#i am incapable of making these before 10pm

[mailboxwithaletterinside]

Give me envy, give me malice, give me your attention. Give me envy, give me malice, baby, give me a break!

Time to Dance - Panic! At the Disco // Supernatural, 2005-2020.

[abcd-adventures]

Every morning, I sneak downstairs like a freakin' NINJA, in the dark, to get my coffee and sneak back upstairs. I use my phone flashlight to make the coffee downstairs. I know and avoid every creaky floorboard. You've never known anyone so stealthy...I swear B just senses that I'm awake.

I CRAVE silence and four-year-olds are just biologically programmed to be incapable of silence. He has not slept past 5:15 a single day in two weeks. I am already exhausted. I can't get up any earlier than 5am or I won't be a functional human, but I also can't continue this track of zero time alone.

Yesterday was the last day of the month and I still had SO MANY notes to enter before the EOM cut-off and the husband just immediately went out to the garage after dinner and started doing one of his woodworking projects so I got to do bedtime which was not on the agenda...and...just...fuck. Our online chart system is SO SHITTY and takes so long to save each entry that I was working until 10pm.

I am grumpy.

[16ruedelaverrerie]

Rest of messages in thread not included for reasons of mortifying inadequacy on my part! Anon you sent this in on August 22. I just want to type that out loud so that I can nail my shame to my front door like Martin Luther with his 95 Theses, except every thesis is "Nat can't fucking answer a single thing in an even vaguely timely manner". I would say I'm sorry for what I have become, but the truth is that I was ever thus. I'm sorry for what I have always been.

I'm sorry as well that it is so hard to find me across platforms because I have a thousand different usernames! Some of it used to be intentional, but intent or none, it functions as a real pain in the ass and I apologize. I've been trying to address this issue via the sidebar link on this blog and the cross-platform links in the author's notes on AO3, but we could have avoided all this if I had just stuck to a single identifying name. Still, DESPITE MY BEST EFFORTS TO THE CONTRARY, I'm so glad that you found me! Not least because it has led to you sending this absolute conflict-free lab-grown diamond necklace of messages! Thank you so so so much 😭💕 It's hard for me to explain this in a sensible manner, but my slowness in answering genuinely is in large part because the message means so much to me. I want to save the act of answering for a moment when I can feel articulate enough to do some justice to the kindness you have shown me, but then it's 10PM every night when I finish writing work emails and I am incapable of stringing two words together. Tomorrow, I think, I will try again! And then it's another 10PM and another 10PM and more than two months goes by before I have to accept that I will never feel articulate enough to respond the way that you deserve. That would be true at any other time of day, besides!

But thank you. I hope that you can stick around for the frustratingly glacial pace at which I do anything at all; what I lack in output, I make up for in stubbornness. One day, 88 will be a complete fic, even if I have to break my own bones to do it. (Please don't ask me the perfectly legitimate question of why broken bones would facilitate fic writing. It is a statement about the strength of my resolution, but it is an incomprehensible statement.)

This is such an interesting question! HOW DID I? I'm combing through my (admittedly blurry) autobiographical memories, but I can't seem to find a particular originary point for reading. Saying "I've always been a reader" is so boring, and it implies a certain kind of relationship with literature that I don't think I actually have-- I didn't particularly gravitate towards reading at the expense of other activities, and I read such a hodgepodge mixture of stuff that I can't fathom what it was about the act of reading that I actually enjoyed. And now, well, I read almost exclusively for work, to the degree that the thought of reading for pleasure makes me recoil.

The writing, I do have an originary point for. I was in elementary school, and my class had recently held a small creative writing competition; we were at an age where it was embarrassing to try very hard to achieve anything, so I blew it off, because I had to perform coolness due to it not coming naturally to me. Our homeroom teacher announced the winner, and asked that they read out loud their winning entry for the rest of the class. They did, and I remember thinking very clearly: This is fine, but I could do it better if I tried.

This is a story that is immensely unflattering to me-- or rather, it's a devastatingly accurate portrayal of me. It contains all the seeds of my worst qualities as a writer and a human being: competitiveness in something I consider myself to be proficient at, the need for external validation, baseless arrogance. But when I found myself being so hideously jealous of that kid, it wasn't primarily jealousy over the fact that they had won something; I was jealous that they had this stage time to show people what the world looked like to them. I felt robbed of the chance to connect with people in that way. Of course, no one robbed me of anything -- I chose to pretend that I was too cool for school -- and there was absolutely no reason to think that I would have won the competition and gotten that stage time for myself, even if I had tried as hard as I could. But still, it got me writing. Not because I had anything to say, but because whatever banal cut-rate shit I would end up saying, I just wanted someone else to hear it and tell me that I made sense to them. That's still why I do it, I think.

Seeing as how my twitter is just my tumblr with 100% less overwrought rambling, I can't decide whether you had a worse experience or a better one than binging this blog instead! On the one hand, I can't recommend the overwrought rambling; on the other hand, what's left after the overwrought rambling is excised is still just a lot of mid art determined to insist that dick jokes comprise an entire genre of creative output. IT'S DISMAL EITHER WAY! But it's too late for you! (Thank you.)

Anon!!!!! The very FACT THAT YOU SENT ME A ONE PIECE MESSAGE!!! My past in One Piece fandom is a really deep cut in that it very rarely comes up on this blog, so I'm super pleased that you thought of me!!!!!!!!!! 💖

Tragically, I have still not watched it. I KNOW, PLEASE DON'T THROW ME OUT OF THIS PORTHOLE. I agree wholeheartedly with you-- I'm thrilled that it got new fans into OP, and that it was made with so much visible love! I wouldn't say that I'm someone who is ever looking for live action versions of stuff -- if push came to shove, I'd probably admit that I don't necessarily see the inherent appeal of live action adaptations -- but it makes me truly happy to hear all the enthusiasm and praise for this one!!! Me not watching it yet mostly has to do with the aforementioned "it's 10PM when I finish writing work emails" problem.

As someone who is unfortunately very well-acquainted with what I am into (or so I must presume, by the sheer miracle of you sending me an OP message), it probably comes as no surprise to you that the single most affecting piece of promotional media that I encountered was a teaser clip from the Baratie arc. Anon when I tell you THE BREATH CAUGHT IN MY THROAT. THE BARATIE SHOT LIKE A RESTAURANT SHOW!!!! THE BARATIE!!!!!!!! WHERE MY SON WAS RAISED! HIS FISH-HEADED NURSERY! MY SON! THE DARLING OF THE BARATIE! A KITCHEN PACKED TO THE GILLS WITH SHORT TEMPERS! THE THORN IN THEIR SIDE! THE APPLE OF THEIR EYE! CRADLED TO SLEEP BY THE WATERS THAT TOOK HIM IN! GENTLED TO WARMTH BY A COMMERCIAL GAS RANGE! THE BRINE-SWEET CHILDHOOD HOME OF MY SON!!!!!

One Piece was so early for me that I can't even distinguish what came first, my Sanji bias or my commercial kitchen obsession. What remains crystal clear is that I am predictable in my perversions. I will watch it, anon. Someday hopefully soon.

[alexlabhont]

I didn’t mean to fall in love with you

Chapter Four.

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe)

Pairing:  Poppy Min-Sinclair x Trans!Male MC (Beck Hughes)

Genre: Canon re-write (Because I can)

Rating: Anyone can read it, really

I´ll be posting this one over here because Tumblr, for some reason, thinks my secondary blog is a bot...

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes)

Now, about the PAIRING... I will be using choices style, kinda, because I want to give you choice at some point. If you have any comment, PLEASE BE RESPECTFULL and patient with me. This is also my first english fanfic and english is not my mother language, so... i’m sorry fo the grammar errors

CHAPTERS

The beginning

Chapter one 

Chapter two

Chapter three

ONE-SHOTS

Just a dance (Zoey x MC)

—————————————————————— 

“What the hell are you doing?”

Zoey Wade. The nerve of this girl of interrupt her meal. Poppy took the time to leave her fork down before bury her gaze into the other girl.

“I should be asking you the same thing. Who do you think you are to talk to me?” She asked exasperated.

So far she was doing good, the last details of her plan were tuned, the day to destroy Chloe and take back her very deserved number one place had come. The excitement she get every time she made a perfect move in order to obtain what she wants was in her veins, but of course, something had to happen. Or someone.

“Don’t play the fool, Poppy. It doesn't suit you. I'll ask once again: What are you doing with Beck?”

“Oh, what do we have here…?” She thought, intrigued.

“I’m sorry, did you crashed your head against the pavement or why do you think I owe you an explanation?” Poppy pushed her salad aside, her appetite completely gone because of the insolence. This Nobody thought she could come and disrespect her in her own spot of the cafeteria like they were in the same level. Zoey was seriously stupid. “Whatever me and Beck are doing is not you fucking business, Wade. Why don’t you just get a life a little less pathetic and go on with it.”

The spark in Zoey’s eyes changed, a little mix between anger and a cold serious look that, Poppy had to admit, scare her for a split second and then… jealousy? The other girl leaned on the table towards her, threatening, trying to intimidate her, but Poppy stood still, not giving her the pleasure to give in to her ridiculous games. Especially feeling all those eyes over them, people murmuring and whispering. She couldn’t let her have her way.

“Listen very closely, Min-Sinclair: I care about Beck and we all here agree you’re a selfish bitch. I know you’re not up to something good, so I will do everything on my power to make sure Beck’s far away from you claws.” That was so ridiculous that Poppy cracked a smile, making fun of Wade. She couldn't even be mad with a clown like her. “I’m telling you now, back off…”

The two of them kept that position a few second, a fight between wills neither of them wanted to loose. Finally, was Zoey the first to walk away, falsely believing her message was received.

Oh, Zoey… as if you could do something to stop her from her aims.

“Hey, Zoey?” Poppy called, the daggers in her mouth ready to hurt her really bad. “Why would anyone be interested in you while they have me?” Zoey stopped immediately, the strike hitting the spot. Poppy smirked, understanding everything right in the moment. Zoey likes Beck, it was so clear it actually felt cliché

“Ha! This must be entertaining.” Poppy thought, enjoying the effect of her words in Zoey.

“You’re just a three-digit fool who hasn't learn her place. Why don't you save yourself from humiliation and forget about Beck completely?” The strawberry blonde smiled at Zoey with a friendly smirk. “You know? My day with them yesterday was really good, so I'm feeling generous.” Poppy took her things and walked to be face to face with Zoey, who was getting red from frowning. “I’m forgetting about everything you just said and giving you a second chance. You see? I’m making you a favor! Your welcome, sweetie.” She added with an obviously pretentious voice before going out the cafeteria.

Even though she looked calm and perfect as always, inside Poppy was furious.

How she dares!

What the hell was wrong with that loser? Does she really was that horny for Beck?

“Well… if she was, I couldn't really blame her…” Poppy thought.

She wasn’t lying back at the shelter; she really thought they were cute. The way they looked at the animals, that stupid, goofy smile and congratulations Beck gave the puppies and kittens everytime Piper told them they did a great job. Poppy had a lot of fun doing the commercial, so much so she couldn’t help but be so honestly involved in the making, enjoying every part of it, in fact, Beck was different from how they’re act in Belvoire everytime they both meet.

They weren’t infuriating, insulting, a ranking climber, selfish dude who played the game even better than she expected. Actually, while having lunch, Beck was… fine. A big asshole from time to time but in a funny way. Pretending to be so nice and shit was actually easier than she thought around Beck, she was even glad to have them now at ten spot. Definitely she did a good choice.

But now, Zoey had to come and ruin her everything. And it actually pissed off Poppy badly. Beck didn’t need a personal protector, and Poppy didn’t need competition. She believed it would be easier to have Beck, at first she thought it was because they were trans, she read about it online: most people wouldn't date a trans person because… reasons.

But Belvoire proved to be different: it turns out Beck had a lot of friends, and a lot of girls daydreaming about them as usually they do around Alphas, admiring them secretly while doing exercises in the gym, trying to dance with them in parties… but Beck refused all of them. They were shy, they looked uncomfortable with anyone.

Anyone except Zoey Wade.

The both were really close, always together like Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Before all this, the very same Poppy had seen them hugging, flirting and practicing music together. Still, the strawberry blonde never thought of her as a threatening opponent. But now, Zoey Wade just make herself a target to eliminate, maybe not this time, after all, she did give her a second chance. She was a woman behind her own word.

But… She still had to do something. So she quickly took off her phone, typing a message to the matter at hand.

Poppy:

So here’s the plan

I'll need you to meet me at this address at 10pm sharp

Don't disappoint me, tushi-face 😏

She waited a few seconds, almost a minute. What took them so long?

Tushi-face🤡:

What? Why?

Poppy:

You'll have to trust me 😉

She looked at her screen, waiting for Beck’s answer. What were they doing? Texting Zoey? Her patience was running low when a little buzz alerted her.

Tushi-face🤡:

This can't be good. I'm not going

Were they serious?! Beck was playing with her kindness more than they should. No good at all.

Poppy:

Coward 🙄

Tushi-face🤡:

I'm not a coward

Quick answer. Poppy smirked mischievously. Beck always gave her a lot of information to work with, so transparent it was almost a sin to take advantage of it. Almost.

Poppy:

Prove it 💅🏻

Typing… typing… nothing… typing… typing…

Tushi-face🤡:

I’m going to regret this, am I?

Poppy:

Sending the location now

With a smug smile, Poppy send to Beck the location where the Club Malibu was. It was a exclusive place where only the elite could go. Yes, she said Zoey was temporarily off limits… but she didn't say she wouldn't be taking her chances up.

Tushi-face🤡:

Clubbing? Not my kind of place really

Poppy:

Ew, when you put it like that you sound so boring

Tushi-face 🤡:

Why do you want me there anyways?

Poppy:

All in due time, Farmsville

All in due time 😘

~~X~~

Poppy check the hour in her phone once again, it was almost 10 pm and she was already expecting Beck to show up because of the paranoia. Her foot tapping repeatedly against the floor it was the proof everyone around her needed to know she was nervous. What the hell took them so long? Did Beck decided to ditch her last minute?

Was it Zoey Wade´s fault?

She swore to god she´ll kill the girl after a humiliating and memorable reve…

“Could you calm down already? They already here” She heard Bradley say and immediately look right at the door, where Beck was being escorted to the V.I.P. area just like she asked for.

Damn, the dude knew their ways.

Beck was looking fucking hot, the black scheme really suits them and the way the shirt showed his muscles caused a lot of eyes stick to them as thirsty bastards. To top it all, the song playing in the back and Beck´s expressions were on point to make them look sexy as hell. Feeling a pang of jealousy, Poppy frowned. At what point will this bitches stop looking Beck like a piece of meat? Disgusted, Poppy stood up from her seat, very willing to show all these whores who they were competing against. With a sexy and confident smirk, the strawberry blonde walked towards Beck, sashaying her hips seductively, quickly catching Beck´s gaze.

And she loved it.

She could see the gasp, how the air escaped their lungs and redness taking over their face. Oh how she adored to cause that effects in Beck, all those girls didn’t have a chance. Embracing their strong arm, Poppy smile at them leaning her body against them, drawing a property line.

“Hey there, Tushi-face. I´m glad to see you´re not totally incapable of following directions.” She greeted them, leading the way to the exclusive section.

“Nice to see you too, Poppy.”

“Really? That was all?”

“I have to say… You´re looking fine tonight”

“Yeah, that´s what I thought”

“Is that your attempt at flattery, Farmsville?” She was not going easy on them.

“I´m not stupid enough to try and flatter you. I was just stating facts.” Oh god, that was so cliché she even scoffed. How many times have her hear that before? But something about Beck being the one to say it, turned her perfect pout into a haughty smile. As she was saying, pretending with Beck was easy, it came to her naturally, effortless.

“Maybe you´re more observant than I gave you credit for. I like it. And I have to say, I´m shocked. For once you don’t look completely unfortunate. And here I thought you were a total lost cause.” She joked, smiling just like before while having lunch.

“Wow, back to squared one already with sucking compliments?” Beck smirked, a total funny jerk.

“Try not to push your luck, Farmsville. You don´t want to be on my bad side, again.”

“Really? I don’t see the difference.” They pointed out, testing her. Poppy came closer to them, completely pressing her body against Beck´s arm, letting them feel her heat, her breast, her perfume. The distance between the two was so close that Poppy could feel their fresh breath, her own heart beating fast, excited as she whispered in their ear.

“Stay with me through the night and I promise I´ll give you a taste of the differences…”

Their dilated pupils, the small, imperceptible shiver in their body and that cute yet sexy gesture in their face that appeared after Poppy move away was all she needed to see. She actually liked them…

And she was gonna have them.

-----

Next

[darks-ink]

I am physically incapable of writing before 10pm but I also rapidly lose coherency after 11 - 11.30 pm. So really the challenge is to get in as much writing as possible within that one hour and then milk it as long as possible until my writing really stops making sense.

[prorevenge]

Destroy my childhood, ruin my chance at college, and laugh when I said I was homeless? Lol cool, I'll ruin your f*cking life.

warning: this is a VERY long story with few updates and TL:DR at the end.

BACKSTORY: My mother was a really shitty person. I have 4 other siblings. One older sister, 3 way younger, 3 different dads. Before I was born (im a male btw), my oldest sister was taken away from my mother when she was a few months old because she tried to stab/slice the father of my sister WHILE HE WAS HOLDING HER. She lost custody and the dude left her. Older sister goes to live with her fathers family in a different city. CUE LIL OL ME COMING INTO THIS SEXY WORLD. My dad went to jail 2-3 years after I was born for a while, I rarely saw him. He's an alcoholic if that matters. She was a single mother but she made it work and she worked hard. One of the bigger problems was that she took out all her aggression and hatred of my father on me as well as work stress and etc. She dealt with sexual abuse growing up which I'm sure definitely affected her relationships and how she treated me as well. Anyways...

Cue me being abused from the age of 4-5 to about 17. Every day was hell. She was extremely strict and her perspective was warped. She was also pretty big in stature and had alot of strength. Examples of her being shitty: I've gotten beaten up badly once because HER room was dirty. The dishes weren't washed and I got beaten soon as I got home, even if there weren't dishes when I left to school. If i walked too loud, id get my ass beat. She broke my nose for looking at her the wrong way on my 10th birthday when she brought me a cake I was allergic too(It had peanuts, she knows im slightly allergic but feigned ignorance..) It was more or less every day or every other day. She used her fists/elbows/extension cords/hangers/chairs/canes/bats/etc. Whatever she could find I was getting beaten with. I couldn't ever escape to my room for long because she would always call me every few minutes to get her things or to yell at me. She never drank or did drugs or anything. Whenever she was upset and I happened to be in front of her she'd kick me down the stairs to make me hurry up. She's put a knife to my neck before and had to be forcibly stopped by her bf of the time. Burned my Christmas presents from other people (she didnt get me anything that year) and just other really shitty things. The only thing I will say, she tried really hard to make up for it with video games and electronics and etc. It didn't make a difference to me though, it never helped.

She controlled most aspects of my life. I got by with little petty revenges. Peeing in the Lipton iced tea she drank. Rubbing her forks and spoons between ny buttcheeks before i served her dinner. Ignoring her screams for help when she had kidney stones (how tf am i supposed to help anyways??) But by the time i got to highschool I turned to alcohol. I resented her and the negative atmosphere affected who I was as a person. I started to be cold and uncaring. Calculated. She started kicking me out every few months telling me to find somewhere else to live by age 15. She sent me away to a different country for a year and tried to keep my passport but I made it back to the US with the help of the embassy and my step father (she'd already left by that time and found some other dude). I came back senior year with no credits for the prior grade which ended with me getting a GED. I spent most of the time i could with my best friend and started working shitty jobs. I was terrible at saving as i had accumulated loads of shitty habits while growing up so it didnt make much difference. She eventually told me that If i went to college, I would ALWAYS have a place to live until I finished. Cue my first 2 semesters at a 2 year college, I maintained a 3.7ish gpa. My teachers loved me and it was my escape. Towards the end of my 2nd semester during finals, i came home late one night around 10pm and my mother yanks the door open screaming in my face asking when I'll move out. I'm slightly drunk and decide to completely ignore her and walk to my room. If I opened my mouth, that day would be the day I blew up and cursed her out. I've rarely ever raised my voice at her because it never ended well. Now at this point im 19 and I've been doing school full time with no savings. Im also fairly fit and could easily take my mom at this point (Never laid a hand on her or any woman, i hate violence). I get to my room, she rips my door open, and starts yelling. I say nothing and stare at her. She walks away and called the police on me saying she thought id murder her and my younger siblings. I don't know where the fuck she got that idea from as she's the one who's nearly killed me many times.

I packed everything into a duffle bag and left 5 minutes afterwards. I failed all of my finals because I couldn't make it to my school. Things kinda spiraled and the next 2-3 years were me on and off homeless. I survived the best I could in a big city with no college degree and made a lot of shitty choices due to my shitty habits. Eventually i found a profitable hobby that gave me meaning and through that i started to work my way up. Got my own apartment, had a full time job, and did my hobby on the side. I hadn't kept up contact with my mother at all but my younger sister who was old enough to have a phone found me on social media so i saw photos and such, she didn't have it anywhere near as bad but she did get beaten occasionally. My mother reached out via email all smiles asking how I've been. Now guys, ive always been envious of the relationship most ppl have with their moms so I gave her a chance and gave her a call. We talked for a few minutes and everything was civil and seemed like things would go okay but then...

She asked me what I've been up to the last few years and I told her honestly, that I was homeless for a while and struggled a lot after what she did to me but I worked my way out of it. SHE LITERALLY LAUGHS. She laughed for a few seconds in a very condescending kinda chuckle and then said "I never did a thing to you so you don't know what abuse is! its your own damn fault you were homeless. So how about yo-" but by that point I hung up. I was speechless and fuming. I don't know what abuse is? OKAY BITCH. IVE SPENT TOO FUCKING LONG LETTING YOU DESTROY MY SANITY. NOW IS THE TIME.

There was a few things my mother didn't know. One, I knew for a fact that current well paying job she had was gotten on lies as she never got her college degree and lied about it on her resume. Two, I had access to all of her email accounts and cloud storage accounts since I was the one that set them up when I was younger and she never changes her passwords. Lastly, she DEFINITELY wasn't aware that from 13yrs old and onto the last time she hit me I took photos of ALL my bruises/marks/wounds/bloody noses saving them to my computer and then google drive. ON TOP OF THAT, my little sister had been sending me photos via social media of the bruises she got from my mom.

The first thing I did was compile ALL of those photos/videos into one folder. I then reached out to CPS in my city and explained that my siblings were being abused, how I was abused in the past, and that I had mountains of proof. Since ive called the cops on my mother before AND the thing that happened with my older sister, there was immediately a home visit. They arrived almost a day later with the police and coincidentally my mother was literally in the process of beating my younger sister when they were knocking. Cue an Emergency removal of all my siblings from the house and my mother getting arrested though she was released hours later. (I was getting a day to day play by play because my mothers best friend is a blabber mouth and everything my mother said she told her son who relayed it to me without either of their knowledge.) I sent CPS all the evidence and there's a legit case against my mother now. The next day I emailed and then called up her job to inform them that she had lied about having a very necessary college degree as well current events in her life which sparked a background check. She was fired days later. Say adios to 75k and a blacklist in the only industry you know how to work. I then spitefully deleted every cloud account and email address I ever made for her, which was all of them which im sure will make keeping up with alot bills and etc nearly impossible. I then anonymously reported her to the IRS because of the tax fraud she committed for years by claiming people's children that weren't hers with ALOT of detailed information since I lived with her while she did it.

So now, my mother lost all her kids and her job. Im meeting with a caseworker from CPS next week to talk more about what happens moving forward but I do know they're NOT going back. Idk how she's gonna pay her mortgage now and survive. I'm sure she's gonna get a call from the IRS who'll be looking for a few thousand dollars she owes them. She also has to go back to court in a few months, not exactly sure what she was charged with but ill update when I find out how everything turns out.

Side Note: She isn't aware im the cause of any of this. I plan on keeping tabs on her and waiting until it seems like she's close to death before I tell her it was all me and I peed in her Lipton.

Updates:

1) I am psychologically not in the position to take care of my younger siblings or take on a parental role. I came very close to suicide 2 years ago and im just trying to work on my alcohol problem and other habits that keep me in a cycle of instability. No I haven't been to any programs or therapy, I don't think it will help me in regards to my nearly constant apathy and etc.

2) My 2 youngest siblings weren't really bothered much. It was mostly my little sister after I left who got beatings but luckily it wasn't anything near the level I had to deal with.

3) Im also incapable of taking custody because I don't have an apartment anymore due to bad decisions I made while drinking recently. So I'm back to homeless but I crash with a friend once in a awhile. I am very well aware I am an influence on my younger siblings and I'm trying to stay consistent with doing everything I can to be a better and more stable person for them so that maybe I can finally build a real relationship with someone in my family. I'm sorry to disappoint everyone who keeps wishing me more success.

4) Aside from my little siblings, I have zero contact with anyone else in my family. And even then, its been very rare because I had to avoid my mother to see them and didn't want her knowing i kept in contact (Meeting my little sister after school, facetime, etc). The rest of my family were well aware of what she did and distanced themselves. I don't plan on reaching out to them as im not good at maintaining relationships with mostly anyone anyways.

TL;DR - My mother abuses me badly for most of my life as well as my younger siblings. I have to drop out of college and support myself after she drove me to homelessness. She proceeds to laugh at me about me being homeless and denys abuse. So I ruined her life by getting my younger siblings removed and her arrested, making her lose her job, reported her to the IRS, and essentially set her up so that the remainder of her life is full of disaster and hardships.

(source) (story by howbout_that_lipton)

[bnhaideabullshit]

I'm not a father...

//request by @audaciousanonj sorry if it's a bit hard to follow, I had to write it on my phone.

"Shut up Hizashi." I glared at the blonde idiot on the couch next to me as the other teachers laughed. The students were visiting their families for the weekend and would be back in the dorms in a few hours. Until they got back, us teachers decided to sit and talk. Disgusting really, especially since it turned out to be the others teasing me. Don't get me wrong, I have always been used to being teased; but over doing my job properly? That was just stupid.

"Oh come on Shouta! Just last week you sent Kaminari to the 'Naughty Corner' for punishment!" He smirked while others snickered.

"That's because they were acting childish. If my students act like immature toddlers, that's how they will be treated."

"You bought Uraraka a new phone, and upgraded her old one to a smart phone. WITH YOUR OWN MONEY!" I groaned, they were by making any valid points.

"Because it died and she couldn't afford a new one. She needs to be able to have contact with her parents, buying her one that will last is just common sense."

"You let Midoriya wake you up in the middle of the night, and you let him sleep with you." I glared at them all, this was tiring.

"He had a nightmare Nemuri. It was easier to let him stay than send him back. This is the last time I will say this, I am not a dad, I have never been a dad and I never will be. ESPECIALLY not towards my students. Living in the dorms won't change that." I stood and left just as students were returning. They waved to me while they brought in their bags and I nodded, going to organise some papers while I waited for dinner and curfew.

It was all regular and boring while I monitored my students. Dinner was katsudon, then they had free time until 10pm. I slept for a while before going to check who were in the dorms. Some of the boys were in their rooms, some were studying and some were playing video games in the common area. But my- THE girls weren't around. I checked Yaoyorozu's room, since that's where they usually gathered. I knew I was right when I heard giggling from inside.

I knocked and opened the door, seeing them all in a braid train. Of fucking course.

"Hello Mr Aizawa, did you need anything?" Yaoyorozu asked, having her hair braided by Ashido. I shook my head and raised a brow, they all looked nearly finished. Good.

"I'm just checking on where you all are." I was about to turn away when Ashido squealed and clapped.

"I just had the best idea!!! We should braid your hair Mr Aizawa!!!"

"No."

"Please Mr Aizawa?? It will be fun!!!" They all tried to persuade me and I refused...

Which is why I was confused to realise that I was sitting there with 6 of my students braiding my hair. They were chatting happily and having fun, so I allowed it to continue. I agreed to have my hair braided and that was it...

So how did I end up leaving that room with a full face of makeup and a flower crown??

I sent all the students to bed like that, the last one being Tsuyu. She told me I looked nice like that, making me roll my eyes as I tucked my last student in and pecked her forehead. I did that to a few of the students who were close with their families and frequently got homesick. I wanted to keep them as comfortable and safe at UA as possible, I still felt guilty about being incapable to protect them from villains. They were children with potential, sure, but they were still children and they had a long way to go before they could be pros.

I sighed and tidied up a few things that the teenagers had left out in common areas again, I'd lecture them tomorrow. I walked to my own room, seeing Hizashi smirking at me.

"Never gonna be their dad, huh?" The amusement was clear in his voice, causing me to glare at him.

"Oh shut up." I went to bed, not bothering with the makeup. I needed to shower in the morning anyway. I looked at my wall, decorated with drawings my students had drawn for me, varying in skill. Some, like Bakugou's, had great detail and precision. Others could pass as a 2 year olds drawing, like Kirishima's stick figure drawing of the class. I thought about it, before falling asleep...

Maybe I could be a dad...

[swampgallows]

therapy today went okay but i feel like i talked too much lmfao. i passed out around like 10pm and now im awake again and uhh hmmm ngngngghghhhmhm

also she asked me like “find out what you wanna get out of therapy and then we can set some goals” lmao i wanna GET FIXED 

i dunno if i am actually mentally ill or if it’s just my mom/environment or if i’m neurodivergent somehow or if i need medication or whatever the fuck it is, i just know that it’s not normal to feel okay one day and then have some minor thing happen that catapults me into feeling suicidal. im doing better lately but that’s why i signed up for therapy NOW because i know when im feeling good i get this delusion of like “haha see i never needed it at all :)” and then some little fucking thing happens (or nothing happens) and suddenly i cant get out of bed for three days. i told her that i think it’s more than my environment because even when i was busy at work and even when i was busy and away from home in college i had extremely persistent and severe depression, got into several different overlapping abusive relationships, nearly failed my classes one semester, and then i got hit by a car, was in a wheelchair for 6 months, then had our car hit by a semi immediately afterward. it’s time for new glasses btw lmao as i am still wearing the same pair that got scratched to shit and annihilated in the accident. lmfao The Accident™

this is a pic of them from the night of the accident and the scratches have only gotten worse. id take a new pic but im in bed in the dark and whatever

the therapist seemed impressed with my psychology knowledge which was kind of discomforting, in a way. i guess im just so used to my own situation and people utilizing the internet to learn about their own head cases that i dont consider it novel to have actually done research. also because with my other experiences i felt like doctors would be dismissive of me as if i was trying to one-up them or something, like “well -I- have the degree and YOU dont” like, well yeah, im not sitting here trying to correct you but i am gonna use the terminology im familiar with even if theyre super special SAT words or w/e (like i’m gonna say shit like “comorbid” and “hypnagogic” because that’s the terminology i use all the time to describe these situations... i throw out “5 dollar words” all the time :\) but i think maybe by also having a video/verbal conversation w me that she knows i’m not sitting there meticulously typing up the most fancy schmancy shit i can find, flippin through a thesaurus like a blood elf nobleman vampire’s purple prose or somethin.

i guess what i wanna get out of therapy is uh

1. i dont want to be suicidal, which means 2. i have to build confidence, which means 3. i have to become self-reliant, or more self-reliant than i am.

she suggested, on the grounds of my mom giving me interrogation any time i try to go out on my own (hence me only feeling comfortable to go out when i fucking sneak out of the house or on the VERY rare occasions that she isn’t home) that i have a written list that i either give to her personally or write out and leave for her to read at her leisure of all the answers to her questions: where ive gone, when i’ll be back, what i’m doing, etc. the problem is coming home, though, because then she reads me the riot act of guilt on anything i did. if i go out and get food, it becomes about her. if i go out and do an errand, it becomes about her. everything i do somehow falls back on her. 

i explained to the therapist that even when i was still working—a perfect chance to learn to drive and drive regularly—i took the bus the entire time. but i’d have to be driven TO the bus stop and then take the bus to work, which meant my mom drove me to the bus every day. and my dad would talk about how good it was for MY MOM to have a reason to get up in the morning, and that it’s good for her because it gives her a kind of schedule or obligation to follow. so then like... my schedule now becomes HER schedule. and i martyr my potential independence of driving to work on my own in order to give my mom a sense of purpose. 

so...every day, mom picked me up from the bus stop, just like she had been for all the years i was in school. of course i never went out and did anything after (or before!) work; i never had the freedom. sure i could tell my mom partway through the day if i was staying late or going somewhere else, but my work was also in the middle of a canyon, five miles of nothing in either direction. if i missed the bus home, i wouldnt have another chance to go home for another hour. so having buses come only once an hour and then also having my mom waiting for me at the stop... it was just too much trouble to say like “hm i think i’ll go grab a smoothie before work” or “maybe i’ll hang with my coworkers a bit and go grab dinner with them” or “maybe i’ll start going to the gym after work”. i couldnt make any executive decisions about my own life. i think that restriction of freedom happens for lower income people too, since youre relying on a (notoriously shitty) bus service to get anywhere and you also cant just throw money around that often. i had a little slush fund to treat myself every so often but i didnt have the access to it. 

EVERY day that i was 20 minutes away from the stop i would have to text my mom the name of the stop (imagine, if it were “maple street” or something, my entire text message history with my mom just being “maple” “k” “maple” “k” back and forth for months) in case she had fallen asleep or was doing something, as the bus would sometimes be late or early or whatever. and sometimes i would delay that text on purpose to have the extra time to buy something from one of the fast food places located at my bus stop, then hide it in the bottom of my bag and hope it wasn’t too aromatic that my mom would notice and ask me about it. 

BECAUSE if i bought food on a day she made dinner, she would flagellate herself about it, and if i bought food on a day that she DIDNT make dinner she would flagellate herself about it. it’s HER FAULT because she doesn’t make food enough that i have to go buy my own :((((, so the one time she does cook i’m already getting food because she’s unreliable :((((, and shit like that, instead of like, just because there IS food doesn’t...mean anything!!!!! maybe i just wanted a certain kind of food that day!! But it becomes about her!!!! everything i do hurts her. everything i do. so i just got adjusted to just... not eating, or eating the same things over and over. eventually, when i was still working, i would eat nothing but a muffin until i came home. and if there was food, i would eat it, and if there wasn’t, then i wouldn’t eat. many nights i went to bed without eating even if there WAS food because i was just so fucking tired.

i dunno i kinda lost my train of thought but basically it’s hard to assert myself because i’m not confident because a lot of the time i dont know if im doing something right. it reminds me a lot of the scene in tangled where rapunzel fucks up and something bad happens to her and her mom catches her in the act, and she uses that to reinforce rapunzel’s dependence on her. like obviously my mom isn’t abusive like that but it makes me afraid to fail and even MORE afraid to even try, because i know that if i DO fail--whatever it is--it will just be more evidence for why i should have just asked her or had her do it. and more evidence, to me, of why im worthless and shitty and incapable of doing anything.

like the other day my mom wanted me to follow her in a separate car to a car place to drop off the car she was driving, and then we’d go home together in one car. but she wanted me to do it at 9 in the fucking morning and let me know two days beforehand. i had been going to BED at like 7am at the time so i was already like ‘man this is gonna suck’. but i was still up in the morning and was getting ready to take a shower, iw as on time, but my mom said “i can tell how tired you are and how nervous you are about doing this so you know what dont worry about it. go back to bed.” and it was really shitty for me because YEAH i was super tired and YEAH i didnt feel like i was capable of driving by myself at that moment, like i probably COULD HAVE if it were an emergency, but my mom talked about doing all this shit afterward like going on a shopping trip and stuff and BASICALLY it’s less that i was afraid of the driving but more that i knew the errand wouldn’t end there. and i had gotten zero sleep and just didnt wanna fucking do it, i didnt wanna have a “girl time :)” outing with my mom, and i knew i’d basically get trapped into hanging out with my mom if i went. so i stayed home. but then that’s also a blow to me because stupid fucking worthless idiot that i am cant even drive ten miles in a fucking car, or whatever, useless leech living with my parents contributing nothing, unemployed for a year, blah blah blah. stupid fucking neet should have never been born etc etc etc

she took an uber home and had glowing reviews about the experience and that’s great for her but the guilt made me throw up because i couldnt even do this minuscule thing. so like, if i DO hand her a note and say “here’s all the shit im going to do, BUH BYE” and some shit happens, or i dont get what i need done, or i dont have a fully developed plan of what i’m doing, then it’s gonna be more ammunition toward what a useless piece of shit i am. like, i dont have good food to eat at the house, but i also have NO APPETITE so nothing sounds good, so i cant even think of what foods i would get if i could. it’s such a jarring opportunity that i would just like...not get anything at all and go home. even when i -did- have the opportunity i just went “Uhh umm uhhh fuck uhhh milk” and got that (AND THEN MY MOM CAME HOME W 2 GALLONS OF MILK FROM COSTCO, SO OF COURSE I -DID SOMETHING WRONG-!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IF I JUST LEFT IT UP TO HER INSTEAD OF DARING TO DO SOMETHING MYSELF I WOULDNT HAVE LOOKED LIKE A FUCKING IDIOT AND ENDED UP WITH 3 GALLONS OF MILK AT THE HOUSE) of course i drank the milk i bought, it’s not like it went to waste, but i was CAUGHT because there were now THREE instead of the one gallon covertly getting replaced. instead of me doing something helpful i did something that became an inconvenience.

it’s just little shit but it all adds up. it’s been all of these little fucking things forever and ever and ever, just like my mom’s hoarded garbage. “i bought just a couple of things”, innumerable times throughout the duration of my entire life, forever and ever, “just a few small things” over and over until it’s suffocating.  it’s just all this little shit all the fucking time and it’s suffocating.

naturally, the therapist sent me an article on “daughters of narcissistic mothers”. this will be a delight to read, i’m sure.

[rileymcdaniels]

just my own bs below, nothing spicy happening here

I am such a goddamn piece of shit. I had this whole fucking afternoon to do the things I planned to get done today. I came back from getting detergent at, like, 6pm at the latest. And my bedtime alarm just went off. I did nothing for three and a half hours, and it feels like surely, I must have blacked out because I could not have just sat here for three and a half hours on fucking twitter and doing nothing.

But that’s exactly what I did. I did nothing. I didn’t do the two loads of laundry I wanted to do because I just put the first one in. I didn’t do dishes. I didn’t do any of my fucking reading which iw as going to do tonight so i could work on my memos tomorrow before class and during work. But I didn’t do that. Because I’m a fucking idiot. So instead of working on the memo that’s due on Friday or the one that’s due on Monday, I have to read before class. And I don’t fucking know when I’m going to get these memos done. I mean, who the fuck knows when I’m such a fucking lazy piece of garbage who can’t even stick to a simple schedule. I mean, it’s not hard! I wrote everything out, everything I was going to do, and if I could have just stuck to the fucking schedule, I woudl have been done with the realistic goals for school stuff that i set for myself at 6pm. And it’s almost 10pm and I haven’t done shit.

This is why I’m going to fail my fucking exams. I have no fucking self-discipline. I am apparently incapable of doing some of the simplest fucking things. And like, what the fuck am I supposed to do about that except fucking punish myself and hope I learn my goddamn lesson? Because apparently none of this bullshit self care is working. I have no more energy. I’m exhausted. I don’t have the energy to fucking eat well. I can’t sleep. I’m certainly not going to bed before I get this shit done because I said I was going to do it today, and you know what, I don’t deserve to go to bed. Maybe a couple of days without sleep will fucking teach me a lesson.

And I’m realizing this is an overblown reaction with self-abusive tendencies and if you heard someone talking to their child or partner this way, you’d probably report them for abuse, and I’m realizing it’s coming from my mom or some shit, but it’s like, maybe she was right. Maybe I do need to be harsher with myself because obviously anything else isn’t getting me to do my shit. I did NOTHING today. When I have so much to do. And if I had just done these things, I wouldn’t need to be so stressed because I would have made progress that would make it possible for me to sleep.

But I didn’t do those things. And now I’m even further behind. And I’m so tired. I would love to go just take a shower and go to bed and at least relax. But I can’t. I really, really can’t. And I can’t fucking talk about this with my friends bc they’re all going through stuff and I don’t want them to have to deal with my bullshit, too.

I don’t know what I’m going to do.

[saibh29]

Soldat (Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky / Reader

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse and pain, swearing, angsty drama.. 

AN: I have literally been travelling since 7am this morning and its know nearly 10pm, I’m super tired and exhausted but I promised to upload this part today, so... here it is, i’m sorry if the editing isn’t perfect :(  Find Part one of Soldat here.... PART ONE 

Please feel free to add yourself to my Taglist here.... TAGLIST 

@just4muggles @morganlb23

Sedation it seemed was very similar to Cryo sleep. You could hear screaming ringing in your ears and the panicked faces of hordes of people as they ran past you, fleeing from the explosion in the main square.

Something was wrong though, you’d never managed to hold onto a memory this long before or seen it in this amount of detail. Previously all you had gotten were the whispering threads of screams and the ghostly features of numerous faces all blending together.

This place was whole though, a small village in a forest encased valley. You could taste smoke on your tongue and could smell sulphur in the air. The fire currently burning wasn’t an accident, the sulphur smell a sign of the bomb used to blow up the main town hall building.

You stood still paralysed as from the smoke the form of man appeared. Broad and tall he walked slowly from the debris completely at odds with the pandemonium around him. Stopping in front of you he stared down from a face covered over the lower part with a black mask. Even with the mask though you knew him. The winter soldier.

“Target destroyed?”

“Eliminated” he agreed in that heavily accented Russian. It sounded familiar like it was a voice you heard often. “Your targets?”

“Eliminated” The word slipping from your mouth and as it did the faces of a man and woman appeared, terrified looking up at you as you put a bullet squarely in each of their foreheads. Dead.

The memory started to fade as the image of the Winter soldier blurred and no matter how desperately you tried to hold onto it you couldn’t make it stay.

The nightmares were coming back to take his place, the screams echoing in your ears. They were your screams though, you jerked awake as they wracked through your body.

Trying to move proved useless, you were securely manacled to an upright slab of metal. The room wasn’t familiar, it definitely wasn’t the compound in Siberia that you’d become accustomed to waking in.

In front of you stood the Winter Soldiers friend Steve. He was staring at you, emotionless as he waited. Arms crossed over his chest and legs spread shoulder width apart just watching. More pieces of a giant jigsaw puzzle were fitting into place in a memory that didn’t feel like yours anymore. Steve, a friend of Bucky’s, it must be Steve Rogers otherwise known as Captain America.

What that didn’t explain though was where you were now and why he was stood in front of you.

“Do you know who you are?” Steve asked “Do you know your name?”

“Soldat 327651” the words scraped from your throat, a trained response.

Steve sighed plainly disappointed with your answer. “Your name? Do you remember anything?”

You were in fact struggling to even keep your eyes open under the sudden onslaught of fragmented and disjointed images pouring into your brain. “Soldat 3276…”

Steve finally uncrossed his arms shaking his head. “It’s no good Bucky…”

“Bucky?” You jerked, body straining against the metal chains as your brain suddenly cleared to a sharp focus “I know him, Bucky Barnes”

Steve paused for a moment clearly not sure and you realised you’d been speaking in Russian still. So programmed to the language that you hadn’t thought not to use it.

“Bucky, I know him. I know that name” your English was rough and unused but the accent on your words made you think that maybe once upon time you had spoken it as fluently as Steve.

“How do you know him?”

“I….I…” shaking your head you clenched your fists digging your nails into your palms hard enough to leave marks. “I just do”

“Don’t push too hard Steve” His voice was gruff and came from the side of the room where the door had just opened. He must have been listening in on the conversation.

You released your fists watching carefully as he came and stood in front of you. The way he was stood your mind flashed, overlaying memories of a Winter Soldier in leather amour and a mask, smoke rising from around him. It only lasted a second before the image vanished back to the man in front of you, no less dangerous but wearing only a Henley and a glove over what you knew was his metal arm.

“I know you” He nodded once. “How? How do I know you?”

“We came from the same place”

Your head was starting to hurt, you couldn’t keep up with the flashing memories in your brain. “I don’t know what’s happening. Who am I? What am I? I don’t remember”

“It’s ok. You don’t have to remember right now” His voice even though brusque was comforting. You knew it, had grown used to it somehow. “I need to know about your last mission”

“Mission?” you didn’t understand what he was asking you. “I have missions?”

Steve laid a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Buck, she doesn’t remember like this. You have to…”

“I’m not putting her back under Steve” he growled. “We’re not Hydra. We don’t control people’s minds”

“I know that Buck, and you know I don’t like it. But we have no choice, we have to know”

“Hydra” you repeated the word that had stood out to you making both men’s eyes turn back to you.

“You know Hydra?” Steve asked curiously. “Do you recognise that name?”

You did know that name. Hydra. A face swam in front of your eyes along with a name. “Colonel Vasily Karpov. I know that name”

Bucky flinched, it was very slight but you picked up on the movement. He knew that name as well. You wondered if you knew if for the same reason.

“What do you know about Karpov?”

It was Steve who was asking the question but you couldn’t take your eyes off of Bucky. As you stared the Winter Soldier kept flickering over him. Dark war paint covering his face as he stared back at you.

You were back at the village. There was no smoke though and no one was screaming. Instead you were stood at the outskirts of the square leaning against the shop front of a small baker. People were milling around the few market stalls still open. Your eyes were glued onto the couple currently sat outside the pub with a pint of beer each. They were whispering urgently to each other across the table.

“How long have you been watching them?”

You didn’t react to his voice behind you. You hadn’t heard him approach but then if you had he would be getting sloppy.

“5 hours”

“And they haven’t seen you?”

That offended you, him thinking that you were incapable of doing your job. You were half way turned to face him when he grabbed your shoulders holding you still.

“Don’t”

“I know who you are Soldat. I remember you” the word remember loosened his grip enough for you to turn fully around and face him. Transfixing blue eyes stared down at you from above a lower face mask. “Why are you here Soldat?”

“For the same reason as you 327651. To eliminate the target” his eyes flicked over your shoulder then quickly back to your own. “Your targets are moving”

You didn’t question his statement nor did you give him any sort of goodbye, simply melted into the shadows of the buildings following your now on the move targets.

“We were in Romania together” you said to the reappeared Bucky rather than the Winter Soldier. “Karpov sent me there to kill. You were there as well” Bucky didn’t look happy as you spilled memories out about the Winter Soldier but you didn’t seem to care.

“I’m a weapon” you knew that without question. Had known it from the beginning. “Is that why I’m chained up?”

“Yes” Steve answered coming closer to you. “You can be let go from the chains but can’t leave these rooms”

“Alright”

Steve removed himself once more behind you and with some clicks and whirls the chains opened and you slipped finally to the floor on your own two feet again.

You rubbed at your wrists where they’d been chained. Staring at your hands, they had apparently done a lot of damage. They had hurt a lot of people and what was worse was the fact that even though you could see each and every one of their faces in your mind you couldn’t remember their names.

[firewolf826]

I have nothing. I’m so tired of having nothing. and it hurts so much. even when I try to do what’s in my power to give my life meaning, it falls flat.

there are three things in life that will fulfill me, I just need one, at least enough to make my soul not a purely empty void, none of them are anywhere near being attainable.

1) someone who loves me HAHAHA this will never happen, so I might as well skip this. no one ever, has apparently found me worthy enough of loving. oh well, maybe i’m incapable of love anyway. i just will forever feel empty without it. everyone makes it look so easy, and I wish I could fall in love like normal people do. (that’s the demi/ace/probably grayaro lyfe i guess)

2) have a comic this sounds like something so in my power right? apparently not. just not good enough. trying hard doesn’t matter. i drew so many comics as a kid. it was really always part of who i am. my comics were bad rip-offs of things that I like. not uncommon way to start out right lol. but i can’t write a good enough story to even get to the grueling drawing part. I want to drawing a comic so bad. i have stories. I have so many stories (lol that’s because you use maladaptive daydreaming as a disassociation mechanism ever since you were a kid) but they’re self-indulgent, for me, if that makes sense. not stories to share. plus i want to draw a story with meaning and touch people. but my comic ideas, i have bits of plot but i’m not really a writer. i don’t yet a theme or ending, etc. and i want to work on something short ideally first to get my feet wet, and i just think of these epic-ly long things. collaboration is seeming impossible. And I’m already 30. i feel like i haven;t accomplished anything. nothing art wise. my illustration, nobody cares about. sell next to nothing in my store, for years. will never get to work on a children's book or the like. and comics is entirely separate (let’s not even get into the problem of have two completely different art styles and how burdensome that is) the days are ticking, and i’ll never leave my mark on the world.

3) have a dog yet again sounds fairly simple right?? Not if you work an hour away from home and are out of the house for almost 11hours a day and guess what, you have no SO to help you take care of it so the dog’s not alone all day and you’re literally just one depressed person with a somewhat finite amount of energy and definitely a limit of free time you can’t control because you gotta have a stable job and pay those $800/month student loans and a mortgage!! but even if you suck it up and pay $300-400/month for a dog walker, since it’s conceivably the ONLY way you’ll ever logistically be able to have a dog (that dog’s gotta pee sometime!!), there;s a million other hurdles like your INSANE cat and apparently every dog you’ve ever wanted online and met in person somehow slips away from you!! It’s have happened countless times. I have been trying to adopt a dog for over a year, on and off, because I keep failing and it’s literally so emotionally taxing. there’s this perfect dog rn i want but i can’t even wait a week. i know she’ll be gone by the time i could even get to her. every time i just want to permanently give up. i’m so tired. it’s impossible for me to voice how much a dog companion means to me. but couple that with an actually rational fear of biting off more than I can chew in caring for a dog as a single human being and being completely overwhelmed and regretful and shamed that i can’t man up and do more.

(tw: attack, blood, trauma)

OH and speaking of biting off. two weeks ago, my cat violently attacked me. i’ve had her for two years and she always had small bouts of redirected aggression. a year ago, LOL during fourth of july fireworks, she started violently attacking her tail endlessly. it was traumatizing. since then she’s been on medication and doing pretty good. but summer is a trap. too much stimuli. so past 10pm, I was leaving my room, I opened the door, I couldn’t see because I’m so blind and wasn’t wearing glasses, she was right there, and she lunged at me, she was screaming, i was screaming, and while trying to restrain herself, she not only scratched and bit up all over my arms, she literally chewed the nail and tip of my left index finger off. i had to go to the ER. in the middle of the night. and pay $300. a great time.

A pet, supposed to be a joy in your life, is nothing but stress. after a relapse like this, i don’t know if i will ever feel 100% comfortable around her again. i will always have to be at least a bit conscious of any warning signs. but i literally have no idea what triggered her. and i literally just opened my door, how could i look for warning signs!? how do i know it will never happen again? I already thought it wouldn’t happen after being good and medicated. how am i supposed to feel like i can leave her alone with another animal ever? can I ever get another pet? for the next 10-15 years?? am i stuck with nothing but a psycho cat forever? what did I do to deserve this unlucky fate? a compromised person dealt an even more compromising hand? why me...?

I am healing, but my finger is real janked up. i’m afraid i’ll never get proper nerve feeling back--- in my dominant hand. i need it. i need it to draw. i can’t draw right now. i can’t lose my hand...it’s literally everything that I am. or at least, everything that’s left, that i could be. it should heal fine... i am just very tired.

i just want something. something to come home to. i have nothing. no friends even. nothing but my insane cat. before two weeks ago, i thought that could be enough for now. but now i can’t even feel good about that. and every time i see everyone with their perfect pets, their perfect lovers, perfect relationships, perfect vacations, perfect experiences, i’m just so tired and so sad. even if it’s not perfect, they at least have it. have it in some form. because i have nothing. nothing but a tumblr void to scream at. sorry y’all. everything hurts all the time, i just want to feel loved and meaningful, and that sure is proving that that is never going to happen.

[theinnerhalf]

2016 in review: Highlights (1/7/2017 7:10 PM)

2016...I feel like it’s fair enough to say that I’ve had a pretty bad year when it comes to 2016. Despite being in one of the worst mental ruts I’ve ever been in my whole life so far, despite having one of the WORST semesters out of my whole entire academic career, despite having the person multiple people have dreaded on becoming the president elect being actually elected into office, and despite every low point and difficult moment I may have gone through...looking back at these photos have reminded me that 2016 hasn’t been ALL bad...which is good haha...through these photos, experiences, and memories, I’m reminded that life’s got sooooo much more to live for.

As Drake put it, “I learned working with the negatives could make for better pictures”. Here is my year, 2016, in review.

January 2016:

The first month of the New Year. My expectations for the beginning of the year were high. Fresh new years resolutions to work on, weight to lose, countless improvements to be made...The defining points of the first month of this new year were made when we had to say our temporary farewells to EJ as he had to return to his military duties and had left to go to Hawaii. Before he had left, the squad had been complete for once in a long time and had even one of the best (in my opinion) holidays ever. Seven became six again and I just remember riding in the Donn’s van with everyone else in silence...

A following highlight in January would be the annual and ridiculous college signing day that Donn, James, and I celebrate at Ross by trying on several hats and items of clothing and just continuously cracking jokes. This made it in my highlights of the year because I don’t remember ever laughing that much in so long and it was just a really REALLY good day. The last photo in January was a really helpful and needed study session that ended up with me passing the first exam of the year.

February 2016:

February was definitely a fun month for me. I was living in a Life of Pablo aesthetic, I took a trip  out to Austin that was truly one for the books, had my first edible there, tripped wayyyyy out of my mind and nearly called 911 on myself due to the fear of myself dying. If it wasn’t for my friends that were there for me, I probably would have done something to really screw up my life so I’m forever grateful for the experience and that moment but I’m confident enough to say I’d probably never do that again...The Austin trip that I had taken with Jared’s group of friends was truly different and quite an experience yet at the same time, it was the same on multiple occasions.

The last photo shown in February was a fishing trip I had taken at about 2 AM in the morning. Completely and utterly spontaneous. The group caught absolutely no fish, the weather was bitterly cold, I was exhausted but being by the water, the sound of the ocean, the peaceful yet unsettling darkness the surrounded every bit of us, being with company, and witnessing an breathtaking sunrise over the horizon was something I couldn’t resist experiencing.

March 2016:

The only highlight that made it for this month was the trip to the Houston Rodeo, which actually got postponed due to bad weather the first time which was a huge disappointment considering that the Rodeo was going to end within the week. This was a big thing for me especially because I was just DYING to eat carnival food as well as putting into consideration that as a Houstonian, I hadn’t gone to the Rodeo in almost 10 years...The trip to the Rodeo fulfilled all my cravings as well as being able to around friends and family in an environment specifically meant for entertainment and I enjoyed every single moment thoroughly.

April 2016:

In April, I took another trip out to Austin to go visit Hamilton Pool in much better weather. I could never seem to get tired of this place...knowing that it wasn’t man made and even more so that it’s in Texas and just three to four hours away?! It’s lovely. It’s captivating. It’s sooooo serene. As for the other picture, that was taken during a photoshoot from a hangout with Steph and Megan. It was just a REALLY good day haha.

May 2016:

The only highlight within this month was one day being fully dedicated to museum hopping through the outstanding art museums Houston has to offer. This was made possible through Houston’s free museum days that take place on every Thursday of the given month and it was decided that both my sister’s and I would take this chance to seize the opportunity and rest our eyes upon several masterpieces through four museums: Houston’s Contemporary Art Museum, Houston Museum of Fine Arts, The Rothko Chapel, and lastly, the Menil Collection.

The Contemporary Art Museum was a museum that tested the boundaries and means of what art can be and what art really is. At the time being, the Contemporary Art Museum had quite an unsettling and creepy exhibition by Mark Flood. The exhibition made my skin crawl with disturbing messages and twisted images of pop culture icons and celebrities. The Houston Museum of fine arts is hands down, one of my favorite places in all of Houston. I’ve been there multiple times and I never get tired of the same paintings. The Rothko Chapel was undeniably different compared to all these museums and was indeed like an actual church chapel. The walls of the chapel were adorned with what seemed to be all solid black square/rectangle paintings but it is said that if you stare just long enough with focus, you start seeing things within the blackness of the painting. The Menil Collection was something I ended up really liking due to the vast majority of selection it had, from paintings, to sculptures, to historical artifacts. This day served to be in incredible source of inspiration as well as something to feed the creative side of me that yearned for more artistic content.

July 2016

The second half of my summer was undeniably better than the first half and was really only when summer break had started to pick up the pace (notice how there isn’t a highlight for June). A good portion of July was spent practicing for conference from 10pm-4am in the dance studio of my gym with Andre and Vicky. Our performance was to the song All We Got by Chance the Rapper featuring Kanye West. We managed to finish our choreography  within an hour before our performance due to a lot of the procrastination and mental dance blocks we had. As a result, majority of the moves towards the end of the dance were half assed, super simple, or inside joke movements. Despite it not being the cleanest it may have been due to the time crunch given, we still ended up in first! Though it felt like it was being in first place through default...

This marked the second dance win in a row for me during conference and I’m really looking forward to a threepeat in 2017 for the Seattle conference and will be my final and retirement performance for the youth. Again, a thousand thanks to Andre and Vicky for putting up with the horrendous practice times, me, the inconvenience, and the stress all for this performance and would not have made it anywhere close to what it has been if not for them...

The other highlight for July was the Drake concert for his Summer Sixteen tour! The only downside about it was that I was supposed to experience it with the whole entire squad but ended up experiencing it by myself LOL. Despite thinking that it’d be disappointing experience because of me spending it alone, it was honestly the exact opposite...Drake is by far one of my favorite rappers/artists and being able to see him perform live was truly exhilarating from start to finish. I sang my lungs and heart out to the max, I danced all throughout and did not take a single seat once Drake was performing. This being the very first actual concert that I attended, it definitely goes down as one of my favorite and biggest moments of 2016. 

August 2016

August provided a good close to the summer with a couple of good hangouts with the people who I hold most dear to me. The first picture was definitely a highlight of August although it wasn’t entirely ALL good haha...Devin, Janelle, and I went to buffalo bayou park to look for this bridge with “love locks” with a certain hole in the fence to get an aesthetically pleasing shot of the skyscrapers of the city. The three of us initially wandered around the park aimlessly looking for this bridge, got lost on the way, rented bikes to ease our search, and found the bridge. After taking pictures, we headed back to where we parked, only to get lost again because we had to find a place to return the bikes to a spot that was near Devin’s car. Everything after was simply a mess...although I’ll admit, it was a little bit fun...

September 2016

THIS MONTH...this month really was a defining point for the relationship I have with my one and only, Diana...In this month, I was able to go with her on our very first date at Dish Society. This was really only made possible because this was the first month I had been added to the family car insurance, giving me the ability to drive on my own to wherever I want. And one of the first places I wanted to go to was her...

On our first date, I remember being so...starstruck...speechless even. I was a nervous wreck at most and being with her was something I had trouble comprehending. Have you ever been in front of someone so beautiful they leave you incapable of anything? I WAS A MESS!!! I remember every single time I’d loo up at her as I was eating, I’d have to immediately look back down at my food because I swear I would’ve lost it...I know I’ve written about her eyes in multiple older posts but there’s just something astral and otherworldly about the way she looks at me and with her eyes alone. So deep...so mesmerizing...so captivating and just simply so intoxicating. I could feel myself have googly eyes at her and I apologized for being so shy...

Towards the end of our date, we both retreated into my car in the pouring rain and I proceeded to take her home. We shared our very first kiss in the car and I could only describe as the closest I may have been to heaven...I was sick at the time too but she insisted haha...I felt weak, not due to the sickness but really the rush I got from being with her alone for the first time. 

The other set of photos containing her was our second date! Two dates in one month and was the day I had officially made her mine, specifically on September 30, 2016. I honestly could have asked in a much smoother and profound way than I had but I still couldn’t contain the feeling I had within me while being with her. On that day, Diana became my first...and hopefully the last one as well...

October 2016

My birth month! Despite my birthday not being a highlight for this month, I had two other highlights that were able to make up for it. The first highlight of this month would be the small trip that Devin and I took to Dallas just to visit Keise as chance for them to be together as a couple and to go and visit the state fair. I mostly third wheeled for the time there as they were being a couple while I served as their main photographer for the night. During the night, Devin and I played fair games, carelessly blowing money off on an explicitly rigged basketball game for our significant others, but to no avail, we failed. I blew off about 50 dollars on that stupid game trying to win Diana a dog plushie only to find a cheaper and much easier fair game to win. 

Devin and I settled for this odd water gun game, and with his help, I was able to win a teddy bear for Diana. After blowing 70 dollars just to win a teddy bear, I began to sulk only realizing that the two of us could have been playing this game much earlier on to save us and our wallets the pain...NONETHELESS, the night was filled with walking, food, sights, with two people who I sincerely enjoy their company despite remaining a third wheel. It was a highly fulfilling night and I wouldn’t change it one bit (maybe except for the fact that Devin and I could’ve saved a LOT more money).

The second highlight for this month was being able to experience World of Dance again for another year straight! Knowing me, saying that I love dance would simply be an understatement. Dance was my life! Dance IS my life! Seeing those incredibly talented people move their body to music as a canvas for art is such a beautiful and almost spiritual thing for me...Not only was I able to watch dancers but also witness Andre come in first place with Houston’s one and only SoReal crew!!! Coming in first with a total grade of 98, Andrew Baterina’s retirement performance couldn’t have gotten better than this. 

November 2016

November’s highlight was the trip to Florida with the Ravara kids excluding Donn. This trip was meant to happen back in September for my little sister’s 18th birthday but was postponed due to a hurricane that hit coincidentally, on the same days as the trip. But anyways, THIS TRIP THOUGH. I have the biggest heart for all things Disney because growing up, that’s all I would ever watch as a kid other than tv cartoons. Although this wasn’t my first trip here, it remained jaw dropping as some of the experiences I had gone thru the first time were not exactly fresh on my mind...but for the Ravaras...I could see their face light up with every single little thing and detail and I was extremely glad I got to experience DisneyWorld with other people than my family. It’s reputation as the world’s happiest place did not seem to fail my family, the Ravara kids, and me. 

December 2016

The final month of this bittersweet year...It may have been my favorite month actually out of all the months knowing how festive things can get. For the first highlight, it’s this jar full of cute notes for Diana. It was in a way, an advent Calendar as well as a gift for a happy three months that we’ve been together and also a way to show my endless appreciation for who she is and all that she’s done in my life.

The second highlight of this month would be the one I would not have expected to happen at all in my entire lifetime! For years and months of trying to convince my dad to buy a Scion FR-S, we roll out the dealership in the FR-S’ successor, a brand new Toyota 86!!! Lord, it felt like a dream...The process of buying this beauty of a car was honestly such a stressful moment in the dealership that I was so close to calling it off and telling my dad it would be perfectly fine to roll out in a Corolla. I would have...considering the financial situation our family is in, so this was a surprise...it really was. I promised to help pay for it though, because my dad deserves so much more than to sacrifice his peace and comfort of his finances to make his only son happy. I couldn’t tell you how overjoyed I was at the dealership and even more so about how much I love the man that’s taken the role of our mom and dad for several years after my mother’s passing. 

Last but undeniably not least, the final highlight of this year really goes to the woman who has made not only this year, but myself complete. I can genuinely say that she is my other half without doubt and that I love her for everything that she is. Even when not shown as a highlight in previous months, she has been there with me through it all and I couldn’t exactly say where I would be now as a person if it were not for her...I came into 2016 with high hopes, and through the middle I felt lost and almost broken, but towards the end, I find myself happier, more content, more full of life, and filled with a greater purpose other than just taking care of myself and getting through each day like the next...all because of her. I love her...I really do.

That ends it for 2016. Thank you for all the high’s...as it serves a way to enjoy and appreciate life’s little and big moments as well the low’s for being there to remind me to humble myself as well as a chance to learn and grow for the better.

It was a relatively shitty year, but thank you nonetheless. 

I pray 2017 has just as much if not more highlights than 2016, and I also pray for the strength to overcome all the difficulties next year may have for me...Here’s to 2017

[pelikinesis]

sesquipedalia

i forgot the word ‘sesquipedalian’ for a good half an hour, and it bothered me more than i imagined it could. the context and reason for this has to do with the only time I have ever said the word ‘sesquipedalian’ out loud, along with the juxtaposition of the last two stages of my life and all the fun worms grubs and bubbles that come slither-floating up out of the heavy moss-covered rocks they were happily cohabitating beneath for all this time.

i should specify that I’m not the kind of guy that would be upset about forgetting a word like sesquipedalian merely due to being the kind of guy who not only came across such a word but then chose to commit its definition to memory. anyone who has ever accused me of being intelligent has likely arrived at such a conclusion based on behaviors and habits of mine that are prompted first and foremost by perfectionism. or maybe i should say that an appetite for knowledge is kinda similar to other kinds of appetites, in that along with the appetite are preferences and habits--related, but not to be conflated as a single undifferentiated attribute.

anyways, so the first and probably only time I ever said the word ‘sesquipedalian’ out loud (aside from recounting this story in person or on the phone) was at the tail end of a grad school seminar which ran from 6-10pm. i forget which one, but the professor who taught it was unanimously considered to be the most intelligent in the whole department, at least as far as I heard. 

The utterance was prompted by him recounting an anecdote which quickly turned effectively tangential once he realized he wanted to use a word, and could recall the definition, but not the word itself. And yes, the word was ‘sesquipedalian’, so we’re about to come full circle in a way.

The reason I mention this professor being considered the smartest in the department is because whether out of confidence or pride he put a halt on what he was saying instead of moving on, instead speaking, mostly to himself I suspect, about how it was the perfect word to use in the situation.

I should also mention that this is the same professor who wrote, in a textbook he authored, a particular sentence about the difficulty of operationalizing the variable of “Intentionality” in regards to the study of emotional abuse. Here’s the sentence: “[Intentionality] is an intrinsically spontaneous epiphenomenon incapable of post-hoc verification.”

That sentence happens to be one of my favorite sentences in the English language, for reasons that transcend irony and authenticity. It’s the most absurdly-constructed sentence I’ve ever read, and yet I always find myself marveling at how its crafting makes perfect sense. I absolutely understand why he choose each and every one of those words and in that order, and yet the fact remains that NOBODY TALKS LIKE THAT. 

And also, I had to spend about as much time and effort into discarding my preconceptions of what each of those terms meant so that i could fully absorb the individual definitions from the subject of psychology, and then combine them procedurally to understand the meaning hidden away in this Rubik’s Cube of a sentence.

All this to say, a good few minutes passed while my professor was low-key beside himself trying to remember the word he’d forgotten, because everyone else in the room pretty much assumed he’d get it in the next five seconds. Ten. Twenty. Forty-five, huh. And all my classmates were looking around at one another, just as confused as me, except for one thing. I knew none of them were going to guess the word, and I knew I had an idea of what it was, and I was gonna take a shot at it because that would move the lecture along. Even if I was wrong, that still might help jog his memory towards the word he was thinking of).

But when I raised a hand and said, “...is the word ‘sesquipedalian?’” like a freaking Jeopardy! contestant, he gave a pleased affirmation and moved on with whatever he was originally trying to say. And thus the class proceeded to its conclusion with the aid of an exchange which permanently cemented me to the rest of my classmates as a total freaking nerd.

And I remembered all the details about that story, but couldn’t remember the word. I have a general understanding about how the memory retrieval process works, namely the part where it doesn’t always succeed without a hitch, and that’s pretty normal. But, for those thirty minutes spent on various online thesauruses (thesaurii?), I wondered if this meant my thinky-whatsits had significantly atrophied. 

And even though I honestly don’t consider “intelligent’ to be one of my defining attributes as a person (I’m slightly less uncomfortable with ‘analytical,’ but i can think of plenty of significant moments that suggest otherwise and I say that both with and without a trace of irony), forgetting the word ‘sesquipedalian’ was quite unsettling. In the case of my professor, I imagine it might have been connected to the fact that he was contemplating retirement, and all the accompanying questions it raises about identity amongst other things.

in my case, well...one of the reasons I don’t respond all that well to being told I’m intelligent (I don’t respond particularly gracefully to compliments of any sort for reasons, but this one has an exclusive dimension to it) is because i don’t actually know how smart i am. and sure, that’s a pretty dumb way to put it, but I had to type ‘sesquipedalian’ a whole bunch just to make it to this point in this post, so whatever, dude.

And understanding and coming to terms with my intelligence--in its current state, in its capacity for growth, and its limitations--is one of those really freaking important things i need to do before i can make any long-term plans about my future. and I know at a certain point I’ll need to take my shot on a leap of faith and roll with the punches while living on a prayer.

but the thing is, even though forgetting the word ‘sesquipedalian’ made me feel for a bit like i’m not as smart as i used to be, and bringing with that insecurity the much more substantial one of not being smart enough to accomplish what look like appealing and worthwhile life goals to me, one thing i’m even more convinced of is that i’m not as brave as i used to be.

I’m reminded of the first lines Thanos says in Infinity War. “I know what it's like to lose. To feel so desperately that you're right, yet to fail nonetheless. It's frightening, turns the legs to jelly.” And in the end of Infinity War, Thanos wins. The heroes fail, after dozens of movies over dozens of years seeing them triumph when things seemed bleakest time and time again.

Of course, there’s another movie after, and heroes win after all. I really enjoyed Infinity War, because that first time i watched it with my friends, as the credits rolled, i knew they felt the way I’d felt as I woke up every morning for the past 2 or 3 years. Except my experience of failure was neither vicarious nor fictional.

i guess I should tie this into talking about my book coming out next year, but part of me thinks I’m going to post this on my wordpress and then I’d have to think about how i’d do it to avoid making it sound like all the other times I’ve talked about my book there since that’s the whole point of me making a wordpress in the first place.

plus i’d have to properly capitalize a whole bunch of words since in tumblr no one capitalizes shit.

[thiswasasuperterribleidea]

The Fran way...

So it’s no secret I am humanly incapable of making any life decision. Rn I am debating on moving back in with my parents.. even though I absolutely love living on my own... and absolutely hate living with my parents... but I want to save more money so that I can buy my own house because that’s what I really want cause I think paying rent is stupid and condos are hard to sell and my roommate kinda blows, and she’s making bank on me while I’m the dumb fuck that is literally never even home unless it’s to sleep so I am just paying her for a bedroom and a fucking shower like the moron I am, and then if I move back home and save for a house I can buy my own dog because I’ll have more time to take care of my future golden retriever puppy that I am going to name “Happy”... *TAKES DRAMATIC GASP OF AIR* ....anyway that’s just one of my life dramas.. So let me tell you how I dramatically ruined my chance at any career advancement at my shit ass job in the most “Francesca way” possible.

So when I was away for work a new branch spot opened. I decided I was going to apply . After I already decided I was going to apply.. my area manager sent me a text making sure I saw it opened... and I still decided on applying. 

I had until Tuesday at 5pm to submit my application. On Monday I asked my manager if he could set some time to prep me for the interview. He responds with call me before you apply, I want to make sure you know what you’re getting into. ....ok??? So this guy aka MY BOSS tells me how bad my commute is going to be. How he doesn’t think that I will have any work life balance. That if I don’t apply no one will think anything of it... COMPLETELY SIKES ME THE FUCK OUT. He starts putting made up and probably false time lines on if I stay where I am now until the next move that can benefit me happens... anyway kills me. Guy tells me if I apply, the spot is mine it was already discussed so I can’t debate the choice “if I apply I might not get it” I had to play it like it was mine. I overthink and overthink and guess what I overthink some more. And after going back and forth for 2 fucking days. I don’t apply.

i get home that night. FUCKING FURIOUS. I let my manager talk me out of it. I let my parents talk me out of it.. my roommate... every fucking person except myself. 

Dwight and Galen 3 way phone call me like we were in the 5th grade and shit on me telling me I should have taken a chance a challenge and stepped the fuck up. Now I was already thinking the same thing and fucking irate before talking to them . But now I was fucking livid I didn’t apply. 

So it would be way too normal and professional for me to just take the L and live with the fact that I fucked up not applying. So I call my manager ask if there is anyway I can get in. At 8pm with a 5pm deadline .. I was manually added to the interview list. 

So now I’m freaking the fuck out because I’m paranoid the interview is the next day . I drove all the way to my branch at 8pm to print out all sorts of fucking branch numbers and reports to meet Dwight and Galen at tgi fuckin fridays to prep for this interview. I LEGIT WAS IN MY PAJAMAS NO BRA AT TGI FUCKIN FRIDAYS ON A TUESDAY NIGHT. 

I gotta admit though, what a solid support network coming though at 10pm last minute like that. Galen was there for emotional support, Dwight was there for the brains ...but I was so scared he was gonna ditch cause he’s a little shady sometimes that I texted Darren asking if he could look at the branches report for me or help me at work in the morning. Lmao it was a horrible stretch but I was so scared Dwight was no showing .... anyway Dwight came through so bless up... the 3 of us sat at Fridays from 10-12 prepping me for this stupid bullshit.... because there’s no way I could be that dramatic about applying and not go in ready to fuckin kill it. 

So I get in the interview. I fuckin kill it. I am legit on fire . Bringing shit up before he even asked cause I knew exactly what he wanted to hear and the energy he wanted given off... ALL IS GOING PERFECT. Until he got bored of interviewing me and spent the final 20 minutes pressing me for how long I took to apply and that he thinks I’d be great but the commute seems too much since I applied at 8pm. 

Next day I get a call word for word “I don’t have much feedback for you, I think you did very well... but i am going to go in another direction”  The person he hired over me... LOSER. Guys been at a branch my size for the past 4 years and I have done a better job in my only 6 months... SO DONE. Honestly didn’t even really want to make the commute ... but I’ve never been so fucking bitter about not getting something in my whole life. Yeah, i fucked up being dramatic and flip flopping back and forth on applying. But once I got there...  I deserved that fucking spot. Now I’m back at my branch being miserable and not preforming cause I have no motivation in this rigged shithole. (It’s only cool when it’s rigged for me) Time to find a new job for Fran. 

Lesson learned... hire a life coach... don’t be dramatic ... go with your gut....I don’t fucking know.. fuck this ... 

[1yearnobeer]

1.5 months

So far the hardest test has been resisting friends. The verbal abuse and repeated insults of being a “pussy” . I think stubbornness is in my nature and the will to not falter grew stronger with each jibe.

One of my closest friends has called my a pussy repeatedly and refuses to forgive me. My girlfriend called me miserable and strongly implied i was ruining one of our fist time at a festival because i wasn’t drinking. That weekend was particularly hard because we had a large seafood dinner with clams, crabs and other chinese delights and I sat and watched the others drink cooling Blue Girl, with its bubbles forming on the glass to lament the passing of my former self. Traditionally I would have ALWAYS had a few beers and thoroughly enjoyed them in this situation. 

I had been to two raves and drunk only cranberry juice or water, interestingly no one at the raves cared in the slightest. In fact one good friend was supportive when he brought champaign over to celebrate the conception of his first child and I declined he was accepting. 

I went to a drum and bass night for my friends birthday without alcohol at which i got really into the beat and felt much the same as if I had had 6 cans of Tsingtao.

Where I really did struggle was going to a birthday party dinner. I hate those sorts of long table everyone talk about work events anyway, and this one was no exception. I was apprehensive begining with the journey there. I got extreme social anxiety and felt like i could barely perform as a normal human being. I tried to avoid engagement as much as possible and any conversation i shut down with a Mark Corrigan (from peeposhow) internal monologue reeling with embarrassment and critiquing events at every failed conversation. This is on of the main reasons for doing this, exposing myself to this sort of event without alcohol. This one was a disaster and there will be many more to come but to be so familiar with talking to people without alcohol will truely make me indipendent of it.

This has become what I do now. It no longer requires me to think oh I’m not drinking. Countless social events have passed now, be those festivals, raves, dinners, rooftop BBQs, hotpot with friends and even the though of “ooooh a beer would be nice” is fading. I do occasionally get that feeling, when I have spent the weekend working on the roof welding and sawing and glance at the beers in the fridge, oh how nice it would be to sit with my feet up on the table and crack a cold one.

One of the most noticeable changes has been becoming aware of just how irritating and smelly drunk people are. My girlfriend comes back after having a few too many glasses of wine with one eye facing east another to 2 oclock with the pungent scent of rotting plant material on her breath. The ferry stinks at 10pm of pore expelled alcohol and bad breath. I’m also aware of just how much my friends, collegues drink and how often i wuld drink. Just a few weeks before starting this i was “hooch hacking” trying to get as many free drinks from Hooch app as possible, drinking after work on the ferry, drinking out of boredom at home on the weekend, drinking 4 pints with dinner.

I dont feel any different, still as tired, still as morose as before, except now the though of having 4 beers on a Friday when they are being handed out by colleagues seems disgusting to me, the thought of polluting myself, rendering my brain that incapable of funtcion, saturating myself in stench of decaying hops to then go home and pass out leaving my internal organs to process the toxins while i sleep only to wake up feeling like a scallop left out on the meal shelf for an entire lunch shift just doesnt seem appealing at all.

I am not addicted to alcohol in any way, that's clear, I have a set of social norms that have historically encouraged me to drink and deep rooted social issues I have buried with alcohol, lack of conversation generating thoughts etc, what I have and have thus far been unable to quell is a caffeine addiction, I can not function without it. I have remained largely the same without alcohol the same can not be said without caffeine which I've tried to stop in the past

[ninetiescat]

story of my medications

This is my response to the message I received on my sarahah (@illusionarium), reading,

May be a bit personal, but I want to know your story behind all of your medication. Your social medias are phenomenal which raises my curiosity as to why you have to take so much.

This is going to be way more information than what you asked for. I haven’t proofread this but I tried to write carefully. Potential trigger warning beyond this point.

I’ll start at the very beginning, getting to the more-than-you-asked-for right away.

How I got on meds in the first place:

In January 2012, the night of day 1 of the second semester of my freshman year of high school, so roughly five and a half years ago, I was involuntarily put under mandatory 72-hour hold in a psychiatric ward for threatening to kill myself. I was in there until the afternoon of day 3 of the semester. This is pertinent because I wanted and somehow proceeded to achieve straight A’s and knew that staying in longer meant I was missing more class-time and putting that at risk it took a month to catch up on those three days I shit you not. (For the full hospital story, see this post.) While being held there, I did my best to abide by the rules the hospital operated by—i.e. rules none of us were directly informed of, rules we had to be informed of by our fellow inmates let’s be honest, it was essentially a prison who were there before us and learned the hard way so we didn’t have to—but those rules were just things to check legal boxes, they didn’t make any real sense, and they weren’t consistent, so despite my genuine best efforts, it became very clear very quickly that they wouldn’t release me after 72 hours (72 hours is only the minimum) if I didn’t sell my soul to the devil. I always swore I would never take psychiatric medications—I just didn’t believe in it, if I was doomed to be sad then so be it, I didn’t have anything against other people taking meds but I didn’t want it for myself under any circumstances—but I couldn’t afford to be held longer than the bare minimum basically if I took a breath one second later than expected, Staff would threaten to hold me for an extra week, a threat that was said to me five times, so I agreed to be medicated to check one of their damn boxes needed for an on-time release. Then, when released (about 24-hours after agreeing to take meds and taking the first dose), I was told that if I stopped taking the meds I would be readmitted. I assumed, despite Staff being heartless assholes for the most part, that they—medical professionals (well, sort of)—wouldn’t flat out lie to me, so I reluctantly continued taking the meds. I cried, I went to the doctor they referred me to every month and a half, I sold my soul and gave up what I stood for, I took my shit as prescribed, I was a good girl, and I hated every second of it, but I hated it less than I hated hospitalization. It wasn’t until a year and a half later that I cried to that doctor (who was very nice; I quite enjoyed seeing her) about hating being on meds and wanting to stop but knowing I can’t without being readmitted, and she, surprised by my statement, informed me that that was a lie, I was never required to keep taking them, they could not readmit me for that, period end of story, I had been blatantly lied to. Unfortunately, by then I had gotten in too deep (I’ll explain why), so despite still hating being on meds, I carried on.

Why I stayed on them:

I grew up depressed, anxious, and with insomnia; it’s all I’ve ever known, so I couldn’t complain too much having never known better I mean I complain all the time, talked about suicide etc., but I wasn’t fighting for better because I didn’t know what to fight for and didn’t have the motivation too. A year and a half into bouncing from medication to medication (I’ll elaborate later), I had had no success with improving my depression or anxiety, but after about a year of that, I found a sleeping medication that worked, and holy fucking shit. Over the course of my life, my sleep had been getting progressively worse; for instance, at age 14.5, Night 2 in the psych ward, bedtime from 10pm through 7am, I took over an hour to fall asleep and woke up eight times I remember because Staff yelled at me about this the next morning. That was quite normal for me, I wasn’t accustomed to anything better, but getting a night of what normal sleep should be for the first time…was just something I couldn’t pass up. It was like a brand new world. The medicine that did the trick was an atypical antidepressant prescribed to me for insomnia by that point my doc had gone off-label, as I was already failing to respond to traditional treatments, so I said fuck it and kept on making my way down Big Pharma’s product list trying to treat all my issues for the heck of it. Note however that I had also been diagnosed with ADHD, a problem I wasn’t previously aware of, and medication for it worked also, but I could’ve accepted pre-ADHD-med life more than pre-insomnia-med life.

Since then:

My insurance dropped that first doctor not technically a doctor, psychiatric mental health nurse practitioner, PMHNP, didn’t know that for a long time, didn’t know there was an important difference at the year and a half mark, so I switched to doc #2 not a doctor, advanced practice registered nurse, APRN, who quit and was replaced by #3 some kind of nurse practitioner who quit and was replaced by #4 APRN whom I hated, so I switched to #5 family nurse practitioner, FNP, who was great, but I really needed a psychiatrist. So now I’m seeing #6, a psychiatrist! A PhD! An MD! At last! My therapist of five years said I needed an actual psychiatrist and advised I try to get off of my meds (four total at the time), which is a main reason I took medical withdrawal from college in March. This doctor is fab and is trying so hard to get me the best treatment possible. We tried weaning off slowly, but the withdrawal symptoms were too bad to handle alone, so we’ve tried substituting new meds with them to ease the withdrawals (elaborated on later). Because of how that is going, he wants me to seek a second opinion technically an eighth if we include the psych ward, five NPs, my therapist of five years, and himself from an accredited institution if we can find one that will see me because my “case has advanced beyond what conventional medical treatments can help” and I have “suffered too long,” and if a re-evaluation shows that my diagnoses are correct, I could benefit possibly from experimental treatments or clinical trials since my shit is so treatment resistant.

How that’s going—what I’m diagnosed with and what all I’ve tried:

Chronologically, I’ve been diagnosed with major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, insomnia, ADHD, and panic disorder, with anorexia nervosa present but left undiagnosed. In trying to treat my five diagnoses in the last five and a half years, I’ve had my system pumped with twenty-five different psychotropic medications. Of the 25, I’ve only had any success with/positive reaction to 8. I’m currently on 6 daily. Let’s list them out chronologically with more info than you asked for for shits and giggles shall we—“[medication class] prescribed for [whatever, usually off-label], italicized means it worked, bolded means I’m currently on it:

Zoloft/Sertraline—(from the hospital) antidepressant for depression & anxiety

Xanax/Alprazolam—sedative for anxiety

Trazodone—weird antidepressant for insomnia

Tranxene/Clorazepate—benzodiazepine for insomnia

Ambien/Zolpidem—hypnotic for insomnia

Prozac/Fluoxetine—antidepressant for depression

Elavil/Amitriptyline—idk it treats everything and was prescribed for idk I can’t remember tbh

Remeron/Mirtazapine—atypical antidepressant for insomnia (worked for a year, stopped, immediately replaced by Seroquel)

Adderall XR and IR—stimulant for ADHD (XR extremely effective but couldn’t tolerate ingesting it, IR ineffective)

Buspar/Buspirone—anxiolytic for anxiety

Inderal/Propranolol—beta blocker for anxiety/depression

Seroquel/Quetiapine—atypical antipsychotic for insomnia

Lamictal/Lamotrigine—anticonvulsant for depression (under slow withdrawal at the moment)

Daytrana/Methylphenidate—stimulant for ADHD

Klonopin/Clonazepam—benzodiazepine for anxiety

Valium/Diazepam—benzodiazepine for anxiety then insomnia

Lexapro/Escitalopram—antidepressant for depression

Wellbutrin/Bupropion—antidepressant for suicidal thoughts (it helped a bit)

Atarax/Hydroxyzine HCl—antihistamine for insomnia

Phenergan/Promethazine—antihistamine for insomnia

Clonidine HCl—alpha blocker for insomnia & high blood pressure/elevated heart rate

Trileptal/Oxcarbazepine—anticonvulsant for depression/to ease Lamictal withdrawals

Vyvanse/Lisdexamfetamine—stimulant for ADHD

Dexedrine/Dextroamphetamine—stimulant for ADHD

Evekeo/Amphetamine—stimulant for ADHD

So I’m currently on Seroquel, Lamictal, Valium, Clonidine, Trileptal, and Evekeo—three for insomnia, two for depression, and one for ADHD. I am incapable of sleeping without sleeping medications; I go about 36 hours wide awake, then go from wired to unconscious note that sleep is not an unconscious state for about half an hour, then snap back awake as if nothing has ever happened until I take the next dose. I have extreme difficulty reading, comprehending, writing, and understanding information without ADHD medication, one of the main two reasons I’m taking a second semester off from school. My anxiety is debilitating and currently only being treated through therapy, which is undoubtedly beneficial but not the same; I used to take Valium to stop my panic attacks (it would calm down the physical symptoms so I could use what I’ve learned in therapy to calm the mental symptoms), but when I started taking it for sleep it stopped working for panic, so I just have to ride it out. I started Clonidine as a substitute for Valium for falling asleep, but it makes me so damn sleepy during the day that I’ve been slow to let go of the Valium and raise the Clonidine. I’m not addicted to any of it, simply terrified to not sleep. A sleepless night is a nightmare few people understand; yeah no one likes a sleepless night, but it’s fucking torture when you get more suicidal with every second you’re awake. I get in bed every night terrified that this will be the night I stop sleeping; Seroquel, for the first four years, worked effortlessly for making me fall and stay asleep for roughly eight hours and wake up on my own with no drowsiness, then all of a sudden it stopped helping me fall asleep and out of desperation I added on Valium because it was my only option and I knew it had hypnotic properties. Since it’s not healthy to be on it super long term, my doc wanted me to trade it for something safer, like Clonidine. I was put on Lamictal after going through rounds of antidepressants that failed; Lamictal treats seizure disorders and bipolar disorder and is related to Trileptal but carries a greater risk of a deadly side effect. Seroquel is an antipsychotic that also treats bipolar disorder; it seems the medications that work best for me with the fewest side effects are the ones that treat bipolar disorder, for which I have not been diagnosed (technically I am down as bipolar in my files for insurance reasons, as my insurance could request my files, see the depression diagnosis, and refuse to pay for Seroquel and Lamictal because they are not approved to treat unipolar depression), which I find interesting. Trileptal has shown very little evidence on efficacy at treating mood disorders and is in no way approved for their treatment, but I have responded to so few medications that my latest doc thought hey, why not. Fun, isn’t it?

And at last,

why I have to take so much:

My shit, aka an intricately intertwined clusterfuck, is just so damn treatment resistant that 1. no one medicine can treat any one problem well enough to suffice on its own 2. everything is so bad that even if one worked really well and wiped out one problem altogether the others really can’t go untreated yet. There are only two instances in which I am okay with being alive—on stage performing or in an airport. I’m not lucky/privileged enough anymore for the former occasion (bonus: my sleeping meds contain antihistamine properties and I’ve watched as my voice has deteriorated over the past four years, escalating in the last four with the addition of Clonidine) and not rich enough for the latter to occur as often as I’d like, so I spend virtually every day wishing I was dead. It’s so normal to me now. It’s been twenty years. I can smile and laugh and dance around for a few minutes, but that’s all I get; it doesn’t last. My favourite singer can release a new song and I’ll cry with happiness as I sing at the top of my lungs for hours or see some aesthetically pleasing decoration in a store and take a hundred pictures of it and that’ll make my day, but it simply doesn’t last. I’ve only managed to live this long because my anxiety is severe in just the right ways to keep me incapable of going through with any method of suicide. I’ve become accustomed to coasting by; I often wonder how many people can tell I’ve got issues or can tell what kind of issues I have without being informed first. I wonder too what I’m like beneath the medications, if I would even be recognizable; I thought I would find that out over the summer, but that will have to wait until the weaning is all done I suppose my psychiatrist estimated the process would take 3.5 years when I started seeing him.

Soooo…I hope that answered your question and makes some sort of sense. Feel free to inquire further; I’ve spent the past six months doing nothing but researching and focusing heavily on all of this so I know it well and have a lot to say about it.