#i dunno being sick and being isolated has really taken a toll on me

[rexscanonwife]

I’ve been a bit depressed lately and I wanted to draw something super soft and self indulgent and...went a little ham with the lighting ngl! but sometimes instead of getting up and going to some mission debriefing you just wanna stay in bed with your lover ♡

[looselucy]

Blind

125 Matilda stepped out in dress number thirteen, and if it wasn’t for the champagne, I thought I might have fallen asleep at around dress number seven. I was keeping it together. “It’s a no, isn’t it?” She cringed. “I don’t want it to be.” I blubbered dramatically. “But…” “It’s just not me, is it?” “Not even close. I dunno who that dress is, but it’s not you.”

She had on a vintage number, the type of thing I knew she felt like she should be wearing, but it wasn’t working. I think she was disappointed to be realising she wasn’t quite as traditional as she thought she was. “Try something a bit more… simplistic.” I attempted. “You’re gorgeous, Matty, you don’t need all that… drama.” There were oversized ruffles around her neck, waist, arms, and dragging at the bottom of the dress. In all honesty, she was drowning in the thing. On the hook, the drama looked alluring and interesting, and I understood why she’d chosen to try it on, but it wasn’t working. “Okay. You’re right. Okay. Simple. Let’s look for something simple.” I hated shopping at the best of times, to be honest. It was something I grew tired of very easily, and very quickly. We’d been in the same shop for hours, and I felt as though I was losing my mind. She scurried off towards another row of dresses as I slumped down in my seat, riskily tipping my champagne glass to have another sip and trying my best not to sob again. This was my first day at helping Matilda with wedding-type things, and from the amount of stuff she’d listed off that she needed to buy, I knew it wouldn’t be my last. “You set a date yet?” I asked her. “We have a few available at the venue we like in Spring next year, but nothing set in stone.” “Okay, well keep me up to date. I’m still… frustrated that I missed your engagement-do.” “Things were shit then, but they’re much better now, right? It’s so much better now.” “Yeah. It is.” I agreed, watching as she hooked off a dress from the rail before immediately putting it back. “Hopefully it’ll stay like this.” “I think it will. I think, especially by the time my wedding comes around, we’ll be all good. Don’t let me forget to sort your plus-one for Harry.” I’d been lying to my family since last November, telling them I had a boyfriend when in fact, I did not. There had been a brief stage, where the lie was a little vaguer than it had been, but I knew it was time to deliver the truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but some of it, at least. “Me and Harry broke up.” She stopped searching, staring at me wide eyed and mouth agape, looking far too shocked by the news I’d just broken despite what she thought of our relationship. “Why? When?” “Um… Ages ago. May.” “You broke up in May?” She cried. “Three months ago?” “Yup.” “Mum… Mum said he was with you went to see her. That was in June.” “Yeah, he came with me for… moral support. But… Yeah. It’s complicated.” It was the 18th of August, over two months since we’d been to see my mother, edging towards being exactly three months since I’d left his apartment, and I was only now telling Matilda about it. I couldn’t decide how I felt, really. I couldn’t decide what information was worth sharing, and what I should keep to myself. Barely anyone knew that originally, me and Harry weren’t actually together, I’d never even told Mo that, but I had a small moment of weakness in that instant where I thought maybe I should tell Matty the entire truth. Thankfully, that passed. We’d been getting on pretty well that day, and I knew if I told her everything she’d say something that would piss me off. I was glad we were making a go of things, but at the end of the day myself and my sister were still two very different people. We saw things differently and we acted differently, and she would never understand why myself and Harry had pretended to be together last Christmas. It wasn’t worth the earache. “But… you seemed so happy.” “Let’s not talk about this here.” I sighed. “Pick a bloody dress and we’ll chat over lunch.” “You say pick a bloody dress like I’m picking out a dress to wear on a Sunday. This is my wedding dress, Florence!” “Okay, okay, you’re right, okay. Take your time. Sorry.” She continued her search, tutting and sighing and struggling through the ordeal. It was another two hours before we left emptyhanded. 126 Matilda had picked somewhere extremely fancy for us to eat our late lunch, and told me she would pay for everything, which was ideal due to the fact I had enough money in my purse to possibly pick up a McDonalds meal and not much else. I felt slightly out of place as Matty sat rearranging the cutlery to what she deemed to be the right organisation, and I was once again reminded why I viewed her as my sister and not my best friend. I was glad we were at the stage where we could do stuff like that, though. Just go out for food and enjoy spending time together. “I forgot to ask about your therapy sessions.” She spoke once she was done moving her knife slightly to the right. “Is everything okay?” “Yeah, everything’s good, honestly.” I kind of groaned, already feeling defensive. “I think… the idea of therapy brings up these really negative connotations that just… Well, it’s wrong, y’know? Therapy has actually been a really good thing for me, and I’ve learnt to be happier and… start accepting myself.” Matilda looked alarmingly confused, trying to make sense of what I was saying to her. I guess she was used to me being a little more closed off when it came to talking about my feelings, and especially therapy. It may have taken me a while to open myself up to Dr Jackson and all the benefits that therapy had to offer, but since the beginning of the year I knew how I felt about it, and what it meant to me. “I guess I’m sick of people asking me how therapy is with this… sad tone to their voices, when actually it’s been a really positive part of my life. It’s not a… sad thing for me. It’s not bad!” She took a sip of her wine, nodding, but still seeming rather thrown by what I’d said. I waited for a reply. “Well, it’s just strange to hear you be so accepting of help at all. You were always so stubborn when we were younger. You did everything on your own.” “I isolated myself.” I said, thinking about something Dr Jackson and I had discussed during the session I’d had two days earlier. “You did. I understand why, too. I think… if mum had been with me how she was with you, I would have isolated myself too.” She would never have a full understanding of it, but I truly appreciated that she was trying to step into my shoes, and she was questioning how different she would be if she’d received our mother’s affections and worry in the same way I had. “So therapy is good. It’s really good.” I concluded. It was strange, really, because once again, I could feel in the back of my mind that my sessions with Dr Jackson were slowly coming to an end. I could feel it, exactly as I had last time. There had been progress made and things acknowledged that lead me to believe that she had taught me everything she knew, everything she had learnt over our sessions. Ignoring the small stage where I felt my time there was complete, I had been seeing her for a year, and the way I felt when I looked in the mirror then was completely different to how it had been. It had changed my life, in ways I never thought it would. The past three months worth, had been especially rewarding. Yet I noticed what was different this second time around, was the fact that I did not feel sad, or scared, or nervous like I had last time. I was hopeful, and happy, and felt as though I would be leaving feeling good about what had happened between those four walls, rather than dreading or anticipating my return there. I was feeling positive, and optimistic. “In that case, I’m happy for you. I’m happy you’re letting go of that isolation, and that… independence. I suppose your relationship with Harry played a part in that.” I suddenly found myself questioning something that hadn’t previously crossed my mind, my brows furrowing and my mood souring as I stared across the table to my sister, who was glancing around the restaurant and not taking note of my glares. Just as I was about to bark my thoughts, the waiter came over to take our orders, which thankfully gave me the time to breathe, to think about what I was going to say before blurting out my feelings and thoughts before I’d fully processed them. It gave me the chance to tame, even if it was only slightly. “I need to ask you something.” I spoke as calmly as I could as soon as the bloke serving us scuttled off. “You… You just said you’re… surprised, to see me accepting help.” “Of course. It’s a good thing though. A good surprised.” “But… But the last time I saw you… you… Fuck. You spoke about… that whole thing about me using Harry for his money.” I stated, and she merely stared at me in silence. “You made it out like that was a huge reason for me being with him. But… you don’t think I accept help? That doesn’t make any sense.” “It was just a theory, Florence. Just something I picked up on.” “But it makes no sense!” I shot. “Then maybe I was wrong. It doesn’t matter. I guess I was just… jumping to conclusions. It really doesn’t matter.” “Matilda, it does matter! That’s one of the main fucking reasons I ended things with him.” She seemed bewildered by that, not understanding the concept that the awful things she had said to me that day had taken their toll, and they’d had consequences. I suppose she was like my mother in that way, she didn’t really think about what she was saying, and what that could do to someone. But at least she was finally understanding why I was so frantic, because the two ideas she had about me did not coincide at all, and the only one that I knew to be 100% true was the fact that I had always isolated myself and dismissed support. Her two theories did not add up. “Are you joking?” She gasped. “Florence, that’s ridiculous!” “No it’s not, Matty! I don’t want to use someone, that’s wrong! I broke up with him the very same day you said that, because you fucked with my head so much!” “Well that was a little impulsive, wasn’t it?” She tut. “Yup. That’s one of my many fucking problems, actually. Holy shit. I’m… I’m freaking out.” “Hold on,” She puzzled, figuring some things out in her head. “When your initial instinct after hearing that was to break up with him… Isn’t that your answer?” “Huh?” “Well, that automatically proved me wrong, didn’t it? The fact that you were willing to distance from him proved me wrong, straight away. If it was true, you would have stuck around, it wouldn’t have mattered. As soon as I said it was for anything other than love… you proved that it wasn’t, by leaving him. Didn’t you just… take the time to think about what that meant?” I had a bulging headache, and as ever, I was trying to figure out my own actions, and what they had meant. I wouldn’t have walked out the door if what she said that day was true. If I was with him for the financial stability he offered me, I would still be with him. It wouldn’t have even crossed my mind to leave him if that was true. The swirling doubts that inhabited my mind that day had forced me to leave a boy who had offered me support, the kind of support that I had grown to accept despite my usual dismissal of such love. Harry did offer me the sort of support that made me feel stable, but it was absolutely nothing to do with money. I didn’t doubt for a second that Matilda was right in some senses, that I was more similar with my mother than I ever thought I was, but everything she had said to me that had made me walk away from him then, was wrong. I think I’d needed the extra three months of therapy to reach that moment of realisation. I’d needed to go back there, to keep learning about how horribly I handled situations, and emotions. I needed to go back and be made painfully aware of my need to escape hard times, hard thoughts, my need to take one feeling and let it outshine my others, surpass reason and sense. I had needed those sessions, and I was glad that I had gone back to Dr Jackson, even if that was stirred from leaving Harry. But what those last three months of learning had finally helped me to see, was that I had chosen to leave someone for reasons that didn’t really exist. Those doubts, those misconceptions and faux possibilities, had planted and grown in my mind to the point where they towered over the sunflowers that Harry had planted there previously, and suddenly I could feel those weeds wilting away, and the sun returned. Only to be followed by rainclouds. “Holy shit. I fucked up.” I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. “I fucked up so badly, Matty, holy shit.” “You really… You really left him because of what I said?” “Yes, Matilda!” I tried to keep my voice down, but it was difficult. “Your words have fucking consequences, believe it or not! How did you think I would feel when you were saying that to me?” “I… I don’t know.” She grumbled sadly. “I didn’t think.” “Clearly.” “I thought you were aware of it.” “But it’s not true! It was never true! I was with him because I loved him and there was no fucking… ulterior motive. There was nothing bad about what we had. We were… good together. We were good for each other. Oh my fucking god, I’m such an idiot.” “Why would you listen to me? I’d only ever seen you together over Christmas. I… I knew nothing of your relationship.” “But you know me, Matty! You weren’t entirely wrong with what you said about me, either. And I knew that so… I believed what you said. It really badly messed with my head, Matty. I didn’t know who I was!” It broke my heart to think about how many steps back I’d taken in just those few minutes of me and Matilda talking that day. Progress I’d made wasted away in front of my eyes. Love that had grown felt shattered and acidic instead of warm and sweet. She really had done a great deal of damage, and I think that was the first time I fully accepted that it was only damage she’d caused, rather than believing she’d helped me to see something I’d allowed myself to be blind to. My sister was trembling as she spoke. “I can’t believe you broke up with him because of that.” “I… I genuinely thought he’d be better off without me.” She genuinely looked so hurt by me saying that, and for the first time, I felt hurt by saying it. It was the first time I heard those words for what they were, and what they meant. It was heart breaking to know I’d felt that way, down to my core. It was hard to accept how difficult I found it to love myself. All I could do, was try. “Ren… I’m so sorry.” She hushed. “I think… on some level I still… put you down to lift me up. I don’t want to do that anymore. I mean… I never wanted to do it in the first place, but… I’m going to have to make a conscious effort to stop that, aren’t I?” I’d always known that about my sister too. I’d always known that a part of her had subconsciously thrived off the way I looked so awful compared to her, and she’d used it against me more than once. I knew that was what she was like, but I’d never wrought it to fit that scenario. I hadn’t thought about it. “It’s okay.” I shook my head, sighing. “We all have stuff we need to work on. We all have ways we can be better. I know that. Trust me.” 127 “Someone at work today threw a shoe at me. THREW A SHOE AT ME!” Mo declared dramatically as soon as he walked into his flat. “Hi.” I giggled, smiling to him from the sofa as he locked up behind himself. “Good day then?” “A SHOE, REN! HE JUST… TOOK IT OFF… AND THREW IT AT ME!” “Why? What did you do?” “I accidentally made him a gingerbread latte instead of a cinnamon one. So, of course, it was totally warranted.” I laughed as he sulked his way over to me, dramatically collapsing beside me before sobbing into his hands, clearly wound up by another awful day at work. “You wanna brew?” I offered. “You wanna get pizza?” “Yeah.” He mumbled. “Okay, we’ll get pizza.” I got up to my feet and walked towards the kettle, letting him get out his anguish and making him a brew to help make that a little easier. “I’m not sure how much longer I can do this, Ren.” He groaned. “I might pull a you and just quit.” “You do what you’ve gotta do, but I really do not recommend it.” “I’m seriously considering, y’know. I hate it so much.” “Get looking for something else.” I dropped the tea bag into his favourite mug. “Just… don’t quit.” “Fine.” “Good.” Once his drink was ready, I carried it carefully over to him, only spilling the smallest amount on my journey before I passed it to him, and even holding the thing seemed to ease him. I took my place back on the sofa beside him, ready for another calm evening with my best friend. “How was your day?” He asked. “Painful.” I shuddered at the memory. “We were in the same dress shop for hours and she didn’t even get one.” “You’re really not cut out for wedding shopping, Ren. I can’t believe you even went.” “Yeah well, she’s my sister. It’s nice to be… bonding with her, as difficult as that is.” He laughed a little as he picked up the remote and started flicking through endless channels. I watched him nervously, thinking how grateful I was that even if my sessions with Dr Jackson did end sooner rather than later, at least I would always have Mo there talking some sense into me. “Can I ask you something?” “Anything.” He replied instantly. “Do you think I made a mistake? Breaking up with Harry?” I could tell he hadn’t been expecting that question as he slowly turned his head to look at me, his brows furrowed, and I could see he was already puzzling over his reply. “I dunno.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t get in your head and… feel what you were feeling when you did that. And… if it felt like the right thing to do, then it probably was.” “You’re right, I know. At the time, it felt right.” “At the time? Why? Wh-what do you feel now?” “I feel… I dunno. I think I’m just seeing things a little differently now compared to how I was then. I think I… got into a really bad headspace and just… acted too quickly.” He sat more upright, giving me his full attention, obviously confused about how I was feeling and how he should manage the conversation. I think I’d caught him off guard. “You still love him, don’t you?” “Yes.” I replied with some miserable confidence. “I never stopped.” “Then why did you end things?” “Because I thought it was better for him.” “Ren, you’ve gotta stop that! Harry knows what’s best for Harry. He should have some control, y’know? I’m sorry, that you went into a bad place, I am, but… you have to talk to people, and figure stuff out. When I’m feeling sad, or a bit lost, I don’t sit and mull over it on my own. I talk to you, because… you help me make sense of things and you calm me down. You’ve gotta talk things through with people! You have to listen to how other people are feeling, because it changes how you feel, y’know? I can be having a shit day, and then I get home to you and if you’re happy… I’m happy.” I nodded, my fingers clawing away at my t-shirt as I looked downwards, and he was right, as always. I shouldn’t decide how other people felt on their behalf, or predict that I knew better, like I knew what other people needed. I should have stayed that day. I should have fully explained to Harry what it was that my sister had said, and how that had made me feel, and he would have dismissed the whole thing, said it was stupid, listed off all the reasons why we loved each other, and he would have held me, and we could have forgotten the whole thing. “You don’t have to sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of other peoples.” Mo continued. “Especially when neither of you came out of that situation happy.” “I’ve put him through too much, haven’t I? I don’t deserve him.” “REN!” “No, not like that! I just mean… too much has happened. I don’t mean it in the way I did before like… I think we could have been good together, but… I can’t reach out for him now. I’ll just fuck with his head again. I don’t even know where he is! I think… at this point I’ve probably put him through too much.” Mo seemed saddened by my words, but he didn’t disagree. I lolled my head back onto the sofa, feeling frustrated and daunted by another day of many realisations, but I suppose, in a way, I felt good. It felt like I was seeing clearly for the first time in months. “I think you might need some closure with him.” Mo offered. “You think?” “Yeah.” “I think I need to say I’m sorry.” “But you need to do it when you’re ready.” He said. “You gotta take your time and make sure you know that what you’re feeling is real, and that you know where you stand, and what you wanna say to him.” “Maybe it’s a good thing he’s not around.” I creaked. “I’d probably just… act on impulse again anyway.” “If you were gunna act on impulse again, right now… What would you do?” “I’d… go round to his flat and say I was sorry and… kiss him. Tell him I love him.” “But he’s not there.” “No he’s not.” I sighed. “And it’s probably a good thing, because I’d just be fucking with his head. Again.” My phone started ringing, pulling me away from our conversation as I reached and picked it up off the table, confused to see an unknown number. I answered with speed. “Hello?” “Hi, I’m looking for Florence Valentine?” A female voice called. “This is she.” “Hi there, I’m calling on behalf of Hope House.” I went quiet for a moment, wondering what the hell she was talking about. And then it clicked. It was the place I’d gone for the interview over a month ago. I jumped up off the sofa, wanting to be calm and collected and not get my hopes up immediately, but it was all far too late for that. “Oh! Yes, yup, hi, hello, that’s me.” Mo had a look in his eyes like he was concerned that he was sharing his home with a mentally deranged woman, and I couldn’t blame him. I was freaking out. “I was just calling to let you know that if you’re still available, we’d love to offer you the job.” “Are… Are you kidding?” Was my automatic, and unprofessional, reply. “We’ve had someone let us down over the past few weeks and unfortunately, it didn’t work out. So, we’d like to offer the role to you, if you’re still available.” I burst into tears. I knew I would, but I was at least hoping to wait until the call was over for that to happen, but I just couldn’t hold it in. I’d been out of work for five months. I’d applied for hundreds of jobs, attended countless interviews, and always wound up hearing nothing. They didn’t even have the curtesy to give me feedback and tell me what I could have done better. I’d been trapped in that same cycle for five damn months, and it had just switched. “I’m sorry.” I blubbered down the phone frantically. “I’m so sorry. I’m making such a fool out of myself.” “Is everything okay?” She asked, concerned. “Everything’s fine. I’d love to take the job. I’m sorry. I’d love to. It’s a yes.” That was when Mo caught on, jumping excitedly to his feet and then continuing to jump around on the spot, his hands slapped against his mouth. “Brilliant!” She brushed over my bawling. “Well, if you come in on Monday morning, at nine, we’ll have someone here to show you the ropes and give you all the relevant training, and we’ll take it from there.” “That’s brilliant. Ideal. Thank you, so much!” “Enjoy your weekend.” “You too! Thank you, thank you. Goodbye, thank you.” “Goodbye.” She said with a small laugh, and then hung up. I dropped my phone, and when it hit the floor, the screen shattered, but I didn’t know that because I was too busy crying. Mo ran and wrapped his arms around me tight, and I couldn’t stop shaking. I physically couldn’t stop. My happiness and relief were symbolled within the aching shudders of my body, and I’d never felt anything quite like it. I finally felt as though I could start getting my life back on track, like I could slowly find my feet again. Learning to accept support was brilliant, but for almost half a year, I had been too reliant on others, simply down to the fact I wasn’t working. I could finally start making my own way again. “Mo, I got a job.” I winced. “I got a fucking job.” “I’m so proud of you, Ren. I’m so bloody proud.” “I’m gunna be able to move out and… stop annoying you.” “Not once, over the past three months, have you annoyed me.” He sighed, pulling out of the hug. “You’re a damn joy to live with, Florence. I’ll miss having you around. So don’t jump to any conclusion that I wanted rid of you, okay? Don’t put yourself down.” I nodded, and then hugged him again, holding him as tightly as I could and then sobbing even more. “I’ve got a job.” I whimpered again, because the words refused to sink in.