the silence, even if only for a moment. And maybe, just maybe, someone will hear me and say, “I get it. You’re not alone.”

And if they don’t? If they give me a quick “oh, I’m sorry to hear that” and move on? At least I didn’t lie. At least I didn’t pretend. At least I was honest about the fact that, right now, I’m not fine—and that has to count for something.

Why are we as a society so scared to honestly tell people how we're doing? If I'm the recipient of someone honestly answering the question "how are you," (because I am also a culprit of asking it), I don't feel burdened. I think "oh, thank god I'm not alone." We may not carry the same hardships or experiences, but I can empathise with them because I know the weight your thoughts and emotions can have over you.

And maybe that’s the whole point—we’re all carrying something, but we’ve collectively decided to bury it beneath polite smiles and scripted responses. It’s like we’ve created this unspoken rule that vulnerability is too messy for casual conversation. That sharing how we really feel is somehow selfish or inappropriate, as if admitting struggle makes us weak.

But what if it didn’t? What if answering “how are you?” with honesty made us feel seen instead of ashamed? What if it created connection instead of discomfort?

It’s a reminder that the chaos in my own head isn’t unique or isolating. Someone else has been there, is there, and maybe together we can feel a little less trapped in our own silences. When someone shares their truth with me, it feels like an invitation—not to fix them or offer empty platitudes, but just to sit with them in it. To acknowledge that being human is hard and complicated and not something any of us are meant to do entirely on our own.

I think the fear of answering honestly comes from not knowing how the other person will react. What if they dismiss it? What if they pity us? What if they get uncomfortable and change the subject? But maybe the fear goes deeper. Maybe it’s because once we say it out loud—once we admit that we’re struggling—it becomes real. And that’s terrifying.

But the thing is, it’s already real. It’s already there, weighing us down. Speaking it doesn’t create the weight—it lightens it. Even if only by a fraction. Even if only for a moment.

So maybe the next time someone asks me how I’m doing, I’ll take the risk. I’ll choose honesty, not just for myself but for them too. Because maybe they need to hear it. Maybe they need to know they’re not the only one walking through life with invisible battles. And maybe, just maybe, in sharing my truth, I can make space for someone else to share theirs.

[imbecominggayer]

Writing Advice On Mentally Ill Characters

Piece Of Advice: GO HARD!!!!!

When I see a mentally ill character who is prim and proper and only has "desirable" and not "inconvenient" traits I throw up inside my mouth and I want to spit it back at you!

Write mentally ill characters who are the biggest piece of shits alive!

Write mentally ill characters whose depression is demonstrated through self-destructive habits that hurt their loved ones emotionally and physically!

Write characters who have anger attacks so brutal they have to consciously convince themselves not to pull an Edgar Allen Poe "Black Cat" stunt on their pets!

Write mentally ill characters who are abusive and aren't justified or excused due to their past!

Write mentally ill characters who don't do the "sympathetic" or "good" things like taking their medicine or believe in "safe" things!

Write mentally ill characters who are burdens on their loved ones!

Write mentally ill characters who don't have perfect loved ones to turn to and don't blame their loved ones!

Because this is reality! Depression, anxiety, insecurity, anger issues, and general mental unwellness are not hurricanes that convenientally avoid wrecking the most important parts of a character's life!

Real life people deserve to see their dangerousness, suffering, and messiness reflected in characters!

Write hopeful stories about non-sympathetic and not-so perfect victims learning to grow! Sometimes the most hopeful thing alive is to learn that your worst fears of being a burden on your loved ones, of being a horrible person, of losing people you care about, are absolutely true and then have the courage to continue.

As a mentally ill person myself, I have been a mental load on my family! My mother can't understand me and has misappropiated the "cause" of my problems! My dad is a general piece of shit who is dealing with his own demons! My sisters don't live in the house and barely bother with contacting me.

And I am still alive. I am a horrible, incomphrensible burden with no friends and I am as happy as I can be! I feel whole. I feel complete.

Why can't stories ever seek to include people and stories like me?

[tweedledumandtweedlebum]

Dear Eastenders,

if I’m honest, you got me. You made me think you genuinely cared about giving traumatised, mentally unwell people positive representation, what with working with charities and consulting with experts. You completely fooled me into believing you would make space for a little hope among all the drama, cheating and toxic relationships.

You got me thinking that after exploiting your soap superstar’s talent - legitimately, I might add - giving him hard-hitting storylines one after the other, you would not stop as soon as you had reaped your awards, and would put as much effort in his character’s aftermath and recovery. 

After the heartwarming scenes of last August, I was actually expecting you to depict how an SA survivor in a loving relationship can finally manage to progressively overcome their intimacy issues, especially one having such a tender and empathetic spouse as Callum.

I was convinced - can you believe it? - that you had killed Lola off for a good reason, to give us a positive representation of a queer family, because who’d have thought you would deprive Lexi of both her parents? No way, I said to myself, they’ve shown us repeatedly how much Ben has grown and how determined he is to break the cycle of family abuse and neglect he experienced. Lexi’s going to be fine with her two dads (Dad #2 being Callum, not Jay, you know). 

Then the last few episodes happened and I am still in disbelief. 

Not only did you manage to erase Ben’s development over the past year, but you treated a rape survivor’s symptoms as an attempt to be the centre of attention and make everything about himself, when he was clearly in a moment of crisis. 

Not satisfied with having dropped both the eating disorder and the intimacy issues storylines, you went out of your way to portray Ben as a burden and a disappointment for his whole family. So much for thoughtfulness in dealing with such sensitive matters as trauma-induced MH problems.

However, next time you aim for character assassination, make sure you aim correctly. You may think you portrayed Ben as an irredeemable rascal, but all you achieved was to make Callum a horribly insensitive jerk who forgot all about his husband’s struggles and efforts, or the reasons they love each other. 

And no, sorry, that last ridiculous soppy scene did absolutely no justice to the bond our boys truly share (which you chose to make as strong as ever right before destroying it).

You sacrificed all the good things that Ballum represented to give Ben (Max?) the worst exit possible and asked us to accept it as believable - were you trying to tell a story or to teach a lesson?

Yours faithfully sincerely,

A tolerably intelligent viewer and deeply hurt Ballum fan (and no, these are not in fact mutually exclusive).

[luveline]

hi jade! i think your concerns about the way people are treating you are completely valid!! you are allowed to speak up and say actually people aren’t being that nice to me and it isn’t victim mentality, the people we’re surrounded by have serious effects on us as humans because we’re social creatures and have always depended on one another so when the people around us make us feel bad and like there’s something wrong with us your brain convinces you that there must be!!! but there isn’t, you’re just not with the right people! but don’t worry they’ll come; you have to trust the universe she will always provide for you.

i think life’s stressful at the minute, i’m feeling it too! the job market in the UK is so so difficult and being unemployed is a real kick in the teeth, being at the age where all your friends are off dating but you’re not and you’re not even sure you want to is really isolating because you know your friends don’t want to see you as much because there’s someone else for them now, they get to go home to someone and you don’t, i’ve been following you for a while because i like your work but also because you make me feel less alone, a lot of the problems you face i also face, you post complaints and worry they’re annoying but i read them and know the world isn’t as small or as dark as my room, that i’m not completely alone even in my isolation- and i want you to know that the way people treat you isn’t fair! you deserve the kindness and joy you put out, you deserve it ten fold! you’ll get it one day i promise, i think continuing in an environment that’s hard for you is a very brave thing to do, yoy just have to remember it’s not forever 🫶🏻

I think I’m like, always looking at myself through someone else’s eyes, if that makes sense?

So instead of being able to just say people haven’t been that good to me lately, I read it in someone else’s head and think oh look Jade’s on another ego trip she thinks she deserves more than she has because she’s delusional but honestly, right now, I think so many people have disappointed me, not like they’ve hurt me or that a persons job is to be perfect, and not that we should expect people to be perfect and never disappoint us because I really don’t think that and don’t think we should expect people to read our minds and always be their perfect selves, but oh my god! Oh my god I am so tired of people acting like there’s nothing wrong with me when I am constantly telling people I am not okay. Obvi this doesn’t apply to everyone in my life because some people of course don’t even know how I feel and that’s my choice because like I’m vaguely private as a person (you wouldn’t think so on luveline.tumblr) so I’m not saying every person in my life is letting me down, but a surprising selection of friends and family have really hurt me lately. It’s so complicated! I hope you’re getting a sense of what I’m saying cos I am not doing a good job. I sent a friend a message recently about how I’d felt like hurting myself (they’ve told me in the past it’s okay to bring up btw I promise I’m not just randomly saying such heavy things to friends) and they didn’t acknowledge it, and I know we can’t expect people to be at our beck and call or to always have the capacity for our hurts and pains, but I felt so ashamed of myself for opening up and just wished they’d said hey I don’t have the space for that right now, or anything. Maybe that’s silly. I don’t hold it against them because that’s a big thing to tell someone, but I really can’t help feeling hurt that it was ignored. I don’t want to be that person who imposed on friends and doesn’t seem to realise what a burden they are, but I also just don’t know what to do with myself now, because i can’t keep writing the same thing in my diary every day. my head hurts allll the time and I’m barely eating and some days I spend the whole day in bed, and I know that that’s making me bitter, I know that when you get super depressed we can start to hate everything, but I really can’t help thinking that I’m being let down for real

I don’t want you to think that I’m ungrateful for the people in my life though I’m blessed to have a family and to live in a home with no shouting, I’m lucky to have friends who go out and people who want me to be safe and happy, I just feel so lonely lately. Usually I’m pretty good at getting over it, but I can’t kick this. I know exactly what’s hurting me and I’m too afraid to say what it is in case people think I’m childish, or selfish, or ridiculous 😭

I’m sorry you’re having a hard time like you said everything is so hard, but I’m glad you don’t feel so alone, at least my mindless deluge of thoughts (and idiocy) can have a positive! Thank you for listening to me lovely

[andro-studiesmed]

JOURNAL ENTRY - JULY 1, 2024

I have my send up exams starting from tomorrow on the 2nd of July. It's just this very moment I've realised that July started just a few minutes ago. Time is passing rather quickly and much more quicker than I can even comprehend it passing.

I haven't prepared for these exams at all. It's not me exaggerating out of lack of self esteem or self confidence. There are no excuses but there are plenty explanations as to why.

I momentarily lost to my demons. I don't know if calling the defeating voices even demons is right because I don't really mind them. They aren't Villains to me. Just companions. Companions capable of convincing me to self sabotage pretty well.

I gave up fighting for a while. I wasn't eating or sleeping let alone studying. Something in me just couldn't, it didn't even matter that I had wanted to. I just couldn't.

So during those days— I skipped dinner, lunch and breakfast. I slept at 4-6 am. I survived on eating snacks once a day and it didn't even matter because I didn't have any appetite at all.

I still don't have an appetite.

Then I came across a post here that talked about having to start from the scratch— eating was one of those things. I'd forgotten that for me to sometimes become functional — I need to always start from scratch.

So I made sure I was eating atleast no matter what. Then it went to sleep— and I made myself sleep before 2 am atleast. Then it went to hygiene— brushing teeth, bathing. Then to studying and getting other things done.

I haven't been able to study without a show running in the background. So today I allowed myself to body double by letting a serial run in the background. That helped me study through most of the day. I was extremely slow but I studied.

The guilt always remains because I see others who don't need all this. They study the "proper" way. My voices make me guilty when I don't study like the "normal" people. My mind tends to resist everything.

No one realises that the things that people don't even think before getting done are the very same things that are tasks for me.

People around me don't know I struggle like this, neither does my family because I know they won't understand, they can't help me and that would make everything feel so much worse. You know there comes a point when you get tired— of having to explain and still not feeling like you are being heard, understood or seen. Thats what it feels like and I feel like a burden. My problems are my own to solve. I cannot, will not burden someone with this.

But I know this isn't depression— I don't feel sadness. I feel sad at the fact that I can't function the way normal people rather than being not able to function because I'm sad. I felt scattered.

So, for the days I couldn't functional — I couldn't prepare. So I fear I might fail all my exams. I don't know.

Cheers to breaking down and getting back up again.

[cuuzca]

Small update, Mini vent: Commissions status, Burnout etc.

⚠️TW: negative self-talk,⚠️

Update:

Firstly I want thank everyone for your continued patience with the commissions and there hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t thought about them! I want to get them all to you as soon as possible and thoroughly apologize for how long it’s been! There’s no excuse but that comes my next tanget where I want to explain the why.

Another point is that, this post is not for seeking out sympathy or attention, far from it although words of encouragement would be appreciated as I have been facing quite a bit of struggles lately. <3 I will explain.

Autistic burnout is characterized by chronic exhaustion, withdrawal, heightened stress levels, loss of function, incapacitation, and just a prolonged sense of fatigue. That’s what has been plaguing me lately. The desire to draw, have fun, and interact with others is there, but its just the battery has run extremely low. That’s is the tangible objective part. Here’s the more subjective part.

Vent:

Although everyone for the most part has been super supportive and not a single soul has complained at all, the little voice inside my head has become much more Cruel bc of my inability to function.

Because of the burnout and some other external factors that I can’t discuss, my brain has convinced me of cruel things. That I am worthless, I don’t belong, everyone hates me and wishes I was gone. I am nothing of value if i can’t do the bare minimum of functioning and being productive, so then i don’t deserve to be around and should leave so i wont burden anyone else. (For the record, I am in no way a danger to myself. I could never) But it does manifest in self-destructive tendencies wanting to isolate myself and me trying to help out and fix everyone else’s problems bc no one deserves to feel like this.

I wouldnt call these insecurities. I’m secure in the fact that I know I am a person with good intentions and tries my best at the very least. I want to uplift others, make them feel good. Because I want to do good in this world. But there is still that nagging voice that tries to convince me I don’t deserve to be here otherwise. I’m fighting with it and it has kept me at a stalemate.

End Vent.

Now however, I do feel like the more I work with it, the more I can do (ie. the recent drawings I’ve been making). But, I still feel guilty in indulging in that while there are still commissions waiting that I said I would get to. I have every intention to complete them and already have some sketched out. So I will get to them rest assured.

I just felt it was important for transparency purposes that the long wait wasn’t intentional.

I will do my best to work out the gunk and do what I need to do and remind myself its ok to have fun and i do have support even though my brain tries to convince me otherwise. Thank you all💖

[machinesbleedtoo]

Cluster B personality disorders are manageable, actually

it's always really awkward trying to explain to people how i manage antisocial + narcissistic personality disorder well. people have a really hard time wrapping their head around the concept that We Are People and like any disorder, we can manage it with help. there's this belief that if you're a narcissist or a psychopath you're unworthy of love and a lost cause, which is what made me a monster in the first place. other people kept telling me to just be empathetic, to stop being a dick, etc; i didn't know what that meant, and so i decided other people were the problem because they did nothing but explode at me for what i thought was no reason because no one helped me understand the reason. I was meant to just "know".

i was diagnosed retroactively at 20-fucking-7, when i'd started to work out how to live like a normal person (very patient and loving friends were to blame for that). when i was thirty years old, a psychiatrist said to me: "you obviously have feelings, what do they look like for you? how do they feel?" - i didn't know how to answer him. other people had convinced me i didn't have feelings for most of my life. which is part of why i was a callous bastard - it did not help then (but it does now for the most part) that i'm really good at compartmentalization. it took me a good number of years to know how to answer his question.

i have feelings, yes; we all do. we'd be dead otherwise. they're what drive us to act on things, and the neurotransmitters that work on emotions work on physical functions as well. this assumption about a person is not an excuse to abuse them. it's no excuse to treat them like a catharsis piñata. you could be a monster, too, under the same circumstances as i or anyone who has these disorders far worse than i do.

but it's really hard for me to read myself. it takes a lot more of a feeling for it to break the surface than is normal, and i was never taught to identify what a feeling is catered to my own uniqueness (something everyone should be afforded).

and i have a disconnect between physical and emotional reactions - i didn't think i felt disgust, because i don't get a visceral response to gross things. a lot of my emotions are just different shades of anger. if something disgusts me i get an angry "get the fuck away from me" feeling, i don't gag or whatever. it does set off my diagnosed OCD in some instances, which adds anxiety to the mix.

so i'd do things like be mega stressed and not feel it, then explode outwards like a neurotic control freak because i had no idea what my limits were. or how to solve the problem i was presently facing. i had to train myself to notice the signs in my thought patterns, rather than my body.

it turns out emotional empathy is based on context; how am i supposed to react "normally" to people when i don't know what "normal" is? i used to do some awful things to people when they were experiencing fear because i didn't understand it. i thought it was quaint. in the words of a friend, i was "sciencing the shit out of the situation." i didn't get answers or understand how people worked the healthy way, so i resorted to my own measures (which, of course, did not give me the answers i sought either.)

i have a hard time telling positive and negative emotions apart, which is good in some ways - i just let myself feel things. but the feelings last not very long. and are usually delayed. i'm unable to consent to things as a 34 year old adult normally, because when presented with something i don't care, which does not mean i want it. and because i don't care, i don't know it's a "maybe" at the time. when something bad happens to me it takes me a long time to even realize, and i can't purge it. this is my burden to bear - other people cannot read my mind. but a mental breakdown would be cathartic.

to deal with this botched brain of mine, i recognize it has strengths too. i raised a very well behaved cat, because i am more uncompromising than she is. and she is not afraid when i take her to the vet, because i am a source of emotional stability for her; i'm not reactive, so it calms her. i am able to Persist doing things that are unpleasant like trimming her ass hair, and she's allowed to vent - scratch, yell, bite - and i stay Null and it's over and she doesn't hide or run away because a) she was allowed to express the discomfort b) it was over quickly, which it wouldn't be if i let her carrying on make me stop the ordeal.

i am able to spot an anxious person from across the room. i was exploited a lot when i was young, and so it felt natural to exploit other people in vulnerable positions - something i mistakenly thought i was incapable of. i was always so good at spotting them with this predator brain of mine.

but i started to instead ask those people if they are okay. at first it felt insincere and bad and stupid because i wasn't Allowed to show care for other people, because psychopaths don't do that, because it's always mean spirited or fake when they do. but it became a habit. and it became normal. and it became a strength of mine. i do it because it's the right thing to do - i don't personally have to feel emotional about it for that to be real.

i am able to admit mistakes and apologize because i know when i need to, since my brain cycles through a narcissism spiral, and it's like -- bitch if you're reacting that severely you know you're wrong. it was another thing that sucked and felt insincere to begin with, but with practice it got easier. and with practice it caused me less discomfort. when my brain says arrogant things i respond with citation needed. my neuroscience education certainly helps with my perspective reorientation too.

i'm heavily medicated for these disorders + ADHD + OCD, which helps curb the anger and impulsiveness. i am really good at working with people now - these things being managed and my clinical nonplussed nature makes communication easy. i am able to de-escalate situations well, too.

i've had people apologize for crying, but i was so focused on listening to them i didn't notice - so they didn't have to feel bad about it. because i don't care that they're crying. i care about them. an intellectual sense of care is something everyone carries; it's what makes us choose to be patient, to listen, to mitigate the damage emotional reactivity can cause.

i have high cognitive empathy; i might not react to the emotional state of another person, but i know that my read on the situation will be inaccurate. so i simply ask them what they need, without assumption. this is something i wish more people were able to do. i get very uncomfortable with platitudes, personally - because i just can't relate to them at all and i feel pressured to Perform emotionally. that's just one example of different needs.

there's a lot more i could write about here - and i'm not really sure why i decided to write this now. i guess because the world is very painful lately, and these disorders get used as insults, as armchair diagnoses of people we don't like. there's a myriad of ways to be an asshole. maybe don't contribute to the problem of neglect that creates monsters like the one i could have become.

i am no longer 'a psychopath' because i no longer score on the checklist. but i carry these disorders with me, and i will forever, and i'm grateful that there were people in my life despite it all that loved me anyway.

a disclaimer:

i'd hazard against self-diagnosing these things; you might be on the autism spectrum (most of my close friends are, because we compliment eachother quite well in how our brains work), or have psycopathy-like traits during manic episodes, or have a lack of empathy because of apathy. you might have alexithymia from other causes. etc. i was assessed by both a psychiatrist with a criminology degree and one specializing in personality disorders.

[rainbowxocs]

"Past you and her little cat friend tried getting me to talk about my problems.. Not to say it's a bad thing, I admire them so much for trying to help me.. But it's so hard to actually accept that help, I really don't want to talk about that stuff because frankly kiddo, I've convinced myself for years now that I am a bad person I can't really let go of that, not after what I did.. Besides, I fear that if I open up to her I'll only be putting baggage on her when she already deals with so much.. I.. I just can't do that to her.." -Radio

Daisy rests their head on his shoulder.

Yeah.. I.. really get that.. It's really hard to convince yourself that you're a good person when you've told yourself for so long that you aren't..

I don't really.. remember you being a burden on me.. I remember having insecurities surrounding you.. but.. like.. I never really remembered you telling me your feelings and feeling burdened.. I always felt relieved.

[anotherhumanonthisearth]

THE INNER MACHINATIONS OF A YOUNG MANS BRAIN

by:__________________

I don't think I like myself. I also think that no one likes me, so I guess it cancels out. Everything I end up doing seems to go wrong, and like always, I beat myself up for it. I hit a trash can in a state park the other day. It happened so fast, everyone was screaming at me. All I could do was stop the car, and pretend everything is okay. It was not okay. I was holding back tears and I couldn't focus. It happened right before my practice too. My teammates, that I run with everyday, that I talk to everyday, now barrage me questions and mockery. I am forced to laugh alongside them, and pretend everything was okay, It was not okay.

I am walking to practice now, maybe running will get my mind of it. Sometimes I wonder if I am normal. Like when I constantly hate myself or think that you need to pour cereal before milk or think that the dress was white and gold or think that I don't deserve to live or think that the modern education system is shit or think that I am a burden to society, I wonder if thats normal. Im sure everyone thinks it too. Maybe I'm just seeking attention. Are my problems real? Do I really hate myself this much? "Yo," A teammate says to me "Yo," I say back. … Is my suffering real or made up in my head? … … I get no response from myself. Typical. That guy has no idea what he's doing. Or where his life is going to go. What a sad excuse for a human being. … … … Sometimes it feels like I'm trapped in a box. It's pitch black. I am the only thing in it. Every so often, somebody walks in, through an invisible door, and asks me, "What time is it?" How do I know? I've been in this box alone. They close the door then, with the last glimmers of light fading too. "Take me with you!" I scream. "Please! I don't want to be here!" But the door has been shut, and this box is soundproof.

Practice has started now, and with it, I push my body to it's limits. My legs hurt horribly. Each step is an intense jolt of agony, that travels through my entire body. Is everyone else feeling this? Are they just pushing past it? How are they pushing past it? Am I weak for not being able to? I keep running. Everything hurts. My body screams for me to stop. Why don't I stop? Why should I keep going when it hurts so bad? … … … I keep running.

Practice is over now. I still hit a trash can at this state park, and as I walk back to the car, I see adults talking, murmuring, about what they saw. Exasperated hand gestures, crazed speech and reenactments. I am now convinced i'm not normal. Normal people wouldn't make this mistake Normal people wouldn't sit in their car, and force themselves not to cry. Normal people aren't like me. I am not normal. The scenery here is beautiful. The river glistening with the suns rays, birds making their calls among the vibrant trees, and the couple, having a picnic on the riverbed. But still, they shift their attention towards me, the one imperfection.

I don't think I like myself. And I also think people don't like me. … No, that's not true

I don't like myself. And people don't like me.

[olivieblake]

hi olivie!! big fan i’m in love with ta6 and am looking forward to reading more of your work. one of my social media platforms (my book / pop culture youtube channel!) has gained an unprecedented # of followers! which is great! i suppose the reason i make youtube videos is for people to watch them… but do you have advice for this scenario? where overnight you suddenly seem to have SO many more eyes on you than normal? how do you deal with the pressure of being an “influencer” when what you’re doing is following your passions & you have gained an audience! it’s a good problem to have, i know. im curious for your take <3 thank you!

oh god well you've come to the right place I guess, in terms of people who went from underrated to overhyped over the course of about 48 hours. it's a blessing of course but also in some ways a burden, especially when it comes to creating art, which is by nature subjectively made and interpreted. so, do I have advice... not really! I actually don't think that internet/social media "fame" (microfame lol) is something the human brain is meant to withstand. with every surge of popularity WILL come a surge of haters, that's just the nature of the game, and while I think you can convince yourself on some level to interpret that as a good thing, it's still hard to shake off the effect of what some people think is appropriate to say, especially in those kinds of volumes. not that this is about me

I think I generally have pretty good boundaries, but I've really gotten to a point where I have to admit to myself that there is no conceivable way to have skin thick enough for everything, shy of psychologically warping in a potentially bad way to cope with it. so, I guess my main piece of advice is: remember what you're doing and why you're doing it. always come back to that, because what you're making isn't for everyone, and therefore inevitably people will criticize or complain. don't forget that the people who interact with you, especially the ones who do so to be negative, are only a fraction of your audience, most of whom are consuming your work silently, and they are only a TINY SLIVER of the actual world, which is filled with people who care about you and want you to succeed. go outside. seriously. literally. turn off your devices and remember where life is actually happening. never create content directed at the haters—it only hurts the people who support you and will never do anything to change or educate the trolls. overalll, my advice is the same advice to my husband, who is occasionally frustrated by the problem students in his classroom. address the person in the room who wants to learn from you. focus on the person who is actually listening, because they're the person you will really, meaningfully reach