#he doesnt get how deep a child's resentment of their parent can run | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

societysonlooker · 4 years

Text

So uh. Overstating a bit but I've reached a weird point in my life where all my anxieties have just been like. Accepted as fact. And, its certainly not healthy, and probably a lot worse for me in the long run, but like, at least I dont want to off myself right the fuck now, you feel? Ok so. Point is,

I think a lot of the batfam cope this way specifically tim, but also Jason, damian, and dick. I think steph and cass are still actually dealing with it in a semi-healthy way, and duke... im not really that familiar with his character but im pretty sure he's the most well-adjusted individual there.

So like, getting to this point was a series of "my worst fears HAPPENED and I survived them, but now I just accept them as part of me". Failure, inadequacy, being the last left standing, things like that.

Tim lived to see everyone he loved die. Even if theyre back now, he still believes it is going to happen again. No matter how much logic and reasoning he uses to say that it probably won't, at his core, he believes he'll be left alone. He believes one day he'll be too slow, or he won't figure out the mystery quick enough, or he wont be able to hack something fast enough, and someone he loves will die. He knows he's gonna be the last left standing, so he doesnt always try to save himself. He doesnt actively think of it as trying to die, or trying to avoid that fate, but he knows what he's doing.

Damian thinks he's failed his legacy. He honestly believes he's failed the Bat and the Al'Ghuls. And while he's not so stressed about the later, at least at one point he knew he was good at it, excelled, really. But he left it behind for his fathers crusade and failed, and now he cant go back. He wants nothing more than to be accepted into his family, and to have friends who love him, but he honestly believes he can never have either of those things, so he acts the part of the Demon Child, and tries not to let anything get through. He accepts he won't be anything different.

Dick knows he's charismatic, knows people love him on the surface, knows his friends love him and that they'd all take bullets for each other. But, he's pretty sure that who he is deep down, that man isn't lovable. Too broken, too many sharp edges. Too much temper and will and hurt. He wont find happiness with another person, never find a love like his parents'.

He's also terrified of his loved ones falling. That ones canon. He's saved them, so far (dont think about jason there was nothing you could've done for Jason you weren't even on earth you couldn't have helped you should have been there). Since his parents he's saved them so far, but that fear is still there. He hasn't had to watch them fall, yet. But he's still watched them die, And one day, just like with his parents, he wont be enough to stop it. And this time they won't come back. He knows it'll be his fault they die.

Jason died. Joker beat him to the brink of death then blew him sky fucking high. He couldn't stop it and Batman was far too late. His birth mother didn't want him, his father didn't want him, the only person he KNOWS cared about him put herself in the ground with a needle and too much dope (he knows its not her fault he knows that if she'd just had access to treatment she'd still be alive today but he can't help but be resentful, he was a child–) and batman, Bruce, he was too late. He was too late following Jason and he was too late to save him. And Jason died. And when he came back, when he first begged and then tried to force Batman to kill the monster hiding under his bed, his father wouldn't do it. So yeah, Jason knows hes not enough. He knows that he's not worth his family pushing themselves for him. He knows he's not worth it, that he's a lost cause and as bad as the rest of the scum the bat hunts at night. He knows hes not wanted by Bruce or any of his siblings. He forces himself to be ok with that. Pretends thats just who he is and that he's ok with it. Roy helps. Roy helps a lot, actually. He didn't die but Oli gave up on him all the same (so they think) and, hells of death its good to have his best friend back. But then Roys dead and fuck he cant even avenge him. Can't even do what he swore he would and huh, maybe he really isn't worth it after all. He cant even keep his word? Yeah, He knows he can't be saved.

And Bruce... way back at the beginning, Bruce and batman were the same person. And Brucie was the airheaded mask he wore in public. But... slowly that changed. He didn't change that much, but the depersonalization got worse. Batman was separate from Bruce and he truly acted that way. Batman on the streets was an entirely different entity to Bruce wearing the suit in the cave. But... soon that changed too. He was batman. And Bruce became just another mask. He couldn't handle the trauma his nightlife dragged into the daylight so he retreated into it. Raised his walls and closed himself off to anything that could hurt him. He is Batman. He doesnt know what that means for him. He doesnt know what that means for his family. He doesnt like to think about it so he doesnt, and he throws himself into his work instead. His Brucie personality fades to just Bruce, and the public sees it as the natural maturation of a man raising a family. But Bruce is just Batman without the mask, and with the limitations that an average intelligent moderately fit billionaire should have. The pretending that those limits exist is his mask now. He wants to reach out to his children, hes not sure he knows how anymore. He knows hes hurting them, but so long as it keeps them alive, its worth it, right? Bruce couldn't save them, but maybe Batman can.

(He doesnt know its killing them faster)

They've all accepted the worst. Of themselves and of their fates and nothing is gonna convince them otherwise. In their own minds, they're doomed.

And nothing can save them.

#Bruce Wayne #Batman #Dick Grayson #Nightwing #Jason Todd #Red Hood #tim drake wayne #timothy drake #Red Robin #damian wayne #damian wayne al ghul #Robin

33 notes · View notes

whiptrip · 3 years

Text

i’ve updated my verses page!! it’s not done done, but i’ll finish it later right now im passing out zzzz below the cut you’ll find a copy of the verses page for my own editing ease tomorrow. warning typos will be plentiful, this laptop doesnt have spellcheck, and the formating is all over the place. mwah have fun reading.

MAIN TIMELINE

I [ 0-15 ] – for eight years, he grew up happy, naive to what was to come. then his mother is murdered, leading to being chased by red dragon mercenaries, on the run with his father... only to be left at the shirai ryu by kenshi. a child, tested by fate to grow into the legacies presented before him.

II [ 15-18 ] – a period in time that almost blends together in takeda's mind. the anguish of having his clan massacred, the horror of having to kill his best friend -- they give way to the numb catharsis of starting over, rebuilding the shirai ryu from the ashes with hanzo.

III [ 18-23 ] – and his persistence gives way to being promoted to chujin of the shirai ryu -- a graduation memory that is stained by the tension between him and kenshi, who decided to come back into his life, who came to train him in kenjutsu, telepathy and telekenises... as well as earn forgiveness for his absence.

IV [ MKX ] – with kenshi's insistence and grandmaster hanzo's permission, takeda joins johnny cage's highly specialized team, a group of new kombatants to face the challenges that will inevitably come for earthrealm... no one could have predicted just how soon, however.

V [ MK11 ] -- the takahashis are missing -- last they made contact, they were preparing to enter a deep undercover mission, set to destroying the red dragon from the inside, once and for all. kenshi's last failed attempt earned them the death of suchin as retaliation, but this time there is no space for failure. they do or die.

ALTERNATE TIMELINES

[ NON-KOMBATANT : LIGHT ]

FATE HAS CHOSEN TO BE KIND, JUST THIS ONCE.

Growing up with amicably divorced parents, Takeda spent great part of his childhood going back and forth between Suchin and Kenshi's homes, while spending any other free-time in the martial arts class that a friend of the family runs. His upbringing left him with some personality quirks -- he's pretty good at reading facial expressions and the general mood of a room, to a point where you just might think he's psychic, along with having just... way too much energy. He's a lighthearted, if not slightly teasing young man and this fell right into his chosen profession:

TAKEDA TAKAHASHI, PERSONAL TRAINER. He knows when to go easy on you, and he knows when to crack the methaphorical whip! If you don't see results after working out with him, that is (in his genuine, professional opinion) a you problem. Come back when you're actually set on doing the work!

[ NON-KOMBATANT : DARK ]

KENSHI TAKAHASHI, a long term undercover operative in a multi-national effort. Takeda was aware of the man as a child, but the concept of him had always felt... distant. Raised primarly by his mother, he could scarecely remember a time they had interacted face to face, or the sound of the man's voice clear, unmuffled by a cellphone's receiver. He was out there, his work was dangerous, that was as far as Takeda could comprehend.

SO WHEN HE IS BROUGHT BEFORE THE MAN AT THE HOSPITAL, told that they would be staying together now, Takeda didn't get it. And he still didn't get it when he was told that he couldn't see his mother, that she was gone, in disconected, nauseating faux-kind voices of those that had parroted these very same words dozens of times before.

ALL THAT KENSHI CAN DO IS APOLOGISE, SAY IT WAS HIS FAULT. And Takeda takes his word for it, a child full of resernment and fear. But its hard to keep resentments when all you want is to feel acknowledged. He grew up shadowed by the trauma they both shared, but he was never given the full context off -- not until he was eighteen, at which point he had a falling out with his dad that took a week to work through turbulent emotions.

HIS MOTHER HAD BEEN KILLED BECAUSE KENSHI HAD BEEN FOUND OUT -- it was his fault, and it wasn't. How he wished Kenshi had never lied, never tried to cover up the truth... because maybe then, this determination to finish what his father had started would never had settled in his mind. It might not be the path Kenshi wanted for him, but i was the one Takeda was willing to take.

[ DEATH : WRAITH ]

LIFE HAD BEEN CRUEL TO HIM, yes, but never had he foreseen himself dying so soon and so... carelessly. A fight with the Red Dragon gone wrong, he is shot down before either he or Kenshi can react, a bullet straight through lung and heart. DEATH WAS SWIFT, BUT IT WAS LOUD, AND IT WAS PAINFUL, SHAMEFUL. His last memory was that of his father screaming his name as his still bleeding body got dragged away.

AS THEY HAD TAKEN SUCHIN, they would take his son, leave not even a body to mourn.

BUT IT IS IN THE LIMBO BETWEEN THE REALMS THAT HIS SOUL CLINGS ON -- stubborn, resentful, heartbroken, angry. Takeda had promised he would return to Jacqui's side, he and his father had unfinished business, he was set to be the next leader of the Shirai Ryu. TAKEDA TAKAHASHI COULD NOT AFFORD TO DIE -- and so he rose from the diesel fire in which he was drenched, body left to turn into a charred, unrecognizable mess.

HE PROMISED HE'D COME BACK. And so he did. IT IS AN ODD, COLD EXISTENCE, WHERE EMOTIONS FEEL LIKE CRASHING WAVES, where his unalive nature stops him from enjoying the simple pleasures in life, but it one he will gladly burden himself with if it means he gets to stay with those he cares for, if it means he gets to see and one day still hold his child.

[ DEATH : REVENANT ]

TBA. TLDR: BROTHERHOOD OF SHADOWS TAKEDA, BRAND NEW THROPHY FOR QUAN CHI TO FLAUNT.

[ DEATH : CYBER LIN KUEI ]

TBA. TLDR: OH NO DON'T PUT ME THROUGH THE CYBERIZATION PROCESS AGAINST MY WILL HAHA IM TOO SEXY...

[ HYDRA OF THE SHIRAI RYU ]

TBA. TLDR: LAST SURVING MEMBER OF THE SHIRAI RYU, HANZO NEVER DECIDES TO CRAWL OUT OF HELL. FERAL NINJA CHILD TIME. YOU CUT ONE VENGEFUL SOUL DOWN? ANOTHER POPS UP.

[ SPIDER OF THE RED DRAGON ]

TBA. TLDR: TAKEDA GETS KIDNAPPED, KENSHI NEVER GETS TO HIM IN TIME. INSTEAD OF KILLING HIM, THE RED DRAGON CHOOSE TO INSTEAD FORCIBLY RAISE HIM INTO A LIVING WEAPON, AND AS A FOIL TO CANON, HIS TELEKINETIC ABILITIES ARE MUCH STRONGER THAN HIS TELEPATHIC ONES. STRONGLY BASED OFF OF EARLY CONCEPT ART.

CROSSOVER VERSES

[ FFVII ]

SON OF KENSHI AND SUCHIN, a defecting SOLDIER and a member of the Crescent Unit of Wutai, Takeda was born and raised in Wutai during the War. It wasn't as light as childhood should be, especially with his father going absent in early childhood, but Takeda was as happy as he could afford to be in that scenario. Unfortunately, even though his father had left to avoid this outcome, the Turks realize that Suchin was connected to Kenshi, and had mothered a child without acknowledgement of the Science Department.

CLEAN UP WAS NECESSARY. Suchin was kiled, but they couldn't find Takeda -- who ran, as his mother had instructed him to. Effectively orphaned at eight years of age, Takeda would've become yet another tragic story about the horrors of war... but instead of being left to fend for himself, he's found by a close family friend -- Commander Hasashi, who takes him in as his own. Under his tutelage, he's set to join the ranks of the Crescent Unit, and Takeda takes the responsability of it all with great honor.

SHINRA WOULD PAY FOR ITS CRIMES, and Wutai would reclaim the tranquility stolen from it.

[ PERSONA 3 ]

THE HIEROPHANT. GUIDED BY TWO MENTORS, Takeda is aware of the legacy that he has to carry, and he holds onto the future with a shaking, selfish grip. From all of the tragedy that he has suffered through in life, he has learned the dangers of letting yourself sink into the anguish within your soul -- for should the DARK HOUR strike, you will find yourself consumed by it.

HE IS AWARE OF IT, the odd extra time where reality shifts. IT WAS THEN, THAT HE WAS FACED WITH HIS BEST FRIEND SUCCUMBING TO DESPAIR. But no matter what Takeda did, he would not come out of it, and instead began to transform into something grostesque, nonhuman. Takeda didn't know what to do, didn't know how to help -- so he fought him. In the end, he was victorious. BUT HIS FRIEND DID NOT SURVIVE.

DEATH, WHICH HAD HANGED OVER HIS LIFE SO MANY TIMES, had never felt so close -- but he could not blame himself, not without being dragged down into the dark himself. Instead, Takeda will do his best to maintain appearances, struggle to keep up with the tripple life that he leads, all the while working with his mentors to understand what this "Dark Hour" was, and how they could stop it.

[ TBA ]

Want to write with me, but can't find a matching/working verse? Tell me about your source material, I'm sure we can work something out!

#long post #｢ ooc ｣ 𝘝𝘌𝘛𝘓𝘈𝘕

3 notes · View notes

prudnces · 4 years

Text

( 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒 & 𝚌𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 ) + you know 𝘗𝘙𝘜𝘋𝘌𝘕𝘊𝘌 𝘝𝘈𝘕 𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘛, the 25 year-old 𝘗𝘙𝘐𝘝𝘈𝘛𝘌 𝘐𝘕𝘝𝘌𝘚𝘛𝘐𝘎𝘈𝘛𝘖𝘙 that has lived in eldstead 𝘚𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘕 𝘠𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘚? i heard she has a tendency to be 𝘙𝘌𝘚𝘖𝘜𝘙𝘊𝘌𝘍𝘜𝘓, 𝘐𝘕𝘛𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕𝘈𝘓, 𝘋𝘐𝘚𝘖𝘉𝘌𝘋𝘐𝘌𝘕𝘛 & 𝘚𝘜𝘙𝘓𝘠. the 𝘛𝘈𝘜𝘙𝘜𝘚 has equipped 𝘒𝘌𝘠 in time for the full moon.

HI i’m hero, 22, i lov horror movies and no longer have a shudder subscription :pensive: normally i do these on google docs but i’m lazy and prue is Incredibly New so i’m still trying to get the hang of things

name: prudence van holt nicknames: prue, p age: 25 gender: cis woman pronouns: she/her d.o.b.: april 23, 1995 zodiac: taurus sexual orientation: homosexual homoromantic mbti: isfj - the protector character inspo: wynonna earp, veronica mars, prudence halliwell (mayb i took the name don’t look @ me) aesthetics: a steaming mug of black coffee, deep green woollen sweaters, golden rings and necklaces adorning her, a camera hanging around her neck, the mist of the morning, a deer grazing in the forest, the heavy thud of boots against old hardwood, a grandfather clock striking the witching hour

HISTORY

triggers: child abandonment, car accident (drunk driving), death

prudence van holt’s birth is a mystery-- all she knows is she was dropped off at the fire station in a town outside of seattle, the only identification a baby blanket with her name on it.

she ends up being adopted by a couple, the van holts, who always wanted multiple kids but could not after their first, a boy.

growing up, she’s always been a little shit. she doesn’t mean to be. she just has an insatiable curiosity, sticking her nose in other’s businesses, finding lost things, she had a strange knack for it. it got her into a lot of trouble, children had no business sticking their nose into adults’ things.

her brother never really liked her-- he always resented the fact their parents brought her home, took her in, when they already had a perfectly fine child needing attention. petty things, except it’s sparked a life long sibling rivalry that runs deep.

it’s a pretty uneventful childhood, her parents are good people, they provide for her, and support her, despite her troublesome antics.

she’s always been a lonely child, she’s never had the easiest time making friends, so she’s spent a lot of her time exploring the woods near her home.

she’s thirteen when she discovers her mother, whom she always has written off as simply eccentric, is more than that-- she’s a witch. and a good one, too. her book club meetings she’s often privvy to walking through is more than that, it’s her coven.

so of course, prue wants in-- how can she not? it’s a whole new world, working under her mother’s wing, driving a wedge further between herself and her brother. she tells her to be careful, to watch her back, that there’s bad people who want to do bad things with the power they wield. it instills a deeper ideal of trust no one in prudence-- one that sticks with her to this day.

and she’s dedicated to the craft! she takes time to learn the different meanings and uses of herbs, flowers, etc., makes potions, cast spells-- perhaps sometimes for personal gain, but she’s dedicated herself to using them to help others.

she sort of becomes a private investigator in high school, not on purpose, but a friend tasks her to find out if her boyfriend is cheating on her, so tails him, catches him in the act-- gives him a little hex for good measure.

it becomes a thing, people need something found? they go to her. think their partner is fooling around? they go to her. and she delivers, all with a little touch of magic. eventually, she wants to go deeper, take on more serious cases, but alas she’s only a teenager.

sike! that doesn’t stop her. and as much as she hates cops, she has an in at the department through her father, so soon she’s not so legally trying to solve murders.

and that’s all fine and dandy, until just a month shy of her eighteenth birthday, and two months before she graduates from high school, her parents get into a car accident coming home from a meeting one night. a drunk driver swerves into their side of the road, hitting them head on. neither survive.

it’s that that has her change her mind about college, why go to college when she already knows what she wants to do? life is fleeting, and she’s hurting, so she graduates, and moves to eldstead, a town an hour and half away from her own home. it’s not a big change, but enough for her to have a fresh start.

she knows something is different about the storm when it hits, that it brought about something... destructive. and she’s inclined to get to the bottom of all of it. it’s in her nature-- she has to snoop.

she runs her own private investigation that used to serve eldstead and the surrounding area, but now it’s simply eldstead. she makes her own hours, and works alone, because she prefers it that way.

PERSONALITY

she’s really closed off-- she prefers to be alone, because of the shit she’s seen, and the people in her life, she just expects to be let down.

when you first meet her, there’s a chance she’s just going to brush you off. she’s not exactly the friendliest person out there?

will she be an asshole for the sake of being an asshole? no. absolutely not. but she is unflinchingly honest about her observations, and that doesn’t always go over well.

very much a ‘do the thing first, ask for forgiveness later type of person’-- doesn’t have a lot of regard for rules that aren’t her own. (*dw voice* that sign can’t stop me bc i can’t read!)

if u do manage to be friends with her, she’s got ur mf back she’s unflinchingly loyal and if you break her trust, you’re pretty much dead to her lol

TIDBITS

she has a black cat (wow a witch with a black cat...... groundbreaking) named inkblot (creative, rly), nicknamed inky like the pacman ghost

surprisingly high alcohol tolerance, loves 2 go for a beer or a whiskey at the end of a long day

lives in cableknit sweaters-- this is the pnw i mean a bitch be cold

doesn’t really date? she came out when she was 16, and there’s been a couple relationships, but they never really pan out-- it’s always because of her. she doesn’t know how to open up

swears a lot

has a pretty good understanding of basic hand to hand combat just in case perps get a little rowdy, took boxing classes for abt 4 years?

probably an elderly person when it comes to social media, kinda likes to keep a low profile but she also posts a shit ton of pictures of her cat

INCREDIBLY good at finding lost things-- keys, phones, dogs, u name it she just knows-- and she doesnt know if its the intuition that comes from being a witch or just herself

prob should join a coven, but shes a lone wolf awoo

prob barks at men idk

lives off of black coffee, doesn’t rly sleep

has multiple ear piercings and a couple tattoos but she usually keeps them hidden

WANTED CONNECTIONS

informant - she gets information from them for her cases, they got a p good grasp

someone she’s solved a case for - p self explanatory, now they’re friendly enough, or perhaps she couldn’t stand them and did it for the money

someone who wants to be her friend but she’s weary - tbh shes weary of everybody

coven adjacent - another witch, maybe theyre trying to get her to band together with them

drinking buddy - they meet at the bar and shoot the shit

opposites attract - friend who is nothing like them! but still hangs around!

someone she feels like she has 2 protect - for whatever reason, even tho they can prob take care of themselves, prue is super fkn protective of them

a genuine friend - yeah she just needs one idk she’s doing her best

ex (f/nb) - someone she dated for a little bit but they broke up because of prue’s inability to open tf up

fwb (f/nb) - ? maybe we all got needs, and she’s not looking for a relationship

attraction (f/nb) - there’s tension and neither know why!

rival - to paraphrase a tumblr post what is a rival if not a crush you’re unhappy abt

pure of heart, dumb of ass and lesbian - i just love this trope

sibling like - someone who she genuinely sees as a younger/older sibling... goes to them for shit... protects them

frenemies - theyre not rly friends but they dont entirely hate each other either?

tbh anything

#this got long! and for what!#intro.#eldintro #abandonment tw #car accident tw #drunk driving tw #death tw

6 notes · View notes

fleurbastien · 5 years

Text

✧･ﾟ( persephone + jordan fisher + demiguy ) 𝒎𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒂 !! have you seen Bastien Lalande around ? they/he have/has been in kaos for fourteen months. the twenty-six year old is a botanist from martinique. people say they can be detached but maybe that’s not too bad ‘cause they can also be amicable. whenever i think of them, i can’t help but think of (( a sunlit greenhouse, sand underfoot on a temperate beach, a streak of dirt smudged across the cheek )). ･ﾟ✧

Bio

Bastien Lalande was born and raised on the island of Martinique to Danielle and Henri Lalande. Their plan was to have a flock of children. Family was what they prized most in this world. They could imagine no happier future than peering out the window of their sizable family home and see kinds running through the grass, kicking back and forth a football. Their plans were abruptly thwarted. Between their first and third years of life, Bastien was too young to understand or remember the complications that Danielle experienced with having another child. How close she came to passing away after the third surgery. It was this near-death experience which prompted the couple to mutually agree on focusing raising Bastien, and to spare Danielle anymore physical and emotional pain. Despite their agreement, a fragment of Henri and Danielle died; their dreams shattered as though a rock had been thrown squarely into a mirror. Because of this, a seed was planted deep within their minds that, just maybe, if they hadn’t had Bastien, they would still have some semblance of future aspiration.

Life on Martinique was personal. Communal. Familial. Everyone said hello to one another as they passed. Honking was a sign of neighborly greeting, not irritation at the traffic. You can imagine that, growing up in this culture, Bastien became quite the socialite. They were charming, active, knowledgeable, and sportive. People loved seeing him skipping down the road on his way to school, and cheered him on as captain of the Yole Sailing team. He was the picture of stability, as his parents’ world was on the decline. Running a cafe was difficult with a staff of three, and even harder when you had to run operations at the age of thirteen. There were days when he was in charge of opening and closing procedures, and some days more during which he would have to miss school in order to help out at the shop. Bastien was growing to resent the positions into which he was thrust. He was convinced that he should be out enjoying his life, not toiling under responsibilities which should not be his own. A heavy weight began to oppress his shoulders. His personality began to dampen, despite his best efforts. What was worse, he didn’t let on to the community that he was struggling. He felt that, for the sake of dignity (or some other noble reason), he had to keep private the fact that his parents were no longer fit to care for him.

After several years, a poetic path appeared. A divergence of destiny. Bastien could travel halfway across the world and attend the University of Hawaii at Manoa, or they could continue looking after their parents, who severely needed their help. The decision sent the youngling into a depressive state. He knew his dreams lay at the other side of that graduation stage in Hawaii, but he also knew that there was no real choice; he had to stay for his parents, despite their contentious relationship. Danielle was fatigued more often than not, and if Bastien couldn’t anticipate her needs, she would find it in her energy to berate him (putting it kindly). At that point, Henri had enough of a reason to despise Bastien. Not only did his son take away three more children from him, but contributed to the heartbreak and physical condition of his beloved as well. It was at this important crossroads that Bastien’s behavior altered radically, deviating from his usual sunny disposition. As it happened, nothing went unnoticed by his extended family for long. By and by, upon discovering his dilemma, they practically made the decision for him. They would take care of his parents and send him off to college.

Sparing unnecessary details of Bastien’s college life, he obtained an undergraduate degree in biology, and went on to get his Master’s degree in Botany from the very same school. His intelligence and charisma had his professor’s hooked, and it was easy for him to be admitted to the PhD program there. His advising professor won a grant from the NSF and was further funded by the university to conduct a field school on the island of Kaos in Greece. Before applications even opened, the professor had made his decision, for the only name that jumped into his mind for a field assistant was none other than Bastien Lalande.

The two, along with four undergraduates, have been on the island for just over a year, doing extensive research on Mediterranean vegetation. Bastien is using this opportunity to develop his doctoral research, simultaneously writing his dissertation. Weekdays, Bastien can be found in the field and in the lab, running soil samples, or peering into microscopes. On the weekends, he clacks away at his keyboard, synthesizing as much information as possible. When he finds free-time, or needs to clear his head, he loves swimming, or sailing if he can find a boat.

Running into Bastien, one would encounter a shining smile, a charming accent, and hospitality that would make you feel as though you knew him for an eternity. He might invite you on a hike, or show you a greenhouse. It is rare to catch him without a flower tucked behind the ear. However, if one truly tried to dig deeper beneath the surface than the charisma that he emanates, they might find that there isn’t much they actual know about Bastien, as if all information on his deep, honest thoughts have been entombed far beneath the ground.

Although they miss the Caribbean islands, they feel something deep in the pit of their stomach which anchors them to Kaos. A lifetime’s worth of knowledge sits at their feet in Greece. It would take all of their willpower to turn away from it.

Headcanons

very much “gerry durrell” from the durrels in corfu vibes

if you havent seen it i recommend

but instead of being obsessed with animals hes obsessed with plants

very smiley, outgoing, charismatic, loves chatting with strangers as long as the questions dont get too personal

A-1 athlete, can swim until the cows come home

flower aesthetics galore. he likes to draw flowers, wear flowers (prints and real flowers, ofc), and grow flowers in his window sills and from hanging pots

are u french ? he will speak french to u if so

underneath, hes a lil moody. his parents began to blame him for his mother’s health complications. they wanted a family so badly that they kinda alienated their only child

he loves loves loves martinique but dreads going back to that life that was hard, tortuous even

writes to his family to make sure everyone is okay, but doesnt talk to anyone on kaos about it

kinda wonders if he should blame himself for complications ?

can be found lying in the dirt contemplating his woes. or singing. or singing because of his woes.

you honestly cant be a fan of botany without developing a relationship with bugs. in this case, bastien l o v e s them. even the scary ones

Insp

click the link !

Playlist

orange trees - marina

le monarque des indes - pierre lapointe

be my baby - the ronettes

harvest moon - neil young

sweet creature - harry styles

at last - etta james

buttercup - hippo campus

semaphore - requin chagrin

home again - first aid kit

motivation - normani

dream a little dream of me - doris day

#* about #* intro

8 notes · View notes

blandmemoirs · 6 years

Text

Anger

Rage, Fury, Fire, Pain, Momentum, Energy, unyielding emotion. When I am angry my mind is clear of all the torment of anxiety or doubt. I become objective driven, I become focused, I become energized. I am filled with a burning passion to move, and to never stop moving.

In days of old, my anger would manifest through methods of lashing out. Of attacking, of punching back, of inflicting pain on that which upset me. This is unproductive. To hurt another as a result of your frustration is unjustified. It doesnt make a situation better. It makes it worse. It builds further resentment between yourself and the person you are angry at. It prevents solutions. It causes more hurt. I learned this a long time ago and understand it today. I cannot swear to pacifism, but I will not resort to violence unless my safety or the safety of those I love is directly threatened.

I made a choice a few years ago to use my anger productively. If I am to become angry, I cannot lash out. I cannot hurt other people. I have to use it to be productive. Anger, like any emotion, is a flare of passion in the body and mind. It is energy, and it can be redirected in ways that dont further a cycle of violence. That is what I live to prove.

I am an angry person. I get angry, often. Its not a new development in my life. It has followed me since my childhood. Its sources are numerous. I cant attribute it to any one cause or happening. I have always been angry.

I know this because in kindergarten, I would pick fights with other children, often. Just random, chaotic violence. I enjoyed it. I liked hurting other people. Then I would go home to more violence. This time from my parents into me as discipline for my actions. My parents would belt me for more than just violence, it could come from me simply acting out. Sometimes I was spared the physical harm by recieving emotional harm from furious yelling. My parents taught me anger and violence, and their resorting to violence taught me to resort to violence. Might made right. I shouldnt put all of my problems on my parents, but they wear a substantial amount of blame for the way I learned to cope and act.

My father is an angry man. He grew up in harsh conditions with a harsh family that put him through worse than I've ever lived through. He made sure to tell me that anytime I voiced the tyranny in his actions. He resents his older brother, doesnt like his father, and has spent much of his life failing. Deep in debt from his own mistakes, bearing the blame for a fractured household and broken marriage, he is full of anger. He takes out his anger on those weaker than him. From the dogs he can kick when they bark too loud, to the children he can endlessly insult and shout at for minor transgressions. All made worse by alcoholism to cope. My father is not a bad man, but an incredibly flawed and broken one. He does make efforts to redeem and be better, but he has not yet atoned for his actions, and the marks he has left on his children will linger whether he accepts it or not.

My mother is an angry woman. Raised in a split household between parents who live irresponsibly and resent each other. She was a rebellious youth who took her own childhood away when I was conceived. A child raising a child. A lack of freedom as her life is indebted to my survival and later, two more. Dead end job to dead end job. A broken marriage and a dysfunctional family she is forced to raise with no individual progress to be attained. She resents her circumstances. She desires higher living and a fate she can control. She takes out her anger on those weaker than her. From the dogs she can hit to the children she can scream at for "negativity". All made worse by alcohol and weed. My mother is not a bad woman, she is just an incredibly flawed and broken one. A girl who became a mother too quickly. An independent soul tethered to a path of dependence. She makes efforts to be better, but often furthers a rift she created. Her anger will be remembered in the hearts of her children.

I do not know the true extent of my parents lives, I only know what I have seen, been revealed, and assumed. I know one thing for certain, they are examples of how not to grow up. The anger they live with is an anger I live with. To tame their beasts they drink and lash out, I must be better.

Which is why I cling so desperately to the example set for myself by the Incredible Hulk, my favorite character. A genius with deep emotional trauma turned into a monster fueled by rage. Dr Robert Bruce Banner must learn to live with the monster that dwells inside him. The Hulk, limitless rage personified, is a monster that does not want to hurt people, but just wants to be left alone among his friends. He is violent, but only because he recieves violence. The monster is capable of reason, of morality, of seeing through the surge of rage to know what is right and what is wrong. As such, the Hulk chooses to be a hero, to save and protect the innocent and to smash those who do evil. Bruce Banner must live with his anger, to know when it is right to let the beast out and to understand when smashing is the wrong option.

Banner has spent most of his life trying to rid himself of the Hulk, but the Hulk is not something Banner can live without. The Hulk is a part of Bruce, is a piece of his damaged psyche which will always exist. The gamma radiation only externalized these features.

Hulk also resents Banner, and wishes he could exist without him. Hulk doesn't like Banner's weak manner and conniving mind. Hulk doesn't like being locked up in a cage in the back of Banners mind. Hulk wants to be free and Hulk wants to be left alone.

These two characters are inseparable, and two sides of the same coin. Hulk is a manifestation of Banners trauma and repressed anger. Hulk is a destructive force of passion that can be directed to do good. These entities must coexist, for they need each other.

What does this have to do with me? In a less hyperbolic manner, my rage is a part of me. It does not go away. It never ends. It is a piece of my heart and mind. It is a force that makes me want to destroy all that causes harm to those I love. Anger does not cease within the chaotic storm that is my heart, it persists and waits for its time to possess me. When I am angry my body tenses, my eyes focus, my heart beats at rapid pace, my stomach churns, my body shakes. At its worst I lose sight and see nothing but flashes of red as I convulse into shivers of rage. When control of my body is returned the next moment, my mind is clear and I am energized in a way almost as potently as when I am in love. I can do almost anything. It is raw adrenaline. I move faster, harder, and with more force and precision than when I am in a normal state. I make objectives and carry them through. I become a machine fueled by limitless rage. It can almost be addicting. Sometimes I have so much force locked inside I feel an urge to scream. I often repress it for the sake of keeping attention away from myself. Anger makes me more effective in my work. Be it my actual job, my writing, or editing. I am so focused, creative forces flow, all through the red lense of rage. Sometimes I run, sometimes I drive, sometimes I channel this energy into speaking. An endless monologue or a consoling speech to a friend in need. For that is the true root to my rage. A friend in pain. When a friend is hurt, I flare up. The closer and more important my friend, the angrier I get. The angrier I get the more energy I have and the more I cant stop moving. My foot tapping, my leg bouncing, I pace. Anger does not debilitate me, it gives me more ability than I know what to do with.

It is not just that a friend is in pain, it is that I cant do anything to stop it. I can't do anything to change their cirumstance. I cannot save them from their suffering because the forces that hurt them are out of my control, out of my influence. I can only console, and console I do, even as rage paves the way of my actions.

When my anger releases its possession of me, I am left to deep introspection and concern. Did I do enough? Did I help? Did I do anything? Why was I angry? I feel rejuvenated, almost born anew. The passion has retreated to my internal self, and I am left feeling cool and calmer. Sometimes, in truly helpess circumstances, I feel empty. I was not enough. I didn't do enough. Worst, when my anger was used unproductively, I feel guilty. Knowing I was wrong and unjust. It is a betrayal to myself to use anger to harm others.

Today I was made angry at the hurt of one of the most important people in my life whom I care deeply for. Their circumstances are far beyond my powers to control, and they themself live far from me. The only thing I can do is send my love and support in the form of text or voice. It never feels like enough. My anger possesses me, and the temptation to strike out at the world that causes such endless pain for my loved ones exists. A random act of violence to atone for the wrongs done to another. That is not right. There is no justice in that. There is no good to come from it. So instead I made my objective to work harder, to make more money in my shift and to ensure my immediate environment was taken care of. I wished every coworker safe travels and good nights, I greeted and enthusiastically interacted with customers and pedestrians who gave me the time. Spreading good energy and doing good for others while powered up with this anger made for a more productive day. When the anger finally relinquished, I began typing. To explain, and to document for myself. I can do good with the frustration I feel. I can be a good man.

I understand this all very intimately now. A younger, less introspective Robbie did not. I got angry, had so much energy and power in my palms I only thought to make a fist. I would then use those fists for causes of pain and revenge, sometimes on undeserving parties. It built a guilt deep inside me that I will never forgive myself for. I can only be a better person now. Instead of making a fist I pick up a pen, or more truthfully I grab a keyboard. Words, endless words, inspired by anger and made real through my choices to funnel that rage.

I am inseparable from my anger. My anger is a part of me. I have to own it, and I have to admit to it. I cant live in fear of myself for what can happen when I lose control, as rare as such an occurence is. I have to instead use it to be productive, and clean up what messes I make with it. And I will make messes. I will hurt people. It is inevitable for an emotion as potent as anger. Sometimes the lense of rage prevents us from seeing reality as fairly as we might. Sometimes a fist is formed.

It is my responsibility and my burden to bear. I cannot blame others for my own nature. I can not allow myself to resent others for who I am. When I am made angry, instead I must find a way to resolve my conflicts and make good.

The Hulk has been saving the world for decades through his anger, and I can do the same. Its not easy. Living with yourself and accepting yourself is hard for some people who look deep into themselves enough. I used to cage this monster, to repress it. It would always free itself and come to the surface. Pent up aggression and bitterness blinds anger and creates pain. Instead, I will live with this intensity I call my anger, and I will continue to live to make it productive, for the benefit of myself and my friends.

I should not hate myself because I am angry. My anger is rooted in the love I have. There is nothing wrong with being angry unless I choose to hurt others with it. That is a choice I will not make unless the other is someone of truly abominable character.

Robbie Bland is an angry person, but he is not a bad person because of it. Make your anger productive. 'Nuff said. Thanks for reading.

1 note · View note

somedaypast-thesunset · 6 years

Text

this mentally ill person causes an extreme amount of chaos in my life which is completely not needed because although i lack certain things - i could probably get by without them. like im going to be sad and whatever but im not going to die and ill find a way to live.

but their illness absolutely causes many of my issues to be triggered which does not in anyway allow me clarity in the moment because i am still working on my issues. and heres what i can give to myself: i never ran away. ive been knocked down and shit on and dragged through the mud and as much as ive even wanted to - ive never run away and i never gave up. this is my strength. this is the resilience.

i have alot of complex feelings about this and i want to not entangle all of them into this giant lump of grief and sadness but to address each part of it and work through each part on its own to complete the big picture. and i feel im doing this in my own life like ive gone from complete mental break downs to just being really sad. my immediate thought is not ‘i want to fucking die’. like maybe i feel this way and its one of the thoughts but its not the first one. its not the overwhelming one anymore. and i cant even express how this has made things better for me. i am able to cope so much moe when im not in an anxiety attack like death could truly be imminent just by my own hands.

like heres an overwhelming fact: no one will ever give a fuck. no one will ever really want to help.

one day im sure ill be romantically surprised by the prince charming that changes everything for me but until that day comes - ive spent a decade involved in other peoples lives because i have no life of my own. i have no family, no traditions, no holidays. no one can join me for a thing - i join them.

and heres another overwhelming fact: this is not remotely fair. i was dealt a really shitty hand and its not fair but nothing changes this. nothing changes that its not fair. i will not get my parents back. i will not have a family i grew up with. its not fair. this is just a fact, not whining - it’s not fair that this happened. and of course “life is not fair” but its truly not fair to have your parents die at an early age. its not fair to have a child die young. theres many not fairs. its just .. not fair.

what do i do with this information? this is like .. a real turning point to make.

i guess to start, how do i feel? and i feel... sad. and frustrated. and lke.. i wish the world was a better place. im angry that like.. people really take for granted what they were just handed and i dont know how to stop being super bitter about it. im not even pissed i didnt live a glamorous life but the older i get the more i realize that my parents were completely and totally unfit parents to their core. and like this is so hard to admit because i loved my father soo much and this person did so much for me and my ungrateful mother but he did so little as well.

and i repeat this cycle. i was given such little attention as a child that i am absolutely grateful for something i should have gotten purely out of love. like why do i walk around with “i never asked for this” tattooed on me? since i was a small child i just felt like - wow i never asked to be here you know. like im not TRYING to be here. i was just popped out of the womb and now im like this giant burden to your life and like my mother didnt care at all and she held sooo much resentment towards me. and this is what i knew. this is all i have ever known in my whole life. mentally ill people who are completely incapable of caring for anoter human being making me an intregal part of their lives.

and what really has confounded me for years is whether or not i am mentally ill. like is everyone around me crazy or am i the crazy one? and its like -- no one knows the isolation ive had except me. and they take this as like being lazy or unsociable but ive been terrified to go out and interact with people because am i the crazy one or are they?

but as i get older i realize i honestly may not be the mentally ill person. how could one ever tell this when ive been under duress since i was 3? its not that i am mentally ill its that im reacting to my surroundings like any normal human being. i am not psychotic or paranoid, i dont have delusions or an ego. im actually, i believe, a pretty fine and sane person who appears mentally ill under these scenarios. i thought i had a mood disorder - no, i just live an extremely stressful life. and have for like two decades. of COuRSE i feel different things quickly and without regard. of COURSE. thats a REACTION to the scenario, usually of which is completely abnormal.

and there is not a single person in my life to pat my back and be like hey, its okay to feel this way you know. its okay that youre angry. its okay that youre sad. ive begun developing the voice in my head that will be this person. i realized its the only way i will be able to survive. when ram dass said you are not your depression, i realized i am not any of my emotions. i am just feeling these things. and there is a reason why i am feeling them. im not just waking up rying to feel this way. thre is a root problem.

but when you are surrounded by mentally ill people, they suck you into their illness and you react to this. so not only do i have my own issues im dealing with seperately on my own but now i have these issues coming up begging to trigger certain emotions and thoughts in me which really are not issues im capable of dealing with because IM not a therapist or a trained professional and i can barely navigate my own life right now. but i work especially hard not to have this fall on other people. i understand that i was handed this deck. no one else was handed it. this is for me to do what im going to do with it. so i blame no one for me not having parents. it is no ones responsibility to fill their roles. or even be a family member to me.

for example; hearing constantly about how this political system doesnt work or poor people are disadvantaged or the city is corrupt etc. -- all facts im well aware of which linger in my mind on a daily basis which i have to fight with everything i have to get out of bed and keep doing something. but now i have it being reiterated to me as well on a regular basis and my desire to do anything has dwindled to nothing.

i have become trapped in this non relationship because it was easy for him to get what he wanted by giving me just a bit of what i wanted. he has been very very very selfish from the beginning because he knows he will not be monogamous or fulfill my emotional needs but continues to maintain this non relationship. he believes i am responsible because he “told me this” and i continued to be involved with a mentally ill person who spent all of his time with me, usually by his own choice because again, it was “easy for him”. he reiterated ENOUGH times that he believes i need to be cared for and that he has done everything he is currently possibly able to do within his own means to care for me.

but its kind of like .. this stray dog. like you know this dog needs care despite its survival on its own and you feed it every once in awhile maybe give it a bath, hang out with it for awhile but you never give the dog what it needs.

and also, you’re treating me like a dog. as if i have no emotional brain to feel what it’s like for someone to treat me like this. as if i dont know that you have a home. and you have all the things you need. and youre just feeding me scraps because you feel bad.

ive lost respect for him because hes running. its not even a jealousy issue becuse i know if i went away for three months and returned, all of my problems would still be there. my parents dont come back in thre months. he never tried to improve his situation and instead ran away from it and ive just lost alot of respect for him for doing that.

and if i cant respect him i dont know if i can even be his friend.

and he has not shown appropriate respect for my own issues either so what i am feeling right now is just an overall lack of respect for this person. like i still love them but i feel like i cant hold my own head high or like sleep at night knowing i dont respect this person but im still supporting them. its like nikki sixx. i dont respect him anymore and i probably will never support his projects again. but i had such a deep love and adoration and like i still have that first love kind of feeling like this person really influenced my life and i owe their character alot for my character but omg do i not respect him at all. could i never look at nikki sixx again?

no.

and thats the confliction. like it does not matter what he does at all. it matters what i do and what i decide upon this and how important he is to my life. i lost all respect for my ex when he cheated and lied. u know its the lieing. its not even the cheating. im not even mad about the cheating, its the lies for months on end. like what a mar on your character. thats who you are now. youre a person who lied. do i still look at him?

yes. do i still talk to him? no. did i talk to him? yes. because being so young i didnt know how i would feel in this scenario like this was anther nikki sixx. five years out of the gate - i would not watch video games to this day if i didnt have this relationship and this is like the most comforting thing in all of my life. like even beyond weed, the most comforting thing is just some guy playing video games. and thats only from my ex. i wouldve never developed this comfort in watching games had i not ha this experience. now thats apart of who i am. and i think about him atleast 10 - 20 times a month. easily. i think about the time we spent together, i think about how much i loved him, how much i loved his guitar playing - i felt really lucky at the time and that this would be the man i would marry and spend the rest of my life with. i wanted to do this.

and i talked to him because i wanted this sooooo bad i hoped that he could say or do something that would regain my respect and nothing he did or said made it any better. i never regained respect for him. and its because the action was already done. i dont think i could forgive an abuser, you know? like i dont think i could get punched in the fucking face and be like oh it was just one time they changed. they did not change at all they just learned to not do that again because the consequences are dire. the action is already done. you were a working brain of a person before you cocked your fist and then you completed the action and NOW you’re sorry? NOW you learned?

i think he is not a person right now you can currently admire or respect. and like nikki sixx, he gave me alot. like alot of negative experiences whch couldve been much worse that allowed me the opportunity to learn about myself. life is not fair and life couldve been some fucking piece of shit jamming a dick down my throat. and like for the position im in thats actually alot more likely to happen to someone like me so its lucky that i encountered some mentally ill jerk off living with his mother.

to be fair, i guess hes right - he hasnt BEEN someone to respect or admire. he has sat on his high horse while crying and then running away. and i cannot at any point n the future see myself saying “wow good job you abandoned all your responsibilities to work on yourself.” because again - you abandoned them; they werent taken from you. you took for granted what youve been given and then took advantage of your priviledge to “take a break from it” and that’s just not respectable in the least bit. no matter if you come out of this as jesus fucking christ - if jesus murdered a dude before he was crucified - fuck jesus.

i feel as the mostly not mentally ill person n ths situation as i look down upon it i see this person running away and realizing how much they took for granted and how poorly they treated me and the love that i actually provided to them. this of course will take weeks, if not months to realize as lonliness sets in and no one is really interested in being friends with someone mentally ill or he encounters similar situations.

what i feel like right now is that i have a choice. i could gamble upon my gut feeling whch could very well lead to repeating a cycle again; hes “not monogamous”. so even if he were to realize anything at all, it remains tht hes “not monogamous” and i would have to gamble two years worth of hearing that against it suddenly changing (it wont.)

or i could walk away and commit myself to the knowledge this person is mentally ill, unlikely to get better an caused a large amount of pain in my life so i should not maintain any communication with them because mentally i will always be thinking like.. i dont care. go fuck yourself. and in turn never provide them with anything they are looking for from me.

because i would also not detriment any future relationships with maintaing contact with him. not because i would be some cheater but because he has proven to make inappropriate and disrespectful comments to other peoples spouses when he has a failed relationship with the person. and i want to respect my future partner enough that they wont have to endure that kind of treatment from someone who thinks they know me on an intimate level.

i made a comment some weeks ago like i’m not going to walk away, i know you’re ill and unlike other people i’m not going to blame you for it. and he said that that had made him feel good and like he could lessen the anxiety of going away to work on his illness and then tonight he commented that i would probably “fuck off” within a few days of him leaving.

and then i think about asia o’hara. and how this is my only reference to anyone without parents in any circumstance that is moderately close to my age. and like all these things she does and says - i get it. i know where its coming from. and one of the last few thngs she said on the runway was that she was put on this earth to serve. and you will feel that way when you lose parents or they become ill before they die. you are here to serve an make other peoples lives better. and feel that. ive felt that. i felt that standing in my fathers living room realizing no one would ever know what this was. if i did not exist my fathers life wouldve been worse. so my existences purpose was to make his better. not to like go out and succeed and be amillionaire and put him in a house. but to serve, to make it my life to make another persons life better and i could expect absolutely nothing at all for it. like my life mightve gotten worse for it. but to this day i am not regretful at all. i couldve went to school and had luxurious jobs and did all the things. i couldve. but instead i stayed home and cared for this stubborn sick man who got up every day for 35 years at 4am to drive a transport truck on winter canadian highways for 14 hours a day. my existence was to see that. i was supposed to see that. i was put on this earth to see my fathers life and to honor that he existed and he worked and he lived and he breathed and people should know this.

she said, “ive learned that friendships have become extremely important and i treat them like family to me” and thats not wrong. thats another person just like me who is saying because i have no family, the people in my life are going to take a bigger step because i do not have the responsibilites or obligations to distract me from helping the greater good.

and m so sad. i could scream from teh top of my building how sad i am and cauterwall like a cat in heat. and im hurt. and im so many things.

but this sick man, who is leaving for months, took the time to ave this conversation because i began the threat that what we currently had was going to be over on his return. and we cannot define what this is. but if you believe you will return and i will be adoring and in love and fascinated and interested by all your tales - probably not. and he is saying, “i may never see you again”, “i cant make any commitments to you.” “i cant tell you whats going to happen” and the ease of the relationship has ended, and he is saying “we are broken up, this is not a relationship anymore” but the conversation continues. no.

no.

its not a conversation as i sit silently tears streaming down my face as he rants on and on about things, contradicting himself at every turn. and hes “angry” but hes not angry, and hes upset that he’s worried about me like he’s never been in love before. he’s upset he doesnt want to leave because hes worried about me like hes never been in love before. and it all sounds so .. psychotic. and he hangs up, and i call back and he answers and he doesnt want to do this and he cant do this and hes done everything he possibly can for me.

i could choose to put myself aside and serve the “greater good” of this person “becoming better”. and by doing this i take full acknowledgement that i could receive absolutely nothing in return. i could be shit on again. i coul watch this person fall in love with someone else (they will) and i have to have the strength to be happy for them because theyve reached “better”. i guess im like.. disappointed in myself that im not better than i thought i was because of my history. like i should be able to accept this opportunity to fulfill my fucking existence but im really ... begrudging my exstence because im still resentful for not getting anthing for my father.

like not like money or anythng but like you get literally nothing. no praise. people literally question whether you should even be applauded for it like it was your job anyways. and thats such a dark side to humanity that you have to remain positive and loyal and “happy” while witnessing all of this and carrying like the burdens this had all created for you.

and i guess i kind of lost respect but i dont think ram dass would say thats okay because i lost respect for the fact he became worn out by being a caregiver. but only a few people in the world are legitimately care givers. you have to truly have something in your soul in order to endure the care of others. and not everyone has this. this is why we have to like super respect nurses and people like that because they are care givers. we respect mothers because they are primary (usually) care givers. they are always obligated. mom has to be there, period. many women upon giving birth learn the trait of being a care giver. and like many women will live until they give birth being selfish ungiving pieces of shit and then spend the rest of their lives caring for someone else.

my care giving is an extremely respectable part of my character. if not the most respectable part. but i have lost alot of this trait over the past three years - i never asked my dad for anything in return. like yeah he already ~ gave me things but i never was like hey ill do ths an this for you if you give me 10$. like hes not paying me to do his groceries. hes not paying me to change his bandages. im not asking him to do that either. nor am i trading any service with him - i dont change hs bandage for him to make me lunch. i am just serving him as a care giver and you will not get anything in return and a good and true care giver expects nothing. i am no longer this person. i went kind of backwards in life and i worry now that maybe ive become sooo jaded that maybe i will never truly be a care giver again.

and of course. of course i dont need to at all give this care to a capable grown ass priviledged man. i absolutely do not. is this even the most deserving person?

i dont necessarily have to jump to a decision right now because the next three months will dictate it for me but i would love to break the cycle by making a commitment to myself on a decision/action i will take and living with the responsibility of that action because if you choose not to decide you still have made a choice.

and my gut says no. my depression says yes. my depression is very desperate and i think holds on to things that arent there. my gut says no, dont support ths person. our call ended with, “ill call you in a few days”. to which i feel like - why bother? i cant actually speak about how i feel about anything and ill just have to sit and listen to his stories about whatever the fuck he did. and i dont care. and i cant pretend to care and i cant pretend to be happy for his decision i barely respect.

i dont wan tto spend my summer looking forward to his calls, you know? i just want to let it go and have my mourning period and move on.

and maybe its shitty of me but i hope he feels guilty and i hope its hard for him. i do. because thats the result of a decision that cant be respected. and thats how you should feel when you go through with it. because honestly? none of this is real and its a projection of the fear of losing me. if it doesnt matter we wouldnt have had the conversation.

and yes, the moment he sleeps with someone else this will all be over for me. and thats the result of being involved with someone who is monogamous. thats a choice he made and will probably make and when youre a hundred miles away, i never have to care about you or choose to see you again. like even with my oshawa ex i fet like i hope he feels like shit. not because i want to be with him but beause he deserves to feel that way. it doesnt even benefit me. you just deserve it.

i do not regret not spending another night with a mentally ill person. i wish i couldve spent the last night with a person i loved but it wasnt able to happen.

he told me i should “take this as a wake up call” to have “more than him” in my life nd i dont believe at all thats what it is. its a wake up call to learn how to take care of myself - n all ways. like no one else can or will or should fulfill anything in my life, i should fulfill everything that i need. so that i make a choice as to who to be around. i will have to live more frugally and learn how to moderate my pleasures.

i am disappointed that again i feel like if i do talk to him that i will begin to lie because i want to be left alone. i do not want to be told what to do or that what im doing isnt enough. i jsut want to tell him what he wants to hear. like i want to tell him that ive gotten a job but the job is on a farm. i want to say that like im already doing what he said he wanted to do. and like i want to be fulfilled with myself so that when i lie and say that this farm is owned by some family who treated me kindly and i felt ths and this its just a personification of my self improvement. llike im half way into it anyways - i lie about a therapist to justify things i already fucking know but no one listens to me so i hve to make up ths story to make it sound like it didnt come from me and now its respectable.

so fine. ill ‘see a therapist’ and ‘go to work’. but again, i’m not really going to talk in detail about these things. and if he asks i would just tell him that its just something im doing and im not interested in talking about it. that it doesnt define me or anything in my life at all. it gives me an ongoing excuse to turn down phone calls or texts when im not prepared to answer them at that time as well. remaining silent is just not good enough.

ive been a very honest person in my life and i think its time for me to be selfish in order to et myself to the next step and it sounds really stupid to be dishonest to better myself and attempt to regain my care giving traits nd maybe itll all blow up in my face and ill learn a new lesson but for now this is how im going to sleep. i will tell him its my therapists advice not to talk to him about these things until weve established a mutually respectful way of communicating and if we dont it doesnt matter what i did or did not tell him because it literally doesnt matter. if he is capable of maintaining his own interest in my life then maybe ill open up more - he can either work towards that to be a mature, respectful human begin or disregard it and any sort of relationship between us. of course, the position is just a summer job, giving me an out if ths somehow lasts the summer.

tomorrow i have to go through excruciating pain - again for my fucking cyst and i have contract testing at some point and i really want to do these things on my own and grab my last weed for like a week and just exist. not for a week. id like to wake up and do shit on friday too. and i know so hard that depression will be the firs tthing i feel when i wake up. and as the days go on its going be even harder and sadder but i just have to figure it out an get myself through it.

0 notes