#i had a dream last night that can only be described as an adhd anxiety nightmare

[solidandsound]

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[ephemeral-afterlight]

Mourning at Midnight

(UwU so Hey. i’m back with some more trash)

Word Count: 7480

Summary: It’s scary, in a way, how in moments like this one, Logan feels as if his consciousness floats away from him, leaving behind only a wave of white-hot, searing anger that drains out of him just as quickly as it comes. There’s sleet running through his veins, and his brain has frostbite, and his fingertips are numb in the face of the ringing resonance after his outburst. The pain comes next, a simmering heat blistering below his fist until it’s coated and red and the beginnings of a bruise are starting to form. He can’t help but stare helplessly in front of himself, eyes burning and filling and blazing with how much they beg to close.

He doesn’t want to look up, to face the suffocating silence that’s fallen over the room. He doesn’t want to see their faces, their disappointment, their anger, their contempt. He wants to yell. He wants to sleep.

Logan sinks out.

Warnings (could potentially be small spoilers, nothing too big, but if you don’t have any triggers I’d suggest you skip reading this!):

There are no u!sides in this, nor does anyone have malicious intent, but the other main three (Virgil, Patton, Roman) and Thomas, to a lesser extent, treat Logan unkindly (not on purpose) and don’t realize their errors. This will be resolved! Just… not yet OwO

Being ignored/talked over

Mental/emotional breakdown

An unidentified illness with symptoms including: [extreme persistent nausea (lots of mentions), vomiting (once), bile, weakness/weariness, shaking, lightheadedness, double vision (once), headache, body aches/pains, breathing difficulties]

General negativity including: [self-doubt, self-deprecation/depreciation, feeling worthless or unloveable, self-hatred]

Anger management/temperament issues

Unintentional self-harm (not anything like c-tting, Logan gets a bruise as a result of an angry outburst)

Separate small, vague allusion to self-harm, but it’s not outright and not detailed in the slightest. Could be read as not even talking about self-harm

Potentially triggering descriptive imagery (metaphors and similes to describe how a character feels or percieves a situation, not anything that actually happens) including but not limited to: [glass, sharp things, blood, injection, live wires, loud noises, screaming, general mentions of pain, masochism, sound torture, knives/blades, wounds, drowning/suffocating, pressure]

Temporarily unresolved tension between Logan/Deceit/Remus and the other sides/Thomas (there will be a happy ending in the next fic, though, don’t worry!)

A few vulgar threats of violence (somewhat explicit, be careful) to the other sides from Remus (out of protectiveness; Remus means well but he does Not express it in a healthy way) that is not carried out or even humoured

Remus’ morning star and descriptions of its destructive capabilites

Loceit as a romantic pairing (for now…. UwU)

Sympathetic “dark” sides

That should be it for warnings! Let me know if I need to add anything!

A/N: So! This is finally done :D !! I’ve been working on it on and off for the past week or so, and although I know it could be way better, I think this is where I’ll keep it! This is technically a sequel to my other fic Tea at Twilight and it takes place in the same universe, and although you don’t need to read that before this to understand the story, I strongly suggest reading that first to get more of a feel for the dynamic! 

This is inspired by @illogicallyinclined and her absolutely amazing Disaster Trio™ headcanons/au, and was prompted by this post so I just started writing! I meant for it to be a bit shorter, but of course my brain would Not let it go, even despite my ADHD, executive dysfunction, and massive amounts of writer’s block. 

This is also unfinished! It is the second of three main works, all happening chronologically in the same universe. The first one is Tea at Twilight as stated previously, then this one, and there will be a third and final installment added to finish off this short little trilogy! I’ll be adding this to the series on AO3, so when the final fic is up, it’ll all be together for an easy reading experience. It is also possible that there will be other small fics in this universe (UA, as has been recently coined) that operate outside of the timeline of the main story, so be sure to watch out for that! 

Thanks to Jay once again for creating these lovely headcanons that haunt my dreams every night, and for inspiring me to get back into my writing groove despite a writer’s block that’s lasted for over three years! Hope this isn’t too terrible, Jay! ilyy <333</p>

Also, a huge thank you to @illogical-anxieties for being such a good cheerleader/enabler! You really do help to keep me motivated and on track (and keep my ADHD in check), which is probably why this was even able to become a full-fledged story rather than a WIP to be buried where unfinished fics go to die T~T Love you tons <3</p>

(If I’m being honest with myself, this is just an excuse for me to live up to my IRL title of “Living Thesaurus”, coined by a friend many years ago and has since spread around to other friends and family. My title is thriving, and I suppose that means I should actually have proof of it, so there’s that.)

(Cross-posted to AO3)

(Read Part 1 here)

He can feel it building.

There’s far too much left to be desired when it comes to frustration. The natural helplessness that makes way for anger when you try so hard to do something or be something for someone and you’re pushed down by anything and everything between ignorance and antipathy. The fear that nothing you can do or say will ever be good enough. The buzzing, ticking, pinpricks upon pinpricks of heat injected into you until your blood and heart have been replaced with glass, fragile as a crumbling stone wall. It’s not as if he hasn’t had his outbursts before, spurred on by the familiar sharp pulse of rage that courses through him in a split-second whirlwind. It builds inside him, and he can feel the pressure in his limbs expand until it feels like his muscles are being squeezed out of existence and then he snaps like a rubber band that’s been pulled too taut. He’s not in denial of the fact that his impulsive, blinding reaction when met with frustration is not okay, and only detrimental to the demeanour he’s trying to retain. He knows it’s childish. He knows it’s immature, and pathetic, and wholly invigorating, at least until the adrenaline has worn off and he’s in the aftermath of his knee-jerk reaction to the tension coiled in his arms and legs and head.

It doesn’t mean that Logan is particularly in control of it though, despite his self-awareness being far above the level that most people with anger management issues are at. Maybe there’s a certain quality to it that allows for growth; it’s not as if Logan stays angry, or that he wants to hurt people. He loves the others, painfully so (as much as he loathes to admit it), to the point where he’s so desperate for their approval that he tampers down his passion, that spark that used to drive him to learn and speak and be happy just to avoid being cast out and abandoned, alone in the way he never wants to be. He wants to find a way to temper the fall into those dark, consuming waters, a way to mute the buzzing and ticking. He wants to seal those exposed live wires and release the tension to the point where he never lashes out ever again. He wants to, and he doesn’t know how to, and that fact infuriates him in an ironic, endless cycle of self-imposed and self-directed enmity.

Logan still thinks on this often, even now, wracking his brain for solutions to problems that realistically won’t be solved as easily as he wishes they would. Excerpts and quotes and data and statistics from many different studies about anger and temper management and irritability and everything in between seem to figuratively run amok through his brain, a screaming crowd of witnesses to the chaos and failure found in his ability to filter through the nonsense and come to a satisfying conclusion, any conclusion at all. He notices how his fingers tremble as they slip into the handle of his coffee mug, endures the dull ache in his mid-to-lower back from falling asleep at his desk for the majority of the day under the guise of work so important he holed himself up in his room to complete it. He ignores the way his head pounds, how he feels so dizzy that he might fall over and pass out any second from lightheadedness. He suffers through the loud conversations between the other three that are typical to the dinner routine that Logan cannot deal with today, not with this headache poking at him like figurative needles in his head.

When he senses the summons from Thomas stirring up the familiar but nonetheless odd ticklish sensation on the back of his neck, Logan can feel the tension knot up his muscles, and the combination of the two just makes him want to growl in irritation. The others, having also felt the summoning, seem to get impossibly louder, ringing and stinging and singing in his head. He still persists, despite the fact that he knows he shouldn’t be out doing anything today that’s likely to exacerbate his sickness, because Thomas is important, more so than Logan himself. No matter how much he wants to hole himself up in his room and sleep the day away, his host needs him, so Logan simply forces his mask of indifference to melt into steel. He refuses to budge, not for the first or last time, and he rises up in the real world standing straight and rigid and as put together as he’s always expected to be.

When he’s finally settled into his usual spot, as still as he can possibly be to not exacerbate the roiling nausea disquieting his stomach, he’s able to take in the other four arranged in their usual positions in Thomas’ living room, already having begun a conversation that Logan has missed the premise of entirely through his all-eclipsing, obfuscating malady. His vision doubles, like broken fractals of glass reflecting onto themselves, and then it pulls back together, merging back into something visible, something manageable.

“Well, I’m sure Danny likes you, too! You just gotta ask him, kiddo!” Patton exclaims, high voice pushing through the heavy, suffocating cotton in Logan’s ears, and the words snap the bespectacled side to attention. He needs context, needs to know what they’re talking about, needs to be able to help for once. Maybe he has to endure the bad to be able to put out the good, and this is where the climax is, the top of the rollercoaster at such a high altitude that oxygen is thin and dispersed before he shoots down the tracks in a rush of fresh air, relieving and calm and sanguine as he’s finally able to ground himself. A shiver runs through Logan’s body, between his shoulder blades and down his hip and through his leg, and his eyes flutter under the weight of consciousness. It recedes, the flow is ebbed, and his head clears to a more sustainable level.

“Oh, that’s so boring, Padre! Thomas should hire a band to play! And we can rig up streamers and confetti and there can be a cake and dancing and a party to celebrate!” Roman crows, throwing his arms and hands up into his signature pose to match his full, booming tone. Patton squeals, clutching his cardigan in his hands to pull excitedly at the sleeves as he bounces giddily on his feet. At the suggestion, as the polar opposite to Patton’s reaction, Virgil grimaces, hunching over even further in his jacket as he protests with every way he can think of that the situation could go wrong. Unsurprisingly, Roman takes personal offense to it and refutes Virgil’s points with the same intensity and fervour that’s been present in himself and his interactions with the anxious side since day one. Logan sort of understands, can infer that they’re discussing how to ask out Danny, a new friend of Thomas’ who has very quickly turned into a crush. In that case…

“If I may interrupt? While I don’t share all of Virgil’s worries, I do agree with his position in regards to the fact that there isn’t a need for such extravagance. It might embarrass Danny, for one, and for two, there are many ways such an excessive venture could backfire, such as technical difficulties or general human error. The idea is, while exciting, frankly outrageous,” Logan says, his role as the voice of reason renewed once more. It’s his job to sift through the conversations they have and get to the important parts, and he likes his job. He’s good at micromanaging, mediating the chaos, good at storing information to sort and consider and veto and bolster. It’s how he operates, how he copes. “We can think of something else to–”

“Oh, shut it, Pocket Protector. We all know you don’t care about romance, but this is important! Thomas wishes to find love with the second most handsome prince in the world! After me, of course,” Roman exclaims, in that boisterous, self-aggrandizing way of his, the way that hides his real insecurities he buries so deeply in himself he doesn’t know how to find them again. Oddly enough, it’s not Roman’s defense mechanism that throws Logan off, it’s the way that Logan stopped talking almost reflexively to allow the other side to finish his statement, as if the prince’s words were more important than his own, and it speaks as testament to how much Logan’s been conditioned (or maybe he’s conditioned himself all on his own) into putting everyone else before himself, even when it hurts him or Thomas. Logan is ignored in the face of his implicit trust, and he hates that even as it pours salt in the open wound, he finds himself taking a depraved, spiteful comfort in the familiarity of it all.

“That’s not what I–”

“Awe, c'mon, Logan! Thomas deserves to have a happy relationship and someone he can live out the rest of his life with! Doesn’t that sound nice, to grow old together with someone you love? Isn’t that romantic? Oh, it just makes me so warm and fuzzy thinking about it!” Patton interrupts, hands clutching each other over his heart as he swoons. Logan knows Patton doesn’t mean to be rude, but he still can’t help but be a little hurt by it, especially since he’s now been ignored twice consecutively. He’s just trying to help, and if that means reigning in Roman’s exorbitant ideas that border on egregious at times, then Logan knows it must be done. Although he encourages Thomas to seek a relationship to improve his mental health and provide more financial stability, there is a limit to how much he can disregard himself and others in doing so, and that doesn’t mean that Logan is the bad guy for pointing that out. He knows that. He knows that, so why does the dismissal still feel so sharp in his chest?

“Yeah, romance is cool and all, but what if it doesn’t work? What if Danny actually hates us? What if we ask and he laughs at us or says no and then we’ll be standing there like an idiot and then he’ll never wanna talk to us again because he thinks we’re pathetic and stupid and–”

“Hey, now, don’t be such a Debby Downer, kiddo! I’m sure it’ll go just fine! We’ll just ask him. The worst thing that can happen is he’ll say no, right? Shouldn’t we give it a shot?” Patton consoles before Virgil can go into a spiral. Although his well-meaning reassurances are meant to be comforting, his voice just grates on Logan’s ears, tinny and hollow and misdirected.

“That’s what I’m afraid of!”

Logan wants to keep listening, he really does, but the noise is rising to levels where it’s too much to handle. He’s already sensitive from his illness, but the discussion that is very quickly turning into an argument falls in pulses through his head, sound torture to the broken, hopeless masochist. He’s barely holding onto himself at this point, consciousness like a dangling thread that swirls and dances and twirls with even the tiniest breeze, a hint of movement sending it shivering and quivering as it spins. It wouldn’t take much for the thread to fray from the weight pulling it down, or to saw through it in a clean slice that leaves it floating feather-light upon air currents, petals spiraling to the ground.

Petals. Flowers. Thomas could bring Danny flowers! It’s perfect! Danny is especially predisposed to gardening, and he frequently talks about different flowers and what they mean based on the type and colour. His interest in botany could make this a sweet gift, to show that Thomas pays attention to what Danny enjoys, and can be the perfect segue into asking him on a romantic outing. Yes, this could work! It would appease Roman’s inclination to classic romanticism while still being practical and not unreasonably expensive, give Patton his ideal relationship fantasy (and a “warm and fuzzy feeling”, apparently), and allow Virgil a little more breathing room, so-to-speak. This is something they all should be agreeable towards, and that confidence is enough to supply Logan with enough energy to push past his lightheadedness and offer a solution. He’s proud of himself for taking the others’ feelings into account, something he knows he’s not always been the most proficient at, and for coming up with a compromise that will likely satisfy everyone’s wants and needs.

“What about bringing him flowers?” Logan asks, pleased and antsy as he feels hope well up in his chest. He doesn’t push it down this time, and he thinks maybe, just maybe they’ll finally listen to him, that they’ll tell him that he did well, that he’s being considerate and maybe even say thank you–

“How would you even know, Roman? It’s not like we just go out and hire mariachi bands every Saturday!” Virgil says with furrowed brows, and Roman huffs in indignation, and Patton sighs as he looks between the two of them, and Logan’s words fall on deaf ears. They didn’t even hear. They didn’t listen. They didn’t care they didn’t care–

“Uh, hey, Virgil, what if–” Logan tries once more to speak, nausea rolling angrily in his gut, head spinning dizzy round and round and round and round and Virgil flinches.

He flinches. Because of Logan.

Virgil hasn’t been afraid of any of them for a long time. Sure, in the beginning, when they fought one another on nearly a day-to-day basis, there would be a moment before he could pull on his figurative mask that a flash of fear would go through Virgil’s eyes, and the sadness kept within wouldn’t subside even when he growled and snapped and blustered whichever side had the misfortune of picking a fight with him during a time where his first instinct was to keep away the pain and longing and loneliness the only way he knew how. Over time, that flash of fear dulled, morphed into something more manageable, more trusting. The sadness never really went away, but it was met with warmth, a soft contentedness that danced in his eyes when he realized he had a family to turn to. He hasn’t been afraid for a long time. And yet, he flinches away from Logan, just from him speaking.

Is he really that bad?

Does even simply the sound of his voice have such a negative association for Virgil that it prompts genuine fear and discomfort? Has he really scared Virgil that much? What did he do? How can he fix this?

Maybe he shouldn’t.

Logan’s felt disconnected from the others for quite a while now. He loves them, of course he does, but he doesn’t feel like he fits. He’s the metaphorical jagged puzzle piece, the one that should snap into the final vacant space but is so broken beyond repair that it doesn’t fit quite right. He wants to belong, to feel at home whenever he’s with them, but he doesn’t. He yearns for the acceptance that Virgil earned, the support that Roman is held up by, the respect and adoration Patton seems to acquire so casually and naturally that it’s like he doesn’t even have to try. Logan wants to be like them. He wants to be loved, but… that isn’t really his place, is it?

Love is not an inherent thing. It’s something that’s earned, by doing good things and being important enough to someone that they give it freely. It’s something Logan doesn’t understand, but despite that, still desperately, painfully yearns for. He wants to be loved, the way he loves the others. He wants to be a part of their famILY, to have that implicit trust in each other that only comes from acute, profound, deep-seated love. He wants that fondness directed towards himself, that devotion borne from hapless, radiating appreciation. The humbled esteem, the maudlin, theatrical longing, the passion and yearning and helpless, acquiescent love that bursts from the seams in a manner that will never diminish or fade. He wants that. Badly. And he’s finally ready to accept that he will never have it. He’s okay. He’s okay. He just needs a moment. He just needs to breathe.

The others must have continued with their arguments long ago, seemingly unaware of anything outside of themselves. Logan supposes he shouldn’t really berate them for that since he often falls victim to getting lost in debate as well, but something is wrong with Thomas, going by his expression and demeanour and the logical side can’t ignore it anymore. It’s highly unlikely that the other three will come away from themselves for long enough to notice, and it doesn’t sound like they’re anywhere close to coming to a conclusion amongst themselves, so Logan is perfectly fine with bearing that responsibility upon himself to check up on his host and make sure he’s okay. He’s the most important one here, after all, and it’s Logan’s job to help him, guide him in his life and decisions.

“Thomas? Is there something wrong?” Although the words come out clear and precise as usual, Logan’s throat burns, and he can barely breathe. He wants to sleep, he wants to sleep, but Thomas needs him, and that doesn’t happen often nowadays, so Logan does nothing but wait impassively. His host bites the inside of his cheek, then sighs as he stares off at the wall, lost in thought. Since he says nothing, the logical side assumes he will continue to say nothing for a few more moments, and decides to give him a once-over to gather more information and any possible context. Thomas’ eyebrows are furrowed, and his posture far from adequate. His expression is troubled, and his arms are crossed loosely, a pointer finger scratching at his elbow unconsciously. There is no obvious cause for his confusion and/or upset in himself or anywhere in the room, apart from the current dilemma, but he was fine before, so something must have changed to distress him now. Logan cannot ascertain what Thomas needs simply from observing him, so he concludes that the best thing for him to do is wait.

So he does. And he does so for a minute, two, five. Every second that ticks by feels like a needle is being shoved into his eyes, his brain, his legs, his everything and it takes more effort to stand than he’s used to. Breathing is difficult, but that isn’t exactly a new development, so at least he knows how to ignore it. Eventually, ten minutes pass with only the sound of the other three arguing in the background, and it doesn’t seem like Thomas is really all there. Although the action makes him want to throw up, Logan shifts forward, moving out of his usual spot and into Thomas’ own. He still doesn’t acknowledge any kind of input outside himself, so Logan lays a hand on his host’s arm gently, which snaps him out of his trance in a slow, unhurried kind of way. Thomas gives him a glance when his logical side sighs, tampering down any audible signs of his nausea in a manner that is unbeknownst to the host, but returns to staring at the wall without a second regard.

“Thomas?” Logan murmurs, bile rising in his throat and shoving his hidden suffering even closer to the forefront of his mind, as though it hasn’t been there all along. It’s hard to think, through all of the white noise and weary irritation and the tiniest sliver of hope that he crushes immediately, but thinking is his job, and he needs to help. “Are you alright? You can talk to me.”

And then Thomas is shrugging him off, turning away as he tells him he should “just stop” with piercing words, that he “can’t do anything to help”, and the rejection feels like a metaphorical knife has been shoved into his gut. Logan can feel the pain and the heartbreak and the insecurity materialize into a cold blade, twisting and twisting just to make him hurt more. Logan is ignored for the fourth time today, by the person it hurts to come from the most, and he can feel the sun whipping and screaming in his chest. His breath is stuck, sucked down into his throat, a sharp pain localizing in his neck, and he can’t help but bring his hand up to rub at the spot with trembling fingertips as he unsteadily lurches back to his regular spot. The others don’t notice, of course, or if they did, they don’t care. Then the nausea he’s been fighting against surges like a violent wave at full force, drowning him and the hurt is forcing its way into his mouth, his throat, his lungs, and he can’t breathe–

His fist flashes down from his neck to the banister, punching the railing so hard it echoes in the reverberation created from his vicious, angry snarl.

It’s scary, in a way, how in moments like this one, Logan feels as if his consciousness floats away from him, leaving behind only a wave of white-hot, searing anger that drains out of him just as quickly as it comes. There’s sleet running through his veins, and his brain has frostbite, and his fingertips are numb in the face of the ringing resonance after his outburst. The pain comes next, a simmering heat blistering below his fist until it’s coated and red and the beginnings of a bruise are starting to form. He can’t help but stare helplessly in front of himself, eyes burning and filling and blazing with how much they beg to close.

He doesn’t want to look up, to face the suffocating silence that’s fallen over the room. He doesn’t want to see their faces, their disappointment, their anger, their contempt. He wants to yell. He wants to sleep.

Logan sinks out.

There’s a very short window of time where the logical side rushes into the en-suite bathroom after rising up in his bedroom, trembling legs aching with exhaustion. Barely a second passes between him falling to the floor and emptying the meager contents of his stomach into the toilet, the bile burning in his tender throat as a reminder of his failure. The floor is cold and hard beneath him, ridges of tiles pressing unrelenting into his knees through his wrinkled jeans. His head spins, unbalanced as it whirls through itself, words and thoughts and ideas that mean nothing and everything simultaneously existing hollowly in a falling echo. There is pain, and aching, and soreness, and exhaustion, and Logan wants to sleep.

It’s hard to rise to his feet, head throbbing and knees shaking as he wipes the spit from his mouth on a folded square of toilet paper. The pain nags at him, persistent and irritating in its attempts to shut Logan out, almost clear in a way that belies the foggy haze blanketing his nearly incoherent thought process. Marking a clear vantage, a faultline to anchor onto is no easy task, and all Logan wants as he stumbles over to his bed is a landmark to pinpoint and find his way back to. He careens toward the mattress once he’s close enough, finally letting his legs give out underneath him when he’s as near as he can bear. It’s so difficult to stay upright in stiff misery, pangs and twinges of sharp pain coursing through his limbs and his back as his muscles are forced together under pressure.

In another familiar, frustrating bout of anger that seizes his breath before it can escape his lungs, Logan shoves his fingers in the knot of his tie, yanking it forcefully even as the motion jerks his own head forward uncomfortably along with it. His fingers run down the length of the fabric, and it falls apart at the end of its cycle, much like Logan has, and he snaps his arm back to chuck the dark blue, silky length to the ground in a motion that does little to relieve the rage built up inside him.

He can feel it building. The buzzing, the pressure, the glass in his veins running on shards. He feels the pinpricks upon pinpricks, the fire burning in his lungs, and the stone crumbles, and tumbles down, and he’s like a rubber band pulled taut.

He cracks, shrill pressure in his knuckles and head and torso, and nothing happens.

Then Logan hears the telltale squeak of his door swiveling on mildly rusty hinges, and a familiar voice echoes right through his bubble, shatters the stone wall like a bulldozer running at full speed, and then the wetness spills over his lashes and over his stony, impassive face.

“Oh, Lo,” Deceit murmurs, sad and tender as the breath rushes out of him and Logan can’t do this. He wants to throw out his fist in a wide arc and pummel the wall next to him until his knuckles are raw and bloodied and bruised beyond repair. He wants to scream until his throat is torn and his voice is gone, lost in the uncaring, empty void that coldly swallowed up his passion. Happiness has never seemed further away, and he knows he deserves it. But then he remembers all of the times where the pressure in his limbs and the buzzing in his brain forced him to lash out, to hurt others, and he thinks that maybe it’s okay for him to hurt right now to even the score. With the last of the metaphorical wall around him in tiny pieces, fragments of a life he never wanted to live but he desperately fought to keep, he lets his guard down for the first time in years.

Logan’s face crumples under the weight he’s burdened his being with, body immediately drooping under the heaviness that he’s forced himself to fight through. He finally submits, and the tears come in an endless stream over his cheekbones, itchy and hot and terribly, mindlessly relieving. It feels so good to finally let the negative emotion he’s pent up inside him out, to fall out of his cage he’s lived in high above a swirling ocean of release and fear and freedom. And he’s so, so lucky because he has someone to save him from the fall.

Deceit’s kneeled down in front of him, wiping away the tears as they fall with uncharacteristically degloved thumbs, and Logan can feel the smoothness of the scales twisting and trailing down his fingers. Every so often, Deceit’s pointed thumbnails catch lightly on the skin of Logan’s cheek, and it just causes him to cry harder. The vulnerability in the room is palpable, a wispy breath of worry and insecurity and trust trailing over their skin, blanketing the room in a warmth that runs even warmer when Logan reaches up to gently lay his hand over Deceit’s own. He shows his appreciation through tactility when the words he so desperately wishes to say are lost in his throat, blocked by the barrier that separates his newfound submission and the part of him that’s still clinging to the feeble grasp at acceptance he craves so dearly.

Logan can barely tell what’s in front of him through the kaleidoscope in his vision, but he doesn’t really need to see to throw himself forward off the bed and bury himself in Deceit’s chest, of whom lets out a surprised noise but doesn’t hesitate a single second in wrapping his arms tightly around the other side. He strokes Logan’s back comfortingly and offers him whispered reassurances through the heart-wrenching sobs and broken, croaky whines that disappear into his cloak, hand coming up to cradle his head in the overwhelming reflexive instinct to keep the logical side safe and happy. It feels like a dagger has gone through Deceit’s chest at the knowledge that Logan has been suffering for so long and hasn’t been able to let it out or just simply be held, the self-preservation that is at the core of his function as a side going off like alarm bells with every sniffle. Logan curls into the first person who’s ever offered him physical affection and emotional safety, and his fists clench the fabric at the snake-like side’s shoulders as tightly as he would if he were to never, ever let go.

Logan is out of breath even as his heart begins to calm, beating and beating in his ribcage and in his lungs. The lump in his throat prevents him from speaking, but he figures it’s okay to not be heard audibly, just this once, and speak with his actions. Although he doesn’t know what he’s saying when he pulls back and wraps his arms around Deceit’s neck, laying his face in the crook of other side’s neck like a small child would, not really, he hopes that his intent still comes across in some sort of intelligible, hopeful way. Deceit seems to take this as a request, a promise, and slides his grip to a point where he can hoist the smaller side up in his hold, carrying him just like a parent carrying their kid to their bed after they fell asleep during a visit to a friend’s house. This situation is much more loaded, stained with impurities and unsure withering, but it’s just as raw, just as real, and Logan finds himself feeling safer than he ever has before.

At some point, they end up on the bed, Logan having been manhandled into a more comfortable position for both of them, which is laying across Deceit’s lap without ever having let go of his neck. The logical side feels small and vulnerable, something that he would normally hate, squash down, bury so deep within himself that he doesn’t even have to acknowledge it. But honestly, right here, right now, he’s so goddamn exhausted, and forcing himself back into the state of repression he’s been in for so much of his life would take too much of a toll, more than he already has on himself. The wetness rolls down his cheeks, bold, blue precipitation falling in droplets onto his skin and the fabric of Deceit’s cape, sinking and spreading and thinning out into airy nothingness. And the nothingness enraptures him, pulls him in even as he breaks and whimpers and spills wisps of forgotten feelings into empty space, at least until his bedroom door opens once more with a loud click, because nothing Remus ever does is truly quiet.

“Hey, are you guys having a sexy party without me? How c–… are you… crying?” Remus asks, suggestive tone split and watered down into something confused, and surprised, and angry. The younger twin kicks the door shut behind him with his foot, more out of muscle memory than conscious forethought, something that stands with nearly every action Remus executes. Logan turns his head wearily, not lifting it from where it rests on Deceit’s collarbone. The latter of the two takes that chance to clear away some of the tears that didn’t get absorbed into his clothing, hoping that since the stream is slowly dispersing, his cheeks will stay dry this time. Remus slowly approaches, body tense and eyes piercing as Logan’s face is wiped off for the nth time, offering no other sounds or words as he crouches down to examine how the bespectacled side’s skin is rubbed red and sensitive.

Logan just whines softly, stare falling to the bedsheets, observing nothing in particular as he tries to figure out why words are failing him. Something that’s such an intricate part of himself, the communication of thoughts and ideas and knowledge that defines so much of who he is and how he exists, it’s dwindled and diminished into nothing. Deceit seems to understand, he always does, and reads him so perfectly it’s a wonder the two didn’t become closer in the beginning, with how much they truly are alike. A scaled hand makes it’s way up to Logan’s head and cards through the soft, disheveled hair there, scratching lightly at his scalp in a motion that seems to draw the aching tension caused by his distress out of his body, leaving his muscles to relax and melt into the chest that holds him upright.

“Something happened before I came in here. I assume it has to do with the others,” Deceit murmurs into thick, heavy air, stale with shame and tired hopelessness. Remus’ eyes flick to Logan’s own, actively searching for some sort of confirmation or denial. There’s a beat of silence, and Logan’s eyes flutter in a fatigued attempt to stay awake, and the nausea creeps its way into his stomach once again like a predator stalking its prey. Deceit repositions himself quietly, pulling the smaller side impossibly closer, as if he knows that he’ll need the added comfort. With his body squished into a protective embrace, and his tie laying flat on the floor below, forgotten and scorned for what it represents, Logan swallows hard around the sharp block in his neck and nods through his nonverbal affliction.

At the minimal admission, something in Remus’ eyes darkens, bathing the bright craze that typically resides there in something hateful, and vicious, and dripping with chemical absolution. He shifts away, rolls onto his haunches in a way that doesn’t read as entirely intentional, as though he’s been physically forced back with the weight of the confession. There’s so much there, in the way his breath comes out shallow and gravelly and low like a beast biting and snapping at the bars that contain it, fighting against the cage it’s locked inside. Nostrils flare, and jaw sets, and fists clench white as bone, and Remus straightens up to his full height, intimidating and looming and dangerous.

“Who?” he spits, venom coursing through the single word in molten streams. It’s a protective fire, serious in a way Remus rarely is, and the storm in his eyes and aura only becomes more turbulent and intense and solid as he reaches behind himself to slowly seize his morning star from where he keeps it at the ready. Pulling it to the front of him is an unexpectedly slow event, yet still ferocious in its quiet, cold fervour. The silver weapon swings in a steady arc around the side of Remus’ body, catching the dim light in a threatening glint, the gleam alluding to its deadliness in a way that’s almost unexplainable. The spiked mace finally comes to its resting point, hovering in the air just beside the fierce side’s leg, unassuming and ready to drive its way into an unlucky antagonist’s skull.

“I’ll cut their fucking throats. I’ll rip off every single limb from their bodies until they’re nothing but a pile of flesh and blood. They’re gonna pay for this,” Remus snarls, each threat bathed in acrimony and malice and choked by fury ripping through the tempest. Logan stares through misty eyes, half-lidded and concerned but too out of it to muster much of a coherent thought. Thankfully, Deceit is still there, soft and warm and well-equipped to deal with Remus and his behaviour. The snake-like side sighs, reaching out to just barely snatch up a frilly black sleeve, tugging him closer and meeting surprisingly little resistance despite the rigidity of the tallest side’s posture. Each breath from Remus comes out like a bullet, brisk and arduous and punctuated by a pang of impermeable guilt.

Even as Deceit motions Remus to lower himself onto the bed in front of them, the latter of the two is still apprehensive, terse movements and restless eyes that flit between anything and everything they can to avoid stagnation. It’s almost fearful, in a way, primal in its aptitude to think, and cultivate, and vindicate a wrongdoing that was never his fault or responsibility in the first place. Logan hates that they need to save him, hates that he doesn’t truly believe they actually care. There’s a level of certainty with himself and with others that the logical side hasn’t reached yet, and it feels too close and yet too far, kept obscure and secluded and almost clandestine in the way it’s ostensibly unreachable.

With the help of Deceit’s hand to guide his way, Remus slowly lets go of his morning star, tossing it to the side with a pensive, trembling swallow. It clatters to the ground, metallic clang resounding in vibrations, tilde-shaped waves that bounce off the façade and yell out to one another. Muted shrieks upon perfect, flat, neutral paint, sepulchral oscillations attacking the drywall.

“You can’t hurt them. I know you’re angry. I am too. But hurting them won’t solve anything, Rem, you know that more than anyone,” Deceit says meaningfully, smiling in a way that’s sad and distant but caring and compelling and relaxing for the tension wrapped so tightly around the three of them. The snake-like side lifts the hand that’s not in Logan’s hair and reaches out to grab Remus’ own, firmly but gently as he squeezes his fingers in a way that reassures, and consoles, and reprimands, not unkindly. He admonishes, and breaks that anger and frustration, and builds up positivity and alleviation and reprieve from everything that allows that buzzing, ticking, those pinpricks upon pinpricks. His care and concern washes over you, paternal in a different way than Patton operates, and it’s why Deceit is so comforting to be around. He manages a respite from vexation, a refuge in sanctuary, discreet freedom for the flawed, defeated dreamer.

“I’m mad. I’m mad that they hurt you, Lo-Lo. I want them to feel the pain you’re feeling,” Remus mutters, frigid and defeated, head bowed and gaze distant in that transparent manner of his that easily broadcasts all of his thoughts and feelings and wishes. Logan feels the pride welling up in his chest without even realizing it, quietly delighted at the progress Remus has made in being clear and forthcoming with his emotions and impulsivity. A weary grin makes its way onto his face, predictably aggravating the soreness in his cheeks, yet he finds himself indifferent to it, unperturbed by the plight that’s ravaged his body for the day, and probably longer without his notice. He wants to reassure the younger twin, to smile and laugh and brush all of it off, but his eyelids droop, and a pathetic mewl is the only thing able to escape his lungs. Of course, since there’s something Logan wants to say, Deceit somehow knows how to communicate it, just as prompt and courteous and perceptive as always.

“We can talk about this later after Logan has slept. Don’t worry too much, Rem, and don’t do anything stupid. If you get angry again, please go to your paints instead of your legs,” Deceit instructs, more of a suggestion than a demand, but he hopes Remus will listen and be mindful anyway. The latter of the two bounces his leg anxiously, grumbling unintelligibly under his breath as he stands up in one swift, fluid motion. As Remus makes his way over to exit the room, Logan nudges Deceit’s hand with his head gently, trying to bring his attention back to the massaging motion that ceased sometime during the conversation. The snake-like side’s eyes flick downward to meet the smaller side’s own half-lidded, teetering gaze, and he huffs a laugh after a moment of searching. Logan doesn’t know what he finds, but he realizes that he doesn’t really care that much about worrying over every little interaction anymore.

Remus finally turns and glances back as he swings the door open, brows still furrowed and shoulders still hunched, but simply shakes his head and leaves. The door closes much softer than before, thankfully, so as not to be too harsh on Logan’s migraine, an unusually conscientious thought from someone that rarely shows consideration to the needs of others that the logical side appreciates that much more. As the sound of Remus’ footsteps slowly fade with his retreat down the hallway, the two of them left are bathed in silence, one that is marginally less heavy and thick than before.

A small while passes afterward, only punctuated by soft breathing and light scratching noises from nails trailing through messy hair. Logan feels like he might pass out any minute, what with the comfortable, quiet understanding the two have come to rest at, but some part of him says to wait, to push through the mind-numbing exhaustion for just a little while longer. That part of him is probably just being considerate toward Deceit, who Logan can’t imagine would be very comfortable with another side falling asleep on him and laying on him for an extended period of time, but he figures that it’s a good of a reason as any. It’s not about him feeling like a burden. It’s not.

Eventually, Deceit must start to get tired as well, or maybe he’s sore from Logan’s weight on his legs, so he sits forward, apologizing quietly for disturbing the peace, and he moves them into a more comfortable position. The new arrangement is far more snug and cozy than the previous one, Logan thinks drowsily, as his head hits the pillow across from Deceit. They lay there on top of the blankets but make no move to pull them up, just content to stare lazily at one another in the dim, ambient light cast by the desk lamp in the opposite corner of the room.

“Why?” Logan finally asks, and although he loathes disrupting the silence, he needs to ask. The words are scratchy in his tender throat, a charcoal whisper on a steel canvas that scratches and sketches away with nothing viable left to keep through the wind that blows the dark dust off the surface. “Why are you helping me? Why do you care?”

Deceit just hums, sending Logan a weak, distracted smile. He mulls over the words, tossing about the meaning and possibilities in his head and on his silver tongue, rushing in an uncertain river through valleys of golden sand.

“I am self-preservation at its core. I exist to keep Thomas safe and healthy and thriving, and that also means you and the other sides by extension. But… it’s not just that. Even though I feel physical pain whenever one of you or Thomas is hurt, I specifically want to help you because… I care about you, Logan. I love you, and want to see you healthy and happy. I haven’t really been doing a good job of that lately,” Deceit mutters, gaze somewhere on their shared pillow, and there’s a quality to his tone that’s bitter beyond the line of frustration. Although Deceit doesn’t expand on it, doesn’t offer up a single clarification despite the heavy air and his resigned demeanour, Logan gets it. He understands, and he wants to prove him wrong.

So he does.

And that comes in the form of surging forward, fighting against the current, the pinpricks in his stomach and shoulders and abdomen, disregarding the exhaustion for just a little while longer so that he can let Deceit’s lips meet his own. Logan’s so close he can feel the shocked rush of air leave Deceit’s nose, feel the vibrations through the air as his body trembles in fear and anticipation and relief. The other side eases in, sinks closer, closer, and finally moves his lips in a careful, emotional dance that leaves Logan dizzy and breathless, for entirely different reasons that have plagued him for the past day.

“Lo,” Deceit breathes, low, wanting, and he pulls back to give Logan a chance to catch up. A scaled hand comes up to caress the logical side’s cheek, a soothing, cool balm for the raw skin beginning to heal there. “I didn’t… I didn’t think…”

“I love you,” Logan breathes, the words he’s refused to say, to acknowledge, to confront welling up through his throat and for the first time, he lets them spill out. The dam has broken, debris left to descend and submerge in the depths of the sentiment crashing through in a roaring, passionate rapid at the narrowest point yet. The words come, and they don’t stop, and Logan almost can’t believe how right they feel on his tongue. “I love you, I love you, I–I love you so much, Dee.”

Logan is like a rubber band, pulled taut and still and trembling under the pressure. And maybe he’ll split, shoot apart, torn in two pieces that will never fit back together again. But maybe he won’t. Maybe instead of snapping in half, he’ll snap back, and that thought alone gives him a quiet comfort that he’s not used to allowing himself. He’s waiting, hoping, and he’s okay enough for now.

[elvencantation]

tagged by @dibidibidrama​ and @rachel-sky-walker!!! honestly i cant remember if ive done this before or not, probably a variation of it

1. nickname: so I don’t actually have any nicknames, i used Blue when I was worried about using my real name online, and nicknames that others have given me, though nice, just havent stuck

2. gender: female

3. zodiac: gemini (we’re not evil ok)

4. height: 5′3′? 

5. age: 22, ill be 23 on the 12th!! so in like, three days? (heres my amazon wishlist if you wanna get me anything 😂)

6. time: 10:34

7. favorite bands/solo artists: shinee, bigbang, bts, vixx, got7, exo, panic at the disco, imagine dragons, twenty one pilots, freddie mercury/queen, marina and the diamonds, i could go on forever probably

8. song stuck in my head: shinee — married to the music

9. last movie I saw: um... lets go check, i dont remember. my facebook says black panther?

10. last thing I googled:  ¬¬ but it didnt get me any results for some reason...

11. other blogs: my kpop sideblog is @sylvandreams and my positivity blog is @validatingsuggestions

12. why I chose my username: i wanted to smash together two words that would sound cool together and evoke a pretty image

13. following: 269

14. average amount of sleep: 9.5 hours a night (why i need this much sleep? nobody knows)

15. lucky number: 6?

16. what I’m wearing today: i am currently in bed, so only my underwear

17. dream job: i dont even fucking know anymore

18. dream trip: same as above

19. favorite food: love me some lamb, some caesar salad dressing, this one amazing thai noodle salad, also indian food

20. play any instrument: used to

21. favorite song: i have to pick one?

22. play(ed) any sport: played soccer for a year in middle school. i have no coordination

23. hair color: blonde roots and fading orange from henna the rest of the hair, if that makes any sense

24. eye color: green with some brownish orange in the middle

26. languages you speak/are learning: I speak Russian and English pretty much fluently, some elementary French and very very little Hebrew

27. random fact: i have a displaced shoulderblade because one of the cartilages in my shoulder ever dissolved when i was a kid

28. describe yourself: im pretty much always down for naps, and for food. so im always to some degree tired and/or hungry. i have bouts of depression and anxiety at inopportune moments, and im adhd all the time. i talk too much and take energy from other people, dont have the best relationship with my family and if i had more time id read and write more. or did you mean physically? im not gonna do that you can go look at my face tag

i tag: @gingersnapwolves @aspiringwarriorlibrarian @chained-up-taekwoon @streetsturncold @writing-blue @bts-on-the-uss-enterprise @colorsofshiningstars @heresjeonny @jihyesol @marzipanandminutiae @janey-jane @ninjapiratetarheel @remembeo @rohobi @blushoseoks @jjong-ace @incorrect-shinee-quotes @seraphsfire @gh0st-tabi @innavi @intergalactic-ashkenazi @jimfromsales @logicallythyla @kosher-salt @bunyip92 @violentadd @thelibraryofmars @minoru-dean @thelady0fclockwork @kazriku

[losingmyaesthetic]

I am no longer concerned about my potential introversion, I’m having an entirely different crisis of conscience. shocking!

Perhaps my medication does more for me than I realize. who knew?! It’s been real hit or miss since my surgery and I’m sleeping about 50% less and just realized I hadn’t eaten in 5 days. It feels utterly nonsensical.

I’m good tho, filled up my little rx box and I’m taking all the stuff. Got the creeps bc my not-eating wasn’t like body image related, for a couple of years I’ve been annoyed at having to make time to refuel. It’s an inefficient system. But after 5 days I started remembering the disordered eating of my youth.

AND THEN I had what I can only describe as a feeling-flashback. That was new. My husband said something 100% innocuous and it just tasted exactly like something a person said to me years ago. I dated this person for a few years and the only memory where I can still hear his voice… I asked why we didn’t have sex anymore and he said “I don’t want to touch someone I hate” … and we fuckin continued to live together after that. I spent a whole day in my office telling myself “this is not the same, he didn’t mean anything like that, you cannot hold him accountable for the offense of someone long gone, this is just like being mad at someone for cheating on you in a dream…” and y’all. Idk what it was but I choked on his words and the weight on my chest didn’t let up for like 9 hours.

I’ve been aware of my anxiety for 14 years-ish. It’s had a name that long, at least. That & depression were my first two diagnoses as a teen. I’ve had it relatively under control the last 3 years sans booze & benzos, I’ve made life changes and I utilize some of the cognitive behavioral therapy I learned in my first rehab. But that shit hit me right in the kidneys. I told my husband about it that night & fuckin cried. And I do not cry. It was wild. He didn’t say anything hateful, at all. And I’m 100% aware he is not responsible for my expectations. (It was about how we spend our evenings & weekends and when we prefer to be together or have alone time - totally normal healthy stuff). More than anything I hate how crazy helpless it made me feel. Unable to reign in my emotional response for that long. It’s been so long since that happened.

Idk. Life is weird now. Our hormones change as we age & I can only guess that’s playing a role too. I’ve got the acne of a teenager and every so often I get the libido of one too. And like, the depression is still just chillin, in the corner smoking a cigarette with OCD waiting for the endorphins of our latest romp to wear off. Bipolar II is somewhere around here, probably skinny dipping with ADHD (according to my psychiatrist, idk which dx’s cancel each other out at this point). Each one of just waiting on their chance to crash the fkn party.

Meanwhile, I’ve decided maybe my true calling is writing smut novels & designing earrings. 🙄

Idk how many olives are in a can but black olives dunked in store-bought Olive Garden Italian dressing is a solid depression dinner. [bonus points for cherry tomatoes, avocado or croutons. but that’s asking a lot when all your energy goes into opening a can.]

[religious-pizza-roll]

Unusual asks: 2 6 10 12 14 18 21 23 26 30 35 38 40 45 47 58 59 63 66 69 75 77 79 80 86 90 95 97 99

OH my god I love you lmao 

2. Is your room messy or clean?

Right now it is clean, but I betchya in like 2 days it’ll be a pigsty again haha.

6. Describe your personality in 3 words or less.

Compassionate, adaptable, and anxious.

10. How would you describe your style?

Honestly, I have no clue. Maybe like wannabe hipster meets closeted bisexual lmao.

12. What size bed do you have?

I share a bunk bed with my sister and I think it is full sized. 

14. If you can live anywhere in the world, where would it be? Why?

Well, @castleonthehell and I are gonna go get an apartment in rural France together and be vegans of course. I love every aspect of France and French culture and art, I want to experience it myself forever. Martina just gets dragged with me because I love her and she is my friend for some crazy reason aha. 

18. Favorite TV show?

Girl Meets World or Total Drama Island to be very honest.

21. Sandals or sneakers?

Oh, it depends on the outfit, place and season! I love both endlessly if paired with the right clothing. 

23. Describe your dream date.

OOOO. Okay so we go antiquing or to a library and we make jokes all night and talk about our favorite music and books, then we go to a beach and just walk around or sit around and talk about everything and nothing all at once and if we stay long enough, we stargaze. Stargazing is so fun and beautiful. I love stars so much. No movies, you can’t get to know someone while watching a movie.

 26. How many pillows do you sleep with? 

I put two pillows under my head and I use one p8llow to block my tv light because my sister can’t sleep unless the tv is on and one pillow to block sunlight on the days I can actually sleep in and I just have a random body pillow on my bed that I don’t use haha.

30. What’s your favorite candle scent?

Of the candles I own, my favorite is either my vanilla honey or my blackberry cider candle. In general, my favorite is always stuff that reminds me of bonfires and the beach. 

35. Who is your celebrity crush?

TOM HOLLAND OR BRYAN DECHART OOF THEY ARE HOT HOT HOT 

38. Money or brains?

I would rather be knowledgeable than rich. Money runs the world when it shouldn’t. Knowledge can get you so far, especially if money isn’t around to hinder your progress.

40. How many times have you been to the hospital?

Oh god, who even knows. I cannot even fathom a number for it. I have asthma, ADHD, anxiety, eczema, and a shitty immune system so I am ALWAYS in the urgent care and my mom has had a lot of surgeries and has chronic pain from endometriosis, my brother used to go a lot for chronic nosebleeds and eczema. My sister has the same things I do, minus asthma and plus sensory issues. We live in the hospital. 

45. How many kids do you want?

ZERO. I WANT NO KIDS. SORRY MOM.

47. What type of house do you live in?

I live in a 3 bedroom apartment with my family so, tiny as fuck lmao. 

58. Do you have freckles?

I have a couple all over my body, but I wish I had a lot more. 

59. Do you smile for pictures?

Sometimes, not always. I have ugly, unstraight teeth, so I usually try to do something other than showing my teeth unless it is supposed to be a nice picture. 

63. Do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonald’s?

I have gotten food poisoning from Wendy’s more than once, so I don’t eat there anymore. Definitely McDonald’s aha. 

66. Have you ever won a spelling bee?

In second grade haha. I was also in one in 7th grade and I got 7th out of 20 people. 

69. Do you play an instrument?

I am learning ukulele and I used to play saxophone in middle school. 

75. Are you going to change your last name when you get married?

Oh. I have never thought about this before, to be honest. I don’t know. I guess that is something me and my future spouse will have to talk about. 

77. Do you miss anyone right now?

Is it possible to miss people you’ve never met? Then yes. I miss @maraudersandlily20 I haven’t talked to her in like 2 or 3 weeks :( I also miss my irl friend Allison, who will only hang out with her boyfriend even though I live closer than he does. 

79. Do you believe in ghosts?

YES, I DO. 

80. What is your biggest pet peeve?

When people click their pens or when people chew with their mouths wide open like damn is it so hard to close your mouth. 

86. What is your phone background? 

My lockscreen says “I solemnly swear I am up to no good” and my home screen says “Mischief managed.” My laptop background is Tom Holland. 

90. Do you wash your face? At night? In the morning? 

I am so bad at remembering to wash my face. I should wash it twice a day, once in the morning and once at night, and I own a lot of skin care products, but I always forget. I am one of the most forgetful people in the world. 

95. Summer or winter?

Winter for sure. Minnesota summer and winter are both pretty intense, but I like being cold better than being hot and summer here is like burning alive, so yeah. I’d rather be a human icicle. 

97. Dark, milk, or white chocolate?

How about none of the above? I hate chocolate haha. 

99. What is your zodiac sign?

I am a Gemini and I am sad that I am one of the most hated signs :/

[lyraeon]

Hi! Sorry for intruding, and you definitely don't have to answer if this too personnal or invasive, but I've been wondering if my depression might be a bipolar one for a while now, only I don't always see myself in the way people talk about mania/hypomania, only sometimes I do? And the way you described mania being /straightforwardly frustrating/ sort of spoke to me, so I was wondering if you could explain what you meant by that? (or direct me to posts where you have?) Huge thanks!

Hello friend!

I’m sure I have other posts about it somewhere, but short of digging through my whole relevant tag, I wouldn’t know where to look for them. But I don’t mind explaining overall.

First of all, if your depression seems to come and go, but not necessarily be replaced by hypomania or mania, it may be something else. Seasonal Affective Disorder is the most common alternative, but Cyclothymia is also a thing, and should especially be looked up if your depression also never hits a bottomless pit level. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking “well, it’s not THAT bad, so I guess I’m ONLY cyclothymic and I shouldn’t worry about it” or whatever though!! That’s just the depression talking and trying to keep you down. Ignore it.

I don’t know if I get manic or hypomanic, doctors have consistently disagreed about it. But, I know I have two main modes of mania, though they can bleed into each other.

There winds up being talk about hallucinations, self-harm, and graphic nightmares in this, so if that’s gonna bug anyone reading this, J on past it

Hyperactive mania:

What is sleep? This is not me procrastinating sleep or being distracted by other things, this is me flat out not needing more than 3-4 hours of sleep a night and having trouble getting to sleep to begin with, not in an insomnia “I’m so tired but can’t settle down” way but in a “I don’t feel tired unless I drink or take sleeping pills or otherwise really wear myself out” way.

Zero focus - I have little to no attention span most of the time to begin with (I suspect I have ADHD but most doctors will be reluctant to diagnose that in addition to bipolar, since mania has a lot of overlap). This typically gets worse during mania; I will repeatedly get up out of my chair to walk laps around my house, often gesturing wildly and definitely talking out loud to myself if no one’s home. I’ll sometimes try to play music to get the energy out to that, but rarely get through a single verse before skipping to the next.

Hyperfocus - and when I do manage to focus on something, (which has to either be something I’m REALLY ENJOYING or something social) I will get dragged into it for 14 hours and only snap out of it if I need a bathroom break or something. The Sims is a common one, not just for me but for a lot of people from what I hear. I always know something was a hyperfocus and not a thing I really wanted to do in general because after 3 days - 2 weeks of the thing I won’t touch it again for months or years. My last manic fit involved playing a sim city phone game for 6-7 hours a day and binge watching multiple people’s entire hermitcraft 4 season. The one before that had me playing rollercoaster tycoon constantly.

sex drive - suddenly characters and celebrities I had not previously regarded as hot are hot. Suddenly I have 15 AO3 tabs open. I feel like people who know me well can notice my mania just by how often and what gets reblogged to my NSFW blog.

poor decision making - I’m far more likely to buy ice cream or alcohol or other things I don’t need to be spending my money on. I’m far more likely to give in to the whole not sleeping thing, or to take sleeping meds despite cutting it way too close to when I have to be up the next day. I lose my verbal filter. I still don’t know if the fact I don’t do anything life-ruiningly stupid is evidence I’m only hypomanic, not manic, or just my anxiety keeping me in check.

Intense emotions - I cried at a University of Phoenix ad yesterday y’all. I also in general am not one to cheer or yell at something happening on TV/in a video, but get more invested when manic and react on a level closer to when I’m actively playing a game or something.

But there’s also the frustrating side (not that the above isn’t often frustrating, just that the above are more associated with positive emotions or at least not a pervasive Stressed Out feeling)

Easily frustrated - I am not one to get mad, normally. I actually get criticized for just letting things slide that obviously upset me/”you keep saying it’s okay right after saying it’s not okay”. I don’t know how to handle getting mad due to gaslighting issues growing up that I won’t get into right now so when I do start getting mad, it tends to build up until I find myself tense and literally stomping mad and sitting in the car screaming in frustration (because if I scream in the house someone might hear me). I also snap at people far, far more often when manic, losing any patience I would typically have and sometimes going for passive aggressive gouges if what they’re annoying me with has built up over a couple days as opposed to instantly. For example, yelling at people who are in my raid group.

nightmares - dear god the nightmares. I will do things in them that I find barely or completely unquestionable in them, then wake up freaked the fuck out because I just - well, we’ll go with today’s example, which is that I fuckin shot my dog in my dream, and for no apparent reason! Death is a pervasive thing in these, including me getting jolted awake by my own death in them, but unstoppable torrents of water are also common as is things just not making any sense - an object I’m holding turning into something else the moment I try to give it to someone else is also something that happens a lot

tense - dear god do my shoulders and back hurt, and not my normal everyday chronic arthritis pain, because that’s in the joints. This is every muscle pulled as tight as it will go and locked, and often carries a sensation of “the only way to fix this is to literally claw them off the bones”. Upper back is the most common but my forearms come next (especially near my elbows) and every major muscle can feel that way if I’m far enough gone. This used to lead to self-harm in the form of me scraping at those areas trying to make the sensation stop (and has lead to weird masochism stuff), but it’s something I consciously avoid now. I’ll usually try to rub at them or stretch to relieve the tightness, but often sleeping it off is my only real recourse.

really, really, REALLY unable to focus - I can’t get through two minutes of a video without pausing it. I skip every song 4 seconds in and instead of just feeling like they don’t fit quite right, each song feels like it’s personally offending me by not being the right one and I eventually give up and take off my headphones in a huff. I’ll forget I was loading the dishwasher halfway through. I’ll keep doing one more little task and one more little task for hours to procrastinate simple things like eating or walking the dog. I always in general have trouble finishing my sentences sometimes, because I’ll lose words or I’ll wind up reading/hearing something mid-sentence, but it becomes every third sentence.

Itchy - everything feels wrong. My hair has to be pinned up as thoroughly as possible so it can’t touch my skin, my glasses have to be perfectly clean because the smudges will piss me off, my clothes have to be just right so they don’t touch my skin in ways that will make me jump/itch like if my hair touches me, any rough edge of my nails or cuticles has to immediately be chewed off, if there’s a weird hair or a zit or a scab anywhere on me I will be picking at it instantly, whatever I’m sitting or laying on is too lumpy, etc. My scalp itches regardless of when I last washed my hair, but washing my hair sounds dreadful because the sensation of wet hair weighing me down is even worse (vs it normally being a soothing sensation to me). My ears itch!! it’s maddening and distracting.

noise and light sensetivity - everything is too bright and too loud! I’ll have as many lights off as possible (sitting in the dark, showering in the dark, screens all as dim as they will go; I’ll often close my eyes or blindfold myself if I really need to concentrate on something I’m typing or listening to). I try to get white noise because background sounds like the dog walking around will drive me batty, but white noise will give the same “wrong one” sensation as music, and if I notice ANY repetition in the white noise (obvious bird loops for example) unless I have deliberately chosen a repetitive melody because it feels right, I will snap and have to turn it off and probably just cover my ears for a while. 

The sensation that shit would suck less if I was drunk right now, because that would either “at least give me something to do” or “make all of this funny instead of annoying” (but alcohol only intensifies what I’m feeling, so if I’m “good” manic it makes me super happy and if I’m frustrated manic I just get angrier)

just an overall sense that everything is wrong and there’s nothing I can do about it and unlike when I’m depressed, wherein I feel like it’s all my fault and I probably deserve to die because of it, it all just pisses me off more and makes me need to get up and wander around. in the less extreme of these moments, I end up trying to figure out lists of what needs to be done, but getting frustrated trying to think that hard. In the worse ones, things will be blown out of scale and I’ll be plagued not just by the problems in my own life but by how fucking frustrating it is not to be able to fix, oh, our broken government, or how frustrating it is that I don’t have the money to just buy us a house right this second, etc.

hallucinations - this is top floor mania for me. The only thing above it is the roof that I will sometimes lay on at 2 in the morning, limbs spread as wide as possible for minimal skin contact, laughing uncontrollably on the inside while feeling paralyzed. My hallucinations are “mild” ones - I’ve only had one or two visual flashes in my life, everything else has been sounds, and it’s rarely been even words, let alone more. it’s usually alarms and sometimes music. I’ll hear my boyfriend’s alarm going off, or the fire alarm going off, or my own alarm going off, or my family’s burglar alarm going off, etc. This is one that meds have been royally good at keeping under control and I’ve only had breakthroughs of it when I’m also sleep deprived.

-basically, mania is fUCKING FRUSTRATING AS ALL GET OUT because you have all this energy but nothing FEELS RIGHT so nothing gets DONE, 99.94% of the time.

The additional problem for me with breakthrough mania - that is, symptoms that happen despite my medication keeping me mostly “normal” -  is that it rarely brings any of the positive aspects that make being manic at least fun in the moment, if not sometimes genuinely worth it. I can get a LOT done when manic if I can take advantage of it before the bad symptoms set in, and I suspect a lot of my current writer’s block issues are because I’m not getting the same kind of hyperfocus days that I used to. But boy do I still itch sometimes, boy are my shoulders craving for me to go rub on a tree like a bear, boy is my stomach cranky because I’m so hungry but eating food sounds like a horrifying chore because what if it doesn’t taste right, etc.

I don’t really know how to explain exactly what I mean by the emotions feeling stunted, but it’s sort of like trying your hardest to find the can opener because you know it’s got to be somewhere, but it’s not anywhere you’re looking, except the can opener is your ability to be excited about this thing you wanted to do, or is your ability to be mad about something you know for a fact you’re pissed about, but you get stuck sitting there just dully frustrated instead because you can only read the label of the can, not actually experience the contents? Or maybe like opening it and finding store brand, “no sugar added” peaches instead of the really good del monte overly sweet stuff; your emotions themselves just feel lackluster compared to what you know they can be.

If a lot of this sounds familiar - if you’re like, yeah I get really annoyed easily and get sensory issues etc but I thought I didn’t get mania because I’ve never been pulled over in vegas going 110 in a 45 and all the media presents of mania is that and crazy chicks putting themselves $12,000 in debt overnight and waking up with no recollection of it - then you probably have hypomanic bipolar. If little bits sound familiar but they always are accompanied by existential dread and/or the pervasive sense you’ve gotta keep moving Or Else, it could be some sort of anxiety disorder. Parts of this list also overlap with autism, or with ADHD, or with BPD, just depending on which symptoms you have.

By my understanding, the one cornerstone of any form of mania is that you feel like you have more energy than normal; not more energy than depressed you, but an actual excess. That energy can fade fast/turn out to be just a sensation and not actual energy, but the sensation is still there, and usually fucks with your sleep.

Hopefully that helped. If it didn’t, or if it did but there’s something else you want to know, feel free to shoot me another anon or a message. I might be slow to respond because my sleep schedule is currently fucked to three more hells than normal, but I will definitely do what I can to help.

[cosmosogler]

aaaa my hands get all sweaty when i hold a game controller. also i should really probably be wearing my glasses.

today i had such a nasty, tiring dream that i slept in! i got up at 9:25. so i slept in less than yesterday... 

my dream was disorienting... i feel like it should have taken place in college, but it looked more like everyone was high school aged, and acted that way too. the topic kept changing, even though i stayed in more or less the same area for the whole dream. it was, like, a marketplace, with a farmer’s market, but also there were a lot of drab gray buildings with paper stuffed into every available space on every window. the road was dirt. everyone was playing some sort of game that i didn’t understand. also i was trying to shop, but i didn’t like anything i saw in any of the stores. and when i thought i had gotten to a store with what i was looking for (i don’t know what i was actually looking for, but i had a feeling it was in there!!!) i saw a bunch of burly, sweaty dudes with no faces. so i backed out haha. then the game changed? people were... trying to get behind each other? i think the technique was different for everyone. but they were trying to suck each others’ souls out and that was how they won for the round. i think... the participants were supposed to get better, at some point... but i wasn’t playing, just watching and trying to figure out the rules. eventually i wandered out into the playing field and started talking to some of the participants. they were friendly enough, but i kind of got the feeling they didn’t want me there. eventually the girl from the shining came out of the crowd, grabbed me by the shoulders, spun me around, and sucked out my soul!!! it hurt a lot, indescribably. like... if your soul could get sucked out, that’s definitely what it would feel like!

i tried to scream but i couldn’t move at all. eventually i tried so hard that i woke up screaming. but i was in a weird unfamiliar place and my face was being shoved into the pillow. then my alarm went off and i woke up for real all sweaty and tired. cool!!!!!!!!!!!

so after that wonderful start to my day, i pet eve for a little bit, and then i got up and got ready for the day and stuff. i tried making some tea that i found in the cabinet... it wasn’t very good. i found the rest of the video games in the pile of stuff dad brought in from the garage last night. and i watched two episodes of cry plays: soma. it’s a really good game, but i wouldn’t be very good at it. horror games aren’t really under my “favorite genres” umbrella. instead of getting scared i get frustrated that i might have to replay a large portion of the game since traditionally save/heal points are pretty few and far between. it took me FOREVER to get through metroid prime because i would hover around the checkpoint nervously before continuing haha. half life was kind of a slog that way too, even though i really liked both those series.

then i went and picked up asher. i almost got hit when i was trying to get on the freeway... it’s always crowded at that particular exit and trying to actually get on the freeway is kind of dangerous. and nobody was using their turn signals today! and getting into the lane i was trying to get into while in my blind spot and also not using turn signals!!! and then i could tell the guy i accidentally cut off was SUPER mad because he started going like 90 miles an hour while everyone else was going 50 and cut in front of me and then swept over to the far lane. ok, buddy. like... yeah, ok, i could have probably spent more time figuring out if he was changing lanes right next to me or not. but when you use your turn signal you gotta hop over pretty quick or else people around you stop making room. i think since phoenix is so big, everyone feels like they have to drive 8-15 mph over the speed limit to get where they’re going in a reasonable amount of time. and also they don’t make room for you in the next lane over unless you turn on your turn signal, wait exactly 1 second, and then butt in. that’s literally the only way to get on the freeway some exits.

i avoid the exit lanes when i’m on the freeway unless i’m getting off at the next exit. honestly i’m shocked that i haven’t been in a crash yet.

anyway, i brought asher over to my house and we hung out in the living room exclusively. i guess that was ok, since the house is a total mess with half-unpacked boxes everywhere. i ripped my room apart today looking for the super nintendo. didn’t find it. mom found it later though in a box grouped with a bunch of my sister’s boxes. it was the only box i never checked because i thought we had already looked through it when we were searching for the wii u. 

asher made me curse while i was in the car. he said something, and i repeated the sentence back to him in a “you’re not...” sort of way, and i didn’t realize i had said it until my mouth made a really unfamiliar shape haha. it wasn’t his fault, but i was kind of annoyed with myself for not paying attention to my words.

while asher and i were lounging around catching up on steven universe, my brother pointed out that doge had pooped on the floor in front of the back door. we didn’t notice... i felt stupid. my brother went and got dad, and then... he picked up diogi, shoved her nose in it, and then literally threw her outside. then he went outside and we didn’t hear anything for a really long time. my brother, asher, eve, wiley, and i kind of stared at each other awkwardly for a while. 

like... hitting a dog is never ok. but i could understand being frustrated with maybe wiley, because he’s a young adult and should know better by now, and also he would theoretically have better control over his bodily functions. and he does go in the house, and it is frustrating. but doogles is hella old, and also disabled. she cannot walk for very long. she can hustle, but sometimes she falls down. i can’t imagine she can hold it for very long. she usually goes right after dinner... i don’t know why my brother didn’t let her outside after he fed them? and then, like, got mad at me when it happened? 

i just need a break from dad for a while. i don’t understand why diogi likes him so much. he calls her a retard and hits her sometimes and doesn’t really brush her or anything. i think he exudes such a powerful “dad” aura that the dogs just defer to him. i mean, that’s how packs work, isn’t it? maybe doge thinks she owes her life to him since he took her from lonnie, who abused her more regularly.

dad interrupted our steven universe marathon but i don’t remember what he said. but, like, the show was actively on, and we were clearly watching it, and he felt the need to insert a conversation (run and participated in by him alone) over the dialogue. i’m not sure if asher really caught the ending or not.

anyway... after that asher and i headed out to michaels to get some markers. we talked about the show for a bit during the car ride. then we went to indian food, as is our habit. the usual waiter wasn’t there today, but i saw some new people. maybe it’s because we were there on the weekend instead of on thursday. then we talked about jojo for like two hours. it was great. we revisited a lot of the same topics that we have talked about before, but it’s been like three weeks since i last saw asher, so i didn’t really mind. 

however my sense of direction was super out of whack for the whole drive, i could not figure out where i was or where the stores we were trying to get to were. i think i was stressed about diogi. 

i was also really jittery. it may have been the tea from this morning... asher noticed. he said it might be anxiety. i would agree, but i’ve been like this for a really long time. as in, always. he also suggested adhd but i don’t seem to display any of the other symptoms of that. but you know what causes the restlessness and twitching? anxiety and depression. so maybe it was. i guess i’ve had depression for basically my whole life. my classmates at christian school used to make fun of me for it. the twitching, i mean. 

however i was REALLY uncomfortable today, physically. i couldn’t get my ankles to sit right and i kept moving my legs while we were trying to watch tv. the jerking really only stops when i am actively exercising. even right afterward i’m right back to twitching and squirming. 

nobody these days acknowledges it (except my group therapist; she points it out when she thinks i am more anxious than usual, but really i just do it constantly until someone notices and then i have to consciously stop). but i know they see it. it’s really hard to keep my eyes on something static for more than a few seconds... like a book or screen. 

when i was filling out paperwork for the sleep study the doctors decided it was restless legs syndrome. but it’s every single muscle in my body ha... it feels like static is building up every time i don’t move and i have to MOVE or else it gets unbearable. i usually just wrinkle my nose, or jitter my knees, or tap or bump something with my palm just above the wrist. 

anyway, it was worse than usual today, and it sucked, and was really annoying. 

when i got home i booted up undertale and got through the mettaton fight, and also burned down undyne’s house. so i just gotta befriend alphys and that should complete everything i need for the pacifist run.

so now it’s 12:30. i’ve been writing for about 50 minutes... i got distracted trying to describe my problem to google. every word i use points back to anxiety... 

but i fidget even on days when i’m not that stressed? i don’t get it. 

tomorrow i find out if i am still going to have therapy at the hospital or not. i haven’t told anyone yet... i figured i would bring it up if it became relevant. like, if i wasn’t able to go any more. if i am allowed to continue, then there isn’t really a point in reporting it. i’m still stressed about it though...

i shall do my pokemons, and check some monday stuff, and then try to sleep. sure hope i don’t die horribly again in my dreams tonight!

[hayleybaaaby-blog]

because I really haven't taken a survey in years - I miss MySpace bulletin board or whatever, lmao.

1. What’s one thing that’s happened to you that has made you a stronger person?
• I'm not sure, honestly. I was in a severely abusive relationship for well over 4 years, ending in January when he was incarcerated for brutally beating me, raping me, & attacking me, all with our two children present. Our 5 year anniversary would be in a few days, the 28th. 😐 Truthfully, I don't know if I'm stronger, but I definitely know that I'll never tolerate anything like that again. Never. 2. What’s one thing that’s happened to you in your life that made you feel weak?
• being abused over & over again, physically, emotionally, sexually. All in front of my children. I feel pathetic, weak, & disgusted with myself to have kept taking him back.. 3. Where is one place you feel most like yourself?
• uh, well. I don't know. I feel trapped in the house I live in with my parents & 2 kids, but that's because of what Luis did to me in my very bedroom - on my bed - and in my kitchen + living room. I feel HAPPIEST at the park or library with the kiddos. Or outside in general. 4. Where is your favorite place to escape to?
• outside with my kids, walking up the dirt driveway. 🌞 5. Who do you think has had the largest influence on the person you are today?
• my kids' father. He's made me the MESS I am today.. 6. If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?
• I can't just name one thing. I hate my mental health issues (severe anxiety, depression, & ADHD), dealing with constant migraines, the fact that I don't have a car, & the way I'm constantly beating myself up about everything. 7. If you had one day left to live, what would you do first?
• hmm. Take my kiddos to an amusement park or somewhere fun for kiddos. 🌸 8. What decade do you feel you most belong in?
• none. 😂 they're all awful tbh. The only one I kinda like is the 1980's. 9. Who are you closest to in your family? Why?
• my children, of course 👩‍👧‍👦 I birthed them, ya know 🤰🏼 But aside from my kiddos, I guess my mother. We butt heads a lot, but she's a very strong & motivated person. My sis & I used to be close.... it hurts. 10. Who is the one person in this world that knows you best?
• no one, shit I hardly know myself. 🙅🏼 11. What is your favorite quality about your best friend?
• how they grew inside of me, came from my body, love me unconditionally, & NEVER want to leave my side. 💘 if y'all can't tell who I'm talking about, that'd be my 2 darling babies. 💜💙💗 12. When you were younger what did you think you were going to be when you grew up?
• as a youngin', I wanted to be a teacher. Then as I got a lil older, I desired to be a Psychologist. But then I fell pregnant with Miranda & only took one semester in college.. 13. If you could identify with one fictional character (from a book, show, or movie) who would it be?
• honestly not sure. 14. Do you easily accept compliments? Or do you hate compliments?
• oh, who doesn't love compliments. They're brighten your spirit. Especially seeing as I suffered years of being told that I'm bad looking 🙄 but I'm also extremely self-conscious & awkward when I receive a compliment, so 🙈 tis the anxiety. 15. Is your favorite attribute about yourself physical or non-physical?
• I guess non-physical? I like how understanding and caring I am. I tend to care too much, tho. 16. What is your favorite attribute about yourself?
• I'm caring. 17. What is your favorite non-physical attribute about yourself?
• I've literally just said that 😂😂 18. Do you believe in love at first sight?
• I used to believe that anything was possible, until I met a monster who destroyed all my positivity. 19. Do you believe in soul mates?
• don't think so. 20. How seriously do you take horoscopes?
• I don't really check them lol. 21. Have you ever been in love? How many times?
• true, blindly, awful love: once. Puppy love: twice. 22. What makes you fall in love with someone?
• everything.... 💔 23. What does vulnerability mean to you? What has the ability to make you vulnerable?
• vulnerability just perfectly describe me currently. I'm fairly low in my emotions, so yeah. My kids' dad is who always made me feel that way. Also heartbreak, being betrayed, & embarrassment make me feel like that. 24. What’s one thing you’re scared to ask a man, but really want to?
• ain't nothing to scary to ask a man 🤔😬 25. If you were a man for a day, what would be the first thing you do?
• nothing lol I have no desire to be a man. 😳 26. What do you find most attractive about each sex? * men would be probably their eyes, smile, hands, arms, build. women would be their hair, eyes, smile, passion, body. 27. What’s one thing you’d love to learn more about?
• psychology. 28. What is something you’ve never done that you’ve always wanted to do?
• take my kids to the beach. 🌊☀️🏊🏼‍♀️🚣🏽‍♀️ I've been before, a handful of times in my childhood & teenager years, but not since I was 17 with my mother, my ex (their dad), & a few other people. I would be so incredibly happy to take my babies to the beach, lie out in the sand & tan while we build sand castles & then take off running to the water to swim 💙🙌🖤 Another thing I'd love to do is go on a cruise. I want to travel the world someday, also. I want to rock climb. Attempt to surf or ski. 🏄🏼‍♀️⛸⛷ Even like to try to ride a horse. 🏇🏼 I want to take self-defense classes 🥋🥊🤼‍♀️ that'll protect me & my kids once my ex does get released. I ALWAYS wanted to learn how to play the piano or keyboard �� I wanted to learn to ACTUALLY dance, take dance lessons & also I'm OBSESSED with gymnastics. But since I'm in my twenties, I'll settle for asking my babygirl to join gymnastics 🤸🏽‍♀️ & just maybe, she'll become an Olympian 🥇🎖🏅 hehe. I played softball for 7 years. I hope so much that my kiddos are athletic 😄😅 29. Why haven’t you done it yet?
• because that's A LOT of stuff, & I don't have the 💵💰💸 for all that. Kids are expensive lil creatures, ya know. 🤑 but so worth it. 🙌💕 30. If money didn’t matter, what would your dream job be?
• I definitely would love to go into Photography. 🖤📸🎥📱 honestly, I want to be a Psychologist & earn my PhD, but that's so many years in school. With two kids, that's going to be fairly difficult when my main focus & top priority is them. I dunno. I have even considered nursing because it's only 2 years in school, fair pair, good insurance, & different hours. 31. If you had off from work today, what would you do?
• I don't have a job currently. Just a stay-at-home mama. It's 7:35am. I've done nothing but stay up all night, lying on the couch, playing on my phone or tablet. 😂🤷🏼‍♀️ I'll regret it later 🤦🏼‍♀️😅 32. What was the last thing that made you cry?
• some dude. Talking about how I need to get over what Luis did to me because it's "in the past" && how I'm not a perfect mother basically. Here's this: Eff You 🤔🖕 33. What was the last thing that made you laugh?
• my son. 💙 his smile & laughter are contagious 👶🏽 34. What is your favorite memory?
• the first time I held each of my child, most definitely. 💓 also, the first time I ever breastfed them, kissed them, & pretty much all of the good memories with them. 😍😭 35. What’s the last thing that REALLY embarrassed you?
• I'm VERY easily embarrassed, like it's terrible. So, there's no telling. Everything literally bothers or embarrasses me. #anxietyproblems 36. What is your biggest fear?
• losing my children. death. my ex. 37. Do you have any regrets? What’s your biggest one?
• yes, I have 2 very big ones. The first regret I have is taking Luis back AFTER I left him for around 2.5 months. I was newly pregnant with Leonardo, like maybe 3 months pregnant but had only just found out a few weeks before. He attacked me, and I called my dad. Left him & only took Miranda to see him during daytime in broad daylight, never was alone with him for too long, & did not spend the night. The second regret I have is letting him come in my window the morning he intended on killing me.. 38. Have you ever broken a law? If you haven’t what is one law you’d love to break?
• of course I have. I've been arrested before 🤦🏼‍♀️🙅🏼 All to protect my piece of shit ex because HE ditched my car while drunk. It taught me a valuable lesson, though. I didn't drink after that & still don't. He, on the other hand, didn't learn anything. I ended up with obstruction of justice charges & underaged possession 🙎🏼 I had 100 hours of fucking community service!!! Had to even take an AA class & driving class EVEN after they found out I wasn't driving. Oh, & the magistrate wanted to lock me up for 10 days to "teach" me a lesson about lying to authority 😭 39. What is the craziest thing you’ve ever done? * stay with my ex. 40. Would you have a conversation with a stranger?
• sure would. would give me anxiety, but some people need their day brightened. 41. Would you tell a stranger they have toilet paper hanging from their shoe? Or their dress tucked into their underwear? (Or anything else that is embarrassing to be seen in public)? * yup sure would. 42. What’s your favorite joke? * I'm not sure . 43. Are you a dog person or a cat person?
• can I be both & neither 😂 I love animals, but all of my babies have passed away. I used to have a ferret, who passed in December. She was my girl 🌝🌚 miss my Loca Luna. 🐾 44. If you could be any animal, what animal would you be?
• a cat 🐱 45. What’s one show, movie, or book, you’re embarrassed to admit you enjoy?
• Jerry Springer & Maury 🙈🙊 46. How do you think your parents would describe you as a child?
• like Angelica from the Rugrats 👧🏼 47. If you could go back to any age or time of your life, what age or time would it be?
• when I was like 18 & pregnant. Everything was so new & exciting. I loved my ex with all of my heart, too. So blind. 48. What’s something you believe in that not everyone else does?
• that women have the right to their own bodies. & that borders are imaginary lines that were only created after this country was stolen from the indigenous people.. 49. What’s one thing you would say that makes you unique from other people?
• I'm a single mommy who's been through hell & back but am surviving && thriving 💋 50. What is one thing you feel your life is missing?
• a vehicle ..

[foursprout-blog]

How To Be The Girl Who Never Quite Loves Herself

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/how-to-be-the-girl-who-never-quite-loves-herself/

How To Be The Girl Who Never Quite Loves Herself

Twenty20

It’s 2004 and I am changing in the girls’ locker room after gym, sitting in a light blue sports bra while chatting with the other girls. I had just moved to Cologne, Germany and am trying to make new friends. So far, I don’t really fit in. I am hyper and gangly and talk way too much for someone with nothing particularly interesting to say. I try too hard. But I don’t want to change. I have this belief that I need to be liked for who I am, even if that is too much most times. But so far, that wasn’t really working for me. I needed something to make up for it.

“You’re so skinny, Molly,” remarks one of my classmates after I still hadn’t thrown on my shirt. She was one of the “cool girls” and to have that compliment thrown my way made me feel seen in ways I hadn’t yet felt at my new school.

Because it’s true. I am incredibly skinny. Puberty hasn’t struck yet and my stomach seemed to be almost concave, even while seated. I don’t remember how I respond. Did I say thanks? Did I deny it like young girls are meant to? I can’t be sure. I do remember that feeling in the pit of my tiny stomach, though:

Pride.

Because in all the ways I was too much, at least I was small. At least I had that going for me.

***

It’s 2005 and I just ate a shit ton of spaghetti to put myself into a food coma so I could take a nap. Being awake feels like too much effort. I don’t want to deal with myself. Depression was a word that was thrown around since I was young, but this was a new habit no one knew I was participating in. I didn’t know this was the beginning of a dangerous new coping mechanism.

***

It’s Spring 2006 and my family has been back in the States for a year now. I join the freshman softball team. I’m the fastest. Probably the most enthusiastic too.

The “cool girls” on the team write mean things about me on MySpace.

Too much, too much, too much.

I don’t try out again next Spring.

***

2006. Or 2007? But who’s keeping track? All I remember is that one year in high school, the boys swim team sends me a fake Valentine’s Day card from a guy I had a small crush on. He approaches me after a swim meet I attended with friends and apologizes. Explains it wasn’t from him. Says he’s sorry. I say it’s okay. No big deal. I go home and cry.

Not enough, not enough, not enough.

***

It’s Spring 2008 and I’m a junior in high school. My pants size sees the double digits and I spend most of my time the days I actually make it to school sleeping. Depression is a word used regularly to describe my behavior. I am prescribed Vyvanse for my ADHD. I regularly skip lunch but binge in the evening once the effects wear off because I’m so fucking hungry I can’t see straight.

I have an excellent lacrosse tryout. Whisperings of me making varsity, no questions asked. I get cut and only make JV. I leave tryouts sobbing.

Not enough, not enough, not enough.

I lose some weight. Still probably eat too much rice after practice. I’m captain of the JV team. And at least I’m active, right?

***

It’s 2010 and I finally make varsity lacrosse. I’m a senior. I’ll be attending community college in the fall. My twin sister got into the University Of Michigan. I am bitter.

Not enough, not enough, not enough.

I hurt my knee the day before prom, during my last lacrosse game. I go to the ER and am given a huge brace to wear and crutches. It could be a torn ACL.

Luckily I had a flowy dress since I wasn’t confident enough to wear anything tighter. I go to prom on crutches.

***

2012. I discover alcohol by doing shots of gin with my best friends at my parents’ house while they’re out of town. It burns. I feel giggly. Less aware of everything I lack and everything I have in excess.

I visit my best friend at the University of Michigan. We meet two frat boys. I am not interested. I go along with it anyway. Frat boy #2 and I end up in his dorm room. I say I’m uncomfortable. My friend is nowhere to be found. He continues to push. Eventually, I get the chance to leave. We go back to my friend’s dorm. I joke about it even though I feel very sad and guilty.

***

It’s 2012 and I told myself I would be more confident by now.

Prettier.

Happier.

More in control.

I got into Michigan State University, my dream school. I leave home. I change my major from psychology to professional writing. I have a path. I am excited about it. I lose 25 pounds. I am thin. I wear crop tops. I am not talking to my mother. It hurts.

126 is the number that reads on the scale and a boy I don’t want to kiss tells me I’m beautiful.

Little does he know it’s because I can’t eat because the anxiety has its hands wrapped tightly around my esophagus, making it difficult to breathe. I had gone off my antidepressants. I shouldn’t have.

Almost, but not quite.

***

2013. Spring semester. My best friend and I are not speaking. It hurts. I am back on antidepressants. I start to party. I start to party a lot. I gain weight back from beer and drunk food and hungover pasta. I try and get over a man who doesn’t love me by going home with boys who don’t even like me. It’s familiar. I hope I can convince them I’m worthwhile. I never do.

Never enough.

I meet someone who makes me forget the man who doesn’t love me for a little while. He is funny and charming and bad news. We go back to my house after the bar. I say I don’t want to sleep with him. I’m not ready. He stands up and leaves for another girl’s house immediately.

You can do better, everyone says. Fuck him.

But can I?

***

I graduate college in 2015. I find a job a few months later. I am constantly afraid I am not doing enough and screw up too much. I stop working out. I drink $2 wine at night to chill out. I work long hours. I gain weight; a lot of weight. It happens, people say. First job, they remind me. You’re still beautiful, some say.

I don’t see it.

***

It’s May 3rd, 2018 and I told myself I’d be thinner by now.

Smaller.

Less.

Better.

I stop buying clothes because I don’t want to waste money. Because I am going to lose weight. I WILL. I join Weight Watchers for any sort of accountability. I don’t track it every single day. Sometimes, I’d rather just not know.

I lose weight, but not enough. Not fast enough. Not. Enough.

I drink too much on a Saturday night to forget the extra space I take up. After all, how can you be sober on a night out when everything fits the wrong way and your mirror is a constant reminder about reality? At least tequila distorts.

***

I write an essay about body image and depression and self-love and feel lighter. More free.

Enough.

2019 will be better.

[agent-of-empathy]

ALLLLL THE NUMBERS

1: Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? ...youtube2: is your room messy or clean?messyclean3: what color are your eyes?brown4: do you like your name? why?eh, kinda douchey5: what is your relationship status? in a wonderful relationship with @theoneandonlyaly71376: describe your personality in 3 words or lesssweet but shitty7: what color hair do you have?Brown, currently with some green8: what kind of car do you drive? color?a nonexistant one9: where do you shop?at shops :D (forreal tho usually the rideau center in ottawa)10: how would you describe your style?whatever fits11: favorite social media accountanswerred 12: what size bed do you have? uhi dunno13: any siblings?014: if you can live anywhere in the world where would it somewhere nice andforrest-yprobably somewhere in Europe15: favorite snapchat filter? idk what it's calledthe one that just makes everything a bit smoother and makes my face less ugly16: favorite makeup brand(s)idk man17: how many times a week do you shower?once a day if i can18: favorite tv show?Agents of SHIELD19: shoe size?10 or 11 i think20: how tall are you?5'7"21: sandals or sneakers? thos SNEAKY bois22: do you go to the gym? yeet, every day monday to friday23: describe your dream dateidkromantic shit and/or fun shit24: how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment?i dont carry cash so025: what color socks are you wearing? graey26: how many pillows do you sleep with?3+one mini pillow to hold27: do you have a job? what do you do? I bake at Canadian Coffee Shop Named After A Hockey Player 28: how many friends do you have? many29: whats the worst thing you have ever done? .......you want a list?30: whats your favorite candle scent?dunno31: 3 favorite boy nameshuuuuuh idki like 2 sylable names for some reasonlikekalebmaximtobias (is that 2 or 3? idk)32: 3 favorite girl namefancy sounding names likeIsabellaPersephone33: favorite actor? answerrrrrred34: favorite actress? answerrrrrrrrrrred35: who is your celebrity crush?*vaguely gestures at entire MCU cast*36: favorite movie? uhhhhhhhhhso many37: do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? I do and my fave is either Prisonner of Azkaban or The Hobbit38: money or brains? brains, then i can get a good job and earn money39: do you have a nickname? what is it? ZachMommyPandaGrandmatherDiscourse boiZ40: how many times have you been to the hospital?all of themall of the times41: top 10 favorite songswhat is a music 42: do you take any medications daily? ADHD meds43: what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc)uhdunno44: what is your biggest fear? *vague arm flailing motion*45: how many kids do you want? likeno more than 3 46: whats your go to hair style?uhshort? with a bit of length on top47: what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) average sized?48: who is your role model? me bitch 😎49: what was the last compliment you received?i do not know50: what was the last text you sent?"ok"51: how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real?SANTA'S NOT REAL?????????? 😭(8 years old)52: what is your dream car? something eco friendly but also badass53: opinion on smoking?bad, but to each their own. Just don't do it near me.54: do you go to college? yeet55: what is your dream job? Lawyah56: would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? a quiet forrest cabin is rural rightsorural57: do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? ye58: do you have freckles? so much frecklage59: do you smile for pictures?awkwardly but yes60: how many pictures do you have on your phone? hundreds if not thousands61: have you ever peed in the woods? yeet62: do you still watch cartoons? yas63: do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds?...i dont have enough money for chicken nugget :((idk man i dont go to either one much(64: Favorite dipping sauce? uhranch?65: what do you wear to bed? pajamapants66: have you ever won a spelling bee?nah67: what are your hobbies?anxiety68: can you draw? yell heah69: do you play an instrument?......is mayonnaise an instrument70: what was the last concert you saw? i have not71: tea or coffee?answerrederino72: Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts?Him Tortons73: do you want to get married?eventually74: what is your crush’s first and last initial?AT...does it count as a crush if she's my girlfriend75: are you going to change your last name when you get married? prolly not76: what color looks best on you? black (like my soul) ((aren't I edgy))77: do you miss anyone right now? so mANY PEOPLE78: do you sleep with your door open or closed?closed but with a lil gap for the cats to get in or out79: do you believe in ghosts?not really but ya never know80: what is your biggest pet peeve? all of them81: last person you calledpizza place82: favorite ice cream flavor? all of themmmmmmmm 83: regular oreos or golden oreos? idk havent had em in yearsprobs golden84: chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? bOTH85: what shirt are you wearing? Hblack shirt with ogwarts crest on it86: what is your phone background?my girlfriend87: are you outgoing or shy?shy as FUCC88: do you like it when people play with your hair?meeeehdepends who and how89: do you like your neighbors? i mean im moving rnlast neighbours were loud stompy dicksnew neighbours are my family so :P90: do you wash your face? at night? in the morning?whenever i shower91: have you ever been high? only from meds i got during or after surgeries92: have you ever been drunk? tipsy at best93: last thing you ate? a kiwithe fruit not the small flightless bird94: favorite lyrics right nowdunno95: summer or winter? ...fall96: day or night? nite97: dark, milk, or white chocolate? white98: favorite month? October99: what is your zodiac signGemini100: who was the last person you cried in front of? girlfriend(idk if i was actually crying or just felt lime crying, i dont remember)

[that-girl-you-were-warned-about]

Odd numberssssss

1: How tall or short do you wish you were?

My current height isn’t too bad. 

3: Do you have a favorite clothing style?

dark clothing, lots of black

5: What three things/people do you think of most each day:

My two best friends and suicide. 

7: What is your opinion on [insert person/thing here]?

My opinion on Secret Life Of Pets is that it is an amazing movie. 

9: Are you ticklish?

Kind of

11: What’s your sexuality?

bisexual 

13: Are you a cat or dog person?

Cat because I grew up with them, but love dogs too. 

15: Do you have a favorite Youtuber?

Joe Santigato 

17: If you had to change your name, what would you change it to?

Emily… maybe 

19: Do you believe in ghosts/spirits?

Yes

21: Are you religious?

nope

23: Would you rather be nocturnal or diurnal [opposite of nocturnal]?

nocturnal 

25: Favorite star?

Don’t really have one. 

27: Any phobias or fears?

I dislike spiders, but not a phobia 

29: Do you believe in reincarnation?

No, but a part of me wants to because I want to believe that in a life I might actually be happy. 

31: Do you get scared easily?

Nope

33: Blog rate? [You’ll rate the blog of the one who is asking.]

10/10

35: Where would you like to travel and/or live?

London

37: What is your eye color?

brown, almost black

39: Do you believe in horoscopes and zodiacs?

no, but I understand while some people do

41: Who is someone you would like to see/visit right now?

One of my best friends. Got to see her today and it was amazing and guess I just wish we could be hanging out right now because she always helps my mood.

43: Any piercings you want?

Maybe my lip again. For sure the top of my ear.45: Do you smoke or have you ever done so?

smoked 2 cigarettes in my life, not really my deal 

47: What is a sound you really hate?

awful music 

49: Can you do a backflip?

oh gosh no

51: Favorite actor and/or actress?

Gal Gadot 

53: How are you feeling right now?

Like I should be happy cause I had a fun day but really I just feel miserable.

55: When did you feel happiest?

Probably when my friend and I did a flight simulator (before we were good friends) and we got to go upside down!

57: Have any mental disorders? [Only ask this if you know the user doesn’t mind!]

ADHD, depression, anxiety, and nightmares

59: What three words describe you the most?

focused, closed, curious

61: What makes you unfollow a blog?

If they post things contrary to my core beliefs

63: Favorite kind of person:

outgoing, not afraid to do slightly dangerous things

65: Name three of your favorite blogs.

padf00t934, solemnukulele, transsexuallesbian

67: Favorite meme:

don’t have one

69: What is your star sign?

Do you mean like Libra…

71: What outfit out of all your clothes do you like to wear the most?

high waisted light wash jeans, thin crop top about making dreams that last, and my cute healed black booties

73: Do you have platform shoes?

nope 

75: Can you do a front flip?

nope 

77: Do you like to swim?

some, more then I used to

79: Something you wish didn’t exist:

Most of the governments in the world right now

81: Piercings you have?

none that are open any more

83: Favorite person to talk to:

my best friend

85: How many followers do you have?

257 

87: Do your socks always match?

they are always part of the same set, but the logo colors might be different

89: What are your birthstones?

pearl

91: If a flower could aesthetically represent you, what kind would it be?

bleeding heart (look a pic up, they are beautiful)

93: How many cups of coffee can you drink in one day?

I once had 11 in one day. I was doing a coffee and chocolate 5k walk with my mom and I went overboard.

95: Do you like to wear camo?

no

97: How long can you hold your breath for?

not sure, kind of a long time

99: Someone you look up to:

Dave Grohl 

101: Favorite type of shoes

adidas

103: Are you a vegetarian or vegan? If so, why?

no, but I completely understand people who are 

105: Do you drink milk?

yep

107: Do you like spiders?

no

109: Can you draw:

NO!!!

111: A question you hate being asked?

I don’t really have anything that I hide (besides from my family) So I don’t think there is really a question I hate being asked

113: Do you like the sound of waves at the beach?

yep, a lot

115: Someone you’d like to kiss or cuddle right now:

the best cuddler I know

117: What color do you wish the sky was?

black I guess cause I love the dark

119: Favorite thing about a person:

their smile

121: Something you want to do right now:

punch my father in the face

123: Sweet or sour foods?

sweet 

125: Do you believe in a certain magical creature?

Not really, but I want do. If that makes sense.

127: Something you love about Tumblr:

being able to express my emotions

129: What would you want written on your tombstone?

don’t live because someone tell you that you should

131: What is something you love but also hate about yourself?

basically everything

133: Computer or TV?

computer

135: Do you get motion sickness or seasickness?

no

137: Do you believe in karma?

yes, very much so

139: What nicknames do you have/have had?

maggie

141: Have you ever seen a therapist/shrink?

yes

143: Do you prefer giving or receiving gifts/help?

give, but receiving is fun too

145: How many languages do you speak fluently?

sort of english

147: Are you androgynous?

no

149: Favorite thing about your personality:

supportive

151: If you could go back into time and live in one era, which would you choose?

1500 and be a pirate and die young

153: How did you meet your spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner? [If you have one.]

don’t have one

155: Do you like to play with others’ hair?

not really

157: Something that makes you nervous/anxious:

life

159: How many people are you following?

700

161: How many drafts do you have on your blog(s)?

0163: Last time you cried and why:

last night because depression

165: Longest your hair has ever been:

about boob length

167: Do you really care how the universe and world was created?

Mostly just like learning about the theories 

169: Can you stand on your hands or head for more than thirty seconds?

nope 

170: Did you answer the questions you were asked truthfully?

I know this one is even, but the answer is yet