#i spent so much time making sure i didn't develop an ed i didn't realize i should have checked in on him too

[goldenliartrash]

In an unexpected feat of sorority, my bother inherited my mom's eating disorder. Another victory for feminism

[diaryoftheunidropout]

DAY 237

Days pass and it seems shit doesn't get better. In fact, it might even get worse. Also, I love how I randomly remember this account.

First things first, my mom has been in the psych ward for a week now. It stops her ED from getting too out of hand, but the real problem is her body image issues. That's what's causing the ED and it REALLY doesn't feel like the ooddles of doctors, psychiatrists, therapists and so on at the hospital seem to realize, or care, somehow. They also prescribed her with new antidepressants which she's having an allergic reaction to, but they say it's "normal" and are going to increase the dose. I hate them. I hate them so much and that's why I'd never want to go to the psych ward. They do the bare fucking minimum like feeding you and cleaning your room which are things you often can't do yourself anymore when you end up there, but they don't actually help you get better so when you go back into the world you can look after yourself again. Maybe I'm too harsh on them, and I'm sorry.

For my part, things are really shitty. I haven't gotten out of bed in 6 days now. I have had a pretty bad cold for a week too, so that'll justify it. Seriously, the truth is I'm going through a really bad depressive episode. It started about a week after I quit my job (so around the 25th of September I guess) and it hasn't left me since (we're the 3 of November right now). Most of the times I got out of bed were because I was seeing my relatives (I spent a week at my grandparents's and at my mom's, I saw my godmother a couple of times). My uni "friends" have completely given up on me and have straight up stopped inviting me to all their little parties and hangouts. I decided I didn't want to celebrate my "uni best friend" 's birthday anymore and came up with an excuse. I'm really disappointed in them. Or maybe I'm disappointed in myself because I should have been the one trying to organize stuff with them. But when you know they've created a groupchat with just the three of them, for some reason, and that was about as soon as I dropped out, you know you're not really part of the team anymore. I wonder if when my "best friend" doesn't walk fast enough compared to the two other girls, they just leave her behind like they did when we hung out the 4 of us, except I'd always slow down and wait for my "best friend" so she wouldn't be alone. I wonder.

These past 6 days, I don't really know what I've been doing except binge watch the last 3 or 4 seasons of BoJack Horseman. I absolutely ADORED this show. It's beyond what words can express. I've also started to develop a strange interest for dolls, specially the new Monster High dolls and Rainbow High/Shadow High dolls. It's okay, I'm going through a little phase and it brings me some comfort. I've also started reading Macbeth since I'm seeing the play in London in December.

All I pray for is winning the lottery. Whenever I don't forget, I play. I usually don't win much, but I play and I pray. Because I don't see how else I could get out of the deep. Just thinking about getting a job makes me feel an even greater amount of crippling anxiety and depression than I already have to bear every day. I've sort of convinced myself I deserved to have this little miracle happen to me because with all the shit I've been through, there is no one that could save me, not even myself, not doctors, not family. All that could save me would be becoming a millionaire and never having to worry about finding a job and losing my freedom, all of that to barely earn anything anyway. If I were a millionaire I could finally be sure I'll always have a roof above my head.

Lately I've lost the will to do things. I don't wanna celebrate my birthday. What is there to celebrate? It's gotten so bad that, although for a few months getting ready to see BTR tour in Europe was my top one priority in life, it's something I can barely find interest in anymore. When I think I probably won't be able to afford doing the whole tour I think "whatever", even though a couple of weeks ago I would have cried at the mere thought of not doing the whole tour. Things are changing quick. I'm losing interest in everything, nothing gets me excited. The BTR side of Twitter is hella toxic, you'll get cancelled over anything by a bunch of hypocrites.

I'd like to go back to the gym but I don't have the money, nor the will anymore. I've been asking for social aids (which I have the right to) but they're not giving me anything.

I don't have much else to say. I hope next time I write here things are a little better. I doubt they'll be, but I hope, still.

See you later :)

"Mr Blue I told you that I loved you

Please believe me..."

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter six - “lake, the sequel”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.7k

synopsis: reader seeks out bucky after his dramatic exit and they find themselves earnestly conversing... back at the lake

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: this story is available on my wattpad as a bucky x OC fic @ / typicaldaze :)

He didn't like this feeling. No, he didn't like this feeling at all. He hated it, in fact. It was betrayal, bodily betrayal. He just could not sit in that room any longer or he would've peeled his skin off. His lungs felt as if they were bound with barbed wire and the state of his stomach had him worried he was going to throw up. Most of all he felt guilty. How could he have just stormed out of the room like that? She was going to hate him now. How could he let this happen?

He was thinking this over whilst sitting at the lake, hands in the grass, trying to distract the physical body from the mental cacophony he had just endured. He had somehow found his way there after leaving Y/N. These extremely unpleasant sensations were unfamiliar. Was he sick? Could he have been drugged? He was so confused. Bucky realized he seemed to be confused most of the time. Following that realization, he became mildly pissed off.

The super soldier stared out at the lake. It was a calm day, the water tranquil and clear. It was a stark contrast against his stress. He leaned forward and looked into the water at his reflection.

"Damn," he said out loud.

Is that really what I look like now?

His eyes traced over the long shaggy hair, dark under eyes, and the subtle but noticeable worry lines. This sight reminded him of when he broke the mirror at his old place in Bucharest. Now he remembered why. God, he looked as fucked up as he was. He leaned back and tossed a stone at where his reflection had been.

A deep sigh left his lungs, which were now conveniently working properly.

"Fuckers," he muttered, referring to the mercurial organs.

He had spent nearly two years alone in Bucharest, and he had grown accustomed to living in this new body. He was always on edge, that much he could tell. However, he was never too introspective; he never thought about his feelings or his behavior. All he was focused on was surviving. When there is more to life than survival, that's when things get complicated... not that they weren't complicated before. God, he was running in circles inside his own mind. His scarred and ruined and manipulated mind that resided in this body that was used as a tool for destruction and violence and death-

"Hey."

His head whipped around, startled out of his thought frenzy. Always on edge. Mentally, he shook his head in disappointment.

"Oh! (Y/N)!"

He stood up immediately. "Listen, I'm so sorry about before, I don't know what-"

"It's okay," she said quickly, holding up her hands. "Bucky, you do not need to apologize, everything is totally fine."

He was taken aback. Words didn't seem to work.

"I'm not mad if that's what you were thinking," she said.

"You're not?"

"No, of course not. If anything I was worried."

"I- Worried?"

"Yes, you were clearly in distress, and that room was the last place you wanted to be. I'm glad you found your way back here because you look much better now," (Y/N) explained with earnest eyes.

She could tell he was freaked out? She probably thinks he's insane.

"Yeah, I... I think I'm better now."

He was far from okay, but definitely better than before.

The psychologist sat down next to where he was standing. He didn't move, but looked down at her.

"I don't think it'd be wise to leave you alone here considering you're supposed to be in a session with me right now and you can't go anywhere without an escort. It would most likely lead to suspicion and then trouble you don't need. I'm going to stay with you. We can continue the session if you'd like, but if not we can just sit."

She said this all while looking straight forward at the water.

In all honesty he wasn't sure what to say, so he settled with a breathy, "Okay," before sitting down next to her.

"I'm getting the vibe that this is more of a just sit situation..."

"Yeah... I think I'm all therapy-ed out for today," Bucky said in a meek attempt at a joke.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a wide smile. He then realized that she didn't know he could see it, and that's why this smile seemed different. Most differents in Bucky's life hadn't been outstandingly pleasant. But this was a welcome different. This was a good different. It was genuine and unbridled. That was the most open he'd ever seen her.

Every now and then he forgot that he was a literal trained super spy. He may not have any PhD's, but he had his own way of reading behavior, cues, and subtleties. Perhaps he'd make an effort to be more observant. Perhaps he wanted to learn a little more about what else was behind this new different.

A few beats of comfortable silence passed before he heard the word again.

"Hey," (Y/N) started softly. "I'm sorry if I went a little too far today. I know I said our first session wouldn't be much, but I realize I was pushing too far."

"Oh, it's okay," Bucky replied, looking down at the grass between his knees. "I think it's more my fault anyway. It's not like the questions were super intense."

He let out a loaded sigh. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Bucky it's really okay. If it's anyone's fault it's mine. This whole process is supposed to be based on your comfort levels and at your own pace. And there's nothing wrong with you. Your reaction was completely normal given the circumstances."

Bucky wasn't terribly familiar with reassurance. He turned his head, looking at her dead on. She was so genuine, like she knew all of what she was saying was the all encompassing truth.

Echoes of different combinations of "there's nothing wrong with you" and "completely normal" and "your own pace" flitted around inside him until they melted into a feeling he hadn't felt in so long: hope. It was horrifying... yet it gave him a kind of relief he didn't know he could feel.

The super soldier then realized that (Y/N) was looking right back at him dead on. He was about to stumble through some sort of apology for staring or thankful expression for her kindness, but he noticed that she didn't look like she was necessarily waiting for a response. She was just... looking.

Bucky tried to say something, anything. But he just couldn't seem to pull his eyes away. In this brief moment, he felt crystallized. His conscious, logical brain was somewhere far away, hypnotized by the stillness of the moment. It was only a few seconds, but somehow felt longer. These very few seconds of mental sedation were soon over.

Speak, idiot.

He snapped back to reality, suddenly finding himself inspecting at the grass below him.

"Thank you."

"Of course," she replied without missing a beat. Her tone of voice was water soft.

"(Y/N), do you... do you know what happened with me earlier?" he asked, cautiously. "Like, what was wrong- I mean, not wrong but why I-"

He sighed frustratingly, cutting himself off.

Her face was patient, but she was waiting for a description of something he didn't know how to describe.

"I know I said we were done for today, but I-I don't know how to explain it, and I want to know what it is," he confessed.

"I think you had an anxiety attack."

Anxiety? That couldn't be right. There's no way that could've been from being nervous.

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"Anxiety. It seemed as though you were experiencing high amounts of anxiety. Most people get nervous at times, but those tiny amounts are normal. But, some other people are a lot more nervous a lot more of the time. Sometimes, these peoples' anxiety can get particularly high and be so overwhelming that their body kinda takes over, and they can experience really uncomfortable physical symptoms, and this can turn into an anxiety attack."

"I thought I was... sick or... or drugged or something."

"Well, I'm almost certain you weren't drugged, and I'm pretty sure you can't even get sick."

"Oh."

He honestly didn't know what to say.

"Bucky," she looked straight at him again and he almost felt himself slipping. "In terms of psychology, a lot has progressed since the 40's. I'm not sure how anxiety was presented or studied then, but there's really a lot more to it than people think. And honestly, given your situation, it would be strange if you didn't develop an anxiety disorder."

Anxiety disorder?

"Anxiety disorder? I have that?"

"Well, again, I think we have to do more work to confirm, but that's what it seems like."

"I thought you said I had PTSD?"

"I do. I think you have both."

Christ.

"Wow, I'm a whole sack 'a problems, aren't I?" he chuckled, giving up on trying to internally oppose his short comings.

"You're not a problem, Buck. You had to deal with a whole sack of problems, though," she smiled.

The nickname didn't miss his radar. Was that the first time she's called him that? He ignored how he liked it.

"That's for damn sure."

They conversed for a while after that, and didn't seem to notice how late it was until the sun began to set. The ending day's reflection on the water created an aura so relaxing Bucky didn't want to move. But alas, reality calls.

(Y/N) stood up. "If you're not back soon, they'll start looking for you. We should probably get going."

Bucky stood up, too, following her request.

"I'll walk you back to your quarters," she offered.

And so they went, conversation continuing naturally, as if they were old friends. Bucky found it strange that someone he knew so little was so easy to talk to. He brushed it off as some inherent therapist quality.

He still found her hard to read although he knew her more with each passing word between them.

Despite all of this, the walk back, with cool air, a melting sky, and languid steps, was the best thing he had experienced since coming out of cryo. His memory may be spotty, and his mind may be rough, but this, this he was sure of.