#i will go to the gym voluntarily for the first time ever and my anxiety decided to jump up and now i'm not so sure

[i-like-yoongi-a-latte]

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[elwenyere]

I have a prompt for you! Stevetony + trapped in an elevator after they've been avoiding each other, please? thank you, I love your fics <3

Thank you so much, Anons! I got two fantastic prompts that were too tasty to keep apart: “Stevetony + trapped in an elevator after they've been avoiding each other” and “stevetony friends with benefits + pining? ‘we're friends who make out who don't make out with other people?’ :D.” In fact, my brain liked putting these two prompts together so much that the resulting ficlet grew into a full fic. Thank you so much for the prompts, and I hope you enjoy!

Out of Order

Stony, 4.3k words, FWB + pining + idiots in love + trapped in an elevator

Elevator Access Log: September 23, 2012, 1:23 AM

When the doors to the Tower elevator slid open, Steve walked through them without looking, his face still buried in a gym towel. He’d just gone through three reinforced punching bags in an effort to work off the frustration from his latest SHIELD mission, but even the resulting full-body ache wasn’t enough to weigh down the anxiety buzzing through his chest, and between the towel and the nerves, it took a moment for Steve to notice that the elevator was already occupied.

The other passenger was Tony Stark, who was currently slumped in one of the corners, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly ajar, looking as if he’d fallen asleep standing up. Which...was exactly what had happened, Steve realized, because Tony was now emitting the tiniest of snores, his head bobbing back against the mirrored glass behind him.

Steve felt the corners of his lips twitch.

It wasn’t the first time since moving into the Tower that he’d found Tony passed out in a position that suggested his condition of rest had not been achieved voluntarily. Just last week, Steve had come across Tony in the garage working on repairs to an old Shelby Mustang, and he’d made it halfway through a rehearsed speech asking the pair of legs sticking out from under the car whether they’d like to go to dinner sometime before he realized that Tony had fallen asleep on the dolly, a wrench still tucked in his hand.

It was, however, the first time that Steve had encountered Tony sleeping in a way that left him quite so open to the element of surprise. Steve slung his gym towel around his neck, moved carefully into a spotting formation, and then called out the words “expense reports” in a clear, slightly urgent tone.

“I’m awake!” Tony barked, stumbling momentarily before catching himself on the railing. He blinked blearily at Steve. “Oh, you’re not Pepper.” Another blink. “Oh, you’re an asshole.”

“It’s been suggested,” Steve smiled. “Out of curiosity, how long have you been riding this thing up and down?”

“Couldn’t say,” Tony admitted, stretching his arms toward the ceiling. “What day is it?”

“Sunday, technically,” Steve responded, his eyes dropping to the thin sliver of skin that Tony’s stretch had revealed at his waistline.

“Guess I should have asked what week it was too,” Tony muttered. The cords of muscle in his arms flexed as he ran his hands through his hair. “Are we headed to a floor that has coffee – or maybe a giant syringe of adrenaline? If the Spy Kids are back, I could probably get Romanov to stab me in the neck again. Actually, if she just looked at me the right way, I’d probably have a Pavlovian fight-or-flight response that might be good for a few hours of terrified wakefulness." He cleared his throat. "Uhhh...Ground Control to Major Tom: do you read me?”

“Hmm?” Steve replied, eloquently.

“Do you want to pick a floor there, Rogers?” Tony asked, a small smile creeping across his face. “Or would you rather keep ogling my biceps?”

Steve flushed rapidly, his eyes snapping toward the elevator door. He hit the button for the residential floor, mentally kicking himself for the obvious slip.

He’d known he was in trouble for a while, of course. If it hadn’t been clear the first time Tony raised the faceplate of his armor to reveal the kind of deep, expressive brown eyes that had always made Steve go weak at the knees, it was painfully apparent by the time those same eyes looked up at him from a rubble-strewn street in New York. But Steve had told himself he was going to tackle the situation head-on: ask Tony out on a date; use full sentences and appropriate eye contact; and do it while Tony was awake this time.

Great work so far, Steve thought grimly. Operation: Be Smooth, Rogers, For Once in Your Goddamn Life was obviously going to be a huge success.

“I mean, feel free to take an ogle to go,” Tony continued, his voice slowing to a teasing drawl. “It may shock you to hear this, but I don’t mind the attention. Go ahead: get your fill. I’d say ‘no sweat,’ but you’re clearly past that point.”

Steve risked a glance in Tony’s direction and saw that he was running his eyes slowly and deliberately over Steve’s torso.

“Got some energy to burn, Cap?” he asked. Then he caught his lower lip lightly between his teeth, and just like that, Steve’s heart was hammering so hard he could feel his pulse in his fingers.

“You offering to go a few rounds?” Steve countered after a short pause. The buzzing in his chest had turned electric, throwing sparks across nerves that he hadn’t felt light up since their fight on the Helicarrier.

Tony smirked, as if he could see exactly where Steve’s mind had gone.

“Oh, I’m starting to want you to make me,” he said, leaning back against the railing so that his hips jutted ever so slightly forward.

There might have been a moment when Steve’s brain formed a conscious intention to move, but if there was, he missed it. By the time his mind caught up with his body, he was already pressed up against Tony, kissing him hungrily as he crowded him back against the wall of the elevator. Tony made an eager noise of want in response, grabbing the ends of the towel around Steve’s neck and using it to pull him downward. A second later, his grip tightened as Steve grasped the backs of Tony’s thighs and hoisted him onto the railing. Tony retaliated by wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist, rolling his hips in a way that made the air catch in Steve’s throat.

“Fuck,” Tony swore as elevator doors swung open.

“Yeah?” Steve asked, searching Tony’s face. A small doubt had flickered to life somewhere in his mind, and he tried to summon the will to bring it into focus. But then Tony’s hands were running south down his back, and Tony’s breath was hot and ragged against his neck.

“Yeah, fuck yeah,” Tony said. “Fucking, now, yes.”

Steve responded with a noise that sounded embarrassingly close to a growl, and by the time the doors slid shut behind them, the flicker was already forgotten.

Read the rest on AO3

[bugoverlord]

5 times kuroo couldn’t help kenma, and one where he didn't need to///kuroken

1-

Kenma falls to the ground. His wobbly legs give out after running so far and fast. He breathes heavy as he collects himself again. He looks behind him quickly to find that he was not being chased anymore. 

He hates the other kids. He hates how they don’t like him or his hair or his shyness. He wishes that they would just leave him alone for once instead of harassing him every chance they get. 

Kenma is nine years old and in the second grade when the other kids decide to start trying to get Kenma to open up in the worst way possible. First it started with fake-but-polite smiles in his direction during lunch, but when they realized he wasn’t going to smile back or even look them in the eye, they got mean. They tripped him and pushed him. They would yell and make fun of his hair and voice and clothes. 

Thats why he found himself on the sidewalk, blocks away from school after trying and succeeding to outrun the bullies.

His eyes tear up and his throat heaves a dry sob. He started crying even more when he realizes in the midst of running away, that he forgot his backpack. He knew that his mom would get mad and he knew that if he went back to get it, he would just get hurt even more. So, he stayed on the sidewalk helpless crying at his scraped knee and hurt feelings.

He hears a quiet “Kenma!”, coming from behind him. He sees Kuroo, his best friend and the only person that has ever decided to stay with him voluntarily. He has a concerned look on his face as he draws nearer. 

“Kenma.. did the other kids hurt you again?” He asks.

Kenma nods shakily, trying to get up from the ground. 

Kuroo frowns and shakes his head, obviously angry.

“Well, I knew that you had gone somewhere because when I went to your class after school today you weren’t there but your bag was, and I knew you would never leave your bag unattended with your PSP inside so I went and tried to find you, but you weren't anywhere on school property and I got scared so I ran out of school and-” Kuroo says, his words slightly slurring together as he tries to say all of it in only a few breaths. 

“I’m ok.” Kenma says and interrupts Kuroo. His words are slightly wavering but he puts on a brave face and reaches for his bag from Kuroo's hands. Once he has the bag in his hand he just reaches inside and pulls out his PSP and turns it on. He’s already turned around when he says “Let’s just go home.” and starts walking.

2- (S*LF H*RM TW)

Kenma is on his bed playing a video game when Kuroo bursts through the door. 

“Hey Kenma! I brought Mario Kart!” 

Kenma smiles slightly and scoots to the side on his bed, a clear invitation to have Kuroo sit beside him. Kuroo sits down and sets up the game for two players. Kenma quickly pulls his long sleeves back down his arms when Kuroo isn’t looking, and saves and shuts down the hand-held game he was playing. 

He returns his attention back on Mario Kart as he gets ready to play the game. 

They play about ten rounds before Kuroo decides he’s had enough of being beaten by Kenma. “This isn’t fair! You know everything about this game! How the hell am I supposed to beat that?” 

Kenma grins wolfishly before setting the controller down and shutting the game off for both of them. While he does this, he says “It’s not my fault you’re terrible at video games.” Kuroo gasps, offended and punches Kenma in the arm.

They both laugh and pull out their homework that they got during the day. Kenma is currently in his second year of middle school, while Kuroo is in his third. 

They work silently, only making noise when asking about a question or complaining about the amount of work the have each been given.

Kenma huffs. He doesn't get this assignment at all. 

“Hey kuro, can you help me?”

Kuroo turns towards Kenma and looks at the page that Kenma has laid in front of him.

“Oh! I remember doing this! So basically..” Kuroo starts but he trails off as he looks at Kenma.

Specifically his arms.

When Kenma realizes this his face turns red and he pulls down his sleeves quickly. He must’ve pulled them up subconsciously while focusing on his work.

“Actually I’m okay I can do it later.” Kenma tries to grab the paper from where Kuroo has placed it under his hands but Kuroo won’t let him.

“Kenma.. where did those cuts come from?” Kenma freezes and doesn’t respond. How could he respond to something like that without being suspicious?

“Kenma. Give me your arm.” Kuroo says, and Kenma can tell that this isn’t a request.

He shakes his head and tucks his arms to his chest, trying to fold into himself so he won’t have to deal with Kuroo’s questions.

“Kenma.” Kuroo says as he grabs at Kenma’s tucked away arms. Kuroo struggles a bit before he latches onto Kenma’s left arm and pulls up the sleeve.

Along Kenma’s forearm are horizontal cuts that are littered everywhere from his wrists to the fold of his elbow. Some clearly new and some light pink and old.

Kenma tries to pull back his arm but Kuroo’s grip won’t let up.

“Did you do this to yourself?” Kuroo asks, concerned. After a few seconds of hesitation Kenma nods slowly. 

Kuroo’s expression turns into horror as he stares back down at Kenma’s cuts. 

“Why?” 

“It just got too much and I didn’t know what to do,” Kenma starts, his face scrunching up tightly while tears start to stream down his face. His breathing gets harsher but he continues, “I’m sorry I won’t do it again, I promise. Please let go Kuroo. I didn’t mean to I promise, It just got to much and I didn’t know how to deal with it I’m sorry-”

Kuroo lets his grip loosen but as soon as Kenma pulls his arm back he throws his arms around the setter. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you Kenma. I love you so much please stop doing this to yourself. I don’t know what I would do if you were gone, Kenma. Please promise me that you won’t do this again.” Kuroo says, his words muffled in Kenma's neck. 

Kenma can feel Kuroo’s tears on his skin so he puts his arms around Kuro, trying to comfort the other boy more than himself.

“I promise. I love you too.”

3-

Kenma picks up another ball and puts it on top of the pile in his arms. 

“Kozume-kun! Pick up the rest of the balls in the gym for your Senpais!” One of the third years of Nekoma high shouts at him.

This surprises him so much that he drops the three balls that were balancing in his arms. He frowns when he hears laughing coming from behind him.

He starts to pick the balls back up but he pauses when he hears whispers.

“God, look at him, he’s so pathetic.”

“He’s so easy to push around, I wonder why the rooster-head doesn’t use that to his advantage.” “It’s probably because he takes pity on him, I mean, look at the kid! He looks scared of his own shadow.”

His eyes fill with tears and he stubbornly blinks them away and continues to pick up the rest of the balls on the gym floor. Once he puts all of them back into the basket and gets ready to leave, another third year shouts at him again. 

“Oh, Kozume-kun, I forgot to tell you, it’s our turn to mop the floor tonight!” 

The group of third years leave after that, and Kenma breaths in harshly before mumbling under his breath “yeah, just like it was yesterday and the day before,,,”

He goes to the supply closet and brings out the floor cleaner. As he starts mopping up the floor, he hears shoes squeaking near the door. When he turns to look however, he sees Kuro standing there instead of the third year bully he expected.

Kuroo frowns when he sees what Kenma is doing and walks over to him. He takes the mop from his hand and drags the cleaning supplies back into the supply closet.

“You know you could say no to the third-years once in a while.” Kuroo says.

“We both know that they wouldn’t let me out of the work no matter how many times I say no. And even if they did, they would get back at me for it, later.” Kenma says softly, looking down at his shoes.

“You should have told me.”

“Told you what? That the third years are making me do some extra cleaning? That they’re making me run more than the others? What good would that do? It wouldn’t change how they treat me and you know it.” 

Kuroo sighs and brings his arms up and around Kenma’s shoulders.

“I just wish I could do something. I wish they would leave you alone so you can really enjoy volleyball this year.” Kuroo says nuzzling the top of Kenma's head.

“yeah.” Kenma quietly agrees. 

Kuroo pulls back from the hug and looks at Kenma's face. He leans down a few inches, and plants his mouth on Kenma’s. It lingers for a few second before he pulls away and pulls Kenma back into his arms. This isn’t a new experience for either of them. They have been sharing kisses since the year prior when they both admitted that they had feelings for each other.

They stand there hugging in the gym until a teacher comes into the gym and yells at them for staying too late into the night.

4-

Kenma is sitting in the corner of his room at ‘his’ 17th birthday party. 

It doesn’t feel like his, it feels like an excuse for his parents to invite family and family friends to their house. 

His eyes prickle with tears and he covers his mouth as the sobs start pouring out of him. He can’t control them anymore. The people here and the loudness of everything is getting to him.

He can feel his breathing growing ragged as he tries to control his panic, but knowing that there are at least 20 people in his house mingling right now fills him with unexplainable dread and anxiety.

the only person that he actually wanted here was Kuroo, and he is here, but he got dragged away by Kenma’s parents as soon as he stepped through the door and Kenma hasn’t see him since.

While he’s trying to calm himself down he doesn’t hear the door to his bedroom open and close softly. 

When he’s finally noticed the legs in front of him and looks up, he sees Kuroo with a sad smile on his face looking down at him.

“Hey kitten. Happy birthday. I’m sorry I didn’t say that earlier but you know how your parents are.” Kuro puts his hand out for Kenma and Kenma gratefully takes it. Kuroo pulls both of them onto the bed, and guides Kenma down to his chest.

“I’m sorry that you aren’t enjoying yourself, babe. I wish I could kick all of the people out and just kiss you senseless for a while.” Kuroo says, rubbing hand up and down Kenma’s back.

Kenma nods against his chest and closes his eyes. His breathing has evened out again and the tears eventually stop coming. Even thought he can still hear the people around the house, the voices have quieted. 

Kuroo brings Kenma up to his face and brushes a piece of hair out of his face.

“You are so pretty Kenma.”

Kenma’s face scrunches up in embarrassment and turns red.

“Shut up.” Despite the words, there is no vicious tone in his voice and Kuroo knows that he’s just flustered.

Kuroo brings their faces closer together and says “Happy Birthday, Kenma.” Before kissing him.

5-

“Hello?”

“Kuroo?” Kenma says, sounding nasally and emotional, like he’s been crying.

“Yeah it’s me. You alright?” Kuroo replies already feeling worried for Kenma.

“No.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

“You made a mistake.” Kenma says, voice wavering. “I shouldn’t be captain. They don’t listen to me no matter how loud I try to be. The first years are constantly yelling and jumping around and nothing ever gets done. I can’t do this anymore. I have to quit.”

“Kenma, they aren’t doing this on purpose believe me i’ve-”

“You don’t know what it’s like to be a failure Kuro! You were always the perfect captain, able to fix anyones problems with just a stupid speech. I don’t have any talent in volleyball and everyone is finally realizing it after I can't hide behind you.” Kenma says aggressively.

“Kenma. You are so talented. You are one of the best setters I know-” Kenma snorts through the phone. “I’m serious. You don’t have the best technique i’ve ever seen, but you see so much. You can come up with the best strategies when you put your mind to it.” Kuroo says.

“I know how tough it can be to get younger players in line, but believe me, when you finally see their full potential and put it all together, you can create a well-oiled-machine. Please just keep trying. For me.”

“I- I just don’t know what to do.” Kenma says after a moment of silence. “How do you get them to listen?”

“Be calm and keep your head. Try to be as authoritative as you can be, and try to show them some cool plays. That always gets them excited.” Kuroo responds.

They both laugh quietly.

“Thank you, Tetsurou.” Kenma says, sounding a lot more calm.

“Anytime, Kitten.” Kuroo responds. “Feel free to call me whenever you need advice. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

1+

“Hello, welcome to Arcadia.” Kenma says from behind the counter. This job is his favorite one he’s had so far, not because of the customers, but because of the games that are around the store. 

The customer that came through the door nods her head and starts walking around the small store. 

Kuro comes out of the back holding his bag and some headphones.

“I’ll see you at home, my shifts over for today.” Kenma nods and Kuroo gives one of his small genuine smiles.

While Kuroo is saying goodbye and getting the rest of his things, the young girl that came in just a few minutes earlier comes up to the counter.

She smiles shyly and tucks her hair behind her ears while Kenma rings her up. He doesn't pay any mind and just says “Your total comes up to $12.04.” She nods and pulls out her wallet. After she has paid for her game, she says “Um- can we- I mean- do you want to go out for lunch some time?” 

Kenma’s eyes widen. Kuro is standing behind him ready to say something when kenma kicks him under the counter lightly.

“No thanks. Sorry though. Your pretty and all but I’m taken.” kenma says with a bored look on his face. She looks suprised and says “By who?”

“The guy behind me.”

Her face falls into an embarrassed smile and she quickly bows and basically runs out of the shop.

They both let out relieved sighs they didn't realize they were keeping in, and looked at each other before breaking out into small chuckles.

“Wow, I’m surprised at how good you handled that. If we were still in high school you would have turned red and started stammering or something. I guess my shy little Kenma is long gone now.” Kuroo says teasingly as he packs the last of his things from the store.

“Yeah, yeah. Go away.” Kenma says with a red flush on his faced at being teased. Kuroo smirks and pulls Kenma’s face in for a goodbye kiss before leaving. 

“See you at home.” Kuroo says.

“Yeah, see you.”

-END-

WOOO that probably the longest fic i’ve posted on here haha! Hope u enjoy my shitty writing!

[backtobackbakubabe]

Stuck in the Middle with You (Part 2)

Bakugo x Reader 

Reader is a closet couponer and when word started spreading that there was going to be a mandatory quarantine to fend off a virus you weren't worried. You had enough supplies to last for months. However it wasn't until now that you realized you had no idea how to cook and you relied on take out and fast food for most of your meals. The only person who knew about your crazy couponing habit was Bakugo, so when he called and asked if he could raid your stash you got an idea.

Words: 2054

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You tried not to moan as you took your first bite of Bakugo’s pancakes. They were so delicious, but you didn’t want to add to his already huge ego. For the most part you both are in silence, locking eyes every so often before immediately looking anywhere else but at each other. There was still some awkward tension between the two of you. He had kissed you, like actually kissed you but neither of you wanted to be the one to bring it up. 

You knew he only did it to try and help you through your panic attack. There was no way he would have done it for any other reason. He was Bakugo after all and you weren't even convinced that he even liked you as a friend. Sure he always attended movie nights, and yeah he brought you coupons. But that was it. The two of you never hung out one on one and you rarely spoke to each other over the phone. You had known the man for years and you didn’t know a damm thing about him. 

It wasnt until he cleared his thought that you realized you had been staring at him, “Do I need to teach you manners as well as cooking? Lesson number one, don’t stare at people.”

You snorted, “Oh that’s rich. A lesson on manners from the same person who manages to find a way to insult anyone who dares try and speak to him.”

He slammed his fork down, “Well at least I wasn't the one staring at another person practically drooling while they ate!”

You stood up and tossed your plate into the sink, “I was not drooling! I was just thinking...”

Bakugo came up behind you and rinsed your dish as well as his before putting them in the dish washer, “You really shouldn't leave dishes in the sink. Its a bad habbit...”

When you didnt answer he took a deep breath, “If we’re going to be stuck here then we should probably at least try and get along.”

Again you were struck by how little you knew about him. How had you been friends with him for this long and not know anything about him.

He groaned, “Are you even fucking listening to me?”

You nodded and pinched the bridge of you nose, “Yeah sorry, just was thinking again... I can be kind of spacey.” 

He softened a bit before leaning on the counter next to you, “So I’ve noticed... What are you thinking about?”

You blushed slightly before regaining your composure, “Honestly you... Not anything weird... It’s just. Well I feel like I actually don’t know much about you. Like are you a morning person? Whats your favorite color? What kind of movies do you like? I know none of that seems important but for some reason it just weirds me out that I dont know.”

Bakugo scratched the back of his neck, “Well I mean you never asked...” 

You hopped up on the kitchen counter and swung your legs that were now dangling, “Okay well to be fair that can go both ways. I’m sure you don’t know anything about me either.”

He seemed to think for a minute before nodding, “Well I guess it’s a good thing we have some time to catch up. Just promise me that what you learn stays between us. I dont need any fucking extras thinking they know me.” 

You rolled your eyes at his abrasiveness. “How about you pick something to watch and I’ll go raid my closet for things you could wear. I doubt you want to wear the same clothes every day for the foreseeable future.” 

“Tsk as if I’d wear girls clothes. The director from my hero agency said he’d send someone over with some clothes. It’ll probably just be a bunch of training gear with the agencies logo on it but I guess beggars cant be choosers.” 

Bakugo was right because halfway through “Gladiator” a man showed up with a duffle bag full of grey and black shirts, shorts, and sweats with his agencies logo on it. They were all still wrapped in plastic just to be safe. 

He threw the bag full of clothes behind the couch and reclaimed his spot next to you. You were bundled up in a blanket, trying not to fall asleep but you were drained after your episode earlier. It was only a little after 8 and you could feel your eye lids growing heavier. 

At some point you woke up and to your horror you were leaning on Bakugo. You would have panicked except you could feel his arm draped around your shoulders holding you to him. This was odd. You slowly sat up and stretched. “Sorry. You could have pushed me off. I wouldn't have blamed you. Especially with social distancing or whatever.”

He chuckled, “Oh believe me I thought about it. But you were cold and if we stuck together I cant have you getting sick.”

You saw a slight blush creep up his neck. You knew there was no way you would have gotten sick from being chilly in your own living room. But you also knew he was probably more comfortable doing something nice if he had an excuse. So you game him a genuine smile. “Thanks. I’ll be honest that's the best nap I’ve ever had. Well best I’ve slept in months actually. I’m always tossing and turning.” You turned off the tv that was now playing the credits. You had seriously slept through the entire second half of the movie. 

You walked over and started pulling out pillows and blankets from the hall closet. “You can sleep on the couch. It pulls out into a bed but honestly its more comfortable if you just sleep on it normally. We can take turns sleeping in the bed if you’re here long enough.”

He accepted the blankets but held tight to your hand. “Hey you know I meant it earlier when I said you could talk to me. I’m the last person to voluntarily open up about my feelings, but you know... I worry about you sometimes.” 

You plopped down on the couch with a huge sigh. “I appreciate your concern. But I wouldn't even know where to begin... I’m just... I don’t know. I’m fine.”

Bakugo took a seat next to you, “You’re what? Smart? Strong? Badass? Because those are the first words that come to mind when I think of you...”

You could feel your eyes prick with unshed tears. “Well those are definitely not high on the list of adjectives I would consider for myself. More like small, scared, and incompetent.” You leaned your head back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. 

Bakugo crossed his arms over his chest in mild frustration. “Why? That couldn’t be further from the truth! Well except the small thing. You are kinda little. But last I checked that wasn’t a bad thing. If anything... its kinda.... cute.” 

You looked up expecting to see him blushing. But instead you saw him giving you a nervous smile. You wiped a tear from the corner of your eyes and returned his smile, “Well you know how my quirk can be really vague? I only get fragments of the truth and even then it’s up to me to decide what they mean... That’s a lot of pressure. I cant be wrong. Ever. And there was this one time when I was a child... I was living with my mom.. I interpreted something wrong and someone died because of it. That kind of thing sticks with you.”

Bakugo reached out and took your hand, “Is that why you decided not to be a hero?”

You nodded as you wiped away another tear, “Yeah. Now I work behind a desk, looking at files, and no body gets hurt.” 

Bakugo surprised you by pulling you to him and giving you a tight hug. “I’m going to say something and you better not ever repeat it.... But I was always nervous to spar against you. You always seemed to be able to read me like a book. You worked harder than the rest of us including me. You were always in the gym or the library. I’m not saying I don’t understand your decision. I just want you to know that I think you would have been great.” 

You leaned into his hug, “Thank you... for everything today. For helping through my panic attack, for making me dinner, for hanging out with me. I know you say you didnt have a choice. But you really are a great friend.” 

You both laid there on the couch. Bakugo holding onto you taking deep breaths, “You want to talk about earlier? You dont have to but it might help me out to know what might trigger you if we’re going to be stuck here.”

You buried your face into his chest. “I dont really want to talk about it. But I will say I dont do very well when I feel trapped, especially if I have to be alone.”

He gave you a quick squeeze, “You going to be okay alone tonight?”

You sat up and swatted as his chest, “Bakugo Katsuki! Did you just ask if you could spend the night with me?”

He rolled his eyed before he pushed you off the couch. “Sorry for being concerned. I promise it’ll never happen again. Next time I’ll just let you suffer.”

You giggled, “There’s the Bakugo I know.” You started your trek up the stairs to your room calling a goodnight over your shoulder to the man who was getting cozy on your couch. When you had woken up this morning there was no way you could have predicted your day would end up like this. You didn’t know what was harder to believe, the lockdown, or the fact that Bakugo was a secret softy.

You were already so exhausted that it was hard for you to fall asleep. The hard part was staying asleep. You woke up several times, tossing and turning. Your anxiety was truly kicking your ass tonight. At one point you felt compelled to go and check that Bakugo was still there. Not that it would make any difference. There’s no way your insomnia would magically be cured by knowing that Bakugo was still there. 

But logic wasnt on your side tonight.

You wrapped yourself in a towel and tip toes across the cold hardwood floor. You tried really hard to be silent, slowly making your way down the stairs. It was so dark, but you could just make out the silhouette of his rising and falling chest. At least he could sleep. 

After you had satisfied your irrational need to make sure he was still there you stood and turned to go back up the stairs. You were almost to the top when the board groaned under your foot. You froze. 

“Y/n?” Bakugo slowly sat up. “Y/n what are you doing up?” He picked up his phone and groaned. “Y/n it’s four in the morning!” You remained frozen to your spot on the stairs. “Y/n I can see you... Are you okay?”

You sighed, “I’m fine, I was just having a hard time sleeping again. Its nothing new. Go back to sleep.”

He stood up and wrapped the blanket around his half asleep form. He slowly made his way up the stairs. When he got to you he didnt stop but kept walking towards your room. He only paused when he got to the door. “Are you coming or not?” 

You silently nodded and joined him in your room. He laid down on  the floor next to your bed, which looked extremely uncomfortable. “You sure you’re going to be okay down there?”

He scoffed, “Of course I’ll be okay. I’m no cry baby.”

You rolled your eyed and threw a pillow at him, “At lest take a pillow!”

He muttered something under his breath but excepted the pillow none the less. 

You rolled over and pulled the covers up to your chin, “Thank you Bakugo.”

“You’re welcome smalls.” 

Smalls.... It was a nickname he had used during your time at UA. You used to hate it but after tonights confession, you found it endearing. 

[bothsandneithers]

Day 3327

I need to hurry up and write this, because I am forgetting how miserable I was. This is not part of an effort to ensure that I don't repeat this process over again (perhaps as some may be tempted to do after childbirth). Instead, this exercise is consistent with my tendency to ask my friends to describe the most uncomfortable and unfortunate parts of their vacations. Who wants to hear a story that could more succinctly be conveyed within the narrow pages of a travel brochure? To adapt this question to the present situation: Who wants to hear a series of events that could be more adequately summarized by a few pages in a student handbook?

I’m sure that someone could have a field day by drawing parallels between giving birth to a child and writing a dissertation. While this is not my story to tell, I have described my experience by drawing upon the image of a mother who harnesses supernatural strength to lift a car off of her child. The listener is then immediately confused, and I then have to clarify that, in this metaphor, I am both the mother and the child, and that the dangerous, debilitating, threat of the car, is my dissertation.

It may be more effective if I am more direct: I want everyone to know that I (as the small child) was quite miserable, and I (as the mother) accomplished something that I thought was more than I could handle.

I imagine that if a car did end up on a small child, then the entire situation would invoke so much stress on the mother that she may not ever be able to recount exactly what happened during those subsequent moments. In a different way, of course, and for reasons I am still trying to understand, I too remember very little from the summer and early fall leading up to my defense.

In the place of memories, I find myself relying on artifacts to represent months and events that I cannot recall. One such set of artifacts are the six or so issues of The Atlantic magazine that have been set aside into a small pile; each one received a small verbal promise that I would open the pages after my defense. Now, as I review the covers, I imagine that they may never be read. Below are some of the stress-inducing cover stories of these abandoned issues:

How to destroy a government: The president is winning his war on American institutions.

How QAnon is warping reality and discrediting science.

The election that could break American.

How did it come to this? Why the virus won.

In the early days of lockdown, when the virus was beginning to take hold of its victory, I read this explanation for why most of us are not thriving right now: In order to flourish, one must be able to play several different human roles over the course of the day -- something that is arguably impossible when we rarely leave our dwellings.1

After reading this explanation, I starting clinging to the argument that the overwhelming reason why completing my dissertation had become so difficult was because of an absence of variability in my human roles. Even though none of my other typically played human roles were terribly interesting (commuter, friend, peer, coffee shop customer, gym patron), each one offered me respite from the singular human role that I was stuck with: The neurotic graduate student.

The neurotic graduate student human role was difficult to be around, because she was always worried about so many things: that her arguments weren't good enough, that there were errors in her code, that she should be able to understand certain concepts that were still evading her, that more time-intensive analyses were still required, and that overturning new stones would reveal that previous analyses or assumptions were wrong or incomplete. More simply, the neurotic graduate student human role was always worried that she was not good enough.

This persona can be debilitating, and I found that the act of writing a dissertation included a lot of time not actually writing, but rather, a substantial amount of time was devoted to sitting in paralyzing anxiety, not able to do anything.

Even though many of the weeks leading up to my due date were a blur, I do recall choosing this time to watch One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Perhaps I did this because misery loves company. I decided to view this odd movie choice in a particular odd format, whereby I watched the movie in 15 minute intervals, across several nights, as if savoring a segmented Toblerone.

I watched the first few segments in stoic sympathy with the characters, but I eventually found myself amused when Jack Nicholson realizes that almost all the residents are “voluntary”:

You can go home any time you want? You're bullshittin' me. He's bullshittin' me right? Cheswick, you're voluntary? Scanlon? Billy, for chrissakes you must be committed, right? I mean, you're just a young kid, what're you doin' here? … I mean, you guys do nothing but complain about how you can't stand it in this place here and then you haven't got the guts just to walk out?

I remember smiling for a few moments at this scene; it was a gentle reminder that I invited this stress into my life, and that I could, indeed, bring it all to an end if I really wanted to. The smile was fleeting, and felt similar to when you are crying, and your friend says something that is true and funny to try and make you feel better, and you laugh and it feels really good but it also reminds you of how bad you feel, and how far away you are from feeling like yourself.

Yet again, someone else might have a field day drawing parallels between today’s academic environment and a fictional mental institution from the 1970s. I can't do this, in part because, aside from that one scene, I don’t actually remember what happens in the movie.

I did, however, voluntarily lock myself in a hotel room to write, because the suffocating familiarity of my home was preventing me from generating any new sentences. A sticker had been placed between the room's door and its frame, denoting that the room had been thoroughly cleaned. Surely this was only intended to be a symbolic seal to provide some peace of mind that it was safe and acceptable to be outside of one's house.

Once inside the room (that seemed no cleaner than in the absence of a pandemic), I did not immediately initalize my plan to write incessantly. Instead, I desultorily found myself on a support group on reddit that was dedicated to "PhD stress." Feeling compelled to write anything that was not my dissertation, I made a post targeted at those who were also writing their dissertations during a pandemic:

What you are doing right now is really, really hard.

Under "normal" conditions, you would be facing a sheer amount of uncertainty with your work (e.g., not knowing how analyses will turn out, not knowing what your advisor will think of your progress, etc). Under these new conditions, you are dealing with the uncertainty of the state of the world (pandemic), the government (upcoming election -- if in the US), as well as your dissertation! These are absurd conditions, whereby any one of these things would undoubtedly have negative impacts on your well being.

For many, you went from having an entire support group of peers, to sitting in your bedroom, day in and day out, trying to come up with novel ideas and effective ways to communicate these ideas.

As such, I urge you to take care of yourself. I urge you to give yourself permission to ignore unwanted criticism that, while in other circumstances you may work hard to address. Now, in this current context, just don't. Give yourself permission to stop perpetuating the idea that your work and your psyche should not be impacted by the fact that nothing is the same right now.

Defend your ideas, yes. And do good work (-- nah, do good enough work). But know that you are defending your work under surreal circumstances. Account for this when you wake up tomorrow, move four feet from your bed to your desk, and try to do the same thing over again.

Overnight, this became the most popular post in the subreddit’s history. Admittedly, there aren’t a lot of members in this particular community (it should also be noted that this post was recently surpassed in popularity by a post entitled, “PhD has destroyed my mental health”). Still, several users responded with something along the lines of, “Thank you. I needed to hear this.”

I needed to hear those words too -- that is one reason why I wrote them. But I was also desperate to play another human role; one who ambiguously could have already made it to the other side of the dissertation defense, and was able to offer encouragement to those close to the finish line.

Soon after my hotel stay, where I eventually did find motivation to write, I was set to defend my dissertation. This was met with the opportunity to transform into another human role: someone who was nearing the end of her graduate student career, and had no choice but believe that her work was good enough.

The dissertation defense took place via video conferencing. I sat at my desk in my make-shift office in my bedroom.

Five kind and smart professors asked me kind questions that made me feel smart.

And that was it.

After the defense, the stress began to fade away. I recalled the wise words that my therapist once said, “It’s remarkable how, after the defense, people just won’t need anything from you anymore.” I made edits to my dissertation and submitted my final version. I dismantled my “home office” and replaced it with a reading chair and a plant. A new issue of The Atlantic arrived in the mail, and now with time, cognitive space, and optimism that this issue would not be as depressing as the others, I started to read.

I opened to an article about a historian who predicts that the United States is about to experience a terrible decade. He blames this on the overproduction of elites. ("There are still only 100 Senate seats, but more people than ever have enough money or degrees to think they should be running the country.") These elites find alternative ways to disrupt the status quo to influence people; the elite overproduction "creates counter-elites, and counter-elites look for allies among the commoners.”2

Although the article was compelling, it did not feel like appropriate material, as one does not work tirelessly through graduate school to then be compared to Steve Bannon.

I continued to the next article which was about young adults (or old children) who post things to a social media platform I’ve never used (TikTok). Not only do they create short videos that are viewed by millions of viewers, but there is an entire industry of these individuals, and they curate their content together in the mansions that they cohabitate (I am yet to grasp the monetization of this endeavor).3

I settled into my chair. Finding myself enjoying my new human role as a casual observer to an unknown world, I thought: What an absolutely absurd life pursuit.

xx,

Amy, PhD

https://nplusonemag.com/issue-37/the-intellectual-situation/epilogue-for-a-way-of-life/ ↩︎

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2020/12/can-history-predict-future/616993/ ↩︎

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2020/12/charli-damelio-tiktok-teens/616929/ ↩︎

[sevenhorns]

Thank you, Taylor

I’ve been writing bits of this for the past few months, unsure as to whether I should actually post this. I don’t usually express myself online and, truth be told, I don’t really express myself massively in real life, either.

I do have a very active internal monologue, though, and on this subject, it’s been such a strong one that I’ve felt compelled to write it down - and now, to publish it. So here goes.

* * *

Over the past few years, I felt myself changing. Becoming more reserved. Feeling sad about things. Finding it hard to cope with seemingly insignificant moments. These were all aspects of my personality that were already there, but as I progressed towards the age of 30, were becoming considerably more amplified. I figured it was just a part of getting older - or at least, that’s what I told myself. There’s been so much talk about mental health and the efforts to destigmatise it (especially among men) that I figured I was associating with symptoms of depression because I was more aware of them, not because I actually had them. 

I was kidding myself.

To cut a long story short, I had a breakdown while working at a very public event and realised that something was very wrong with me. Even then, I tried to push it to the back of my mind, thinking that because I knew and accepted there was something wrong with me that it would somehow ‘cure’ me.

Obviously, I was once again kidding myself.

When work asked me to attend a similar event, I had another breakdown and realised I had to take action. I took time off from my job (who were incredibly supportive) while I took steps to combat my anxiety and depression. I went to the doctor, joined a gym, and found a therapist. For the first time in ages, I felt genuinely optimistic.

The feeling was short-lived. The pills my doctor gave me did nothing, the gym couldn’t fit me in for an induction for two weeks, and the therapist I saw was awful. He listened, but he didn’t hear what I was saying.

At the time all this was happening, Taylor Swift released Lover.

* * *

My journey to becoming a Taylor Swift fan was a slow burn. I wasn’t much into chart music in the late 2000s (I was far too busy being some sort of edgy emo/goth/rocker hybrid) and, being a Brit, Taylor’s music took a while to filter over here. But the moment I heard Love Story, I knew it was right up my street. Over the following years, I heard (by chance, rather than because I’d sought them out) YBWM, The Story of Us, and a couple of others. By the time Red came out, I had to accept that maybe I was just a massive Taylor Swift fan, so I bought all her albums - and loved pretty much all of the songs. 

Ever since, she’s been my absolute favourite artist, both because of her talents as an artist, and the fact that she just seems like a genuinely lovely human being. But I digress

* * *

When 1989 and Reputation released, I listened to them the moment I could. I’d pour myself a nice drink, stick on some headphones, and just listen. It was a new ritual, but one that I was nevertheless looking forward to doing with Lover. But I was in such a mental funk that the album sat on the shelf in its cellophane untouched. I just wasn’t in the mood to get excited about anything - even a new album from my favourite artist.

It was an odd time. I was signed off of work for mental health reasons, but none of the steps I was taking to improve things worked. While I was waiting for my gym induction and an appointment with a new therapist to open up, I was just spending days at home on my own with all this free time... and absolutely nothing to do with it. Wake up, have some breakfast, watch daytime TV, wait for my partner to get home from work, have dinner, go to bed. The breakdowns and anxiety attacks I’d had sucked, but the monotony of sitting around and waiting with nothing but my own broken thoughts for hours on end each day was horrendous. Wallowing in self pity had become a dreadful hobby.

One day, I was sitting at the computer, wasting time doing absolutely nothing productive, when I noticed that the early evening sun was really quite pretty. As I felt its warmth on my back and saw the long shadows being cast across the room, I had a brief moment of motivation: this seemed like as good a time as any to listen to Lover.

* * *

Good decision. I Forgot That You Existed was a solid start, and then came the absolute bop that is Cruel Summer. As that fantastic bridge hit, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of how much I was enjoying a song called Cruel Summer when my own summer was being pretty cool to me, too.

By the time I hit Paper Rings and Cornelia Street, I realised I’d had a genuine grin on my face and energy in my body. It was the first genuinely positive emotion I’d felt in weeks that was wasn’t the double-edged sword of relief or security. I was happy for the sake of being happy.

By this point, I’d stopped faffing on the computer and was just sitting, watching the golden sunset out of the window. As Daylight finished up, I wiped the moisture from my eyes and played through the whole thing again - not just in the hope of prolonging my happy feelings, but because Lover is quite simply an incredible piece of work.

* * *

I know that saying ‘music cured my depression’ isn’t exactly an original position to be in - and I’m glad of that. I’m glad that music can be such a powerful tool when it comes to mental health that has helped many people. And I wouldn’t say that Taylor Swift and Lover cured my depression - mental health is an ongoing battle that requires some degree of constant effort to maintain and I’m not sure if it can ever truly be ‘cured’ - but it was absolutely a key moment it helping me to turn things around. 

Whenever I listen to it, I get the same feelings of happiness and joy, and all the great feelings of the love I have for my partner, and of how fortunate I am to have such an unbelievably loving and supportive family.

Most of all though, it takes me back to that sunny afternoon. It reminds me of the moment when I made a tiny bit of effort to improve my mental health - and it actually worked. After weeks of trying to help myself and failing each time, this action actually succeeded. It gave me hope that as long as I did the right things and put in the effort, maybe I could get some way back to being me again. That although I felt weak in my mind, I still had enough strength to fight my way out of the hole I found myself in. I was still in there somewhere

No matter the song, the time, or the place, Lover has managed to form a deeply personal connection to me in a way that no other music has ever come close to doing.

* * *

Nine months on and I’m like a different person. No, wait, that’s not right. I’m a different version of the same person. 

The second therapist has turned out to be an absolute gem. I still have low days, but thanks to her, I know how to help turn things around. I know where my fears and anxieties come from, what’s likely to trigger them, and how to try and manage my depression.

I fell in love with the gym. As a guy who used the same weak excuse for three years at school to get out of doing PE, I never saw myself as someone who’d voluntarily exercise, let along enjoy it. I’ve lost 40 lbs since September and no longer feel ashamed of the person I see in the mirror.

I’m not going to say that it’s all thanks to Taylor, because that would be doing a great disservice to the friends, family, co-workers, and health workers who have all been actively brilliant. Also to myself - forgive me some self-indulgence, but I’m also really proud of myself and the part I’ve had to play in improving as a person, and the truths I’ve had to admit (which, as a notoriously stubborn guy, wasn’t always easy!).

But in creating an album so beautifully crafted that it reminded me what happy emotions were, Taylor has been a significant part of my journey. I know the chances of her (or anyone else on the zero-follower blog I created as an output for these thoughts) seeing this are astronomically tiny. 

But on the off-chance that she somehow stumbles across this, I’d just like to say a wholehearted thank you. 

Thank you so much. 

Not only for inadvertently helping me, but for consistently creating such wonderful, expressive, and intelligent music; for speaking out and standing for important social issues; and for being a role model that so many people of all ages and cultures can look up to.

As a 30-something white bloke from the UK, I feel slightly awkward putting something like this out into the open... but then again, why should I? It’s OK to not be OK. It’s OK to be a man with vulnerabilities and emotions. It’s OK to like whatever you like - if it makes people think differently of you then that’s their problem, not yours. Embrace and share your passions and life becomes all the richer for it.

I really hope I’m able to make one of Taylor’s concerts one day. If you’re at one too, and you see an awkward-looking bloke quietly standing there, struggling to hold back happy tears during Afterglow, that might just be me. Feel free to say hi.

[aspire-to-the-light]

Executive momentum 1: Feedback loops and reset points

(Previous)

I tend to fail with abandon. I wake up in the morning feeling unfocused, so I read the news for hours before remembering that I forgot to take my meds. The news links to other news and before I know it I’m reading about politics/war/disasters and feeling distressed about it. When I try to go back and focus on my essay, I’m distracted by curiosity and wanting to google some details of the stuff I read on the news. I feel guilty, and that makes it yet harder to focus, which makes me feel more and more frustrated.

Eventually I realise that in the war between “I want to do distracting time-wasting shit” and “I really ought to do work”, self care got completely forgotten, so I take a shower and eat something and feel somewhat more grounded. This makes my system one certain that the problem is insufficient self-care, and therefore I should play video games for hours to make myself feel better. Even if I do succeed at stopping playing video games after the time I decided to play them for, the video games are now way more salient to my brain, so I’m more tempted to go back to playing them.

After a while I start panicking about how I’m throwing the entire day away, and decide that I really ought to do something, so I stare at my to-do list having decision paralysis about which aversive task to do first. I realise I’m really behind and I haven’t done the tasks I was supposed to do yesterday, so I spend a few hours rescheduling everything so I’ll get things done by their deadlines. While rescheduling, I miss the social event that I was supposed to be going to, so I don’t get the extravert points I need.

People ask if they can help. I ignore them because admitting to being this unproductive would be shameful.

It gets really late, but I’m not tired enough to sleep because I’ve done nothing but lie in bed all day, and besides I feel like I really ought to get at least one task done before I sleep so that I can say I didn’t throw the entire day away. I stay up til 3am reading articles about how to defeat akrasia, too tired to get productive work done, but not tired enough to force me to sleep, and too feeling-like-I-should-be-working to voluntarily go to sleep.

I sleep in the next day and miss a morning appointment...

> “OK, so just don’t fail with abandon. Tell your system one that even if you were supposed to go to sleep at 12:00, and it’s 12:05, that doesn’t mean you need to stay up til 3am. It means you get to sleep at 12:05. Reframe it so that everything’s a scalar of doing more/less well, rather than a binary of everything being good or everything being bad.”

This works a bit, but not completely. This solution fixes the aspect of it which is just in my models - the bit where I’ve failed once, so I believe I’ll fail again, so I’m not motivated to try to succeed. But the problem is not just in the map, it’s also in the territory. Failing once does make it more likely that I’ll fail again.

Spending time on a distracting thing makes it more salient, so I’m more tempted to spend time on it again. If my lack of focus means I forget to take my meds, or my disorganization means I miss an appointment, or my lack of preparation means I don’t make it to an event, that has real consequences. If I don’t get a task done when I was supposed to get it done, I have to reschedule the task for the next day, and sometimes I then have to stare at my schedule for a bit figuring out when I’m going to fit all the tasks in and whether I should cancel some commitments.

If I need to leave at 12:00 to get to an event on time, and it’s 12:05, sometimes that means I should give up on going to the event because being late is worse than skipping (eg. if I’m late to a sports class, I’ll miss the warm-up, and be more likely to be injured).

If your brain works like mine, it’s really important to figure out how resets work.

A reset breaks you out of the feedback loop you’re in. So, you’re in a feedback loop where you don’t do any work, so you feel unproductive and guilty and unfocused and demotivated, so you don’t do any work. Then you go to sleep and wake up again. Much of the time, this resets the feedback loop. Your emotions from yesterday are less salient, you alieve that it’s a new day and a fresh chance, and you start the day with some easy tasks (showering, dressing, breakfast) which lead into some less-easy tasks (checking email, prioritising your to-do list) which lead into harder tasks (writing an essay) and behold, a positive feedback loop!

Very specific resets are easy to figure out. You’re in a negative loop where you don’t keep up with emails, so they build up in your inbox, so there’s an overwhelming amount of emails, so you get avoidant about the emails. So you do a quick sweep through the inbox to check for anything really vital, and then hit “delete all” and start afresh.

More general resets can be harder. You’re in a negative loop where you're having a bad day so you keep having a bad day, and it affects everything - you haven’t kept up with emails, you’ve not done work, you’ve missed appointments, you’ve forgotten your self care, you’ve let distracting-things become salient and available to you - and it’s much harder to figure out how to stop having a bad day.

There are smaller scale resets; sometimes you’re having a bad few hours, so you go to the gym and work off your emotions, and come back feeling refreshed and like you’ve done a worthwhile thing, and get on with work. Showers, gym, naps, coffee breaks, all kinds of thing work on this scale. At small enough scales sometimes it’s just a matter of snapping your fingers in front of your face, saying “snap out of it” in a firm voice, and clearing your mind for a bit.

But sometimes there are much larger scale feedback loops where you’re not having a bad day, you’re having a bad year, and it’s starting to look less like “you got distracted by video games so missed a deadline and now you have even less time because your teachers are insisting on scheduling remedial sessions”, and more like “you didn’t do anything all month so you slipped into depression and didn’t do anything next month so you lost your job so you couldn’t pay for therapy so you had a freakout on all your friends and now you have no social life".

(For clarity, that’s not a feedback loop happening to me. I’m being deliberately exaggerated/extreme to gesture at the worst end of things.)

I don’t know how to make good resets at the larger-scale end of things. In fact, I keep watching people (self very much included) repeatedly fail hard at larger-scale resets, even resets they seem sure will work. “Things will get better after X!” and then things don’t get better but “Things will get better after Y!” but then things don’t get better but “Things will get better after Z!” but then things don’t get better.

Sometimes this is because the reset is mis-targeted. Taking some time off to meditate will fix your “feel guilty so don’t work so feel guilty” problem, but will not fix your “behind on fixing-problems work, so no time for preventing-problems work, so even more fixing-problems work is needed” problem. Planning to catch up on your uni work over the summer break might fix your “I never go to lectures, so it takes ages to find information on my own and write essays, so I don’t have time to go to lectures” problem but will not fix your “I’m not motivated by school, so I underperform, so I feel bad about school” problem. Moving to the Bay might fix your “I don’t feel like I fit in with people here, so I don’t socialise ever, so I don’t know how to fit in” problem but will not fix your “I have social anxiety, so I never go to social things unless I’m specifically invited and encouraged to attend, so nobody knows me well enough to specifically invite me to things” problem.

Sometimes there’s a durable underlying problem that will just start the feedback loop going again after your reset, unless you head it off. Maybe you quit Facebook to kill the “I post on Facebook a lot, so I get notifications about responses a lot, so then I’m always on Facebook and end up posting a lot” loop. But you don’t fix the underlying problem with your executive function and your unmet social needs, so you just end up addicted to Tumblr instead.

Sometimes people just seem to have more of a tendency for negative feedback than positive feedback. When they fail at things they fail hard, but when they succeed they can’t build on it, so negative feedback loops last and become stronger whereas positive feedback loops falter quickly. (Many different small things probably contribute. Feeling more guilty about failures than happy about successes. Or letting tasks overrun and delaying new tasks when you’re slow, but not using the extra-time-created to start new tasks earlier when you finish faster. Or having resets like distractions kill your positive loops, but not interrupt your negative loops.)

The most important thing I’ve found is to have a clear idea of what sustains your negative feedback loops. It’ll be lots of things, but there’s usually a major one - for me I think it’s that the more I procrastinate the more I want to procrastinate. (I game for a while, so I end up caring about my ranking in the game, so I want to game more. I spend time on tumblr, so the Discourse becomes salient, and my brain comes up with more Discoursey thoughts it wants to talk about. I get into stupid arguments, so I’m emotional about stupid arguments and want to spend all my time shouting at people. I do some conlanging, so conlanging is super available and I end up thinking about it rather than thinking about my work.)

The other important thing I’ve found is to have regular, automatic resets that you really alieve will work. So, you don’t fall deep into a negative feedback loop, realise everything’s going wrong, and struggle to figure out a good reset from within your not-particularly-great-mind-state; resets happen regularly anyway. Sleep is like this; every morning gets you a new day, which most people alieve at least slightly is a little bit of a fresh start. Though sleep has the drawback that it breaks positive loops just as easily as it breaks negative ones. I find regular exercise sessions are great, because they feel productive enough and leave me alive-feeling enough that they don’t break positive loops, but they absolutely smash negative loops.

Bigger resets are somewhat harder to find. New Year works like this for me, and I have a bunch of rituals that help make sure it’s a really good reset (resolutions I alieve I’ll keep! a blank new calendar! letter to myself in a year!), and whether my New Year is good and my rituals go well actually ends up being a fairly good predictor of how much stuff I’ll get done in January and February. Getting more things that work like New Year works seems like a fairly important project that I don’t quite know how to start on.

(Next)

[themjinterviews-blog]

43. ...'cause it was Bobbi with an 'i'...he isn't just one of the guys; in his pink party dress, you would never guess, he benches 335!

Have you ever wished you could start life over?: Because being an infant sounds like a jolly good time? No thanks.

…or at least go back in time?: Yeahhhh – about that…I’m not fucking with different timelines and all the intricate time-travel etiquette.

When did you last eat pizza?: Tonight actually.

Do you prefer to hear the painful truth or a beautiful lie?: Not sure it makes a difference. In the end, it only matters how I see or perceive it to be. No definite way to known for certain whether people are being honest or not. You either chose to believe they are, or not.

How many exes do you have?: “Official” exes? 4, I think?

Have you ever known a pathological or habitual liar?: Absolutely.

Do you enjoy writing?: Love it.

If so, do you prefer writing lyrics, poetry, stories or something else?: Essays, free verse poetry, quotes, quirky self-help journals, lists, song parodies, etc…

Are you angry right now?: Mildly irritated. I keep hitting typos and I am just angry to have to keep correcting stupid shit.

Have you ever punched a wall?: Don’t think so.

Have you ever lived in a motel/hotel?: Yeah for like half a year.

Do you think you would enjoy running your own business?: Hell fucking no. I have very poor follow through and virtually zero concept of or desire to properly manage finances.

What’s the average rent for a 1 bedroom apartment in your area?: I’m gonna guess like 650-800$

Do you think rentals are too expensive where you live?: We are renting from friends. Doesn’t count.

Have you ever changed a car’s alternator?: Absolutely no idea what the fuck an alternator is.

Do you have Netflix?: The couple we live with does, but personally, no I don’t.

What about Hulu Plus?: Brandon does.

Do you have an Xbox Live gold membership?: Used to.

Would you rather master Guitar Hero or a real guitar?: I don’t necessarily want to *master* either. Neither are really a skill I could myself pursuing to any proficient degree.

Have you ever used an electric drill?: Back when I helped with drama club sets in high school.

Do you know anyone who’s had brain surgery?: Not that I’m aware of.

Do you like playing FPS (First Person Shooter) video games?: I got somewhat into CoD BlackOps.

Have you ever heard of, the band, Porcupine Tree?: Errr, no.

Would you rather wear boots or sandals?: Boots!

Have you ever rescued a lost dog?: B. sorta found our dog now that way. He escaped a neighborhood yard at a friends place and the lady was trying to get rid of him because her son was throwing out some hard-core Of Mice and Men vibes.

Have you ever adopted a dog from a shelter?: Yeah – my Deandra. R.I.P.

Have you ever cleaned a cat litter box?: Yeah.

Have you ever used a machete?: I own one…never had an occasion in which I needed to use it though.

What’s the last gift you gave to someone?: A weird drink coozie thing.

What’s the last gift you received?: A gift card to Carrabba’s.

When was the last time you rode a bicycle?: Last summer when I lived at the motel I think?

Do 2 wrongs ever make a right?: Right and wrong are up for interpretation.

Are you a vengeful person at all?: No. Vengeance to me is going on with life unscathed by and unfixed upon the malicious actions of other people. Seeking vengeance literally just gives them the satisfaction of knowing they got under your skin. Which was btw, exactly what they were hoping to do.

Do you have a good memory or do you forget things often?: Hit or miss. Going to lean more towards forget things, though. I tend to live in my own little world and if I don’t use the information frequently, it quickly becomes irrelevant and eventually forgotten.

Do you know anyone who suffers from chronic fatigue?: Probably.

Have you ever felt like you “lost yourself”?: I think for the first 29-30 years of my life, I didn’t even have a self to lose.

Do you judge people based on their weight?: No, what would that accomplish?

Do you know anyone who’s hardworking but still struggles to make ends meet?: I feel like I qualify; I work my ass off but have 0 priorities or sense of financial self-discipline.

What do you think is more harmful? Cigarettes or Marijuana?: Ummm, cigarettes are widely-accepted and scientifically determined to be absolutely more harmful than weed. Regardless, I smoke both.

Is your air conditioner on?: Either that or the fan. Not sure what the friends who own the house have it set on.

Is your heater on?: The fucks wrong with you. It’s May in Southern Arizona.

Do you enjoy going on walks?: Explicitly the manageably short, non-strenuous variety.

Do you like having picnics?: They're okay. Eating inside is fine, too.

Have you ever had a panic/anxiety attack?: Yessum.

Have you ever dated a co-worker?: “Dated” isn’t exactly the word I’d go with. But I’ve done the work-mance scene. Almost always culminates to awkwardness.

Do you still buy CDs or do you just download music?:Still buy CDs. The car we just bought was old enough to still have a CD player in it.

Do you like iPod/song shuffle surveys?: Not really.

Do you suffer from social anxiety?: Not really anymore. I mean, once I realized it was all in my head, it sort of depleted the level of social anxiety noticeably.

Are you more introverted or extroverted : Introverted. But I know how to appear extroverted in situations like talking to my tables at work.

Do you enjoy organizing things?: There is no consistency when it comes to what kinda shit I like to organize, nor how frequently I do it.

Have you ever watched “Mystery Science Theater 3000”?: I have not

Do you know anyone who plays Tuba?: Random. Nope.

If you had to get a tattoo of someone’s name, who’s name would you choose?: Like maybe a pet or a family member. Or my own name.

Have you ever been to Catalina Island?: No idea where that even is.

Would you rather swim with dolphins or sharks?: Yo, what sick fucker voluntarily chooses the sharks? Is that even a serious inquiry?

Do you know how to change a vacuum belt?: You buy a new vacuum or you simply never vacuum again.

Have you ever given a business a bad online review?: “If you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all.”

Do you know anyone who used to be a stripper (that you know of)?: Yeah, one of the bartenders I knew from the dive bar.

Do you know anyone who’s a hoarder?: I know people with tendencies, but not full-blown hoarder-ness.

Do you know who Maynard James Keenan is?: Ummmm, no…sorry.

Do you take responsibility for your actions or tend to make excuses?: I’ve gotten better at understanding what taking responsibility for myself actually means.

Have you ever used the shower at a gym?: . Yeah.

Have you ever felt trapped in a relationship: Trapped is an understatement.

Do you believe that “love is blind”?: I believe love is almost always something else in disguise…and that it all generally relates back to the image we want to create and embody. I swear I’m not being cynical, I'm just saying “Love” will always be too subjective and misinterpreted to come to any finite opinion about it.

What’s the furthest distance you’ve ridden a bicycle?. Like 7 miles? Could be more or less. I’m a terrible judge of time and distance.

Do you rate every survey you fill out, here on bzoink?: Don’t know what Bzoink is.

Do you know anyone who gets way too angry when playing video games?: Not currently.

Do YOU get too angry when playing video games?: It’s been awhile, but I usually don’t get raging mad – I was likely never expecting to do all that well in the first place.

Do you like to sing karaoke?: I’d rather sing along to the radio/iTunes. I need to hear the artist singing in order to match pitch and sound half decent.

Do you know what micro-expressions are?:. Not remotely.

If so, do you have a talent for seeing/reading them?: Assumingly not.

Have you ever had insomnia?: Medically, no. I don’t think it counts if you just do a lot of uppers and electively decide not to sleep.

What’s the longest amount of time you’ve been awake?: Like, 6 days. It gets trippy. I am in no way suggesting anyone try it.

Have you ever been in denial?: Lol it’d be obvious denial to deny being in denial.

Have you ever been in The Nile?: Sure. King Tut and I go Lazy-River-Drunk-Tubing together.

Have you recently used a nail file?: I honestly don’t think I’ve ever used one.

Do you know anyone named Kyle?: Yeah. This kid I went to HS with. We talked for a bit like a year ago and got Margaritas once.

Is it annoying that I started rhyming my questions?: Nope. You do you, bro!

[dearweightlossdiary-blog1]

Why I Want (Need) to Lose Weight

Summer is coming up, and that's when I really can pick up my pace and work hard towards my goal. I mentioned it in a previous daily post, but it's always good to keep reflecting back on what my goals really are.

1) Reach previous weight of 55kg or 50kg I've slightly altered this goal. I still want to be around 50~55kg, but I'm also planning to factor in body fat. My ultimate long, long term goal is something around 10~12% body fat - I'd really like abs, or at least the 'elevens' on my stomach. 

2) Reach healthy BMI I'm on track for this goal. I remember weighing myself at my heaviest and calculating my BMI, and was super shocked to find that I was almost considered obese. I never thought I would see myself getting to that extreme point of self destruction, and in some ways I'm glad that I managed to find the motivation to push myself away from that point. 

3) Feel less social anxiety/ Feel more confident I don't know if I'm on track for this goal or not. Sometimes, I find myself being able to walk around town without a care for what people think or say. Other times, every look in my direction makes me want to cover up every inch of my body and curl up and disappear. Fluctuations happen, but I want to be able to feel confident majority of the time. I'll work harder towards this goal.

My biggest fear for this weight loss journey is that I won't be better off in the end. I won't feel happier or more confident. I've read posts about how people felt like losing weight would make their lives better and happier, but that isn't the case. I know that losing weight isn't the only thing I need to do in order to make my future better. I need to maintain good grades, establish and maintain social circles, and all that extra stuff. But I want to start off with weight loss. How can I learn to better myself if I can't even find the willpower to love myself first?

Right now, I don't feel good about myself. I suck my stomach in every time that thought crosses my mind, which is plenty in one day. I adjust my clothes every time I sit down in an attempt to cover my muffin top, and I strictly avoid wearing tight/perfect fitting clothes in public in fear that it'll outline and emphasize all my fat curves. I don't want to have to be so caught up with weight all the time. I want to be able to sit on the bus, listen to my music, and keep my mind off how my body looks sitting down. I want to be able to sit in class and focus on learning, instead of fearing what others around may think about me.

So, here is it. This is why I want, or need, to lose weight.

1) To distract myself

Right now, I'm struggling with a lot of things. I worry that I might not get into law school. I worry that I still won't make any friends. I worry that I won't get a job. I worry I'll get diabetes. I'm worrying so god damn much to the point where I'm worrying about worrying so much. I want to lose weight to distract myself - to keep my mind occupied with gyming and eating well instead of all the other stuff happening in life right now

2) To love myself

I don't like myself right now. I don't like the way I look or feel, and I don't like what I've voluntarily done to my body and self esteem. I want to learn to love myself and love life again. I think losing weight, or at least the journey itself, will help me achieve this. I've always placed a lot of importance on appearance. I hate appearing awkward or unprepared or just in general imperfect. Hypocritical of me, though. I adore the idea of perfection, yet I'm the complete antithesis of that word. I feel disgusting when I'm in public when my nails aren't done, when my hair isn't silky smooth, when my clothes aren't good looking and all that jazz. Funnily enough, that feeling doesn't transition to my weight. I should feel disgusted with myself in terms of how far I've let myself fall, but I keep lying to myself and focusing on the non-important crap like my nails and clothes. No matter how many accessories I throw on myself, they can't cover up my weight or fat. I feel like if I manage to reach my ideal image of myself - if I can ever achieve that image, or even know that image, that is - I'll be a lot happier. But what if I'm not? I'm scared - but the benefits of losing weight outweigh that by far.

3) To love others

An extension of the previous point, I think I'll learn to love others once I learn to start loving myself. Right now, I can't even think of establishing meaningful relationships with others. I have too much self-doubt. Every time someone talks to me, my first reaction is "what do they think of me?" Then that's followed by "why are they even talking to me?", "why do they want to talk to me?" "oh god they must be doing this because they have to" "they're doing this because it's funny to ridicule me." Even if someone did try to establish a meaningful relationship with me - regardless of it being platonic or romantic - my self doubt would push them away straight away. I don't have the capacity to love anyone right now. I simply can't bring myself to believe them beyond this wall of self doubt I've built around myself. I think once I stop doubting their intentions, at least with reference to my weight and size and looks, I'll be able to open up a little bit more.

4) To live a better life

Losing weight, particularly when starting at where I started, is good. Doing it the good way - eating healthier, exercising more - is even better. Starting this weight loss journey has made my life a lot more exciting, but also hard. It's fun going to the gym, but it's hard when your muscles are hurting and you feel like you're not making any progress. It's fun realising what you can eat a lot of, but it's hard realising that pretty much everything you enjoyed eating before (looking at you, chocolate cake) is bad for you. I don't want to end up like my dad - overweight with diabetes, suffering a heart attack at a fairly young age. I want to be healthy.

5) To have fun

A little less serious than the previous points, but still worth mentioning nonetheless. I want to have fun. I love the idea of cosplaying - I did it one year, the year where I was at my skinniest. It was really fun, portraying a character that you love and taking photos with other people at expos. I want to do that again - I want to have the confidence to do that again. I love the recognition and I love the attention. I want to join a club at university and have fun again. I enjoyed the few weeks of the Japanese chatting club I went to when I was still riding off the "university = new stage in life = everything is great because university is where you truly make friends" high (obviously, this didn't last long). I like people. I know it doesn't seem that way, and sometimes I question myself too. But I really companionship. I hate being alone. I want to change that.

I have plenty of other wishes and desires and wants, but the realisation that this post has become sappy and dramatic and emotional has just hit me and I can't bring myself to write anymore. I hate how I'm the most motivated at night time, since all that motivation evaporates when I sleep and I wake up wanting to do nothing more than embrace my bed for another three hours.

On a closing note, I both like and dislike how much other people's opinions matter to me. I like the fact that it makes me strive to become better, but I hate how it's that which motivates me and not something else. I still think of posting a before and after picture on social media, with another typed up essay revealing my emotions and journey attached, and even attaching the link to this blog along with it. I crave recognition from my peers - even those I'm only friends on social media with because neither of us could be bothered to unfriend one another. I don't even talk to these people. But I want people to think - to know - that I have my crap together. I want people to know what I've been through and that I've managed to overcome it. I want to be able to inspire. But can I do it? For such a shallow reason? We'll see.

[redlemonz]

Day #21

21. My favourite number, my lucky number and also my day of birth (not today, but in a different month where the numbers are mirrored). Not as lucky as I ended up imagining though, considering it was also the 21st of last month when she ended things. Certainly hating the number now - enough so that I don't want another birthday celebrated. Especially not this year anyway, even if I am gonna reach the quarter century milestone - I just don't want it to be an occasion without her next to me. I'm allowed to be that little whiny bitch, so leave me be. Nevertheless, three weeks have passed, and this would usually be the maximum point, based on history, at which we would start rekindling our lives together after a break - but not this time. This is permanently set in stone it seems, and there's nothing that can be done to chip away at this new wall between us. All I have to do is continue to build and work upon my own wall known as acceptance too, even if my love for her will remain solidified and in tact. Anyhow, I had the best possible ending to my weekend last evening, even though I decided against attending the pot luck dinner party that the Dancing Dentist hosted. I apologised and felt bad, but I was honest with her about my social inability at this stage - and gladly too, as she was sweetly understanding when informing me that there would be over twenty or so people present. I received a snap from her, of her surprisingly watching one of the X-men movies - I was almost in disbelief, but joyous that she was voluntarily viewing a comic book based film. The cutest part is that we discussed it live while watching the last thirsty or forty minutes together. More specifically that she kept asking questions such as "why is he turning blue?" or "why did she join the bad people?" which constantly made me grin. It may sound somewhat sad, but to me it almost felt as though she was there with me while we watched, with my arm around her on the couch, or my fingers intertwined in hers. I even received a friendly heart at the conclusion of our chat, which I've learned not to think much into - except to take the goodness and little moments that make me smile as they come. Day 21 - Keep fighting, don't ever surrender Another Monday at work beginning with my heart throbbing noticeably against my chest yet again. Not the kind of sick day Monday I prefer at all. Maybe I need to start having a coffee on weekends too, for the sake of consistency, and in order for my body to adjust better. Even if in reality it's my mind causing the initial trouble to begin with. I can't stop thinking about that beautiful creature and our recent memories together. Reliving the inner sinking feeling this time around, as the disbelief of everything falling apart so quickly and unexpectedly strikes me again. I just hate that it happened so much that I can't stop whining like a fricken kid about the reality of my faults that led to it all. Everything kinda felt like the transition of the weather throughout the day yesterday, with the end result being quite similar - me, lying in and accepting the storm of events as it came. Because there's nothing I could do to alter that inevitable fate. I have to say though, that absence has in fact made my heart grow fonder. The distance has created a better and more verified sense of learning and understanding, and the space has enabled me to gain some freedom in mind and of thought in order to reflect upon my incapabilities and faults. This is also known as the rehabilitation part mentioned, of the prison I've been held in legitimately. I can't wait to see her whenever the next time may be, even if it has to be with the new barriers and rules in between us. Just to see her beautiful smile again will be rewarding and heartwarming. Back in the real world, my anxiety was a bit more unmanageable for whatever reason, than an average day. I've taken some time out after the lunch break and been laying down on the bed in the sick room, for which I have a key as a first aider thankfully (one of the significant reasons to become a first aider at this work place - napping sessions). I've just focused on breathing at a normal pace and calming down my heartbeat accordingly. Part of me wants to cry out some tears because it believes that will resolve the matter quicker, or more efficiently at least, but my tear ducts seem to be empty at this point. Guess it's just something to get over as usual in natural course. Until it restarts next time that is. At least I've learned to control it much better and get on top of it far more than I use to be able to (yup, everything described thus far in relation to anxiety is a big improvement from all of my prior years). She's given me this strength to contain myself better and fight back. If she were physically here, the sweet girl would probably drive over, take me for a walk to the beach or something to get my mind cleared and freed - and it'd usually help a great deal.. especially so because I'd have the loveliest company. Even simply hearing her voice or receiving a message from her, as previous stories would indicate, play a large contributing factor towards calming my troubled mind and soul - because she reminds me of what it feels like to be loved. Back home to an empty house as the family is away doing their thing. By that I mean they'll both be at medical appointments because that's very common at this day and age for them.. though it has been for the last decade too. I guess I'm use to the idea as a result, but it's always worrying and fearful to wonder how each one may go, as theres always been an ongoing, unhealthy history of medical complications and issues within the family. Diabetes, heart failure, high blood pressure and so on. Don't get me wrong, Ill always be there with them whenever I can or am needed, which is probably more accurate. That's because I'm likely a crap son too who should really make more effort not just when it's required, but always for them. Like they did raising me and giving me the good life I don't deserve. They've provided me with countless freedom and individuality to live my own the way I choose (with the assistance of my own teenage rebellions), which is certainly a big deal in this culture and religion, especially when your parents can be largely on the old-fashioned, traditional side of life. It's the way in which they've displayed love and support to me, which is the biggest treasure I could've asked for. I'm just always afraid of not being able to give back enough, because I never do feel I'm good enough when it comes down it. It's one of the biggest reasons I'm afraid to move on from home too, thinking that I haven't warranted my leave without repayment for everything they've done for me over my lifetime. It's aeon nerve wracking thinking about the fact that something could suddenly happen any day and I'll be required at any point. Even though I know my sister and brother in law are around, living not all that far away, but also that they do have their own family to constantly give their attention and care for also. Its also tough knowing that you're relied on in general, even when you don't actually do much, and in all likelihood take your own parents for granted more than anyone else - because they're the closest to you. Because I'm a selfish idiot who is never happy and kicks up a fuss for all the good things in his life. Don't mistake me however regarding the douchebag statement of them being reliant on me at any given time - because of course they can, and they never put any unnecessary pressure on me or make me feel like I'm stuck at all. I'm just stating that I'm generally afraid of potential failure when the time comes to actually do something. I'm slowly trying to actually be a better son to them. I just want to be good enough for the people I love. But I keep failing, as constantly depicted. The only reason they don't leave me too is because they're obliged to stay, especially because they've invested so much into me. Simply to be a let down to them, and all the other loved ones around me. I've already lost her, and she was basically my family too. As I indulge in some anxiety filled iron pumping at the gym (yes I finally managed to force myself after what's been 9 days of burgers, pizzas and fried chicken), my brain turns back to its usual channel, as it recognises the familiarity of my current location. All the hurtful, hateful, and overall negative memories come back to strike at my insecurities from every direction of my mind, reminding me once again of what a worthless piece of shit I am. The jealousies, the overreactions, the blaming, the guilt tripping and the lack of trust, to say the least - all crimes committed against her because I was constantly too self obsessed with proving to myself that I am good enough, but ironically needing her to ascertain that by doing specific things and alter her principles and way of life to prove it to me. I hate myself for it again and again as I recap my regrets. However this time's a little bit different and scarier, so to speak. As my arms rest in an upward curling position against a weight machine, I spot the various physical reminders on my left forearm, of the pain and suffering my past has caused me. Here I thought they wouldn't be as perceptible or even mildly noticeable anymore years later, but apparently past me wanted to ensure these scars would be visible for a long time, and made sure to put in the effort to establish that. Now I said this was a bit scarier, right? But it's really not for me - I'm trying to view it from a natural outsider perspective to keep myself in check right this moment. Because standard me, who's unusually (and thankfully) choosing to ultimately listen to outsider me, is reaching out for help and grabbing onto outsider, real me, saving me from following the darker path this time around. That's because standard me looks down at his scars and ponders whether he should add some more to the mix, or even retouch the current ones. The horrific part of this being that outsider me realises and understands that standard me truly believes there's no problem with it, and is content and accepting with the idea and possibility of acting upon those thoughts. Let me give you a very general and straightforward idea as to why people are 'stupid' enough to cause self-harm. Especially the idiots like me. Warning though, it might be slightly or majorly distressing, depending on who you are. Whether it be as a result of insecurities, an imbalanced level of serotonin in your head, or likely even both - much like what you may have witnessed with me on occasion (or a lot), is the conclusive guilt, worthlessness, loneliness, envy, despair and so on and so forth that occur, all fundamentally contributing to eventual self hatred. Once you get to that point, and if nothing much has changed in your eyes to make you feel otherwise, well it sucks - because the hatred continues to grow deeper and darker, and amplifies to the point where your mind has no remaining room to actually take a breath. The constant battle you're trying to fight with yourself is just a bloody mess, an absolute war zone, but your weakness ultimately overpowers you, and you forfeit control involuntarily - as much as it may seem otherwise to the douchebag who tells you to just be happy, or to get over it. So sometimes, the only way to regain a little bit of oxygen and to free yourself from the chokehold that's tightly grasped around the neck of your brain, is to transition your bloody mess to reality. To feel the physicality of your mental punishment - because you need to experience the pain in a different, more realistic setting first hand. It keeps you in touch with your humanity in a strangely poetic way. Majorly for me, as per my past, I always found it to be a good distraction and substitute from the emotional and mental pain that I couldn't withstand any longer. The intense pressure boils your mind alive, and desperation for relief is found in this new method of self-harm. Because technically you've been punishing yourself this whole fucking time anyway - who's to say that just because it's not physically visible doesn't mean you aren't experiencing it? This is your mind, and your body. Others are simply afraid of what they don't understand in this regard. This is why suicide is sadly often enough referred to as the 'coward's way out' too - because once you're mentally out of air from this battle you've constantly been fighting against yourself, the suffocation feels much like the conventional portrayal. Eventually when you've had enough pain and suffering, and come to terms with your unchanging circumstances, the white flag goes up, and you surrender into the darkness. It's not cowardly, it's just incredibly tragic and sad that a beautiful soul had to reach that point in order to rid themselves of all their troubles. So I'm fighting each day - we all are. Trying to locate meaning and self worth in ourselves, and simply just wanting to feel loved, recognised and valued, in my case. I'm getting there - learning and evolving every day, even if it's slow progress at times. But how do I know I'm on the right track to winning this battle? Because I'll keep fighting, and I won't ever surrender. I'm not actually going to add to my collection of markings, as It's now just an afterthought at this point, and I'm striding past it as best as I can. Even though I did have a drawback recently, as I had my brief momentary lapse in which the physical element of self punishment against my face, mentioned days ago, was present - I've grown and learned from that experience and I'm stronger now. She helped me resolve that battle quickly, by somehow providing me with the clarity in which I actually understood that I amplified something out of nothing, and provided me with love. So I embrace these scars that I view on my left forearm, as they are now simply nothing more than reminders that my past is real, and that I've battled hell already to make it where I am today.