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justdyingslowly · 5 years ago

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1. Name justdyingslowly obviously come on

2. Nationality Australian

3. Age 22

4. Birthday nnnah dont feel like it

5. Zodiac sign (or your primal zodiac sign) Libra/Scorpio cusp

6. Gender wamon

7. Sexuality very very hetero

8. Your looks (add a picture or describe yourself) androgenous

9. What do you/did you study? Psychology (focus on sexology) and art.

10. What’s your current job like?/What job would you like to have? I am disabled you think I can work ha sexologist would be awesome. When I was a kid I wanted to be a fireman but Australias always burning

11. Your birth order head first

12. How many siblings do you have? 1

13. Do you have good relations with your family? yeah dads finally out of his abusive relationship, nearing age 70 and his emotions and his sexuality are finally opening up for the first time and that makes me SO happy.

14. How many friends do you have? what kind of fucked up question is this.

15. Your relationship status relationshipped. Fiance? got the marriage papers in a drawer somewhere with the car rego but can’t be fucked filling them?

16. What do you look for in a SO? empathetic, mature, calm. Always open to discussion. Prefers to be blunt rather than secretive. Emotional age over 14 (incredibly fucking rare apparently). Puts an importance on context and understanding other views above all else.

17. Do you have a crush? Hellll yeah Crush on my partner and got a crush on a mutual friend of ours who don’t even know hes cute af hehe one day partners gonna accidentally spill the beans and embarrass me coz hes shit with secrets RIP me.

18. When did you have your first kiss? You think I can remember this bullshit? Its not that big a deal

19. Do you prefer serious and meaningful relationships or casual dating/one night stands? One night stand sex almost exclusively sucks. Just. SUCKS. Because neither of you know what the other likes and it ends up being an awkward mix of trying to please yourself while trying to also be considerate.

20. What are your deal breakers? Plugging your ears to anything that feels gross, uncomfortable or disagrees with you. How can you grow as a person without introspection? How can you mold what you think and believe without taking in other arguments and comparing them to your beliefs to see how they stack up? Its pathetic.

21. How was your day? cute mutual friend had a fall this morning and were both worried about him. His back is bad and he’s getting a little older, he can’t be getting dizzy and having falls like that. other than that im anxious about seeing my gastro. He’s lovely but... specialists are specialists. Good at knowing what they know but not always great at listening.

22. Favourite food & drink you think im allowed to eat or drink? water and... foods a touchy subject.

23. What position do you sleep in? Usually on my side with a body pillow to grip so I don’t end up choking my partner in his sleep.

24. What was your last dream about? uuhhh...going to italy and being unable to get into this tiny basket boat properly.

25. Your fears does PTSD to medical shit count haha

26. Your dreams ... going to italy and being unable to get into a tiny basket boat thingy?

27. Your goals - get some sort of diagnosis eventually. Its been 3 years of trying and im tired. - get back to studying art part time for my bachelors. - pass JLPT N3. - go back to university for psychology. - do the dishes when I get home.

28. Any pets? two budgies. we also take care of any orphaned or injured birds.

29. What are your hobbies? feeling nauseous drawing writing a little bit im making a little gameboy game in C atm too

30. Any cool places in your area? i live next to a national park with waterfalls and koalas and emus and stuff

31. What was your last awkward situation? mutual friend made a comment on his chest i playfully smacked it (related to the comment) it was surprisingly hard “O-oh wow, thats... I didnt expect that” my partner laughed at me. it was awful.

32. What is your last regret? getting embarrassed at friends pecs stop making me think about it 33. Language/s you can speak english. N4 Japanese.

34. Do you believe in astrological stuff? (Zodiac, tarot, etc.) of course not what the fuck

35. Have any quirks? Quirkless. I do wiggle when im happy though apparently.

36. Your pet peeves open doors.

37. Ideal vacation spend a months chilling in an old japanese house in autumn hokkaido oooooof that sounds nice

38. Any scars? internal? yes

39. What does your last text message say? peepee poopoo ustinky

40. Last 5 things from your search history how do i find this

41. What’s your [device] background? Sam Porter Bridges walkin around Sam Porter Bridges cuddling BB-28 Louise while he sleeps my chicken

42. What do you daydream about? all might

43. Describe your dream home an old japanese house in autumn hokkaido oooooof that sounds nice

44. What’s your religion/Your thought about religion its a comforting thought having a parent-figure who cares about you and looks after all the big things you can’t manage yourself, but institutionalizing it runs a severe risk of becoming harmful cults. And it often does.

45. Your personality type me

46. The most dangerous thing you’ve done i saw the lost bunny that was on all the posters in the neighbourhood looked thin and patchy so i grabbed him to take him home. im allergic. sent me to hospital and I almost died.

47. Are you happy with your current life? feeling sick sucks and partners having a depressive episode but things are pretty good

48. Some things you’ve tried in your life living

49. What does your wardrobe consist of? blacks, reds, whites and pinks

50. Favourite colour to wear? at the moment pink. Red is always comforting though.

51. How would you describe your style? mix between lazy alternative punk, teenager with band shirts and harajuku peach kawaii uwu

52. Are you happy with your current looks? kinda wish i was a bit shorter but what can you do

53. If you could change/add something to your appearance - impossible or not - what would it be? bit shorter

54. Any tattoos or piercings? lol no PTSD

55. Do you get complimented often? by who? partner constantly, family haha are you kidding im australian so a friend’s version of showing affection is calling you a cunt and slapping your ass in public

56. Favourite aesthetic? all might

57. A popular trend that you dislike blocking because you disagree or find them distasteful. Ignoring all context to opposing thoughts and arguments. taking a personal feeling of disgust to mean something is evil. Blocking your ears to anything that isn’t a circlejerk of what you already think - and trying to isolate anyone who even just listens to something other then the noise of your sloppy dicks to have a thought of their own.

58. Songs you’re currently obsessed with? The Machine by Low Roar

59. Song you normally wouldn’t admit you like. why wouldnt i admit i like a song

60. Favourite genre? probably enka haha

61. Favourite artist/band/genre? probably enka haha oh and tatsuro yamashita

62. Hated popular songs/artists? why the hell would I hate something like a song? I hate aspects of the music industry as a whole I guess?

63. Put your music on shuffle and list first 5 which playlist they aren’t all together in one place

64. Can you sing or play any instruments? piano, saxophone... uh... partners good at making music and playing shakuhachi

65. Do you like karaoke? no.

66. Own any albums? yes? many?

67. Do you listen to radio? What stations? no. but triple J, ABC Jazz and Classical. sometimes they even play final fantasy and JRPG music on classical which is pretty neat. -

68. Favourite movie/series? can i make this about games because then the answer is Metal Gear Solid

69. Favourite genre of movies/books/etc ...shounen?

70. Your fictional crush/es if they’re over 40yrs old, male and happy and bubbily or grumpy and sad then there’s a big ol fat chance I wanna bone. Solid Snake from MGS4, All Might and pretty much anyone drawn by Tarou Madoromi.

71. Which fictional character is you? uh

72. Are you a shipper? List your otps, if so what does this even mean what language is this

73. Favourite greek god? idk hades seems chill

74. A legend from where you live that you like the story of Tjilbruke is funny and good. all Kaurna stories are good.

75. Do you like art? What’s your favourite work or artist? im in a big egon schiele mood atm.

76. Can you share your other social media? no i am incapable

77. Favourite youtubers? many

78. Favourite platform? not too high up. actually i like being a little lower than ground level in corners.

79. How much time do you spend on the internet? too much

80. What video games have you played? Which one’s your favourite? look i just want to say that MGS4 is the best one in the series and Death Stranding is phenomenally engaging.

81. Your favourite books (manga also counts) these are all so goddamn definitive how can I pick? Oh wait the answer is One Piece

82. Do you play board/card games? I play DnD atm and know 15 yr old rules to Yugioh

83. Have you ever been to a night marathon in cinema? that shit dosn’t happen here

84. Favourite holiday golden week coz its a week also easter because thats when all the glucose based sweets come back

85. Are you into dramas? what kind

86. Would you use death note, if you had one? no. thats called being a murderer.

87. What changes would you make in the world, no matter how impossible, if you had the power to? chill people out a bit. when people feel unsafe they get really depenfive and territorial and block their ears to everything, making in-and-out groups for themsevles that end up putting them in more harm.

88. Could you survive a zombie apocalypse? im disabled with a disabled partner. we arent funny sure we can survive normal everyday life when society is angled so sharply against us.

89. If you had to be turned into a paranormal being, what would it be? id like to be a mimi spirit

90. What would you want to happen to you after your death? spooky time

91. If you had to change your name, what would be your pick? toshinori yagi

92. Who would you switch your life with for a week? anyone healthy

93. Pick an emoji to be your tattoo that cursed one with the intense eyes and the hand

94. Write 3 things about yourself - only one of them must be true im me im not me im pee

95. Cold or hot? cold.

96. Be a hero or be a villain? both are distasteful ideas in reality

97. Sing everything you want to say or rhyme? i can’t do either partner speak sin bad puns and its hell, these both sound about equal

98. Shapeshifting or controlling time? shapeshifting. controlling time is eithe rmanipulative or lonely. shapeshifing is every other superpower at once.

99. Be immortal or be immune to everything aside from natural death? both are deeply upsetting ideas

100. ….. or …..? jiji or ossan? generally Jiji, but ossans can be lovely too.

#personal #stupid

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mymarvelbunch · 5 years ago

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Different Roads... Same Destination: Part One

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (established)

Summary: When the Avengers went back in time to get the Infinity Stones, new timelines were created. By not delivering them back to their exact same spots, you and Steve created major changes in those timelines. What happened? (Non-American!Reader)

This is a sequel to “Be Your Own Hero”. I highly recommend you read it first, since it features many major changes in canon that are addressed here.

Notes: Y/N = your (first) name; Y/Co = your home country; Y/Ci = your home city; Y/N/L = your native language (to be ignored in case you speak English).

Masterlist

Part One

New York, 2012

The Avengers were still trying to understand what happened when a loud ‘thud’ was heard. Tony turned to see the Scepter lying on the ground.

“Well, here is the thing Loki used to brainwash people”, he said. “But where is the Tesseract?”

“This isn’t the Mind Stone”, Loki said. “They placed the Tesseract in the Scepter.”

Everyone turned to him. He had already been right minutes prior, when he pointed out there were four Avengers from the future. Now the team was more inclined to believe him again, especially Thor.

“How do you know this, brother?”, he asked, frowning.

“The glow is different, for starters. And... I don’t know how to say this accurately, but I feel different when the Mind Stone is near me. Ever since those warriors came from the future and took it, I felt... lightweight, even if for brief moments. As if...”

Thor’s eyes widened. “As if the Mind Stone has some sort of power over you.” Loki nodded weakly. “Well, this is important information. Mother will certainly know to fix this. Stark, hand me the Scepter. It will be safer in Asgard.”

A SHIELD agent opened his mouth to protest, but there was little they could do as Tony gave Thor the Scepter. The Asgardian walked to the open balcony, his brother in his arm, and left, though not without asking his ‘brothers-in-arms’ to find the Mind Stone first.

“We’ll do surveillance around the Tower”, Runlow said, “with your permission, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I don’t want that thing near any of us.”

“Wait”, Tony said. “Loki was under mind control back then?”

You turned behind to face him, but a quick glance told you almost everyone was surprised. “You didn’t know? He told me back in 2014.”

Loki wasn’t there to defend himself, busy as he was being king, but Thor was. “Honestly, I didn’t know either, not until Asgard was destroyed. Loki told me on our way here that Mother chose to perform her purification spells out of everyone’s eye because... It would be better (or less worse) to have people believe Loki had turned evil than to have them know about Thanos. But yes, he was under Thanos’ influence through the Mind Stone. It wasn’t exactly like what he did to Barton and others, but close enough.”

That made an awful lot of sense. No one had a good answer for that, and they turned back to the ‘screen’.

It took five years for the Mind Stone to be found. In the meantime, SHIELD was dismantled, the Winter Soldier was revealed to be a brainwashed Bucky Barnes and HYDRA was taken down piece by piece.

There was no Scarlet Witch, no Quicksilver, no Ultron, no Sokkovia Accords, no Zemo. Steve found Bucky in Bucarest in 2016 and, after weeks of talking and with Sam’s help, took him to New York. There, they faced another battle, as many people wanted him in jail for the crimes he committed as the Winter Soldier.

Surprisingly, their help came from Tony. “I know what he did to my parents, yeah. I read all those files Romanov leaked. But we all saw what brainwashing does to a person, huh?”

No, Tony and Bucky didn’t become friends. Despite his forgiveness, Tony was still wary of him; poor man had his own mental health issues to face already. But he was willing to pay the best lawyers to convince the public that Barnes had no control over himself for the past seven decades, and that the Winter Soldier was nothing but a weapon in HYDRA’s hands. It took time and money, but it was worth it, for Bucky was absolved and reclaimed his status as war hero.

Even so, he didn’t want to stay in US. “Too many memories”, he explained, and Steve understood. It all got worse when one of Tony’s employees found a glowing Stone in the elevator shaft. Thor wasn’t on Earth when it happened, so the Mind Stone stayed at the Tower for a while. Needless to say, Steve was worried, and Bucky was terrified.

“I found a place that might be good for you”, Maria Hill told him one day. “Y/Ci, in Y/Co. It’s a place untouched by HYDRA and with no evidence that the Winter Soldier ever stepped foot in there. No memories, no triggers.”

Bucky accepted the offer almost immediately, and Steve was happy to follow him. “I’ve had enough fights for a lifetime”, he said. “We should have retired from soldier duty decades ago, Bucky. We both deserve a normal life.”

It was early 2018 when they finally settled, and, upon Steve’s insistence, Bucky started looking for mental health care facilities.

Your grip on Steve’s hand tightened when you recognized the mental health facility Bucky got inside. “I was an intern there at college”, you said. Steve’s eyes widened, and he grinned.

“Maybe Bucky will be the one to get you instead of me”, he teased.

Behind you, whispers could be heard.

“It’s weird to not see myself with you guys”, Wanda said. “I wish I could know if Pietro is alive.” Vision rested his hand on her shoulder, likely reflecting on how would his life be if he had stayed as a disembodied voice.

“Wakanda wasn’t even mentioned”, Shuri said. “I guess with father still alive, the borders remained closed.”

“Probably the reason why Bucky moved to Y/Co instead of Wakanda”, Sam added. “If people still think Wakanda is a poor country, no one would think of it as a mental health care reference.”

“I’m not mentioned either”, Scott said, “which is kind of weird, because I don’t see why I wouldn’t meet at least Sam.”

“Yeah, but there was no fight in Germany for you to take part of”, Hope replied. “They probably never contacted you again. Parker isn’t mentioned either.”

Someone shushed them.

Even though he had scheduled it all by himself, Bucky didn’t want to go his first appointment alone. So, when Y/N called for Sebastian Stan (his new alias), he and Steve (who called himself Chris Evans) stood up together from their seats.

Inside, Bucky soon confessed his true identity. Your surprise was visible for five seconds, and then you smiled. “I’m glad you trusted me with such a delicate information, Mr. Barnes. But I wish you’d tell me your story with your own words, not just what was said about you on newspapers.”

Steve stayed inside the whole time, having also revealed who he was. Bucky didn’t tell his whole story at once, give there was a time limit for his appointment, but you asked him to come back in a week. “We can’t give you any concrete diagnosis for now, Mr. Barnes, though we have a few suspicions. But I assure you we’ll help you in every step of your recovery. You won’t be alone.”

After three more sessions, he was diagnosed primarily with PTSD, along with general anxiety disorder and memory problems (he had yet to remember key details of his past).

You were supposed to leave the facility at the end of the month, but your mentor offered you a prolonged stay. “You mentioned your next internship would be in surgery, and you don’t like it, right? I can pull some strings to keep you here. It’s not like you’ll need those skills to become a psychiatrist.”

You happily accepted his help. You’ve always been sure of what you wanted to do after finishing college; skipping surgery internship was honestly a dream come true, and you were eager to follow Barnes’ case. Your classmates didn’t know his true identity, but the case discussions made it clear you got one of the most complex cases at the facility, and some classmates envied you.

Your teacher was successful, and for the following three months you stayed, taking care not only of Barnes, but of other patients as well. It was a wonderful experience, and you were sure you had fallen into the staff’s good graces, which increased your chances at getting into residency program there after graduation.

As the weeks went by, though, you noticed something rather odd. Barnes had been getting inside the room alone since his fifth appointment, but Rogers still accompanied him, waiting for him outside. Eventually, you asked your patient why that was, assuming he’d say he still didn’t feel safe coming alone. Instead, he grinned.

“Oh, he pretends he comes for my sake, but he actually just wants to get a glimpse of you.”

You nearly choked on your own saliva.

At your side, Steve laughed and hugged you tight.

“Guess I didn’t steal Y/N from you after all, punk”, Bucky said, grinning just like his alternate counterpart.

“Thank God”, you replied. “No offence, Bucky, but seeing us dating would have been way too awkward.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

---x---

It wasn’t easy for Steve to convince you to go on a date with him. You were hesitant, given he was her patient’s best friend and roommate, but eventually you conceded.

“We won’t talk about Barnes at all”, you said firmly. “And if I sense this will affect my relationship with my patient, it’ll be over.”

“Yes, ma’am”, he replied instantly, willing to do anything to see you more.

You had charmed him from day one, and his interest on you only grew as weeks went by. When the day of your date arrived, he was a nervous wreck.

“Haven’t seen you like this since Peggy”, Bucky mentioned.

“Shut up, jerk”, he retorted. “And go hide, I don’t want Y/N to see you and cancel our date.”

“She’s got you wrapped around her finger and you haven’t even kissed yet”, he teased, but left to his room anyway.

A date led to another, and another, and another... Steve waited for you to leave the facility and stop seeing Bucky to ask you to be his girlfriend, and she promptly agreed.

A year later, when you met the Avengers for the first time, Thor told the story of how he, Loki and others fought Thanos when he invaded Asgard to take the Space and Mind Stones. Your eyes widened as he gleefully detailed the purple alien’s demise.

“Glad you defeated him still in Asgard”, Tony said. “We just found out about another of these Stones here on Earth. A wizard here in New York is its guardian.”

“Really? Give me his address, I figure we have much to discuss.”

You didn’t really understand all those talks, but Steve’s visible relief was enough information for you.

On the current timeline, that same relief was visible among everyone. “A peaceful timeline”, you commented. “I hope there are more of these.”

After Strange showed what happened to the Avengers who were not featured, Wong took his place to show another timeline. You straightened your back as the ‘screen’ showed you briefly kissing Steve in Morag.

Did you like it? I was looking forward to write about the consequences of those changes. Butterfly effect is strong here.

For those who don’t remember, in ‘Be Your Own Hero’ Loki tells the Reader he was under the influence of the Mind Stone in the events of the first Avengers movie. This is a popular theory that explains some differences between his behavior in that movie and his behavior on... well, any other movie he’s in.

In this, I try to touch on how things would be different if this information was made known right away, instead of being kept a secret. Being seen as a victim instead of a villain changes a lot for Loki’s story, and therefore Thor’s arc as well (The Dark World and Ragnarok’s. It also helps Tony understand Bucky’s story and actions better, since he saw the effects of mind control on Clint and Loki.

Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver, Ultron and Vision are all products of the Mind Stone, meaning that, in its absence, they don’t exist. The events of Age of Ultron are what make Civil War happen, meaning one doesn’t exist without the other. With no Civil War, nobody reaches out to Scott, T’Challa doesn’t become king to open the borders, and Peter Parker’s role in Tony’s life is probably less significant (though I do believe he mentors the teenager anyway).

If you want to follow my crazy ideas on time travel and its consequences, taglist is open!

#steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #marvel imagine #The Avengers

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wroughtbetwixtfanfic · 6 years ago

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Love, Blood, And Rhetoric, Ch 1.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: Campbell's just trying to survive in the new world. He knows he can make it-- it's everyone else he's worried about.

Rating: Mature.

Tags: Canon Divergence, Mental Health Issues, Family Issues, Substance Abuse, Complicated Relationships, Consent Issues, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Mild Sexual Content, assuming Elle and Campbell are both 18 for the sake of things, Underage Drinking, PTSD, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, implied eating disorder, Fix-It, Campbell has mild ASPD, and is actively trying to not be awful

Word Count: 6061

Part One, Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 || AO3

Disclaimer: This is part two of a three part series. Reading part one is more-or-less essential.

This is a canon divergent storyline for Campbell, using (in my experience) a realistic take on conduct disorder and ASPD instead of Hollywood "psychopath" stereotypes. While people with conduct disorder can be violent and abusive, the diagnosis does exist on a spectrum, and neither ASPD nor "psychopathy" should be diagnosed before the age of 18; this is one thing that rubbed me the wrong way on The Society. Campbell's power will be more in his ability to manipulate-- not "being crazy". Hopefully I can succeed in presenting a more understandable and less sensationalized vision of his behavior. Please note that I have no intention of making him a violent abuser, to bring his character more in line with my experiences of how an emotionally neglected teen with moderately reduced empathy would behave, provided they were actively attempting to help themselves.

Tl;dr I just wanted to make Campbell less needlessly shitty, because it makes me feel better as a person, and because I wanted one (1) antagonist who isn't just an evil, horrible abuser with a scary mental illness.

Thank you for reading, and leaving kudos/comments/likes. <3

///

The bridge was quiet as a graveyard. It was something out of a science fiction movie, wasn't it? Alice in Wonderland type shit. Something happens, and suddenly the world goes inside out, with people transported to some other dimension. No one had said a damn word, but it was the only explanation that made any sense at all. It looked like home, but it wasn't home. Everything felt a few degrees to the side. Just a tiny bit abnormal. Forests that sprouted up around them overnight. Everyone else in the city, gone. The smell, gone. Gordie was the first to break the silence. "I mean, there's only so many options."

"Maybe we're dreaming," Allie offered. "It's the best option." Campbell rolled his eyes, but held his tongue for Cassandra's sake. They would all have to be dreaming the exact same dream at the same time, and that seemed far less likely than some sort of weird wormhole situation. Harry was sitting on his car hood, with Helena and Luke next to him. He ran his hands through his hair; he was still half drunk, and had no business being there, but there he was and he was freaking out. "Maybe this is just some elaborate fucking game. Like, someone built an exact replica of our town and just put it in the middle of nowhere, and if we just walk..." He paused, waving his hands towards the trees. "Like, this way or that way or any way, eventually we'll get back to the real world." Christ, that was an even worse theory. Campbell sighed. "An exact replica of the town," he pressed, "complete with all our family's cars? Our clothes? Our bathroom towels, posters, jewelry, stuffed animals, the food in our fridges?" "I'm not saying it makes any sense." Crossing her arms, Cassandra leaned against the bridge and frowned. She had that debate team look in her eyes. The look that said she was trying to dissect the situation in her mind. "There was a smell, and then it went away. It came back, and the buses came for us." Harry scoffed. "You're gonna just work this out, Cassandra? Like some logic problem? I mean, not a flicker of a doubt?" "The world doesn't just turn upside down without a reason. We're not in some play-within-a-play. Okay? Clever is not the same thing as true. There is a point to everything, there are answers." "That's right," Helena chimed in. "God doesn't just play games with people for fun." Cassandra clenched her jaw as she looked to Helena, then to Campbell. They had both stopped going to church a long time ago, and Cassandra had been the one to get religious-specific plays banned from school performances. Campbell didn't really believe or disbelieve anything, but he knew Cassandra and Helena had gotten into argument before about all sorts of things. LGBT rights, abortion, gun control... He could see that anger stirring up in Cassandra. It wouldn't be pretty if it got loose. Luckily, Luke seemed to sense the tension and butted in. "All right, look, Grizz and I will get a group together and we'll go hike out here through the woods, okay? Like a search party." Helena nodded. "I think that's a good idea." "Do you think it's safe?" Cassandra asked, frowning. "Yeah," Grizz replied, "sure." Luke tried to smile. "Grizz knows what he's doing. And if there's people out there, we gotta find them, right? You know. To get help." "I'm leaving." Harry got up off the car and headed towards the driver's door. His eyes were glassy, distant. It wouldn't be long before he imploded. "I'm hungry." Allie stood up, glaring. "You're leaving?" Campbell watched the bickering that followed, wondering when-- if at all-- they were going to ask his opinion. But he knew they wouldn't. They never did. If they would have shut the fuck up long enough to bother, Campbell would have told them that the horizon looked a little too clean for a West Ham summer. Too clear. He would have pointed out that there were no planes, no trails even, in the sky overhead. Wherever they were, chances were they were alone. Instead, he focused on his phone while everyone started arguing in full; Elle was trying to call. Can't talk now, he texted. At the bridge with Cassie and others. She replied quickly. Why? What's wrong? Not sure. All roads out of town are blocked. Blocked? We can't get out? Has anyone found our parents? Campbell rubbed his face with one hand. No, we can't. No adults or younger kids yet. Trying to figure out what to do. Oh. A long, long pause. Show me. Whatever was happening, Harry was officially done. His tone sharpened, and Campbell looked up to see him trying to collect Kelly. "You coming with, Kel?" He stood there, staring, when she shook her head. Ouch. Harry hadn't mentioned that they were on the rocks; he was being an unreasonable ass, though. Not a surprise. "Jesus christ, just get in the car." "Leave her alone," Will grumbled. "Hey, fuck off, Will." Harry looked to Campbell, seeking someone to follow him. Campbell just raised an eyebrow. Harry seethed, getting into his car and starting the engine. "Fine. Who gives a shit." He knew Harry would be mad at him for a while, but eventually he'd stop being a selfish prick and come around. Campbell needed to be there, to keep an eye on people and the situation; he needed to hear what was happening, and plan accordingly. If Cassandra couldn't keep herself together and all hell was going to break loose, Campbell needed to be ready. In the mean time... Cassandra blinked at him and he moved to her side, lifting his phone to take a picture of the blocked off tracks and road. "What are you doing?" "I'm just gonna send a text. Let everybody know how fucked we are." "Campbell!" she hissed. "Don't. Come on, let's think about this." But there was nothing to think about. Campbell pressed the send button, and his phone dinged in confirmation. He smiled at the look of horror on her face, sitting down on the sidewalk while he waited for Elle to reply; it wasn't often that he actually felt stronger than Cassandra, or even smarter, but it was one of those rare moments that he saw an opportunity and took it. Hiding the truth from people would only backfire. She'd thank him later, if she had the sense. Cassandra was still moaning over it. "Fuck. Why did you do that?" "Relax, Cassandra. I don't have many people on my contact list." "But they'll share it with their friends. It'll spread." "A slow, steady distribution of information is better than pretending things are fine." "Campbell--" "Look." Setting aside his phone, Campbell turned to Cassandra and held her gaze. "You, me, and like a dozen other people already know. How long do you think it'd be before one of them squealed, huh? Someone would let it slip, at some point. And if you go back into town, telling everyone it's all good when it's not, at some point they'll realize you lied. What do you think is gonna happen when three hundred teenagers stop trusting their student body president, Cassandra?" "I'm not student body president anymore. Harry said so, and it's true." "Harry's a shithead." "Then why are you friends with him?" "Not the point. You're one of the smarter people here. Gordie, Bean, Will, Grizz? They're amazing, but you were the closest thing to a leader we had back home. That doesn't just go away." Cassandra chewed on her lip. "I don't want to be a leader. I'm..." She pressed her hand to her chest. "I'm sick. What if I can't get my medicine?" "Tough shit," Campbell retorted. "Power is in your hands, and if you don't get a grip on it, someone else is going to put you in the dirt. All the medicine in the world won't help you if there's a fucking mutiny." "What do I do, then?" "These kids are gonna get scared, and they're either gonna look to you or they're going to challenge you. Pull yourself together." For a long time, Cassandra didn't speak. She sat next to him and gazed woefully at a small group of teens that were heading their way, some walking and others jogging. They were pointing at the road, and some began shouting. A few began to hover closer to her, looking nervous. "Well. Maybe you're right." "Usually am. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an acquaintance to console." Elle had arrived with the group, staring off the side of the bridge at the tracks. Other kids joined her nearby, and Campbell could hear them whisper as he approached. He was telling the truth. What does this mean? How is it possible? He ignored them, leaning against the railing next to Elle; she didn't look at him, but she leaned a little closer. "This is such bullshit," she said after a time. "What are we supposed to do?" Campbell shook his head. "Whatever is happening, if we're stuck with no way out, then we gotta do what you do in any survival situation. Secure resources. Shelter, food, water." "Should head to the store and grab some shit before people all get the same idea." "Probably, yeah." Elle glanced over at him. "You're pretty calm in all this." "Getting panicked or scared just means mistakes get made." He texted her a small list of supplies. "Go to the store. Bottled water. A lot of stuff can be frozen or dried. Get what you can, we'll figure out how to preserve it later." She nodded, turning and heading towards the closest market. Campbell waited for her to be out of earshot, then headed towards Cassandra, who was talking to Will and Sam. Everyone else seemed to have dispersed. They all glanced at him, but kept talking; Will was discussing the food situation, already, and Will specifically mumbled something about dehydrating and canning. Well, at least Will had some clue, then. "I saved a bunch of YouTube videos," he said, looking sheepish. "I always wanted to be a chef, so..." Campbell kept walking. They already were making plans; they didn't need him any, and he should go make sure that Elle was doing alright. He made it a few yards before Sam caught up to him, grabbing his sleeve to get his attention. "Where are you going?" Sam asked. "To get what I can." Campbell sighed at the way Sam's eyebrows knit together. There was no point in wasting time trying to explain, and besides, he had to make sure Sam wasn't gonna starve to death. "Coming?" There were a few different stores and markets in town, and while there was one close by, Campbell knew of a smaller one run by one of those doomsday prepper types. There wasn't as much variety there, but it did have gallon-sized bottled waters and things like powdered eggs. People went to it for camping supplies, but not much else; it wouldn't be the first place most would think to go to. Sam followed him inside, watching at Campbell began to fill a basket full of supplied. At least he didn't try and argue that it was theft or anything. "What are you getting?" "This is for you. A week of water. Jerky, nuts and seeds. Dried eggs. Dried fruit, some other shit. Keep it in the basement until you need it." "Why a week?" "Because if the utilities go and no one comes for us after a week, they're not going to." He didn't mean for the words to come out quite so grim, but it was useless to sugarcoat things any. "Keep using the water at home as long as you can. If it goes off, use this." Campbell grabbed some for himself, and they managed to weasel the baskets home without being seen. Probably because most of the other kids were at home crying or at the bridge by that point, who knew for sure. At least no one approached them. As they put shit away, Campbell made a list in his head of things in stores that would be in high demand. Toilet paper, first aid kits, batteries, medications, alcohol, anything for hygiene. Bleach, matches, lighters. And knowing his peers, condoms. If he got his backpack and headed out again, he could probably snatch a good stock before anyone else thought of it... Sam sunk onto the sofa once they finished. He tilted his head as Campbell got a couple backpacks, and made another list on his phone. "What are you going to do?" "I have some business to take care of." "Harry?" Maybe it was the comment itself, or maybe it was the eyebrow quirk of Sam's eyebrow, or some sort of tone his brother had. Either way, Campbell's mood soured on the spot. "Don't pretend like you know me." "I don't know you. That's what scares me." There was nothing to say to that, in the end. Campbell stormed out of the house, heading towards the pharmacy first. Most of what he wanted would be there, and the chances of anyone else being there already were slim. To his surprise, when he arrived, someone had already been messing with the lock; they hadn't managed to get in, whoever they were. Campbell slipped his lock picking kit from the backpack and made quick work of it. First was anything addictive, then meds that would be important. The pharmacy had a little book behind the counter that explained what everything was, and Campbell swept through as fast as possible to grab asthma medications, birth control pills, anti virals, whatever looked useful. He paused as he examined the shelves, seeing a prescription for Cassandra. Her heart meds. He tossed it into his backpack, and then found the rest of that medication and stole it, too. Harry's home was close by. Campbell headed there, knowing Harry would let him stash shit there until Campbell convinced Sam to get in line. When he knocked, though, no one answered. Sighing, Campbell found the hidden key Harry had made specially for him; the house was quiet when he came inside, with Harry nowhere in sight. He hid the backpacks in the attic first, then went hunting for his friend. "Harry? You were supposed to be here eating." A muffled sound came from the living room. Campbell found Harry laying curled up in a ball on the floor, under a blanket. "Hey, buddy. You don't look so hot." "Leave me alone, Satan," Harry slurred. "Are you high?" "Maybe." Campbell flopped onto the floor next to Harry, lifting up the blanket to peer in at him. "C'mon. Tell me. What'd you take?" "A xanax. From mom's medicine cabinet." A quick trip upstairs, to peek at the dose. Not worrisome, but definitely more than a beginner should take, and enough to knock Harry on his ass for several hours. Campbell went into the kitchen and made a can of soup. Harry's favorite, split pea with ham. He brought it to Harry and sat on the floor again, tempting Harry with it. Eventually, Harry crawled out from under the blanket and took the bowl. "She dumped me." Harry poked at the green mass. "Kelly. We found out her dad was screwing with my mom, and I don't know. She got pissed off at me." "You do stick your foot in your mouth regularly." "I didn't mean to make her mad. Now we're in this fucking nightmare world, and... what am I supposed to do? I can't do this alone." Campbell resisted the urge to gloat. He'd never really liked Kelly, anyways, and the feeling had been mutual. "Look, you two have been having problems for over a week now. This changes nothing." He reached over, snagging the spoon from Harry's hand and loading it up with soup. "Besides. You're not alone. You have me." Harry didn't fight as Campbell fed him the soup. "You know what I mean," he said through a bite. He suddenly stopped, swallowing and sinking his face into his hands. "Maybe you don't. Christ." "You're hung over and high. Eat your soup and we can talk later." He muttered under his breath, but Harry listened anyways. Campbell put on a movie, chilling while Harry ate; when Harry was done, he slumped against Campbell and fell asleep. Well, at least he couldn't panic if he was passed out cold. Hours passed. Harry eventually woke up enough to stumble into the shower and clean himself up, while Campbell made them grilled cheese sandwiches. Harry had just returned when their phones began to buzz. "It's from Cassandra." Campbell slid Harry a sandwich. "She wants us to get to the church as soon as possible." Harry shook his head. "Man, fuck her." "Quiet. She knows what she's doing." "Do you seriously believe that?" "Yeah, I do." Harry didn't say anything, but he tightened his jaw, and Campbell saw something in his eyes that planted another seed of worry. Rebellion. Fucking hell, it was starting already. Campbell headed towards the bathroom while Harry got dressed; it was a quick detour to the bedroom of Harry's parents, where Campbell knew Harry's mother kept a gun. The case wasn't locked. The ammo was right there. Thank fuck Harry never had the inclinations to kill anyone. Campbell made sure it was unloaded, then stuck the gun in his waistband and the ammo in his pocket, before heading back out. Harry was waiting on the porch, and they hopped in his car and made their way to the church. By the time they got there, people were starting to gather, but it was mostly empty still. Cassandra was standing by the water fountain, leaning against the brick wall and taking deep, slow breaths. Harry went on inside without waiting. Campbell hung back, sidling up to Cassandra when no one was paying attention. "I can't do this," she whispered. "I can't." Campbell nudged her shoulder with his own. "It's gonna be okay, somehow. If it makes you feel any better, I knocked over the drug store and stole you a few months worth of your heart meds." "You... What. No, no, nevermind. I don't want to know." "You're welcome. But seriously, just chill out. What are you even talking about?" Cassandra ran her hands through her hair. "Luke texted Helena. Helena texted me. We got ahold of everyone on the buses, but people all keep asking me what's going on. You were right. People are looking to me, and I don't know how to lead them." Campbell shrugged. "We're kids, okay? Most of us aren't used to living in the real world. They're gonna be worried about things like resources and safety. Guide them a bit towards ways to get or keep that, and they'll follow." "But why would they take my word for it? I have maybe five friends, Cam. There's over two hundred people coming, and I don't know how to trust them, or get them to trust me." Trust wasn't something Campbell was familiar with, but he knew no one would trust Cassandra if they saw her as weak. And if Cassandra didn't believe in herself, then weak was exactly how she'd come off. Cassandra had been tempered by her love for her family and friends. It was sweet, it was good, but sweet and good wasn't going to get shit done. The people in their town only understood wealth and power. But it was too late to talk more; dozens of people were heading their way, and Campbell knew better than to be seen lingering around Cassandra too long. He took a seat in the back, far from the Cassandra and her little herd. Sam was there, surrounded by Allie, Becca, Gordie, and Will. His actual, chosen family. Even Harry was up there, and Kelly. He felt a small stab of jealousy, but bit it back as soon as it reared its head. It'd do no good. "You could join them." Campbell glanced up at Elle's voice. She stood in the church aisle, watching him. "No, that wouldn't be a good idea. I don't want to be a public relations nightmare for my cousin." "Stay away from the alcohol, and you'd probably be fine." "Elle..." "No, Campbell, whatever you're about to say just don't bother. The best thing you can do is promise never to do that again, and then keep that promise, okay?" "I can do that." "Are you sure?" "Yeah." Campbell hesitated. He hated making promises, because he knew he could be unreliable and he hated breaking promises just as much, but Elle was worth the effort. "I promise." Crossing her arms, Elle looked down at the floor. "Alright. Well, Kelly invited me to sit with her. I'll let you know if they say anything good." She didn't wait for an answer. Elle peeked back at him as she headed up front; he tried to smile at her, and she didn't really smile back, but it was a start at least. Campbell turned his focus to the crowd in the church and their quiet whispers. Many were scared. A few were angry. Most just seemed confused. As time passed, they became restless. At least, that was until Cassandra stood, and began to speak. She stood in the center of the stairs leading to the podium. "Listen. Hey, listen up." Silence fell over the church. Cassandra continued, her voice shaking at first, but becoming louder and clearer as she carried on. "While we're all here, together, there are some things that we ought to figure out. Before we rip this place apart and maybe... you know, start hurting each other." She paused as quiet murmurs spread through the gathered students. "I don't know what the hell is going on. Maybe Luke will come back with some good news." Elle spoke first, her tone annoyed. "Maybe? Of course he will." "Yeah," Harry agreed. "Why don't we just wait and see, Cassandra?" Cassandra sighed. Her eyes darted to Campbell, for just a split second. "Because I would rather prepare for the worst before the worst happens." "What does that mean? Prepare?" Kelly wondered. "I don't know specifically, but I think it means we agree not to just take things when we want until all the food is gone and we starve." The murmurs turned into a panicked rumble. Campbell winced, but Allie, Clark, and Helena loudly agreed with Cassandra, and that seemed to quell the surge of fear... until Harry opened his goddamn mouth, just as Campbell knew he would. "This is bullshit." Will's back was to Campbell, but he could heard the disbelief in Will's voice. "Jesus, man, what is your problem?" "What are we agreeing to, Cassandra?" Harry turned to Cassandra, ignoring Will completely. Some of the students waiting in the pews began to yell in agreement with Harry. "Which one of us gets to decide who gets what? Your friends?" Becca let out a huff. "It's called democracy." "I'm not a fucking idiot, Becca." That was debatable, Campbell thought, but he kept quiet. At least for the time being, to see how things would play out. At least Cassandra seemed to have a handle on things, for the time being; Harry was getting flustered, especially when Cassandra brought out the coin she'd kept from the play. "How do you want to decide things?" she challenged. "Every person for themselves? Then we're back to where we started. Maybe you want to flip a coin to see who decides? You don't like democracy? How about random fucking chance?" Harry scoffed. "That's--" "Call it, Harry. Call it." "I'm not gonna do that." "Okay, okay. I'll call it for you. You get heads." Cassandra flipped the coin. "Tails. Still think it's unfair? Best two out of three. Oh! Tails." "I... I mean..." Cassandra flipped a third time, but this time, her face fell. "Tails." Harry looked frozen. The church had become so quiet, it was like no one was even breathing. Harry was thinking back to the play, and Campbell knew everyone else was, too. "Do it again." Four more times, Cassandra flipped the coin. Tails, tails, tails, tails. Harry stepped back from Cassandra, eyes wide. "Fuck." For a moment, Cassandra paused. She stared at the coin, and flipped it again; she closed her eyes, her hand over the coin for a long moment before she finally looked. "Heads." She held up the coin, and the crowd let out a long sigh of relief. She turned her attention back to them, lifting her voice once more. "It's all up to us. There's no civilization here, not until we start one. So what are we gonna do? First, I think we have no choice but to share. Share food, share resources." "Houses?" Harry asked. "Maybe." "Fuck you." Allie stood up. "Really? How much electricity do we have? Until it's all used up and everything goes dark? I think 225 people in 200 houses doesn't make sense." 239, but who was counting. "Keep what's ours!" some random fuckhole shouted from the other side of the church. "What is yours?" Cassandra questioned. "Do you have money? Who you gonna pay? The things that you need to live-- food, clothes, the stuff in stores-- no one owns them." Will and Harry erupted at one another over housing, and Campbell sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes. They were snapping and snarling, and the mood in the church was getting tense. Will on one side, arguing for Cassandra's view that there should be rules, organization, a method. Harry on his own side, screaming about how he should get to do whatever he wanted. Campbell understood. Harry was afraid, afraid of losing what was his and the comfy little life he had for himself. The big house and big bed and things were all he really had, in his mind. And well, men in general weren't great with sharing, were they? But Campbell knew history sided with people like Will and Cassandra. Capitalism, mine-mine-mine, greed. It never fared well in situations like the one they were in. No, they needed rules. They needed some sort of system, where everyone had an equal portion of things. And they had such a small, small window of time to get things going and working, before it all fell into chaos. Harry was yelling at Cassandra, getting ready to storm off like the entitled rich boy he was. Great. "I don't have to listen to this. Not anymore." "Harry, this has nothing to do with you," Cassandra snapped. "We need to--" "I don't need to do anything you say, you fucking--" Campbell had been busy loading the gun while the two argued, with the rest of the students starting to stand up and scream back and forth, too. He stood, pointed at the back wall's roof where it wouldn't hurt anyone, and fired a single round. The angry screams turned into screams of panic as everyone hit the floor. Some started crying, but everyone was staring at him, and no one was speaking. "Well..." Campbell took to the center aisle, walking towards his cousin. He had to act fast, before anyone recovered and tried to stop him. "Fuck this. Harry's right." Cassandra's mouth dropped open. "What?" "No one elected you king, cousin. Did anybody vote for her? Did they?" Campbell stopped in front of Cassandra and gestured to the cowering teenagers on the floor. "Anybody elect her to speak on your behalf? No?" "I... I don't want to be king." Campbell stared hard at Cassandra. She was stuttering. Oh, it wouldn't do at all for her to look like this in front of the people she was trying to rally. He cocked the gun again, but this time, he pointed it at Cassandra. There was no bullet left in the gun, but she didn't know that. No one did. "That's not what it looks like. Is it?" Allie jumped in front of her sister, glaring daggers at Campbell, but Cassandra gently brushed her aside. Something flickered to life in her eyes. Something courageous. Self-sacrificing. "I've thought a lot about dying. I've almost gotten used to that. But I don't like to be afraid." Cassandra looked down the barrel, then met Campbell's gaze. If she had any idea of the hand he was playing, she didn't give it away. She simply stood tall, steeling her voice and not flinching a bit. "Do you want chaos? Fucking shoot me." And there she was, the Cassandra he loved. Campbell chuckled, lowering the gun and giving her a little smile. "I don't want to shoot you. I wanted to get everybody's attention." Just one last part of the plan to put into place. "This meeting's obviously over. We'll be back when Luke gets here. Until then, if anybody else is tired of listening to her, you can follow me." Campbell turned and headed towards the door, knowing Cassandra would be watching and counting each and every person who left with him. She would know their names. Their faces. She would know exactly who was siding against her. Once he got to the exit, he glanced behind him. It was a good sign. Harry and Kelly. Seven others, of various genders. A tiny, tiny minority, and no threat to Cassandra at all. She would be safe. But then the church doors swung open with a bang, and Campbell fell back. Everyone did. Luke walked in, flanked by Grizz, Bean, Gwen, and the others that had gone out into the forest. In Luke's arms draped Emily's pale, limp body. Gasps and noises of despair rippled through the crowd, and everyone parted to allow Luke access to the table at the front of the room. Grizz cleared the table, and they all stood around, staring. Some started to cry. Some tried to check for her pulse. She was dead. It was clear the minute Luke came in. Campbell had never really known Emily, so he stayed near the door, letting everyone else have a chance to see her for themselves. Closure or whatever. "She died from a snakebite," Luke called out. "Her whole body just shut down. We did everything we could, but we couldn't save her." Grizz spoke when Luke sank to the floor. His voice was flat, cold. Practical. "So we're gonna bury her tomorrow, before it starts to smell. I'm gonna need a couple of guys..." "There's nothing out there, guys. Just a whole bunch of just... woods that go on forever. We're all alone. This isn't our home." This isn't our home. Those four words were all it took to shift everything. He looked to Sam, his thoughts already spinning. His little brother was huddled with Allie, Cassandra, and Becca, and Campbell could practically smell the fear on him. Alone. Sam didn't trust Campbell, and now they had to be alone together? They had to try and survive together? It wasn't going to work, not like this, especially when-- not if, but when-- things started getting cutthroat. Campbell was too bitter, too hateful, and he knew he wouldn't be able to handle the stress of worrying about them both. Especially if Cassandra expected people to start sharing houses. There was no way Campbell could do it. He would hurt someone, at some point. In the end, it was for Sam's own good. Campbell knew he, at some point, would snap. He would destroy Sam. He wouldn't want to, or even mean to. But if they were on their own, trapped, it'd be like too many rats in too small a cage. They'd turn on each other someday, and Campbell knew he would always save himself, without hesitation. Sam deserved better than that. So... Campbell eyed Cassandra and Allie as they walked past, heading to their home. They had already opened their home to Will. Safety in numbers, right? And Cassandra loved Sam. Allie was protective of her family. Sam trusted and loved them, too. They could keep him safe. They would take care of him, and sacrifice their own needs for him if it came down to it. They could be the home Sam needed, even if it was just for a little while. Campbell just had to hope that Sam was angry enough inside, hurt enough by years of distrust and backbiting between them, that he'd be happy to leave. He grabbed Sam's arm as Sam followed after their cousins. Campbell kept his face calm, his voice neutral. Maybe it would be simple. No need to get nasty about it, if Sam would go willingly. "Hey. Don't come home tonight." Sam tensed. There was hurt in his eyes, and the smallest glint of stubbornness. He was angry, but not angry enough. Not yet. "It's my house, too." Campbell studied Sam's face, choosing to dig a little deeper. Something more painful was going to be needed, obviously. "Ever since you were born, I never had just one day that was mine, until now." It was the truth, anyways. It had been the Sam Show from day one, and it was no secret that Campbell resented Sam for it. "Alright?" Sam stared Campbell down, not saying a word. Not at first. Finally, he shook his head. His voice was low. Pained. But he didn't look away from Campbell, not even a little bit. "No." So, that's how it was going to be. "Give me the key, you little fag." He had never called Sam that before, or anything like it. He'd busted plenty of people's lips for less. It felt dirty on his tongue, but it was the one thing that Campbell knew would hurt Sam past the point of forgiveness. And if that didn't work... Campbell shot his hand out and scruffed Sam like a petulant kitten, digging his fingers hard into the back of Sam's neck. "Give me the key." Shock was the first emotion that crossed through Sam's expression. Campbell had never laid his hands on Sam before, either. He'd never needed slurs or physical violence before. But persuasion wasn't working, and maybe shock was exactly what Campbell needed to bring Sam's rage to the surface. It worked like a charm; the fury finally arrived, hurt transforming into a deep, crushing hatred. It was the same hatred that Campbell had seen in Sam the night Oliver was found dead, and fuck, it wasn't what Campbell wanted to see. But it had to happen now, before it happened later. Before Sam got hurt worse. Sam handed over his key to the house, then shoved Campbell hard and walked away. Campbell watched him go. Sam didn't look back. Good. It stung more than Campbell had expected, in some weird, dull way, but it was necessary. Wasn't it? Sam would be with Allie and Cassandra, where it was warm and welcoming and loving. Campbell would be on his own, away from anyone he could easily hurt, with time and space to figure shit out. When he got home, it was dark. He turned on the lights, turned on some music. There was cold cheese pizza still in the fridge; he ate it, not bothering to heat it up first. It was late, and he was tired, but there was a restlessness in him that wouldn't let him sleep. He ended up standing in the living room a bit past midnight, with the lights turned off and just a little bit of moonlight streaming in through the windows. He'd turned off the music, and it was quiet. Perfectly quiet, like he'd always fantasized about. No one to interrupt him, no one to scold or condemn him or look at him funny, or bother him with questions or requests, no one to have to pretend around. Happy, relaxed, carefree... Quarantined. Campbell sat in the middle of the living room sofa, emptiness settling over his shoulders like a frigid, heavy blanket. For the first time in years, he cried.

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tiredbiplantlady · 8 years ago

Text

I can’t diagnose myself and I’m not asking anyone else to either...

I just need to write. I haven’t much at all lately despite my motivation and planning to.

I love my therapist. He’s amazing. He’s helped me see so much and learn so much about myself and helped me learn to VERY effectively manage my constant hypervigilance, my constant anxiety, and a big portion of my shame on a day-to-day basis. I am LIGHTYEARS beyond where I was at last year and before. I attribute so much of my ability to heal myself to his guiding me. We connect on some real af levels and I am extremely grateful to him, though I know I did the work, he was just there to help facilitate it all.

But. He told me to stop thinking of myself as mentally ill because it isn’t productive. And no, maybe it isn’t. But something feels wrong. I know he’s all about “perception is reality” and honestly, so am I. But can I not manage my perception and create an productive and healthy realty AND consider myself mentally ill? He’s been working with me for over a year on my black-and-white thinking. I don’t think he’s like this with all of his clients, but I think with me, he sees potential in me and doesn’t want me to box myself in to “mentally ill” to use as an excuse for my everything. Like, I get it. But it still bothers me.

A year ago, I talked about borderline personality disorder. I made a case for myself and brought up the symptoms I identified with most and described several instances of each that served as evidence to me. He just listened for over an hour as I told him everything I needed to say, and he nodded. He said he agreed with my analysis, but labels aren’t everything. I was fine with this covert agreement that wouldn’t go on my insurance. That might one day prevent me from achieving anything as a psychologist. After all, he said so, my counseling graduate program told me so, and now my psychology graduate program says so: the diagnosis isn’t as important as just treating the symptoms that cause distress. “So what if you’re somewhat borderline?” He asked me. I nodded in agreement. “It doesn’t change who you are or what you’re capable of.”

I read about DBT. I found online workbooks. I recorded my moodswings for a few months. I was desperately trying to get better...because I’d just started to come out of the worst, THE WORST emotional period of my entire fucking life.

It was December 2015. Things had been on a downhill slope for months. It started back in June really. I began suffering anxiety again to a level beyond my average (but still very strong) anxiety. My environment served as a painful trigger for my symptoms with two manipulative, crazy-making, and alcoholic/abusive roommates. My PTSD (diagnosed) was on full-blast again. I was cautious, but not totally paranoid. Not yet. As I look back, I entered into a depressive phase for perhaps a week or two, where for a couple days it was bad enough that I couldn’t get out of my bed and stayed there isolated and unable to stop silently crying despite my other roommates trying to be comforting. I felt like self-harming. I felt hopeless. After those few days, I functioned better, but I still generally was quite depressed and unmotivated, hopeless feeling and empty. I was waking up in the middle of the night at times with nightmares and gasping, feeling as though I were being watched or someone was there.

I would come out of it, this depression, but the anxiety remained. As the months went on, the roommate situation got worse and worse and I began to become extremely paranoid. I was almost in a frenzy at times, just absolutely certain one of the awful roommates would come back to burn down the house and us alive in it. I triple checked locked doors, I slept with lights on at times. I wanted my roommate (now boyfriend) to sleep with me just in case anything happened. I hated sleeping alone. I’d rather stay sweating horribly together in my very hot small bedroom with the door locked and the windows tightly latched than chance anything. Sometimes we slept with the door cracked. One night I woke from a nightmare while he slept soundly, and I was frozen, just paralyzed in fear because I KNEW someone was in our house (no one was aside from the usual roommates). I forced myself to slide out of bed, pull the cat in, and lock my door. The cat cried, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to die. I tried to fall back asleep and it felt impossible. I listened to every noise, believing any small disturbance was someone nearing my room to blast through the door. Maybe with a gun. Maybe someone was lurking around outside. My heart raced constantly. Sleeping started to become impossible, echoing a similar months-long episode I’d had about the same time the year before. I just wanted to die sometimes.

The final horrible roommate started drinking - black out drunk drinking - and calling his exes on the phone screaming gendered slurs and slamming things around in his room directly above mine. It sent me into a panic, hearing that. I’d had my trauma with plenty of alcoholics and misogynists. I was terrified of him. If I heard him come home I would always lock my door and be as quiet as possible, as though he were an abusive parent waiting to come home to beat me (even though he never hurt me). He’d started threatening my boyfriend and passing out fucked up on the couch. It made me extremely uncomfortable and my anxiety grew and grew. I became hypervigilant again, having flashbacks, using old coping mechanisms that weren’t good. One night he walked past me and slid his hand down my back, which was completely unnecessary and drawn out. I shuddered and told Kyle about it. It was hell. I’d just started grad school and everything that was happening was ruining everything. I was extremely depressed again. I burst out sobbing to my dad one day when I went home to my parent’s house because it was too hard to live in that house anymore. I was effectively retraumatized. I’d stumbled upon the term “transient paranoid ideation” and how having been traumatized once, you can start to become hypervigilant and almost have “flashback” like pop ups to events that never happened to you. Like maybe you were raped by someone, but start to have similar feelings and fears and obsessive thoughts about someone setting your house on fire. It transfers over to “what if”. That lead me to BPD, but I didn’t think a lot about it.

In October, It was too much. This guy started threatening to beat the shit out of him, hurt him, talked about being a drug lord and connections to people and he touched me. We got a restraining order and kicked him out. I still couldn’t sleep. The week after we did it, Kyle and I drove every single day an hour up to school and an hour back to stay at my mom’s because I felt I was in danger and I couldn’t stand being away from Kyle not knowing if something horrible might happen to him. We bonded over this traumatic incident. While all this was happening I told him I didn’t want to do relationships anymore. I just wanted to be with him, that’s it, no more of this rewording things and pretending like we hadn’t actually been together for months. The reality was that we’d essentially gotten back together in 2014 and denied it, mostly me, for over a year. I was terrified and realized I was terrified of losing him.

I told him I couldn’t stand to live there anymore. We went back and forth for a while about what to do and eventually decided to just pay off the landlord and move into a new apartment, just us. I thought it would solve everything. But even after we moved, I was still devastated from everything that’d happened. I coped alright for a month maybe, but in November, I stopped caring about my life and my future. I felt nothing and I wasted every day. I couldn’t get out of bed. I stayed there from sun up til sun down when I went to night class 2 days a week. I was miserable and it was a struggle to force myself to get out of bed even 2 days a week for school. I had nothing to say. I had no personality. I was empty and hollow and I had nothing to give.

I started to feel absolutely insane. I was DESPERATE for affection and attention. I wanted to kill myself not getting it. I wanted to cut and binge eat and sleep until it would all just go away. I couldn’t get out of bed and I would spend hours doing nothing with intervals of random crying I didn’t understand. Other times I’d cry with a cause. I just hurt and I felt hopeless. It wasn’t so much that I hurt actually. I was empty and didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t look into the future and see anything for myself. It was just dark and empty. I felt useless, stupid, boring, unlovable, ashamed, disgusting. I was passive aggressive and had horrible problems communicating. I wanted my mind read. I wanted people to WANT what I wanted. I didn’t want to have to ask, I just wanted someone who wanted the same thing as me. I became horribly frustrated and withdrawn and my relationship suffered terribly.

I started having furious mood swings that were mostly deep depression, followed by numbness, followed by anger, followed by somewhat normal, but still depressed around and around. Mostly I was depressed for weeks upon weeks. I fought constantly, I was frustrated and without words. I needed and had no idea how to articulate it. I felt like I was speaking a language no one around me understood and it was fucking pointless, hopeless. I still had nightmares and could barely sleep. Every little noise my neighbors made caused me to go on compulsive listening sprees where I sat with my ear to the wall trying to figure out what was going on because I wouldn’t settle or be okay until I did. My anxiety wouldn’t let me not do this. I was scrambling for anything to make it better. My relationship felt like it was falling apart and I felt insane every single day. He didn’t know what was wrong or how to help me and all I did was make things hard for him. I felt unlovable and made myself that way. I was terrified of abandonment and one big fight in the middle of winter gave me the impulse to drive away and sit in the WalMart parking lot fantasizing about going inside to buy all the things I needed to cut myself again. It would be so easy. I thought about killing myself, but didn’t really mean it. Part of me thought I’d be better off dead. That everyone around me would be better off if I was dead. The things said to me that night are still there and I feel shame and anger and terrible sadness. I still feel apologetic, while another part of me is enraged. Most of me knows it doesn’t matter anymore. I felt no good to anyone. I felt like a burden and vampire who couldn’t stop sucking the life out of anyone I loved .And I didn’t love anyone anymore but him. I had no friends. I isolated myself. He was my Favorite Person and other people didn’t matter. I hate myself for the manipulative things I’ve done, and the part of me that blames things on other people has enough to say of her own. Maybe the truth is somewhere in the middle. I don’t know. Even thinking back I still feel crazy.

I had to do something. This wasn’t right. There was something very, very wrong here. This shouldn’t be happening. I promised I would try to make myself better. I couldn’t be abandoned. I couldn’t cause more damage. I hated myself. I had no idea how I ended up here. When I started to come out of that frenzied hopelessness, I looked back at myself and wondered who the fuck did all this, what was I thinking? I genuinely believed my apartment manager was constantly watching me and trying to get me in trouble to kick me out. I hated her with a burning fucking fury and other times I just didn’t care. I was not rational and how I felt about other people was never stable or solid. People were out to get me at worst and didn’t care about me at best. Little things sent me into a rage I directed inward instead of throwing things around or fist fights. I seethed with just burning hatred until I burned it all up and was back to being fine. If I had been the type of person to get in fights or do bad things in the real would, I would have been doing them. I fantasized about things like that, but instead felt deep shame for even doing so and then hated myself along with them.

I started having periods of euphoria that lasted a few days where I felt like I could do anything. I felt social and outgoing and made a million plans for projects in my head. And then I’d be somewhat average again. And inevitably fall back into anxiety and depression. And of course, for years I’d had dissociative experiences like derealization/depersonalization and generally just feeling out of myself and having identity issues (though until 2015 I had no idea that’s what they were called). I started seeing connection in BPD and brought it to my therapist (who I’d kept a lot of this from anyway). I sat with the idea of potentially having it for a while and tried to explain to my boyfriend what it meant about my behavior. How now that I knew maybe things could get better.

In a couple of weeks I made the decision to drop out of grad school and go back for a second undergrad. It was all very fast and somehow I thought it made the most sense and was a great idea because I wanted to be a writer and it would help with my writing. I went into the grad counseling department and excitedly spewed my latest idea, words slurred together and hardly taking breaths, to my program director who said I sounded sure of what I wanted and sent me on my way. I pushed hard and fast for the second bachelor’s admission director to admit me and get it all set up before school was out for the semester. I still got furious with people and would be polite, at worst short with them, but never rude and then take it all out on myself.

It was done and I was set and this was turning over a new leaf, this was a new beginning. I was going to be great and I’d find my way and everything would be perfect!! Spring was coming! I had so much hope and certainty in my ability to do this. I started feeling like I was improving. Then February happened and one night around 11 pm, Kyle and I went to a gas station for snacks when suddenly I got very hot. I complained that my arm was sore. I started sweating and feeling nauseous. My heart raced. I got hotter. And hotter. My heart raced more. I could feel myself about to puke. My vision started fading, gray and fuzzy through a tunnel. My head felt light and I was so sure I was about to pass out. “I’m going outside” I said quickly, then turned and went out into the cold night air. I’M HAVING A HEART ATTACK, I thought to myself. I’m DYING, I’M ABOUT TO DIE OH MY GOD I NEED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL. I was hyperventilating in my car. As soon as I got out in the cold and sat down, my vision came back, my head stopped tingling. I was covered in sweat that was freezing in the cold outside. I felt my heart still racing and I was in a panic wondered what happened. I could feel adrenaline just coursing through my veins and I wanted to puke again, not the same as before. This felt like I’d just gotten off a roller coaster and the rush was too much for my body to handle, so I needed to puke. Kyle came out to see if I was okay. I was trying to breathe and a part of me was freaking out going “that wasn’t normal. NEVER forget how abnormal this was, NEVER forget that this was BEYOND normal, no matter what any family member or doctor tells you. THIS. WAS. NOT. NORMAL.” He asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital and part of me was numb, emotionally, and said no. I tried to explain what happened and he asked if I thought I had a stroke. I went home and called my mom. I webMD’d it. I had a stroke, I told myself. I had a TIA. At any moment I’ll have another one and I’m dead. This is the end as I know it. I’m going to die!!!!

That sensation at least wasn’t uncommon to me. I’d had what you might classify as a paranoid delusion when I was about 15. I was CERTAIN I was dying of cancer (no real evidence of this). For weeks I genuinely and truly believed I was going to die and my body was deteriorating. I was depressed, hopeless and suicidal feeling. But I got past it. Only to have another health related genuine delusion a year later that also lasted for weeks, nothing could satisfy it or cause me to think differently. NOTHING.

So, here we are, February 2016 after this “stroke” - I went to the doctor. Which used to scare me, but I’d become comforted by it at this point. Every doctor happily pointed out my anxiety as the cause of any health issue I brought up and every doctor happily tried to prescribe me antidepressants. They started looking at me as a hypochondriac. I hated it. And yet I did it to myself. She played along and did a bunch of bloodwork, finding only that my A1C was ever so slightly elevated, probably from PCOS and my diet, she said, so I asked for Metformin, but that’s a whole different story. I didn’t have a stroke, she said. There was no evidence. Everyone told me I had a panic attack and it made me break down crying. I lived in constant fear for some time that out of nowhere this could just happen all over again with no warning, just like before. I realized in that past I’d had “limited symptom panic attacks” or “anxiety attacks” before. I still couldn’t accept that’s what it was - I remember how I told myself how abnormal it was and to never forget it. I was on the brink of death! I had to worry because if I didn’t worry then it would happen. It was an obsessive compulsive thought and behavior. I could not help myself from acting it out. I truly believed worrying would prevent bad things from happening. If I was carefree, something was wrong. I read about how 30-somethings described TIAs because strokes aren’t just for older people. I was certain I was going to die. And I read people describing going to the ER to find out it was a panic attack and was eased momentarily before both telling myself I had to worry it was a TIA/stroke anyway, and also that if I was having panic attacks, who’s to say that isn’t the first of many to come?

After that day I worked out, ate FANTASTICALLY healthy, saw a nutritionist, took medication, went to therapy, lost 50 more pounds (after having lost and maintained about 30 for a year or so) in a few months, tried to go vegan, settled for vegetarian, went to therapy once a week, started meditating, and was desperate enough to start actually taking my ativan and tried buspar. That was a huge step. My anxiety was destroying my life. After that panic attack, I had heart palpatations out of nowhere at random times nearly every day. I had that sick, sinking, tingling feeling in the pit of my stomach and I held my breath only to breathe too much until I was dizzy. I wanted to cry and several times fell into an anxiety attack that felt like a downward spiral of hopelessness and irrational thinking. I felt helpless and crazier than ever.

Because on top of all that, the moodswings were still there. I went to the psychiatrist, got my buspar, some zoloft (I refused to take it) and intentionally left out the part about the moodswings for fear of a diagnosis that might ruin me, but mostly someone trying to put me on a mood stabilizer. I didn’t want anymore drugs. I’d struggled with 3 different anti-depressants in the past that did nothing, made things worse, or generally just failed in some way. I never felt well, just numb, no change, or terrible. I was desperate enough to try buspar, but that lasted for short weeks before I stopped entirely. When I did, my anxiety had lifted a bit and I did feel a little better. But it had given me painful headaches I couldn’t tolerate anymore and I just can’t deal with being on drugs. I hate it. One night in spring I went into another helpless, fearful tizzy and wanted to scream, cry, cut myself, fuck until everything stopped hurting. Oh, god, why did I hurt so much? Why did I hurt so fucking much. It hurt so bad, aching into my soul. I didn’t know what to do. I sat in warm bath water with the bathroom window open until the sun set and the wind blowing in was cold, along with the water that’d gone cold long before. I cried silent tears, lip shaking, cheeks chapped, coming from the core of me, some deep dark place. I didn’t wail, I felt so lost and empty, as though I’d realized some awful thing and felt totally out of control. I was just so fucking helpless. So fucking empty.

Months went on into summer and I was doing a lot better. I still had my ups and downs, but I was going to be okay. It hit me I could no longer sustain myself without a job (I was in NOOO position at the point to be working AND school) on the pitiful financial aid they offered. I decided right before the fall 2016 semester started I’d go back to grad school the semester after. I was ready and this whole thing, I’d needed the experience and the time, but it was over now. I’ve been lying to myself that I’m incapable. I can do this. I’m ready to be an adult. So I went into that semester (fall 2016) not taking shit seriously at all because I was just D O N E with it. At the end, I was leaving my second bachelor’s degree needing only 4 more classes to earn it, but I couldn’t live off another semester of that and it just felt useless. We moved again due to money stuff and it was going well. I had my rocky patches with the stress, trying to manage, but ultimately it was fine. I was doing so much better and therapy and meditation were making my life fucking great in comparison. I felt stable. Sometimes I little stressed or depressed, but no major episodes. Things were looking up!

It was around October 2016. I’d gone into this extremely positive, hopeful, centered, accepting place I’d never been. I was writing and A LOT. I was extremely productive, sleeping a bit less than usual. Making HUGE strides in therapy and my psychologist was thrilled by it, in awe of me. I was in a mild high and riding it happily. I felt powerful and strong and sure and more than anything I just trusted life. I trusted the process. I trusted the universe. I felt spiritually enlightened and wise and just so CENTERED. Like EVERYTHING just felt like it had a purpose and I was EXACTLY where I needed to be. I’d never felt anything to that level before. I started writing about an event from my past that was verrrry sexually arousing and satisfying. That day changed everything. I got higher than I had been already. Some time went by. I was feeling social and curious and really hungry to connect with other people. I missed having friends and learning new things, getting close to people, new experiences. I was growing so, so, so much personally. I wanted someone to understand and appreciate me. I felt misunderstood and detached. I didn’t know how to communicate through my fear of judgement, abandonment, and worst - invalidation or mocking.

I fiddled around talking to old acquaintances. I made up with some people, caught up with others. It felt really nice. And I was starting to accept all these parts of me that I’d shut off for a long time, fearing their contradicting nature. I am lots of things. I am everything. It doesn’t all have to make sense. I was tired of compartmentalizing around every person though. It was hard and sad and I was kind of lonely. And then it happened, and I met (or re-met) someone. The high I’d been riding flew to new heights. Every fucking atom of my body, every cell, every piece of me was vibrating so fast you couldn’t even tell. I was floating and walking in a cloud of love that touched every person I went near. I felt like an angel, a god. I was god. I was a healer, I was mercy, I was understanding, I was pure, I was the truest truth that ever was, I was love. I WAS LOVE. I wasn’t Kat, I was a being without a name whose purpose was to give love and receive love and live in only love. I deserved this ecstasy, being in love with myself. I didn’t think, I just KNEW. I just KNEW things and followed my intuition and I KNEW that’s what it was. I had never experienced this self-perception before, not like this. Things felt RIGHT and I did them. It went on for months, my self-perception, my world perception...

“you’re manic,” my therapist said with a slight smile. “no I’m not!!” I exclaimed defensively, ready and already going onto a sentence to continue denying”. This was just who I was now, what the fuck was he talking about??? he showed me the way to be, this body could channel love like this, the center of life, the purpose for living. Why would he say it was just being manic?? “don’t get defensive,” he said interrupting me, “I’m not criticizing you for it,” he said among other positive things I can’t remember in the haze. All I remember was his awe from a few weeks before this session, pure awe telling me “you’re not growing in a linear way, it’s exponential...it’s amazing to see someone grow like this.” Praising me for my progress and my rarity. I beamed, I hugged myself in it. “ the crash is going to hurt,” he said. I literally laughed in his face, unable to contain it. I genuinely believed this was me now and I was never going to crash. I’d never experienced that. When I was happy before most of the time, but not always, it was short lived and just before it ended, thoughts crept in that something awful must be about to happen, which ruined everything. Not this time. I was so fucking sure. No one could have convinced me it would end. No one could have convinced me I wasn’t channeling the core aspect of the universe and that was the height of my purpose in this life, my reason for living. That I wasn’t on the same wavelength as the universe itself because I WAS. I didn’t feel delusional, and I still don’t think I was even now... “I’m not going to crash,” I scoffed. He laughed and tested me with it again. And again I brushed him off, laughing.

At that point, I’d stopped sleeping almost entirely. I subsisted on endorphins. I managed 4 hours a night. I wrote and wrote and wrote and I made plans and I felt like I used to feel when they prescribed me adderall only better. I stopped giving ANY fucks about school and took my first F nonchalantly for the most part. I stopped going to the class, didn’t take the final, didn’t write the final paper. This was not like me, the life time good student, and to do so with hardly a care? What was school in the face of the future, in the face of my true purpose? None of this shit is real anyway - life isn’t real, I thought. What is reality? I laughed. I am going to die and be forgotten, why am I so concerned with all this bullshit? I can do anything and I can be happy in any situation no matter what happens because I have love, I AM love. I threw in the towel at school.

and then eventually I crashed some time after this, and it was unexpected still too. It never crossed my mind, even when my therapist put it there. Everything was all in the open now. I didn’t always do the right thing. It felt like I knew that I had wings, and no one could see them, but I flew anyway. And then something happened and my brain just decided to accept the social reality that I didn’t, so my wings only I could see shrunk into nothing and I fell thousands of feet to the ground. I realized in a speechless, horrified panic that was not the perfect, helpful, merciful, loving being I thought I’d been. I thought that I was god, but now I looked back and saw only the devil at the damage she’d caused without a second thought. What have I done? Who was I? How could I do this? I just wanted to die. What was wrong with me? Everything I’d ever done wrong in my life came back to haunt me. I didn’t know how to apologize enough. I felt miserable and like a disgusting excuse for a person. I felt like I deserved to die for my half-truths and redirected empathy. I was a werewolf. I was a normal human who turned into a selfish, hungry monster willing to do anything to fill the hole inside her that could never really be filled. I hated myself. I was no angel, no goddess. Who am I?

It took time, lots of talking, lots of conflict, lots of effort, lots of facing fears, lots of honesty, lots of risk, but I felt like things were getting better. Part of me was angry. Why were my mistakes the gravest sins while similar sins from others were things I’d forgotten not long after they happened? Why were things always worse and more evil when I did them in comparison to others? Did I just forgive too easily? I don’t know. I had to pick up the pieces. I was knocked so far down. I’d climbed a ladder and almost reached the top, but my mistakes caused me to slip and fall to the fucking ground, damaged and terrified and uncertain of how to even go about climbing back up again.

I started wondering if something more was going on? I’d given up on diagnosis a long time ago. It’s just the symptoms, not the label that mattered. But it felt like my symptoms weren’t even being addressed anymore. Isn’t being manic a symptom? Should I not look into this?

“I wish you wouldn’t think of yourself as mentally ill,” he said, “it’s not productive.”

I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t fit the full criteria for borderline personality disorder, but I am 100% certain there was a long stretch of time in my past that I did. Several symptoms still apply frequently, some less so. I was diagnosed with PTSD and don’t fit the full criteria, but I cope with symptoms off and on, some daily, some not. It changes you and it doesn’t matter if you don’t fit the criteria on a daily basis, at one point you did and it still can wreck havoc on your life. I look at bipolar disorder and there are several other episodes of my past I have failed to mention here to lead me to believe that’s something to consider in terms of symptom management and treatment. But I have a psychologist who believes that mental illness is changeable, maybe not in everyone, but in me for sure. I believe him and I believe that too. I believe that regardless of what someone might label me (because diagnosis is highly subjective and 5 psychs could give me 5 different opinions), I can learn to cope with the symptoms and function, somehow someway. I am not damaged beyond repair, but I struggle and that’s what matters. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and even my saying that would cause my therapist to be frustrated with me even thinking of myself that way. There’s a fucking problem when I’m hurting other people and not thinking about it. There’s a fucking problem when I feel indestructible and look back going “What the hell was I thinking”. There’s a problem when in the past I’ve struggled with mood regulation and had several “manic” type episodes where even if I wasn’t “happy” like I was this time, like most people stereotypically believe is all that manic means, I was agitated and motivated and hyped up in the same way directed into negative emotions, which can be part of hypomania/mania/mixed episodes. I’ve had delusional episodes related to my health. It hasn’t happened for a while, but its presence in my past matters.

I just want to be well. I beat myself up, thinking that even when I’m happy it’s not because I’m really happy, it’s because I’m mentally ill and he, my therapist, was disappointed in me saying that. Part of me still feels that way, while another part of me knows I truly was happy. I don’t know what to think. Maybe both can be true. I don’t know how to be. I just am, and I’m just trying to pick up my pieces and function and love and live and be a good person, the best I know how. Sometimes I fuck up, but I’m always sorry and I want to do better. I don’t have a label and I don’t know if I really want one. I just know the things I do aren’t always like normal people - my feelings, my interpretations, my assumptions, my thought patterns. I was traumatized and that changed me. But even before that I was never normal, and I knew it. I was anxious, depressed, and fucked up as a child while my other 8 year old friends didn’t have these problems. I am mentally ill but that doesn’t define me or make me hopeless. It doesn’t mean I can’t achieve and accomplish and manage it and grow. I am a capable, smart, strong, loving person, and sometimes I mess up, sometimes I feel worthless, sometimes I feel spiteful and hurt and sad and afraid, and I’m not perfect. I just do my best in the moment and that’s all I can do, even when sometimes I realize immediately I can do better in the next minute. I push myself and I try to grow. Deep down that’s the thing that motivates and drives me the most. It’s my greatest desire and biggest hope.

I am everything. I’m an angel and a goddess and a werewolf and the devil. I am courageous and cowardly. I am loving and also selfish. I am impulsive and hesitant and I think sometimes that I’m not good enough, while other times I’m too good. I am petty and apologetic and loyal and untrustworthy. I am self-conscious and helpful and kind and would do anything to help a friend. A stranger. I am also confused and knowing and lost and settled and I am every fucking contradiction. That doesn’t make me fake or wrong or cruel, it fucking makes me human. I’m aware of my contradictions, I don’t deny them. It means I have choices to make about the reality of who I am and who I want to be. I am not in denial about either side of me and every combination of my traits. It doesn’t absolve me of responsibility for the bad things I do. It doesn’t mean I am above criticism or that I’m saying I am perfect and always justified. I’m not. I love myself and criticize myself and sometimes I hate myself too.

I’m not perfect. But I do my best, and that’s all I or anyone can ever do.

#meandmine #suicide tw #self-harm tw #alcohol tw #abuse tw #rape tw #fuck it #just general tw for everything #mental illness tw #be careful not to get caught on all my Edge(tm)#im sorry i just am not good with myself 100% right now #i needed to write to get it out cause that's what I do

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