#eat shit depression!!!

[himbosandhardwear]

This is a literal nightmare.

He can see her cheery orange sweater from the doorway, glowing under the sodium desk lamp. As if the library wasn't hateful enough, with it's enforced hush, they had to make everything hard to fucking see too. Ugh, great, she's got fucking note cards! Pink ones!

“Wheeler,” he growls at her, hoping to startle her with his slammed history book.

Unfortunately it doesn't work, only earns him a shush and a few annoyed glares from fellow patrons.

Wheeler looks up from under her lashes, quietly entertained if anything. “Munson. Glad you could finally make it.”

“Yeah well,” he straddles the wooden desk chair, “got caught up sacrificing virgins. You know how it is.”

She rests her pointed chin onto her hand. “So you trekked up to the middle school?”

Shit. Does she have a sense of humor?

“Yeah… Anyway, I'm here now. What torture have you got in store?” He eyes the note cards warily.

“Not these.” She swiftly wraps a rubber band around them and tucks them back into her bag. “I think I know what your issue is.”

“Childhood neglect?”

She gifts him with a snort. “Maybe. I was referring to your complete lack of interest in US History.”

“You can't make me care about it, Wheeler, that's not how this works.”

Her eyes do something that feels patronizing but also like maybe she knows something he doesn't.

It becomes apparent, hours later, that he shouldn't have thrown that gauntlet. Nancy Wheeler is a certified genius. No wonder St- Mmm, no.

“I can't believe you did it,” he admits after successfully passing her pop quiz. “How did you… I mean, I literally just learned all that against my will.”

“Easy. You like Tolkien, right?”

That takes him aback. He stares back at her for a second. “...yeah?”

“So you can absorb details when it's something you're interested in. All I had to do was make it interesting.”

Wow. Yeah, that actually makes sense now that he thinks about it. All she did was humanize the people involved, make them real. He couldn't care less about memorizing the dates of the battles but knowing forty-five hundred men died from Cholera that winter, seven hundred more from infection, it did something to Eddie's brain, forced it to latch on.

“Huh. What are you doing tutoring an idiot like me? You should be getting tenured at Yale or whatever.”

She does something no girl has done to Eddie since the fifth grade, she reaches out and holds his hand. He's too confused to pull away.

“You're not stupid. You're not even apathetic, not really. It's just that no one has ever bothered to teach you in a way that speaks to you. I want you to know that.”

He blinks at her. “Okay. Um. Kinda hard to keep hating you if you're gonna say shit like that.” He tries to laugh it off but she just keeps staring up at him with those big, blue eyes.

“You don't have to hate me, Eddie.”

What the fuck? Why is there a sudden undertone here?

“Sure thing, Wheeler. We should-” He doesn't have much to gather but he uses the little bit he did bring to avoid eye contact. She's gathering her things a lot slower and for some reason Eddie can't make himself leave her here. Fucking stupid white knight syndrome. “Hey, uh, how'd you know I like Tolkien?”

She doesn't look up from wedging a folder into her bag as she says, “Steve told me.”

Eddie’s nervous system goes ice fishing.

When he doesn't, can't, respond, she looks up, sees him staring, wide eyed and shaking. Instead of doing anything to calm him, she makes it worse by saying, “He talks about you more than he realizes. I might've actually been scared of you if I didn't know you have a favorite Christmas movie and that you stress bake.”

This is…cruel? He's not sure what her motive is. Shove their happy relationship in his face? She shouldn't want to do that, because she shouldn't know that Steve and Eddie were…anything. There's no way Steve told her that. The fact that he can feel that his face has gone white and he hasn't responded yet probably isn't doing him any favors.

“I can see there's some confusion happening.” Eddie nods, slowly, certain only that, if anything, he's confused. “Okay,” she drawls. “I feel like you're a cool person to talk to, that I can trust you. You're…safe?”

“Sure?” He has no idea where this is going.

“Right. You know my friend Barb,” she waits for his nod before explaining, “well we've been friends forever. Like, kindergarten forever. And one day, almost out of the blue, we get the idea to try out for Color Guard.” Yeah right. Wheeler and Holland are the last two girls Eddie can picture joining any kind of team sport activity, but he keeps following her story anyway. “We're practicing, right, and we've got our…flags…and we see each other's...flags...and we realize, we don't like…sports. So we quit and decided to do our own thing. Yeah?”

Holy shit. No way. There's no fucking way. Except Wheeler is nodding along with Eddie's shock, as if to say, ‘Yeah, you're getting it.’

He laughs, quiet so as not to alert anyone. The library is nearly empty but they're not the last ones left.

Eddie has to rub his eyes to stave off an impending headache but all in all this session has been quite eye-opening.

“That was pretty slick, I have to admit.”

She shoots him a wicked grin. “It usually is.”

“Ah gross! Don't make it weird.”

Now they're both laughing. Christ.

“I am cool. For the record. Scouts honor.” He holds up the devil horns just to make her laugh again, which she does.

“I know you're cool, Eddie. Inside scoop, remember?”

So much for their budding friendship. The reminder that Steve has said anything about their shared…whatever that was…puts him right back in the frozen pond.

“Steve and I weren't-” He lowers his voice. “That wasn't anything. I don't know what he told you but-”

“He misses you.”

Eddie's frozen guts shatter. Nancy doesn't even have the decency to let him scoop them up before she goes in for the kill.

“He'd be livid if he knew I told you that but it's true. He hates the way he ended it. Thinks you hate him for it, could never forgive him. But you wanted to hate me. Didn't you? Those aren't the feelings of a man indifferent to Steve's life.”

He trembles like an animal caught in a snare. “Why are you telling me this?”

A bittersweet look crosses her face, she looks over at the people sitting four desks over. “I know why he ended it. And…it's not like his reasons have suddenly disappeared. We both know things are precarious for us,” she meets his eye again to make sure he understands, of course he does, “but he's different now. Changed. A good friend. A person who deserves second chances. Deserves to be happy. He said you made him really happy.”

A traitorous tear slips down his cheek. He brushes it away, angry and embarrassed.

This was really fun, Eds, but I can't risk it anymore.

The worst part was, he couldn't argue the first bit. They did have a lot of fun.

God, he misses Steve too.

“If you've moved on, that's okay, I get it. No harm done, like I said, he doesn't even know we had this conversation. But, if you were wondering if he still thinks about you, the answer is yes.”

He nods. That's all he can do at the moment. She cups a tiny hand around his clenched fist and squeezes.

“Oh! Also, I'm thinking of starting an unofficial after school club. You too cool to hang out with me outside of school?”

Whiplash would feel like a pleasant massage compared to this woman, lord have mercy.

“What kinda club?” He asks gamely.

“Friends of Dorothy. You don't think it's just us waving flags, do you?”

Eddie's attention is caught mid-rant by the abhorrent sounds of Carol and Tommy H.

"Oh, Steve! Steve, oh, God, Steve-"

Eddie turns in time to see a pretty blush fill Steve's cheeks. Ah, he must have finally slept with the Wheeler chick. She's seated next to him, looking less than pleased about Steve's friends.

From what Eddie can remember, that's actually the opposite of what sleeping with Steve is really like. He's the noisy one, the one who moans and whines and whimpers when he's feeling so good.

"Fuck, Eddie, you feel so perfect-"

"Yeah, right there, Eds-"

"Keep going, I'm gonna, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie-"

"Eddie!"

"Yeah!" He turns away from King Steve and back to the rest of the Hellfire club.

"You were saying, about that cantrip?"

"Right," he says, shaking off old memories. Now isn't really the time to be revisiting them, anyway.

[emotionaleating]

pls don’t flirt with me i want to be nonchalant so bad but i unfortunately crave connection so intensely that i will give you my entire soul and forgive you over and over until i’ve lost myself completely and feel like i’m drowning

[milyanoo]

Th1nsp0

[han1w]

zajebales raz to zajebisz wiele razy:

[lostmf]

[borderlinejackiee]

[betterluckthenexttime]

[e1ixaa]

Chce schudnąć dla niego Chce być idealna dla niego Chce żeby on nie musiał się mnie wstydzić

[hardcoregayanalsegx]

"Why would you do that to yourself" I'm trying my best to soothe the pain, trying to cradle it so that maybe just maybe it will stop crying out

[ed-recoverry]

Shoutout to people who relapse quick.

Shoutout to people who try to recover, but it doesn’t ever last long.

Shoutout to the people who want to get better, but they’re struggling to start.

I see so many people comforting those far into recovery who’ve relapsed, saying that it is a normal part of recovery and they will be okay. Which is completely true! But I rarely see that same energy for people who haven’t been clean for long or who relapse often.

It’s hard to get your footing in recovery. Wanting to get better and taking steps to get better are two very different things; one much harder than the other.

Even a quickly failed attempt at recovery is something worth celebrating.

Trying to recover, knowing you probably won’t stay clean for long, and still deciding to try again is something impressive.

The only consistent trait in recovery from anything is relapsing at least once. If you don’t relapse, then you haven’t done the work to heal the cause of your destructive behavior. Relapse is integral to healing.

While it is ideal that these relapses are few and far between, that is something that is just unattainable for some.

I often see comments on tiktok that talk about how annoying it is when someone says “one second clean” or something along those lines, but I couldn’t disagree more. I am such a strong believer that every single second you aren’t acting on self destructive impulses is an accomplishment.

Especially if you’re actively resisting that behavior.

Relapse is normal in recovery. That includes relapses that happen after months of being clean, and relapses that happen within hours of being clean. While you should always strive to go longer and longer without relapsing, any amount of time spent not relapsing is something to be proud of.

Intent matters. Wanting to get better matters, even if you aren’t making much progress, is something to celebrate. Strive to be better, but don’t forget the little victories along the way.

[necroticghost]

im so fucking useless

[iwanttobetinyx]

The feeling of water entering your empty stomach >>>

[emotionaleating]

[orphancoded]

[3liza]

I didn't want to reblog this actual thread because my sidetracking doesn't need to be on a good and helpful mental health post. BUT. I wanted to ask anyone who has noticed the same thing I have about this topic: why do you think this kind of therapy does not work on the very large percentage of autistic people that it does not work on, including myself. many professionals and laymen have tried this tried-and-true method of subverting depression on me and I will just argue back, and I will have more reasoned arguments than they will. and I will engage with their question ("why do you feel that way") and the proceeding argument in good faith, but the therapist will not be prepared to advance past the professional Jedi mind trick of just telling me my extremely studied reasons for thinking a certain way aren't rational and should simply be abandoned. they don't have any more rabbits in the hat after that. so what the fuck

[lostmf]