#i began to ignore f once he started dating his roommate (in real life) and i said so to a in my dream

[merrygomp3]

just had a free therapy session in my dream with an old middle school classmate (not even a friend) about a friendship that went from 0 to 100 to -100000 last last year. it was so intense and felt so real that it woke me up earlier than expected

[sensc]

░ ✧ ❝ — plots based on [ SONGS ] ❞

here’s a list of random plots inspired from various songs on my spotify! they’re written out as m & f ( all muse a as the female & all muse b as the male ) but they can obviously be altered to your preference!

( # 01 ° * ) —― we own the night , selena gomez & the scene ; ❝  is it alright if I’m with you for the night? hope you don’t mind if you stay by my side. ❞

muse a and muse b were not only next door neighbors while growing up, but they were also the best of friends before inevitably drifting apart once high school began. muse a eventually left town to attend a university miles away while muse b stayed home to attend a local community college. now, almost a semester into their sophomore year, muse a is back in town without giving anyone a warning or reason. muse b isn’t even aware of her homecoming until muse a climbs the tree between their houses in the middle of the night and taps his window until he wakes up. it’s only then that muse b finds out the truth behind muse a’s reappearance.

... muse a is back home because something life-changing happened to her ( maybe she witnessed a crime, someone broke into her dorm, a friend passed away, a video/picture of her got around school, etc ) (( just something impactful ))

... as a result of the incident, muse a always visits muse b at night because she can’t sleep & refuses to be alone because she’ll start thinking about *the incident* all over again

( # 02 ° * ) —― colors , halsey ; ❝  you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece and now you’re tearing through the pages and the ink. ❞  

since kindergarten, muse b has given muse a drawings. although they were mostly scribbles and shaky shapes, muse a was always grateful, unfailingly responding with a smile. this exchange continued throughout elementary and middle school, the scribbles transforming into sophisticated portraits and illustrations that showcased muse b’s artistic talent. however, during the duo’s first year of high school, muse a’s friends caught wind of the drawings and teased her endlessly. out of embarrassment, muse a stopped accepting muse b’s art and promptly told him to leave her alone. they haven’t spoken since. now, 10 years later, muse a is a small-time reporter struggling to find the story that’ll finally launch her career while muse b is a prestigious artist whose work sells for millions to culture-savvy socialites. after muse b shockingly announces his early retirement, every news outlet is dying for an interview. however, he’s always kept a low profile in the public eye, which is why he’s only allowed one network to interview him — muse a’s network.

( # 03 ° * ) ―― real , years & years ; ❝  i think i’m into you, how much do you want it too? i think i’m gonna make it worse, i talk to you but it don’t work. what have i been doing wrong? tell me what it is you want. ❞ 

muse b is an illustrator for a popular graphic novel. after struggling to find inspiration for his latest assignment, he wills to life a drawing of his dream girl — muse a. she becomes the muse that he’s been needing, even earning him a promotion. however, after muse a finds out that she can be seen by everyone and not just muse b, her desire to live a real life in the real world is ignited. now, muse b has more to focus on than just his work — the obligation to watch over the person he created, the need for her presence in order to complete ( what were once simple ) tasks, and the jealousy as muse a’s world become more than just muse b.

( # 04 ° * ) ―― r u mine , arctic monkeys ; ❝  i go crazy ‘cause here isn’t where i wanna be and satisfaction feels like a distant memory. i can’t help myself, all i wanna hear her say is are you mine. ❞ 

muse b always goes for a run at 2 am because he has trouble sleeping and every time he comes back home, muse a ( his next door neighbor ) is drunk and either fumbling with her keys or stumbling through the front door. muse b always helps her get in safely then leaves some water and advil by her bed and muse a always responds with drunken rambles of appreciation. the duo constantly exchange fleeting glances during the day, but muse b never initiates the conversation in fear of muse a being too drunk to remember his assistance while muse a never initiates the conversation due to being embarrassed by her frequent drunkenness.

( # 05 ° * ) ―― strangers , halsey feat. lauren jauregui ; ❝  we’re not lovers. we’re just strangers with the same damn hunger to be touched, to be loved, to feel anything at all. ❞

muse b has it all — a successful business under his thumb, millions of dollars that’ll sustain him until his dying day, and people who take his word as law. the only thing he’s missing? love. but unlike the age-old saying, money can buy everything. enter muse a, a high-charging escort who earns her living by sleeping with some of the world’s most wealthy men. after being setup by friends, a night is arranged between the twosome. however, unlike muse a’s regular customers, muse b wants to pay for her time instead of her body. they strike up one of the most profitable deals of muse a’s career, a deal that essentially turns her into muse b’s significant other once the moon is out. this includes spending the night, eating dinner together, late night talks, and ( most importantly to muse b ) affirmations of love. but it all ends once the sun is back in the sky and doesn’t begin again until it goes back down.

( # 06 ° * ) ―― down for me , g-eazy feat. 24hrs ; ❝  she was the only one down for me. had a hard time adjusting to new fame, my life ain’t the same since the day that you came. ❞

muse a and muse b only met once ― the first day of their junior year of high school where they crossed paths after both reaching for the last pamphlet for a local college of the arts. after a short ( and competitive ) conversation, they each swore that they would make it big. years later, muse b lived up to his promise and is now a famous rapper/musician whose name is synonymous with money, fame, and success. muse a is a college student who is struggling to get her degree and pay her student loans while still pursuing her dreams of being a dancer. muse a’s first public performance is at a small art show where a typical audience is around twenty people, which is why she’s dumbfounded when she’s in the middle of her routine and sees muse b sitting in the front row. before her set is even finished, muse b is bombarded by photographers and fans who are dying for a moment of his time, causing everyone’s eyes to shift away from muse a. while muse a is livid, she can’t help but wonder what the hell muse b is doing here.

( # 07 ° * ) ―― déjà vu , post malone feat. justin bieber ; ❝  now, tell me, is that déjà vu? ❞

muse a and muse b were childhood best friends but drifted apart ( for some reason ) and haven’t talked since they were kids despite growing up in the same town and attending the same university. recently, a group of amateur hackers have gotten into numerous people’s phones with intentions to steal and sell people’s nudes. muse a was the most recent victim and muse b bought her nudes so no one else would see them, but she found out and now thinks that he’s some kind of pervert… great! 

( # 08 ° * ) ―― if you can afford me , katy perry ; ❝  if you wanna ride, just name your price. don’t play cheap with your heart. don’t make a bet if you can’t write the check. ❞ 

muse b has always been overlooked and underappreciated, his eternal label being ‘the brain’. muse a is the complete opposite, an absolute bombshell who always has eyes on her. when their university has a bachelor auction for raising money for the end of year mixer, muse a places the highest bid of the night on muse b ― $1,000. while muse a tells everyone that she placed her bet out of pity, behind closed doors, she explains to muse b that she needs him to tutor her so she can pass her final exams. muse b, both offended and embarrassed for being naïve enough to think that she was actually interested in him, refuses to do anything more than what she paid for ― be her date. it’s only when muse a offers to double the money and pay muse b his own personal $2,000 ( alongside the school bid ) that they reach an agreement..

( # 09 ° * ) ―― the love club , lorde ; ❝  i’m sitting pretty on the throne. there’s nothing more i want, except to be alone. ❞

muse a’s life has been a whirlwind since becoming a seemingly overnight success a few years ago. although she appreciates her newfound fame and millions of fans across the world, it’s all become too much to handle. she drops everything and catches the next flight to her childhood best friend’s university ( wearing oversized sunglasses and a floppy hat to lay low ), wanting to surprise the person she hadn’t gotten the chance to speak to in months. after landing, she knocks on their dorm door but is instead met with her best friend’s roommate, muse b — a stranger. as luck would have it, her best friend has unexpectedly taken a semester off to travel ( a not-so-minor detail that she probably would have known if she hadn’t ignored their texts after her ego schedule blew up ). unfortunately, the media finds out that she’s in town and both college kids and the paparazzi are wanting a visual of muse a’s apparent breakdown. with no other option, muse a begs muse b to let her stay in his dorm until the attention dies down... to which muse b reluctantly agrees.

[tobedeletedwayward]

Fruition || Jimin

Request:

Summary:  Guys and girls can be friends without talking much. Guys and girls can be roommates without falling in love. Park Jimin likes to prove you and the facts of life wrong form time to time.

Word Count: 2,603 I THINK THIS IS  THE LONGEST THING IVE WRIRTTEN AHSDAH

A/N: Ahaha guess who crawled out of their cave? This loser. Sorry for being AWOL these past few weeks, Imma be real and say that it was not a pretty picture up in my head . In order to make up for that, I am clearing the To Do List, starting with this request. It’s not as intimate as the request outlined but damn if it isn’t cute. Enjoy, and sorry again~

Go in there [Y/N], just get it over and done with.

‘But I can’t...’

Why are you so freaked out? You won’t be bothering them, hell maybe you’ll be helping!

‘It sounds really serious, I can’t interrupt them – that’s just rude.’

It’s your own fucking apartment. Just walk in there and ignore them as you pass by!

Your internal monologue ended as you sighed at your own stupidity. Of all the counter arguments you had come up with over the past ten minutes, nothing would be the logic your own mind bestowed upon you.

With a definitive huff you pulled your keys from your bag and went to unlock your front door, only to have it thrown open by an angered yet familiar woman. She blinked once, then twice, and let the anger dissipate momentarily to greet you.

“[Y/N], always good to see you.”

“Same goes to you Soomin.” You answered politely, watching as she turned around and spat out another aggressive farewell to the person inside before barrelling past you down the stairwell.

When the heavy footfalls faded into the air, you finally willed yourself to look into your apartment, ready for whatever mess you knew you’d be cleaning up.

The cushions were thrown off the couch and the pile of textbooks you’d left earlier that morning were strewn across the floor. There wasn’t a distinct pattern; rather it seemed that whoever threw them had been aiming at someone rather than something.

Admittedly, it wasn’t the worst battleground you had come across.

“I...will clean this one up...”

You let your gaze wander to your roommate, one of his hands resting on his hip while the other ruffled his dark hair. You shrugged.

“Whatever man, it’s your break up.” You answered with fake apathy.

Jimin chuckled, thankful that you didn’t give him the sympathetic bullshit most people tended to dish out in these circumstances.

“If you do need to have a good cry, there’s ice cream in the freezer. Go nuts.”

With a final smile, you exited the lounger room and retreated into your bedroom for the evening.

You didn’t catch the endearing smile plastered across your roommate’s face.

“Why did you tell me Jimin and Soomin broke up?”

“I didn’t think it was that important.”

“Of course it is- you’re his roommate and you have details!”

You didn’t bother answering, instead opting to keep your eyes on the required reading for your lecture the following day.

“I’m not fuelling that weird gossiper tendency you have when it comes to him, [Y/F/N],” you deadpanned, “besides you heard it from Soomin herself and she obviously isn’t being discreet about it, acting like its big news and all.”

[Y/F/N] rolled their eyes at you, directing their full attention back towards their own textbook for a brief second, all before glaring at you once more.

“Do you know why they broke up though? Like, you had to have heard something about it from either of them?”

‘Oh you don’t even know the half...’ You thought, replaying the many conversation you had heard that day and the many that had culminated towards their breaking point in the weeks prior.

“I don’t know, it was probably similar to Jimin’s last break up with Jane or whatever.” You answered vaguely, much to [Y/F/N]’s dismay

They knew you had answers, but you weren’t the type to eavesdrop and tell. Especially considering the fact that breakup territory wasn’t your place – even if around a quarter of their fight revolved around you and your roommate’s friendship

It fell silent between you both, only being broken up by the sounds of pens scratching across paper or the shifting of wooden legs across tiles.

The quiet wouldn’t last for long though, you knew that much. [Y/F/N] was too curious and inquisitive in all the wrong ways.

The quiet had lasted a solid four hours and was broken by the time you had agreed to grab a late dinner with them.

You wouldn’t admit that you were impressed with their newfound self restraint.

“Okay but doesn’t Jimin talk to you about things? What kind of roommate doesn’t talk about something like this?”

“Pretty sure that wasn’t in the ad he put up when he was looking for a roomie.” You flicked through the menu, eyes dancing across the words. “You’re good with Set B right cause I’m in the mood for beef.”

[Y/F/N] ignored you.

“So you don’t talk to each other at all?”

“Of course we talk; we’re friends, we just don’t intrude on each other’s personal lives like that.”

“Then what’s the point in being friends if you don’t know what’s going on in their lives.”

“It’s about respecting each other’s privacy and boundaries.”

“It’s boring.”

“It’s polite.”

[Y/F/N] groaned at your response, a few heads turning at the sudden intrusion of noise. You nodded apologetically towards the other patrons before redirecting your attention to your friend.

“What is it you want from me [Y/F/N]? Do you want me to exploit my situation so you can help fuel the gossip wheel that only ever seems to turn whenever Park Jimin is involved? If that’s it, then you’ll have to find someone else to do the dirty work.”

You locked eyes for a while, only yielding when something hit you directly in the right shin that rested underneath the table. You yelped in pain, quickly checking to see their foot still aimed in your direction.

“Listen, [Y/N],” they began, “you wanna know what the common thing is that all of Jimin’s exes have said about their breakups?”

You didn’t answer.

You had a pretty good understanding from things you’d always overheard; Jimin was always busy, Jimin had some habits that weren’t particularly favourable, Jimin had some form of attention on him whether he wanted it or not, and Jimin should move in with them since it made more sense for people romantically involved to live together rather than random people who wanted to save some money while they studied.

[Y/F/N] sighed, leaning forward on the table with their elbows dangerously close to the inactive grill. “They’ve all said that you were the main reason.”

You pressed a finger against your companion’s forehead, watching in wrinkle as you applied pressure. “Yeah, because they want to live with him since they’re the one dating him.” You answered. “They’ve also said Jimin rolls in his sleep and whacks them in the face – that’s another solid reason to dump someone if you ask me.”

“You’re an absolute idiot.”

“Thank you, can we order Set B now?”

“[Y/N]-” There was a hint of a small vein protruding from their forehead in frustration, and you tried not to laugh lest they lash out at you. They sighed and regained what they had left of their composure.

“They’ve all said you always come between them, and that Jimin always sides with you which are why they break up in the first place. And that’s why I always ask about it; because there’s something going on that you don’t know about. And I’m worried that your name will keep getting dragged around without you fighting back.”

Your narrowed your eyes at them. “If I wanted a trope-y love story I would be at home watching one of my shows.” You retorted, making them groan at your stubbornness.

“You aren’t denying the possibility of it-”

“And it’s such a slim possibility that I don’t even want to consider it because it’s stupid.” You dropped the menu in front of you, exasperated at your friend’s look of disbelief. “At best, we’re tier 1 friends meaning that whatever Fanfiction story you’re brewing in your head is impossible.”

“It makes sense though, doesn’t it? Even if it’s not a full blown romantic attraction that he has, he has to like you more than a friend or a roommate since every girlfriend has – for lack of a better phrase – seen you as a problem.” You huffed, indignant at her explanation. You didn’t want to admit it, but they had a point. Your name frequented these arguments too much, but you still refused to believe the theory entirely.

“Next time, be up front with me if you’re worried so I don’t start resenting being friends with you.”

A thankful smile appeared on their face and they yielded, slinking back into their seat comfortably. They leant over and pressed the button to alert the waiter that they were ready to order. “I’m good with Set B, as long as we get an extra lunchbox.” They determined. You rolled your eyes and nodded in agreement, knowing that compliance was the best option.

“But really,” they continued with a tight lipped smile, “I’m concerned. Even if what his exes are saying isn’t true, you have to admit that it’s a little strange that you’re constantly getting blamed despite not being as close to the guy as you say you are.”

You didn’t reply because, in one way or another, they had a point.

Jimin entered the apartment some time after 9pm, earlier than usual but by no means strange in nature. Ever since the break up, you discovered that he would much rather prefer to stay inside than to go out with friends as an artificial means of ‘bouncing back’.

You didn’t bother to greet him verbally, simply offering him a nod as you watched the faint outline of his body disappear and reappear form your peripherals.

The soft whirr of the microwave resonated beyond the kitchenette wall. “I didn’t expect you to be relaxing so late in the semester. What’s this about?” Teased Jimin, you could hear his smirk. You shrugged, adjusting the blanket on your front and remaining focused on the screen.

“Actually made headway with my work today, felt like I deserved a break.” You answered. The couch dipped to your left and you felt one of Jimin’s hands tug at the fabric you had claimed as your own. “How was your day? Anything exciting?”

“Submitted that Psych paper I was working on, now I’m in the clear until finals.” He replied, huffing slightly when the fabric refused to budge. The microwave beeped obnoxiously forcing Jimin to stand and retrieved whatever he had heated up. “You gonna be a good roomie and share the blanket or not?”

You scoffed. “I already let you dip into my ice cream stash – I’m clear from being giving for the next few weeks.

Jimin entered once more with a plate of leftovers and pouted at you childishly as he plopped back down. You offered a corner out of spite. He draped it across his knee half-heartedly.

It was quiet between you both, only the sounds from the show playing in front of you filling the atmosphere for most of the night. It was only broken by Jimin’s soft voice around an hour after he had arrived back.

“No one has been bugging you about me, right?”

There was a part of you that wanted to mention [Y/F/N] despite her inquiries being purely out of concern, but a larger part dismissed that and attempted to hone in on the underlying meaning of his words.

“Nope,” you were sure to pop the final syllable, “why? Is something up?”

He shook his head and shrugged, murmuring a “Just curious” under his breath. You looked at him curiously from the corner of your eye, wondering when you could bring up the query that had arisen in your mind.

Three days later, Jimin had cleared the concerns you did not wish to voice.

You had spent the three days that had passed nesting in your room, hidden away from the world because (1) you had hit a major roadblock with your assignment and needed to get it done and (2) Jimin had been getting too antsy for your own liking.

Thankfully, he had respected the boundaries of your bedroom just as you would do with him, which meant that you were to avoid him very well.

At least, that was what you had thought. Instead, in a moment of weakness, your roommate had cornered you in the kitchen.

You jumped in surprise when you turned around, almost dropping your cup noodles in the process. Jimin stood in front of you with his arms folded across his chest, leaning back against the counter and tufts of hair covering his forehead haphazardly.

“Word of warning next time-”

“Go on a date with me.”

You almost dropped your noodles in surprise, instead choosing to blink almost animatedly at him. “Pardon?”

“I want to take you out on a date,” he repeated with clear enunciation, “will you go out with me?”

Normal moments of silence between the two of you were comfortable, natural, and often felt like a hug. The one that hung between you in that moment was anything but. It was cold and clammy – nervous.

It took a while to formulate an adequate response, and you remained standing with a neutral expression. “I’m not your rebound, Jimin.”

He shifted his weight from his heels to the balls of his feet, arms still crossed. “You aren’t, trust me on this.”

“This is by definition a rebound-”

“Rebounds are most likely gonna happen with people you don’t care about and the last time I checked, I liked you.”

You opened and closed your mouth repeatedly, unsure of how to properly answer. From the bottom of your vision, you noticed the noodles still in your grasp despite losing all feeling in your fingers from the sheer heat emanating from the container.

Yes, the container.

Definitely not your cheeks or your arms or your body in general.

Another second of silence followed before you piped up. “You don’t like me, shut up.”

Good job, [Y/N].

Jimin scoffed. “You can’t tell me who I can and cannot like.”

“I can when that person is me!”

Jimin took a step towards you. You stepped back. Some of the soup splashed over the edge of the container.

“Look, I have feelings for you.” He admitted, unfolding his arms. “Are they serious? I don’t know. Do they make sense? No, but when do emotions ever do? Am I going to throw away a pretty good living arrangement to try and figure it out? Yeah, I am. Because there is something between us [Y/N] and I want to know what it is... I want to know if you feel the same, or at the very least feel just as confused as I feel right now.”

Another step, toes barely touching on the cold tile.

“One date, and if anything does happen then we figure it out from there... All I know is that I like you and I want to give this a decent shot.”

He looked into your eyes, searching for some sort of sign that signalled the answer he was hoping for. You remained still, eagerly looking back at him attempting to find any trace of a lie or joke within his features.

You found none.

And you wanted to punch [Y/F/N] for being right.

“One date.”

His eyes widened in surprise and you shifted back again.

“After you submit that paper?” He asked. You nodded. “Keep your schedule free, then.”

His kiss came as quickly as it went, plush lips against your cheek in a chaste and innocent gesture that left your eyes wide. He moved away, nodding once more before leaving you alone to your food.

You glanced down. The noodles had puffed up a lot. You frowned in discomfort.

Discomfort at your somewhat soiled food.

Definitely not that the way your heart had begun to beat faster at the minute interaction.

Definitely not.

[briannawhiteme]

Please don't judge me too harshly

I am very selfish.

Most people don't realize this about me. If you were to ask someone who knows me in real life , they'd probably tell you the opposite. They'd tell you about how selfless I am, how kind. And I'd bask in it like a lizard under a light. Eyes closed, body leaning towards the source, as I try to drink it in. I have an almost pathological need to be liked by the people I want to like me. It's very stupid.

To an outsider, it would seem random. There's no political or social reason why I choose people. I have no interest in climbing any ladders. I don't care if the executive director of my museum likes me, but I would want to die if I learned Tim, my colleague who fixes broken exhibits, didn't like me. Not even if he didn't like me, but if I learned he thought I was slightly annoying.

I love to listen to other people's problems. To stroke their hair and whisper platitudes that are never good enough, to tell them everything is going to be all right. It makes me feel important, powerful, needed.

I usually don't feel needed in my life. I just exist. I have friends, wonderful people all of them, carefully curated. They're smart, kind, and all have chips and hairline fractures running through. I need to be wanted. I need them to tell me why they're damaged, to need me there to listen when they speak.

I collected dolls as a child. Beautiful porcelain dolls that sat on a shelf and watched me as I slept. I would fluff thir dresses and dust them from time to time. I didn't have many friends at school. The few I had were always kept at arms length - I never trusted them not to turn on me. My dolls watched me, silently and without judgment, as I went about my friendless life.

I let myself trust two people once I got to high school, Matt and Hannah. I was in love with Matt. He had soft curls and a kind laugh. He was dating a girl who I called a friend, Chelsee, then they broke up. I asked him out then couldn't stop crying when he told me no. We didn't talk after that. He came out as gay two weeks later. He got married a little over 3 years ago. He and his husband seem happy on Facebook.

Hannah was sharp. She had sharp elbows, sharp cheekbones, and sharp, intimidating green eyes. She was mean and nobody liked her. She was the only person in our school that never had an issue with me not being religious. She enjoyed kicking me, finding soft spots physically and mentally. I was usually covered in bruises from her punches and kicks, and she reminded me daily that I was dumb and fat and worthless. Being near her always smelled like petrichor and felt like the stillness before lightning struck. She abondoned me when she made better friends, though I still chased after her like a puppy, ignoring her kicks and pretending not to hear as she told me I was not her friend whenever anyone else was in earshot.

By college, I knew my place. I tried to make myself small. I followed behind my randomly assigned roommate because she reminded me of Hannah. I built a wall though. That was new.

In college I learned to make photocopies of relevant bits of myself, folded them into paper airplanes, then threw over the side. It didn't feel like it was actually me; it felt safer.

This is when I began collecting people and their stories.

Cassie was the first. She was kind. She complimented me, genuinely, over things I thought were invisible. She shared parts of herself openly as though it was as easy as breathing. We were roommates Junior year. She is strong, and she is GOOD. She works for her state's Justice Center, ensuring people are aware of what gov assistance they are eligible for.

Megan and I were in the lobby of our floor freshman year. Our rooms were separated by the ra's dorm. Megan liked to brew coffee and invite people to socialize with us. We both hated ourselves but hid it well. We became friends from proximity and because she was willing to drive me back home. We were from the same city, and I had no license or car.

I met Tess through Megan. Tess was tall and sharp. She initially made me think of Hannah with her sharp angles. She liked to be crude to use her own traumas as a weapon to scare people away. People talked about her with a specific tone. She was a lesbian, she smoked weed, she had tattoos - not the cute, still healing infinity symbol like others but a giant dragon on her bicep, and she had what seemed like an endless line of men and women going in and out of her room - everyone assumed she was sleeping with all of them - she was with most. She sat on the edge during group events and acted even jumper than me. I came to hate the oilyness with which people said her name before I ever properly talked to her.

I had been diagnosed with panic attacks and anxiety in high school. I tried to keep other people from knowing about it.

Still early during freshman year, Cassie's friends invited me to hang out, do makeup, pre-game before a frat party. I was anxious about it all week. I was on the verge of an episode, so I took my panic pill before I went to the dorm. My doctor never told me it interacted with alcohol.

I drank less than a half bottle of orange juice with 2 shots of vodka in it. I was only a few sips in when my speech started slurring and the others began picking on me for being a lightweight, this quickly turned to concern and they sent me back to my own dorm. Megan was in the lobby, drinking coffee, pretending to read a book of philosophy. She thought I was high, I don't know what kind of drug she thought. She was right, but I don't think she ever believed that it was on my panic meds. I didn't want to go to my room. I was wired and being in my room was boring. Less than half the way through her cup of coffee she went to her own room to get away from me. She left the door open so she keep an ear on me. I lay on the couch and babbled about time and how I could feel it on my skin but couldn't keep track of it in my head.

Tess showed up for this part. This was the first time we had a real conversation, outside of heys in the hallway. She didn't ask what was going on. She just sat next to me and spoke gently to me like I was talking like a real person. Megan tried to tell her I was high, but I protested and tried to explain my meds. She didn't care one way or another but believed me over Megan. I had no wall that night. No defenses. But she didn't hurt me. Not even an accidental brush against one of my still tender bruises.

We talked about this fairly recently. She said she wasn't a nice person and that anyone would do the same thing. I told her it was a lie. Nobody else even wanted to make eye contact with me that night.

I... I still thought I was straight at this point, but I think I fell a little in love with her that night. If nothing else she became #1on the "don't scare away - we want them to like us list."

After that, when Megan had groups in our lobby we would sit beside each other. We were both quiet, but occasionally I would get soft questions from her, like "who's your favorite Greek goddess? Or what's your favorite animal?" They always caught me off guard, so I would answer truthfully and with detail. Then I would cringe, I was always half expecting to be chased away for showing to much. But she never did, she just asked more questions and would be caught off guard when I wanted to know her answers to these questions.

She wasn't used to that. People wanting to see her. Most people who would be kind were put off by her image, and those that weren't usually wanted her for something. She wanted attention and would do anything to get it.

I wanted to know more. To know why she was so kind. She kept me at arm's length in general. It hurt sometimes, but she always said she was a bad person. Occasionally, she would get drunk and seek me out, then we would sit in the lobby or in her room, and she would tell me her "sins" like I was her priest. As though she needed forgiven. I never knew what to say, I'd usually just lie and say things were all right.

People were cruel to her, and sometimes she defended herself. Even good people would be cruel. She was smart enough to hear the tone with which they said her name. She knew she was whispered about in bathrooms and dorms. Girls upset that with her for sleeping with their boyfriends for Ritalin and better weed. I don't think she thought I heard, that I knew. She didn't think I was stupid. Not like Hannah, though there were nights I cried because it felt the same. She thought I was good, pure, better and thought I'd have gone if I knew.

Tess and I had a required health class together first semester sophomore year. Megan had dropped out and I would sometimes remember to reach out, ask to hang out when I was in town. Tess's dorm was on the other side of campus and we no longer had Megan as a bridge. We sat together in health. She never moved to sit next to someone cooler. She would miss class sometimes. She was a full time 3rd shift dishwasher at a local casino. Her coworkers were mostly recent prison releases. But never asked to see my notes and seemed ashamed whenever I offered to pick up assignments for her.

I used a sharp tongue covered in honey that I didn't even know I possessed to convince the health prof to give her a c not an F, lowering my own grade from an a to a c in the process. I only just recently told her. I didn't say anything at the time.

She wrote a story about a fey creature who had my blue eyes and long dark hair and worked in a college library like me. The narrator was in love with the library being. It was beautiful. I texted Megan to know if Tess liked-liked me like I was 13. I think Megan thought I was having "straight-girl-who's-friends-with-a lesbian-panic" and assured me that she didn't. I asked her after class if the narrator was her. I think she had the same thought as Megan and assured me with no small amount of panic in her voice that her narrator was male. I think she threw the story away after that. I don't remember. I mostly remember being very, very disappointed and surprised by my own disappointment.

The following May, i had one of my favorite nights ever. Tess and I got extremely drunk and both of our walls went down. We held each other, crying about how much we loved each other, unwilling to part for even a second. I spent the night in her dorm.

I woke up to soft sunlight, birdsong through her open window, and the gentle acrid smell of the cigarette she held between her fingers and out the window. It was the closest I had ever felt to being truly happy in that moment. I realized I loved her then.

I thought I might be in love with the idea of being in love. I had never felt that way for another girl. It took until I was out of college to realize I had only felt anything similar for Matt. To this day I have felt that way that strongly for only her. And weakly for less than a five.

I didn't tell her. She had a fiancée, a terrible fiancee that made her feel bad about herself and left her with deeper scars on her psyche than Hannah had ever dreamed of leaving on me.

She told me around the same time that I was the only person who had never wanted anything from her. She said so softly, and I realized how delicate she truly was in that moment. I knew I couldn't tell her. Not then.

Then not the following spring when she and her fiancee were married in a ceremony that was the antithesis of anything she wanted and was only attended by her fiancees family and friends. I see this now, but at the time all I saw was that she didn't even invite me to her wedding.

I was a coward. I was scared of rejection. I began holding her further away, and we saw less of each other.

I became good friends with Benni. They were soft and always excited to see me around that time. Many, myself included, compared them to a golden retriever. Though now I've seen that they're so, so angry. That being seen as soft is a choice - their wall. I kept my walls up around them. They felt things so strongly - seemed so soft that I didn't trust them to see anything other than my facade. I still let them in on occasion. They realized they were agender and helped me realize I was queer. That not everything had to have a pretty little box.

Then we graduated, and Tess got divorced. We talked, well texted. We made plans - I'd go down to visit her. I wanted to tell her, but i was scared. But it felt predatory so soon after her divorce, and it felt like I had been lying to her for so long. I did want something from her. I wanted her close to me, and happy, and aware that she was loved. I still have never had a successful relationship. I think my record for dating was 1 month with a man I never learned the surname of while I was studying abroad. Having her as a friend was better than nothing.

When I saw her, it was the happiest she'd ever been. She had started dating a man who treated her like a person. The house was solely in her name. And she had just adopted roughly 10 "unadoptable" barn cats who would otherwise have been euthanized.

My heart broke. I truly am a bad person. Someone I cared about was finally happy and I was upset by that fact. I was awkward all weekend. I don't know what she thought of me.

We barely kept in contact but each time I saw her name in my phone i would become obsessed again. I compare everybody I meet to her, and they always come up short, especially me.

I began to wonder if I was actually in love with her. My therapist seemed convinced I was in love with the idea of being in love.

Then about a month ago we were texting and something inside me broke. I shared so much I had been hiding, and she didn't shy away from me. She didn't tell me how my problems weren't that bad or how I could fix them "if I just". She just listened and responded, and I did the same for her.

I had to tell her. It began eating me up inside once more. We spoke on the phone. It was awkward for the first few minutes. Then we actually talked. Then I knew I had to tell her. That I needed her to know - I was shaking. She was shocked. She apologized and told me she wasn't a good person. That she was cruel and mean and hurt people. I pointed out she had only ever tried to protect me. That she only treated people the way they treated her. She just kept apologizing for being my crush for me feeling this way for years for me wanting to protect her.

I had expected it to be awkward, or for her to be angry, or just to never hear from her again.

But we just talked, it was like a non-drunk, condensed, and slightly but not nearly bad as I had been afraid of awkward version of that may night so many years ago.

It was wonderful. My walls were completely down in front of her, and she was treating my misshapen form like it was something beautiful, something holy that deserved protection. She didn't let down her own, but I didn't even notice as I greedily absorbed her praise.

I only realized the next day that she never told me how she felt about me.

We spoke last week. She cried about her friend who overdosed. How she should have been the one who died.

I want her here. Away from her past and her present and here with me. I want her where I can protect her and let her know she's worthy of being cared for.

I don't have anything. I can barely make rent for an apartment I share with my sister. I hate my job and my boss hates me. I have so many health problems. I'm depressed and anxious and sometimes hate myself for it.

School peers aside, I've never been treated cruelly. I have a family that loves me unconditionally. Friends who insist they'd listen if I called any time day or night. And I feel too guilty to reach out to any of them.

I should have something. I should be able to offer something. But I can't. I just absorb others' stories, existing on the fringes of them.

[imalloutofoptions]

The Beginning of My Suicide Blog

My name is Z, I am 23, Female and live in Canada. In March of 2020, I plan on dying. I haven’t gotten all the logistics worked out but I’m working on it. I have recently moved from my home town to a new city in September of 2019. This was a mistake and has thus lunged me down the familiar path I’m on. But that’s another posts worth of story. For now lets start at the beginning. 

I was born to an absent black father and my white mother in a small town of less than 40,000 people in rural Canada. I was raised by said mother (L), not by my father (V). My mother was a waitress and 35 years of age at my birth, my father about 50 and worked for the US military. I have a brother and a sister from my mother and another man, and two sisters and a brother from my father and other women. I know none of these siblings particularly well. My mother shortly after my birth separated from my father who was a bit of a fling after finding out about his cheating on her, creating my half brother. My sibling closest in age is my brother J, who was 15 years my senior. Soon after my arriving in the world, my sister became pregnant as a teenager and my brother started doing drugs, both leaving home before 19. Because of this I was mostly raised as an only child. My mother obsessed over me in an unhealthy way, as I was the only child that could not leave.

My father requested continuous visits to see me as I got older, wanted me to visit him and his new wife (C). This was fine as my own step father (F) was abusive to my mother and it frightened me. When I was 6 my father set up for me to go to stay with him in the southern United States with him and his wife over the summer holidays. It would be quite the plane ride but my mother allowed me to go. While there my father worked nearly every day, as well C, so I spent most of my days in summer camp. While there an older boy who was 13 continuously molested me, day after day for two weeks. At one point in the car when C was dropping me off for camp in the morning, I told her what was going on. C looked very frightened and said “Let’s not tell you father, lets keep this between us”. I knew then that was I was doing was wrong. What I didn't understand was that the real reason for C’s request was because my mother would be so angry at my father for allowing that to happen to me that it would disrupt C’s wonderful married life. The abuse continued until I was allowed to go home. My mother claimed I was never the same again. Where once I was cheerful and social, I became withdrawn and anxious. This has lasted my whole life. 

Since then my mother and I had fallen into poverty. I received many an IOU for xmas. Constantly moving, struggling to make friends at new schools due to yet undiagnosed Autism, the years of 6-13 were particularly hard on me. I was bullied, I was lonely and I was unhappy. I remember very little of this time, it all blends together. Much of it was yelling from my mother, fighting between her and her new boyfriend. He called me lazy, and he hated me. My mothers hair grew grey, her teeth started falling out. I became embarrassed to bring her to school. 

At 12 I faked a broken leg at track and field day for attention and an ambulance was nearly called. When my mother arrived to find me running around the field just fine, I was grounded, suspended from school and forced to attend child therapy. Promptly was I diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome. The psychiatrist at the time refused to put it on paper as “there is no treatment and a child this age needs less labels to bind them”. I was ignored. I didn’t cry for attention any longer. I couldn't make my mother upset. My existence already made her life hard. At 12 again I was diagnosed by a school counselor with dyscalculia, giving reason for my struggle with mathematics. 

I made some friends by 13 and life started looking up. Still anxious and depressed but better. Still could not look my self in the mirror without being physically nauseous, still could not have a shirt that showed any cleavage lest I become nauseous, cannot look a grown man in the eyes lest I hyperventilate and become nauseous. I grew hugely obese.

By high school things were different. There were things I was good at, like drama and horticulture. I made several new friends, two of these that last till today. Finally I was good at something. I still failed math twice, and got barely passing marks in everything else but I had made a plan to kill myself at 18 so it didn't matter. I had told my mom one night as a 14 year old that I didn't think I’d ever be able to make it as an adult and how I’d thought long and hard how I’d commit suicide at 18 so I wouldn't ever have to grow up. She said to me that, if that’s what I wanted to do then she would support me all the way. I kept this sentiment with me for a very long time. 

At 16, my mother had a psychotic break just before Christmas. She began experiencing psychosis based visions. I came home from school one day and her and a family friend were in the living room around the “Christmas” tree, a branch sawed from a willow in the back yard erected in a cat litter tub, and my mother was crying profusely while the friend looked frightened. My mother claimed that by cutting down the branch she had take away the “fairies” home and she could see them jumping ship and dying. The friend looked worried at me but said nothing. I went to my room and closed my door.

It became worse. My mother started smoking marijuana in the house as well as cigarettes even though it hurt my lungs. She was up all hours of the night screaming and slamming doors. If i complained she would just tell me to stop being a baby. She became paranoid that I was going to abandon her when I went to a friends house one night when there was a power outage in our side of the city. The neighbours, her friends looked concerned and said nothing. My family knew what was going on and as usual, I was the black sheep, so they said nothing. During this time I restarted therapy as I had finally remembered my childhood camp trauma and was handling it poorly. I cried during class often, my grades failed more. I was left there for a year as her condition deteriorated. I still cannot stand slamming doors. Eventually she said that as we were being evicted, she had found herself a nice cabin in a near by port town and I was to find a place to live myself. And thus I was abandoned. At 17 I moved into my sisters basement. 

18 came and gone, my first job, my second. I wasn’t supposed to make it this far. My third job I stayed at for nearly 5 years. I saved religiously to leave the backwater town I’d been born in. Full of hate, I couldn't stand it. As I had recently come out as gay, dating was nearly impossible when in our town but 21 if you haven't left you’re either pregnant or addicted to meth. I dreamed of leaving, I saved and saved and saved. I attended therapy, tried 3 medications, lost weight, gained weight. Finally I had enough saved to move. 

Unfortunately since moving, I’ve broken my bicycle, needed a new mattresses and bed frame, my roommate moved her 3 person family in with their 6 year old, totaling 7 people in the house which means I have no kitchen access and few moments of shower access, and my job is run by the most awful business man possible. My rent is 800CAD for a room, and this was the cheapest I could find. Even if I could move, I have no more money, my hours have just been cut, my coworkers have banded together to tell me they don’t like me, my mother is homeless, I’m alone and my friends back home are tired of hearing me whine.

I’ve called the suicide hotline, like I’m supposed to.

I went to the hospital, like I’m supposed to.

I tried religion, like I’m supposed to.

I tried meds, like I’m supposed to.

I kept trying and trying, like I’m supposed to.

I’m so tired. I’ve suffered for 23 years. I have no money for further education, and I certainly am not smart enough. I just want to rest. I want to go home to my ‘parents’. I want parents. I want a mom. I want a family. I want to be ok. I’m so tired of paddling. I feel like only now have I realized there is no shore. There is nowhere to go. It does not get better. I have wasted my time. March, I will go home to my home town, re-home my cats, give away the last of my savings, see the gullies and the forests I played in as a child, and die. I’m all done. Life wins. It won. I’m so tired. 

How long does a person have to continuously suffer before suicide is viewed as ok? Because at this point friends and family must be expecting it. Everyone knew better than I. They were right, I was wrong. I cant play poker with an empty hand. I wasn’t meant to thrive. My death would benefit everyone but me. A few more months and then I don’t have to be afraid anymore. I can rest. I can finally relax. Finally have that vacation I always wanted, just me forever.