#im putting everyone through all this pressure and stress for goddamn nothing im going to amount to nothing

[thisartofeveryday]

For those of you who thought I should make my life story into a book…here is the outline. For the sake of clarity as you are reading, let me explain who the characters are. The kids from my Dads first marriage: Jim1, Patty, Seana. The kids from my Mom’s (Mary Ellen) first marriage: Mary Jane and Jim2. My brother that I am a full sibling to is Charles (chuck).

I think you might know that 95% of our lives are lived from the unconscious mind. From birth to age 7 a childs mind is in Theta wave (hypnosis) and everything that they learn in those years (mainly through observation and repetition) is the program that their minds run for their entire lives. Knowing this – I look back on the first 7 years of my life.

I think we moved 7 times in those 7 years. I am certain it was because of Dads extreme anger management problems and the fact that he is a sociopath, a pedophile and a rapist. Zero stability or chance to make lasting friendships. My dad was sexually abusing me and unpredictably violent. I was terrified of him. I was being terrorized/bullied by my brother, Chuck, who was every bit the sociopath that my dad is. My mom was overwhelmed by the number of children she was responsible for - none of which she actually wanted- and add to that, her husband was sexualizing all of the kids, so really being the last of her kids I was the last of her problems. Being the youngest (and as traumatized as I was), I was quiet and easy to forget about or push to the side. The older kids were the ones in the spotlight and where all the attention went. They were enrolled in activities and they were more the same age, so they were a unit. I was just an observer of them. I felt so left out and forgotten. Always.

I was a mistake and a burden (dads exact words to me on my 11th birthday). Mom made sure I knew that she thought I was mentally retarded- she would joke about it all the time. (I guess she never made peace with her sister being autistic) She also loved humiliating me even when I made it clear she was hurting me. Remember her sausage fingers joke or how many years I got called Boomer? I absolutely hated both of those things, made it clear, and yet she refused to give up the name calling and humiliation. There was very little respect for my personal boundaries. Dad would assault me in the middle of the night and I would wet the bed out of fear- then he would make me sleep in it to teach me a lesson. Mom would do nothing to help me, though she was awake in the middle of the night when I would work up the courage to go into their room to ask for help. She let him treat me like that. Goddamn…I remember the night terrors and being scared to be in my room at night because the scary man was sitting in the rocking chair, in the dark, next to my bed.

I have a memory of being in the garage in our house in South Windsor. I was playing with our basset hound, General…I was crawling around on the floor and the dog mounted me and was dry humping me. Dad got this sick laugh and let it happen. Mom walked in and got mad at him, but did nothing to help me. My personal boundaries were nonexistent. Nobody was protecting me from him. I remember him eating the food off my plate at dinner…or kissing me on the ear or touching me when I would tell him I hated it and to stop. I remember the baths dad would have me take with him and how he taught me to touch and work his dick. I remember the photos he would take of me after the bath. I remember being 7 years old and trying to lay on his bed and be sexy enough for him. I remember kissing mom passionately the way that dad taught me to and mom getting upset and asking me where I learned that. I remember having a baby doll that I drew all over, angrily, with lipstick. I remember being scared because my ass was bleeding and I told mom while her brother and sisters were visiting and she shushed me and scurried me away. I remember him also beating the shit out of me…sometimes for no reason. I remember being deeply attracted to and absolutely terrified of him. I was 7.  These are the only memories I have of my dad. I don’t remember him being there for me, or interested in me as a person, or engaged in anyway. I just remember him being what I now know is a predator.

7 to 13: I remember some stability in Connecticut because we stayed there for three years… but I also remember having moments of being deeply depressed and hiding in the basement of the house writing notes that I hoped someone would find, asking for help to get me out of there. When I look back, those were my first experiences with disassociation from stress and waves of major depression. While I was being assaulted during those years, those years were all about Mary Jane, Seana, and Jim2. These three had each other. These three were a team. I was just an observer to your lives. I had no voice, no opinion, no importance, never truly included and absolutely my feelings went unheard and did not matter. We can say it was the age difference, sure, that’s part of it…but that’s also just an excuse. Things could have been done to validate my importance too.  I had Charles bullying me….I had my Dad assaulting me. I was so alone.

My internal voice wants to shout: Why did nobody see this? Why did nobody help me? Where were my siblings? I guess everyone was doing the best they could…

Literally anyone looking in knowing the truth could have easily assessed that this was a horribly destructive environment for any child to grow up in. I know dad was doing this to all the kids. I wasn’t the only one. It is absolutely stunning to me that through the years of my life I have consistently been blamed by my Mary Ellen (narcissist/borderline personality disorder) and the people who chose to listen to her twisted opinions that there was something wrong WITH ME.  I mean, logically the mental health issues I have faced my entire life are perfectly normal and healthy reactions to a situation that was deeply flawed. But somehow the blame has always fallen on me.

The very first thing I think when I think of my mom is her asking me “Whats wrong with you Melissa”. Ive lost count of how many times she has asked me that very question.

I now know that its just deflection. Queen Narcissist cant take responsibility for her actions so she puts it on the person who she always denied a voice. That’s nice. Very loving and motherly. Doesn’t fix the 40 some odd years of my life that I believed her and wanted to die.

Right around age 9 or 10, we move again. I remember it being a big scandal – I think the truth came about that my dad is a sociopath, a pedophile and a rapist. (By the way, that’s in my DNA. I get to live my life connected to that. I look just like my dad. I think like a Painter. It’s fucking unsettling.)  I remember all the pressure to say nothing about the move and to constantly behave as though we were the perfect family and nothing was wrong. So incredibly demented.

I remember a HUGE fight about Seana and Jim2 staying behind in Connecticut. (by the way: I also remember Jim1 leaving for the Marines and wondering where my brother went and why he never talked to me. At one point he came back to visit and gave me a beautiful geisha doll in a glass box that mom destroyed in a fit of anger at me…she intentionally violently knocked it off the top of my dresser in one of her vindictive off the handle rages…Im sure at 8 years old I totally did something to deserve it, right.)

And, of course I remember the night Seana was killed. (why did the man that killed her not serve jail time? Why are bad people never held accountable?) Dad wasn’t there. Again, Dad wasn’t there. As I recall he was having an affair with some woman in Arizona? Mom was already distraught to be back in Michigan. That night, I remember being awake before the call came in…watching the clock radio in my bed… it had a short in the wire that would spark. I was listening to the Beatles: My guitar gently weeps…. To this day, I hate the Beatles.The phone rang. Mom screamed to you “Mary Jane, OMG, Seana is Dead”. I didn’t understand what happened. I just knew we were packing up like we did so many times before to take yet another long drive across country. It felt to me like another move. I didn’t understand death or that my sister was gone forever. I didn’t get it.  

(an aside: I struggled in school. When I was in Beginning Algebra One for some reason that class would make me check out and I would always soul travel to the night Seana was killed and it felt like it was happening to me. I took that class 4 times including summer school before I passed.)

(later, when I was maybe 13, my dog got hit by a car in the street and now I knew what death was so I freaked out like Mom did when Seana died and I remember Mom shaming me: You cried more over than damn dog than you did at your sisters funeral. Very nice. Very motherly. Very supportive and kind of her.)

At Seanas funeral, I remember not knowing what was expected of me. I was just so focused on getting it right and who I was supposed to kiss (because that sexualized stuff was already so ingrained).

There were so many goddamn rules for behavior, (rich white republican ex-military country club going family that we were) and I remember getting it wrong and being scowled at all the time. Mom was always angry and stressed out. We had to BE someone and over and over again: “Don’t forget the family name” and how important our clan was (hilarious that she kept the Sterling last name because her current husband is too ethnic and this sounds classier to her than her own actual last name)….

Meanwhile, My developing sense of self was being assaulted and neglected/ignored out of me and I felt wrong all the time for every single action I took.

I think we moved back to North Carolina briefly and then to Florida? Whatever the case….

Then we move again. Again. Again. Now we are in Florida. Im 10. My parents are getting divorced. Mom is deeply goddamn depressed. My family is falling apart. I don’t know where my brothers and sister are. Everything is exploding. Im powerless and hostage to all this. I cannot underline the importance of that sense of being hostage to a situation that I was powerless to escape and having my feelings and my personhood completely ignored and erased. It consumed me. I wanted to die. I am, as always, the least of moms concerns.

In Florida I was so incredibly dissociative. I was experiencing C-PTSD. I remember feeling numb all over. Having no ability to react to this little girl that fell off her bike in front of me….I just stared at her…the adults nearby yelled at me for doing nothing. I went further into my head. I was so checked out. People just thought I was quiet or shy or retarded. I was deeply traumatized and needed help.

I remember Mary Jane and I sitting on the bed watching this music video by The Cars. In the video there is a woman who is laughing and crying. I remember asking MJ what she was doing because I do that too and I think she told me she was having a mental break down.  

I remember getting a Walkman and listening to the Police nonstop. That was my only retreat from how much I hurt. WHY DID NOBODY SEE THIS AND HELP ME?

I remember during that time that I was given another baby doll. I remember MJ and mom watching me play with it to see what I would do. I felt scared of them both and the creepy way they were lurking to watch me. I felt ganged up on. I couldn’t trust anyone. I was so alone. I wanted to die.

In Florida, I remember my birthday and dad cocking his fist back like he was going to punch me in the face…he did that sick laugh and told me he wished I was never born and that I was a mistake. (later when I told this to Patty she explained he punched her in the face on her 11th birthday. Im related to all that. That’s in my dna.)

My body was changing. I was getting my period. I felt crazy. I was in that HUGE school in Jacksonville and I had no friends and I was so scared. Everything was terrifying….and Dad was getting more unhinged thus Mom has Jim and Lynn move in to protect her and had you come back… and then I remember walking in to the living room in the middle of a sunny afternoon and mom on the pull out sofa, trying to make dad jealous, was fucking the guy who was there to buy the house  that we had just moved in to because we were MOVING AGAIN….

Not to mention, I remember MJ and I quickly taking Dads gun to the beach to bury it so he because he wanted to kill us all.

Im not even 13 yet….. Are you exhausted?

Any one of these things would make a fully functioning stable adult fold like a house of cards. “Whats wrong with you Melissa?”…. It took something like 20 years of therapy but now I have some clues to answer that question. Here are some more clues:

We finally make it to Boone. Mom followed her best friend, Mary Jane. After all that… that incredible pressure cooker of my pre teen childhood we arrive in bumfuck nowhere, North Carolina….and everyone is gone except the sociopath brother. The house is basically empty. Everyone abandoned ship. Where did my brothers and sisters go? I remember coming home after school and there would be nobody home. For my entire life I had come home to my family but now there was no one. I would sit on the couch and watch the clock with growing anxiety and cry until mom came home from work. It was beyond torturous. And then she would be pissed off that I needed her because she just got home from work. At this point Mom is just angry and exhausted all the time. She had to get a job outside the home for the first time in her life which she hated, she was sick of being a mom…she wanted it all to be over so she could have HER life. Charles was getting more and more abusive- physically and mentally and had to be sent away for our protection.

And then she starts dating Don Bailey. I think the sex must have been amazing because the guy was an utter low life. He was living off of her/my child support money… and beating the shit out of her. Their fights were never goddamn ending. I would hide in my room after school and not come out. I was so alone. I had no friends and no escape. Mom was friends with Mary Jane, not with me. Mom wanted nothing to do with me. One day we were driving home and I was so attached to her. I needed my mom so goddamn bad… I was struggling to make friends at yet another new school and the PTSD made me feel so distant from everyone but I had no words for what was wrong with me I just thought I was terrible at making friends (I remember this: pathetically I checked out a book at the library: How to be your own best friend)… She pulled the car over and told me “we cant be friends.” Mom has some glorified memory of us driving around looking for our favorite tree in Autumn… the only thing I remember is that conversation…her rejecting me when I needed her the most… after we moved to the town my sister lived in so she could be close to her.

Again, still no help with the major depression, the CPTSD… just a lot of blame “why cant you be happy Melissa…whats wrong with you?” and I cant be clear enough about this: all her spare time at home was spent on Don, not me. I didn’t have clubs and groups and activities that she as sure to enroll me in. I didn’t have my brothers and sisters there with me. It was just me, after all that, trying to figure it out.

I was a burden to her. She couldn’t wait to get rid of me and be done. I felt it always.

An aside: When she was unsure if she wanted to stay in Boone, I remember her asking Charles if we should stay or go back to Florida…after he chimed in with his answer, I gave my opinion which she angrily scoffed at me and told me it didn’t matter what I thought, Id go where they tell me to go.   My voice didn’t matter, I was a burden to her. I had no value as a person. I was powerless. So there I was in my bedroom that was the walkway between the living room and her room… at the mercy of whatever happened with no privacy or power over my life….. whats new.

Another aside: During that time we had gotten a dog that was a total pain in the ass for her to take care of. She gave it away while I was at school. I came home and the dog was gone and I was tearful thinking it ran away. She gave my dog away without telling me.

Then we moved out to Valley Crusis (9 miles outside of town…so isolated. I was so alone. The isolation was killing me. Where were my siblings. I needed help. I needed someone who was just there for me.) and Dons abusive behavior got even more extreme. I remember him picking me up from a concert that I was at….because he had sent Mom to the hospital with a sprained wrist and a busted lip. He was laughing about it when he told me to get in the car. Another time I remember Don looming in my bedroom door when Mom was at work and it was just us in the house… telling me: “Go ahead and call the police, nobody will believe you anyway.” I remember the woman who lived up the hill from us, with the curly hair…I think her name was Susan… coming down to the house while Mom and Don were gone and telling me If it ever gets too bad, you can always run up here. The neighbors knew I needed help. Where were my brothers and sisters? Where was my Mom? FUCK.

I remember Mom having many off the handle rages at me because I looked like a boy and my hair was crazy and I was so fucked up. I remember one morning after she had raged at me so hard that I was in stunned silence… we were sitting at breakfast at St Sinners and MJ kept looking at me, she knew something was wrong, I was clearly checked out and fucked up. I needed my sister. I had no voice or ability to speak up. I was scared of her husband, Glenn. Nobody helped me. Mom was the star of the brunch party!

I remember getting my first job at 15 and working at St Sinners…. Then, when mom bought the restaurant I stopped getting paid. She cut me off from my paycheck and told me it was my “duty to the family”… but she had Jim2 and his first wife Lynn there working and they were getting paid…and also stealing her money to fuel their coke habits. She didn’t value me, or my efforts but her golden son Jim can do no wrong even when he is fucking her out of her business.

I remember Jim2 offering me coke at a house party and John Golden and another friend getting me out of there away from my own brother. I remember Lynn being LIVID that I would stop by their house when I was lonely and wanted my family but instead I got shamed for thinking I could stop by and see them…and mom would tell me that “they had BUSY LIVES and I should leave them alone.”

I remember being so fucked up and alone in Boone….I mean, I now know I was just in shock and experiencing major depression. Mom kept asking me Whats wrong with you Melissa��when I was your age I had to choose between boyfriends… etc. Its incredible to me how Mom normalized my childhood abuse and completely erased my feelings or my personhood then blamed me for somehow being a problem child or wrong in whatever way….more incredible: people believed her.  

During those years in Boone I remember her doing things like openly making fun of me when I thought I might be gay, fixing regular hamburgers and telling me they were tofu when I became vegetarian…starting a burn pile in the back yard full of toxic things after I told her how important recycling was to me and laughing at me as I cried…..every chance she had to make me feel awful about being me and disrespected she took.

Once I visited her at her office and she told me I was “too ugly to look at and she didn’t want anyone to know I was her daughter and to never come to her office again.”

Shes right, we were not friends. She was a jealous mean girl, obsessed with appearances and her shitty boyfriend.

Lets not forget when she, with Mary Janes help, stacked my portfolio with MJs lithographies and coached me how to lie to get me in to Governors school for the summer. She wanted me gone and she got her wish. I remember feeling like a fraud that summer. I wasn’t good enough to be there. I had to lie to be included. I remember she didn’t even drive me there. She had Don do it. He harassed me in the car all the way there, 3 hours…. then dropped me…16… off on the curb in front of the college and drove away. All the other kids had parents excitedly helping them get set up in their rooms…excited about their major accomplishment of getting in to Governors school… I was there with my milk crate of shit, a fraud. alone. Acting like a tough girl who didn’t need anyone. I was a pro at that. Mission accomplished, she was rid of me.

I remember how deep my depression was becoming by the time I was 18. That last year of high school I would bang my head against my bedroom wall in an attempt to knock myself out, in hopes that I would get sent away to a treatment center or something. I couldn’t take all the fighting between her and Don. I fucking hated him and he was in my house and there was nothing I could do about it. I tried to throw myself down the back stairwell at school. I barely graduated high school my depression was eating me alive.

Amazing that nobody IN MY FAMILY SAW THAT I NEEDED HELP. I was invisible. Mary Ellen cast her proclamation that all was well, she was amazing and I was a problem child and that was that.

I have a million stories about Mom demoralizing me during those years…. Whats weird is that I have no memory of my Mary Jane there. I think she was so involved with Glenn and way up the mountain, I had no way to reach her. And I was scared of her husband Glenn. And, we were never close. And, she was Team Mary Ellen…. So I was just alone and wanted to die. Sincerely. Goddamn. Let it end.

I remember Don telling me that Mom was using my child support payment to make her car payment. So I asked her about where my child support was going and she told me she used it for my Blue Cross Blue Shield Insurance…. So I called the insurance company to see if I had coverage…. They had no record of me. She was, again, a liar….

When I graduated high school she couldn’t get me out of the house fast enough. She pawned me off on my boyfriend Gebeaux and expected him to simply take care of me. We broke up. He didn’t sign up for that. I was basically kicked out of the house in valley crusis. I wasn’t prepared for life on my own. I wasn’t ready. She just wanted to be done being a mom so Hey..I came back to the house one day and all my stuff was packed and that was that. I had to figure it out. Fuck me.  

At one point during that time I was living in a trailer with my friend Stacy. Mom was horrified about this. I was getting food stamps and she was so ashamed of me for being so low class. She came to the trailer and was completely off the handle. She said there was “no air” in there and grabbed a 2x4 and smashed out all the windows. Mind you from her perspective it was just another example of what a loser I am, living in a trailer on food stamps how did I end up such a piece of shit when she is such a wonderful mother… it must be because there is something inherently wrong about me.

She has seen me as trash who is incapable of being anything great my entire life.

Somewhere in there she stopped dating Don and started dating lawyer Rand Sterling…who broke her ribs multiple times and literally pushed her out of a moving car and then she walked 5 miles back to his house to be with him.  That relationship took her to Texas. She followed the money. The insanity of that relationship is all I heard about from her. She needed Jim2 to come protect her from her husband multiple times. I absorbed all of this through her very rare but insane emails to me. She has always used me as her emotional manipulation dumping ground.

I had my first total mental break right around 19 years old. I was fetal position on the floor at my girlfriends house… Jenn… I couldn’t stop crying for multiple days and I felt my mind split in two. I literally went into a black hole and was begging for death. Jenn and the next door neighbor scooped me up off the floor and drove me to the Watauga County Mental Health and got me some help… but at this point I was having a total mental collapse… the part of me that was traumatized was a child denied her voice or any recognition of her Self, so I had no way to articulate what was wrong and Mom had denied and normalized the abuse and denied me voice and my personhood for so long that I had ZERO chance of articulating what was wrong… it was buried so deep inside of me and I was so scared to trust anyone…. I was experiencing schizophrenia and Major depression.

Jenn helped me with my depression. Jenn made sure I was housed and fed. Jenn took care of me. I owe her my life.

I mean, that is an extreme mental health episode. Where was my family? How could none of the people who were supposed to love me the most see any of this? Why did none of them help me? Why did all of them think I was to blame? (my guess: Team Mary Ellen)  

Somewhere in that year my friends were moving to Chapel Hill so I packed up the car that my child support paid for and I went down the mountain. She threatened to call the police on me for stealing the car.  She told me I needed discipline and needed to go into the Army. She just didn’t know what to do with me…such a problem child. If I remember correctly, you echoed her sentiments. Everyone was always so angry at me for being so wrong and so bad. None of my family (meaning MJ and mom because my brothers had long bailed on me and my extended family has never made a single attempt to reach out to me or know me at all.)  were my friend, or loving, kind or compassionate.

I got away….I went to Chapel Hill and lived with my best friends Kerry, Lesley, Julie, and two other guys in Kerry’s Moms rental house. I was working at the Columbia Street Bakery and dating this boy, Richard…. Who happened to be a really abusive drug dealer… who held me down one night and violently orally raped me and when I called mom for help she told me with the exasperation of a mother who had supposedly tried so hard to do the right thing and raise her child with love and support but that child was just tragic and terminally fucked :

“I don’t know whats wrong with you Melissa, I guess you just like the bad boys.”  

Again, no self reflection on her behalf…she did nothing to help me.

I didn’t know how to get away from Richard who was playing mind fuck with me and I was getting high with him (LSD) …which was basically, me being drugged and him using me for sex but not being loving or kind in any way (felt like home)  Eventually, Richard got busted for selling a page of lsd to an undercover cop and threatened to kill me because he thought it was my fault… so I had to get out of there and I went to New York to chill out and work for the summer at the Omega Institute of Holistic Learning… to just be around hippies and eat good food. I hung out with Baba Ram Dass and Ben & Jerry…and took a class on the whirling dervish… These moments when I wasn’t in the pressure cooker of my life were both brilliant because I needed healing but also the worst because all this trauma would start to surface and I didn’t know what it was or how to speak about it. I would start to shatter again.

I believed it was my fault and there was something inherently wrong with me.

I was so lost. I needed help. I needed a parent or loving compassionate family or someone trusted to guide me through that time in my life. I had no one but my friends from North Carolina who were just as fucked up as me. I needed help. I needed help. Oh my god, I needed help.

Omega ended…I had no money to get out of there, nobody to turn to for help, no clue what to do next, I certainly couldn’t go back to Mom who hated me and was living with Rand so fuck that… I had no idea where my brothers and sisters were and no relationship with them so that wasn’t on my mind as an option…..so I caught whatever ride I could get and ended up in Boulder. One of my friends from Omega hooked me up with her cousin for a month and I tried to make it work… it was basically winter in Colorado at this point and I was out there door canvassing for Green Peace making no money and freezing to death. Just walking door to door for Greenpeace… looking in on other families and their loving lives together. I was so fucking sad. I was hungry and scared and completely out of options. I had to get out of there.

I called Mom for help. She said: “You got yourself into this, get yourself out”…. And hung up on me. The bitch hung up on me. I was stranded and so scared and I needed my mom. She hung up on me. She blamed me. She wanted to punish me for being such a problem. She was done being a mom. She hung up.

I remember having gone to the Planned Parenthood to get some medical help because I was sick. I explained my situation and the nurse looked at me incredulously and said “where are you parents?” I explained to her that Mom hung up on me.  I was devastated, living in a constant state of shock. Scared out of my sense of self or ability to connect to the present moment.

I was a fractured soul in every possible meaning.

My month at my friends place was over and I had to find an apartment or live on the streets. It took me another month of begging whatever guy I could find to give me a place to stay and then I contacted the boy I was dating at Omega, Scott, and asked him for money to get a bus back to North Carolina. He helped me. Bless him. He got me out of there.

I got on the Greyhound and ended up going to Idaho to visit with my friend Stacy (who I lived in the trailer with) and stay with her for a couple weeks to get grounded and feel safe with a friend for a minute. My mental break was coming back full force. I was inconsolable.  I remember laying on her bed fully having an out of body experience from the stress and being so disoriented. She is so patient and kind. She took care of me. When my time with Stacy was up, the next layer of insanity: I got on the Greyhound and took a 5 day no sleep, no food journey across country. I got chased down, carrying all my bags of things and looking like a little hippie… on a layover, by a group of drunk men in Wyoming…they almost got me but I found a laundromat that was open and full of people so I ran inside and hid until my bus was leaving again. I was terrified. By the time I made it back to Lesley and Kerrys house in Chapel Hill it was New Year night…I got some hours back at the Columbia Street bakery I was working at and got some money rolling in.

I want to mention that Poverty, which I have lived most my life in, is no joke and more damaging than anyone outside of the experience can understand. It is cyclical, like bi polar…. Living paycheck to paycheck or however you get just enough to maybe hold on for a moment longer but never knowing if more will be coming is a terror. Always feeling like the bottom is going to drop out…and never knowing when youre going to eat…and what that does to your hormones and your mental health…. Poverty is proven to damage people on a cellular level and have lasting effects that lead to chronic illness.

After making it back to NC, few weeks later the boy from Omega came to Chapel Hill and told me he wanted to marry me and wanted me to move to Boston with him. So we took a little road trip and eventually ended up in Boston. As a surprise to no one sane, that was not a lasting relationship. So after a year of misery in Boston, (more poverty, more loneliness, more no family) Scott drove me back to Chapel Hill and that’s when the girls and I all moved up to Asheville. All the while, checking in with Mom who was yelling and shaming me for being such a fuck up.

I can’t underline enough: I was disassociating the entire time. I was having episodes of schizophrenia. I was experiencing major depression and bi polar disorder. The stress of my entire life was more than I could handle and I had no support and no compassion and nobody validating my experience or me as a person. People just thought that was who I was. I was just fucked in every way possible and believed she was right and all that was normal and I was a terrible piece of shit. She had everyone believing that.  

Mary Jane believed her. She echoed her sentiments to me. Go Team Mary Ellen.

I moved up to Asheville and got somewhat stabilized. I was again living with my friends and I got a decent job at the Laughing Seed Cafe. I met Mark and I had decided to go to college because I thought that would make Mom happy and I needed to DO something with myself.  

Mark and I were together maybe 8 weeks before we moved across country and started a life together. Eight weeks.

I was so adept at being a high functioning  dissociative major depressive and I had no way to articulate what was wrong with me (all that stuff that had been normalized and ignored…all the ways my feelings and personhood was erased)… I just knew something evil bad was in me and it took me out from time to time. I thought it was my fault and I was ashamed of myself.  I was living in a constant state of shock. CPTSD.

So, I get myself into college and thanks to Mark and his truck we move across country.

When I hear my friends now talking about saving money for their kids college and really setting them up for success by helping them choose a school and get settled in or making sure they don’t have to work so they can focus on their studies and have a healthy social life with friends and do activities Im so confused. I didn’t know parents and families helped their kids with such things. I didn’t understand that in other families they help, protect and support. I made it through without any of these blessings.

Mark and I get a shitty apartment (the ceiling caved in out of rot and the place was full of roaches. The property managers stole my drum set and we would catch them on the roof at night peeping through the skylight to watch us), I get a full time job managing a restaurant…in addition to schooling full time...Im overwhelmed by the workload, scared to be across country, freaked out by college and the expectations… it was too much. I was away from the source of my abuse and things started to surface… I NEEDED HELP.

I needed my family except, honestly, I have none. Additional mindfuck: when I tried to talk to people about this I get the old trope about how everyone has tough relationships in their families and I need to love my mom and work it out with her.SO I KEPT GOING BACK FOR MORE WITH MOM BECAUSE I NEEDED HER LOVE SO BAD AND I THOUGHT THE PROBLEM WAS ME. Further, because I was so regressed I just sounded like a petulant child when I tried to talk about the abuse I had no accurate words for so nobody outside the experience really got it or could conceive how bad things really were for me… why would they? My family is extraordinarily fucked up, like nobody I have ever known.

In college, nobody comes to check on me and make sure Im ok. Nobody was calling. Id get rare emails or letters. When I would tell mom how hard it was, mom would mock me and tell me to suck it up when I would reach out to her and “complain” about how things were going for me… See, because its always my fault and Im never measuring up.

An aside: To this day, 40 years later, Jim2 has yet to even send me a single email to check and make sure Im ok or get to know me at all. He has never responded to the multiple emails I have sent him, so I stopped reaching out. I used to cry to mom about it and she would tell me that he “has a busy life” and I had to understand that’s why I wasn’t a priority to him. Personally, I cant imagine anything being more important than making a connection with your little sister, but I guess Im biased and not like him: busy getting high and drunk and being a cool party guy.  

During my college is when he married Lori. I worked over time and got a plane ticket to be at his wedding. I was sick to my stomach at the idea of having to be around my family but I love my brother and I wanted to be there. He ignored me the entire time I was there. I was a HUGE FUCKING DEAL that I could afford the ticket and made the effort to be there for him. I showed up for him….He ignored me. I was devastated and felt invisible and so worthless.

Another aside: I was 24 and that very first Christmas on the west coast Mom calls me, driving herself to the ER to get her stomach pumped from a suicide attempt. She was dramatically telling me her goodbye in case she didn’t make it. I was stressed and powerless beyond the telling of it. I cried all the way through that Christmas. Again: Mom always uses me as her emotional manipulation dumping ground. Out of all her children, Im the one with heart and she gets the sympathy she is working me over for.

During my college years, I would ask Mom for help she would mock me “Im sending baby Sava (MJs daughter) a care package…are you a baby? Do you need one too?”

Mean girl jealousy that I went to college and her life was taken from her by her children….

In college I had no friends, just Mark. No time for activities and my mental health was so fragile I had no ability to form friendships. I was barely hanging on. I would be catatonic in my time at home. We had this geometry screensaver on the computer and I would be frozen staring at it for hours while my brain felt like it was going to shatter. I was an absolute wreck and a shell of a person…but I was determined to prove I could graduate college and I wasn’t a fuck up. I wanted Mom to be proud of me.

I guess it should come as no surprise that after 4 years of no time off, working and schooling 80 hours a week, getting zero support emotionally or financially from my family …. that absolutely NOBODY FROM MY FAMILY CAME TO CELEBRATE ME AT MY GRADUATION.

Nobody came. Nobody celebrated me. Nobody saw the value in me or my hard work.

I remember being on the phone with Jim2 the day of my graduation. I had called him to ask why he wasn’t there for me. I was in tears. He told me that if that was the worst thing that ever happened to me, congratulations on your nice life. He thought it was bullshit that I was so upset. He thought I was being a baby. This loser dropped out of college which he had a scholarship for and did nothing with his life but drugs and alcohol and saw no value in me or what I did on my own. He didn’t show up for me.

Me going to college and graduating on time with full credits was a major fucking accomplishment on so many levels.

Not one of my family was there for me and I will never forgive or forget that.

We moved to the same fucking town Mary Jane was in when she was in college and never ONCE did anyone come to check on me and be interested in what I was doing or validate how amazing it was that I was in school and making it happen on my own.  

When I talk about how alone I feel in life, its in my bones.

I had worked over time to get Mom a plane ticket so she would be there for my graduation and she called me a couple days before to tell me pathetically “She couldn’t get the day off work.”  (Lie: I think she has some legal issue and couldn’t leave the state or something like that.)

After she called to bail on my graduation… at 27 years old… I had a heart attack on my walk home. I collapsed in my living room. Mark found me on the floor when he got home from work. She literally broke my heart. I was devastated. I was in shock. I was dissociating. I was so fucked up. I needed help. Poor Mark. He didn’t know what was wrong and neither did I.

Shortly after my graduation, MJ graduated and she drove to see her and was sure to tell me about it. I mean, they are BFFs so, no surprises there. GO TEAM MARY ELLEN, right?  

Whats wrong with you Melissa? My family. My family is whats wrong with me.

During college I was stressed to the point of being catatonic when I wasn’t at work or school. My mental health was tanking in every possible way… but the pressure cooker of school and work kept me hemmed in and my desire to prove that I was someone worth loving (because god knows I wasn’t going to be loved just for being me…No one was simply going to show up for me or simply be there. I had to earn it.)

…. then we moved to Seattle and I had three years at Amazon in that pressure cooker of a job… (10 to 14 hours a day, 6 days a week) working as a Lead running a team of 200 people to keep me too busy to feel my feelings or connect to emerging myself.  

At some point after I graduated and it no longer mattered, I remember MJ came to visit me one time. That was nice of her. Thank you for trying, MJ.

But heres the fun part: Mark. Mark loved me.

Mark is the very first and to this day ONLY person who has been intimately involved in my life who loves and respected me just as I am.

It was Mark loving me that allowed me to start developing a voice and for that very young very traumatized person inside of me to start coming to the surface. Mark was the very best thing that has ever happened to me….and, ironically, it was because he loved me that all that evil finally came to the surface…and was our demise.

All the things dad did to me, all the never ending abuse from mom that sought to vilify and demoralize me… all of the hurt from the abandonment from my brothers and sisters… all that evil came up because he Loved me enough to make me feel safe and supported…I just didn’t know that then and couldn’t see or feel that he was the most tremendous gift this life has ever given me ….

and I started sexually assaulting myself in my sleep (woke up one time with an entire box of tampons inside of me and had to go to the doctor to get them all out). I would throw punches in my sleep. I was having an utter mental breakdown/ breakthrough… and then I started acting out sexually with other men that I met online. I felt like I was being puppet mastered from some evil unknown source. I was manic and acting out sexually. That default programing from my childhood was calling the shots. I didn’t have a sense of self so I was acting from what I knew and what Dad taught me about myself and the self-worth that mom made sure I didn’t have.

I say acting out sexually. What I should say is reenacting the trauma…which there was so very much of. I was on auto pilot and at that time if you asked me if that’s what I wanted to be doing I would have said yes out of programming but the core truth of who I am knew it was not at all right or who I am or what I wanted…that core didn’t have a voice yet.

2001, Amazon had laid us all off. I got hired working at a treatment center for abused youth.  I was major depressive and would be fetal position on the floor and cry for a month at a time but I didn’t know why or what was wrong… I was just deeply goddamn depressed and wanted to die. All the time. Goddamn. Let it end.

Poor Mark. He didn’t know what was happening. He was the perfect boyfriend. He tried so hard to help me. I honestly could not have asked for a more perfect man to come in to my life…and he was stuck with me. Mentally fucked Melissa with no clue what was wrong… and worst of all, I thought I had to get out of my relationship with Mark.

Crazy,right?….I asked Mom for help. She had no relationship with me and no clue what was going on in my life…She is a complete train wreck of a human and so deep in her own denial and so wrapped up in her latest abusive relationship with a rich man that she could honestly give a fuck about me and thought the worst of me anyway… so yeah, break up with him and oh my god Melissa I don’t know what to do with you.

I kept cheating on him over and over again. I was off the rails with my manic depression. Spending, fucking, driving my car too fast…. Through a chat room, I got mixed up with a man that felt like Dad to me and I was entranced and captive to him. Mark asked me to marry him and I broke up with him, moved out.. I was off the rails with the sexual acting out/re traumatizing myself.

(Mark immediately met the woman he has since married and has been with for the past 18 years. I would give anything to have that man back in my life…Throughout these years, my memory of how he treated me has been the standard by which I have held all other men and nobody measures up….Beyond his character and integrity, the art, music and intelligence that lives within this handsome and kind man is incomparable. I blew it. Fuck. I pushed away the most incredible man I ever knew and he loved me. I still love him to this day.)

At that same time I heard a rumor at work that one of the counselors (reggie, 24) had slept with a client(raya,16). I knew reggie was capable of it (I had slept with him) so I reported it to the Unit manager, Big Mike. ……What I didn’t know is that Reggie, Mike and the guy I was so into, Cash were all friends who grew up together and in the same gang……

and so it was that month that I moved out from Mark that the man that I was so “in love with”, Cash, drugged me at a house party and raped me with 4 of his friends to teach me a lesson for reporting Reggie.

I remember sharing a beer with Cash and then feeling tired and dizzy and asking to lay down and then multiple hours of being barely coherent and having no control over my body and being passed around for everyone to fuck over and over again.

Cash was a sex trafficker and grooming me all along. No wonder he felt like home. My need for family and my daddy issues in full effect, I couldn’t break the spell. I was terrified of him and wanted him to think I was so sexy…..He was masterful with the mindfuck and kept me under his thumb at all times which felt like attention and love to me and was intense enough that I could feel it.

At that time, in Washington, you had a statue of limitations of 8 years to report a rape.

Mind you, I was so dissociative and still had no idea I was a person or had any rights to my thoughts or my body… I was really goddamn checked out at that point in my life….I was in shock. The childhood assault trauma was just surfacing and I had no words for it because it had been normalized and my feelings negated by my parents So, I didn’t know if I had been raped or not….it took me years to figure out that its wrong to drug someone and have all your friends fuck them…

I didn’t know I should or could ask for help. I didn’t believe I could be helped. I didn’t think anyone would help me. I didn’t know I was a person. I didn’t know I had rights. I didn’t know I could escape or how.

ANYONE CONFUSED ABOUT WHY I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO GET HELP OR THAT I DESERVED IT???????

Whats wrong with you, Melissa?

In the meanwhile, Cash was making sure I wouldn’t report it.

He knew I was away from Mark, had a history of sexual assault and no family, and that I lived in absolute poverty so there was zero chance I could escape him.

I was in so much trouble. I needed help. I called Mom. I explained that it all to her. I explained that they were a gang. That it was sex trafficking… that I needed help…. To which she said “Let them play godfather. Whats the worst they can do?”….. (nice way to minimize the extreme danger I was in and negate me as a person, don’t you think?)

that bitch loves to see me suffer and struggle, doesn’t she. Doesn’t it make her look amazing when I look like shit? So she didn’t help me. She shit talked me to the rest of the family like I wanted to be in that situation because I was trash. Nobody helped me.

I remember talking to Mary Jane around that time explaining that I was getting counseling and she, like mom, shamed me and told me I didn’t have bipolar or something like that… She was Team Mary Ellen all the way and me getting counseling was just attention seeking or something like that.

See, this is why MJ and I have never been friends or close. I cant trust her. Shes not someone I think of as an ally. Sorry about that, MJ. Im not trying to be mean but… look at why I think that.

I really do look up to her though. She is so smart and capable. But I cant trust her and this is why.

By the way, here’s just a few of examples of the worst they can do while “playing Godfather”: They were so invested in making sure I never spoke about the rape they made sure I was living in such constant fear for my life (mental domination) that I was too scared to talk to anyone about it:

*They had voyeur cameras in my house…that they were making money off of.

*They had software on my laptop to collect all my personal data (social security, passwords, answers to security questions) so I am owned by them to this day.

*They had GPS on my car to track me everywhere I went and would leave notes on my car to let me know I was constantly being watched.

*They flipped my therapists office and stole all her files to make sure there was no record

*They poisoned my dog every day for a month while I was at work…I would come home to Milo cowering in the corner like he had been abused all day long and diarrhea all over the floor until one day I yelled out in my home with nobody there that I would find Cashs son and do the same to him…and I went online and found his childs home address…yelled that out to my empty apartment…and after that day Milo was never sick again….

*Then there are the 2 times they broke into my apartment in the middle of the night, drugged me in my sleep and did whatever and dumped me at the park. One of those time I woke up with half my face slack and paralyzed as though I had a stroke. By the grace of god I got the feeling back but to this day its still a little droopy.

*They sent their equally psycho boy Alex into my life to keep watch on me. He was horribly mentally abusive. I was so broken and demoralized. I needed to get away. Instead, I got pregnant. Alex also gave me syphilis ..and so I had an abortion. I had to get two Orders of Protection to get Alex away from me. When I called mom for help with the pregnancy, she was off the rails hysterical and I was yet even more scared and alone. Mom blamed me for all of it. Further evidence Im trash. I got pregnant by a mistake by a black man.

There is more, I mean it was 8 years of daily torture… but I think you get the idea. Complete mental domination was the name of their game.

I had no friends. None. I was so fucked up. I was terrified to speak to anyone because everything felt like danger. Just these men showing up when they felt like to to fuck me and terrorize me. Eight years. My 30s. I was miserable beyond the telling of it.

Whats wrong with you Melissa. I needed help. I was so scared. I needed my family. I got yelled at and shamed. I was so alone. I wanted to die. I was so depressed and fucked up. Goddamn. Let it end. And the worst of it all is that I really didn’t even have myself. I never had a chance to be safe enough to develop a self. I was a shell of a human. I was out of my head. I was so checked out with the PTSD and the trauma of it all. I was scared to be alive. Soul fracturing is real.

This was how I spent my 30s. Somehow pulling myself together to go to work during the day because I didn’t want to be homeless, coming home and having a total mental collapse at night and all the while being mentally tortured by a gang of sex traffickers and when I reached to my family for help I got blamed for being a fucked up piece of shit.

I had no one. When I talk about my isolation and how alone I am, its cumulative.  Its all this and more.

I don’t need to volunteer at a shelter on Christmas to be with someone for the holidays. I don’t need to get a dog. I need family. I need to be validated on a daily basis that I matter and am loveable just as I am. I need someone safe who is simply there. I need people in my life who celebrate me without me asking. I need people who are there for those simple mundane acts of living that define us…I need to come home to love.

The miracle: I kept myself employed and was successful in my corporate career path, I kept myself housed, and drug and alcohol free the entire time. I had the where with all to get counselling and try to work through my shit. I never gave up on myself even though I didn’t yet know who I am and my family had absolutely written me off from day one.

Then the Recession happened. I, of course, had never learned money management skills so there really wasn’t any savings to rely on. I was comfort eating like a motherfucker, I had student loans, a car payment and insurance and a foolishly large and expensive apartment, I had these lecherous men that were taking advantage of me financially too… I was manic depressive… I was paying for counselling (which if I am not mistaken over the years has totaled $100k) But to be honest, I don’t know where my money went… so when the Recession hit it took about 2 months before I was selling off everything I own and living in my car….where I stayed for the next year with my dog.

Nobody help me stay safe or in my integrity. I had no friends in Seattle to turn to. Mom told me to put my things in garbage bags and throw it all away…take the dog to the pound… and work with my counselor (she was angry about me getting help because she perceived it as being me trying to vilify her and this was her chance to punish me for getting help) and find a shelter to check in to because I wasn’t welcomed at her home.

Let me say that again: My mom knew I was losing everything, told me to throw my life away, dump my kid at the pound and told me to check into a shelter, I wasn’t welcomed at her home.

MY MOM.

Shes sees me as trash. She threw me away. Doesn’t she look amazing when Im failing?

Work in Seattle was impossible to find. I literally had 700 resumes out. Understand, I have held a job consistently since I was 15 years old and somehow mom thought this moment was me being a lazy piece of shit and just trying to manipulate her for money when I asked for help.

Sure. Ok.

I spent the next year in my car with no money coming in other than whatever odd jobs I could grab on craigslist to make my car payment. I drove back to North Carolina to seek help from my friends and my brother. My friends back home were not in a position to help me in any long lasting way but bless them all for what they did…

but Jim 2, who lives in Raliegh, was. He just declined. He made me a sandwich…told me there was nothing he could do for me (he has three houses)…and I spent the night in my car outside my brother’s house.

I had an ex acquaintance from Seattle who lived in Raleigh. He was part of the abuser sex trafficking gang. He let me sleep on the floor but would beat the shit out of me if I tried to sleep on the couch. I was so demoralized and out of my head, I needed literally anyone to be there for me….so, I stayed there, on the floor, for a month.

My brother was 15 minutes away, could have kept me safe but my brother chose to do nothing to help me.  

Whats wrong with you Melissa. My family. Definitely gonna say my family.  

When it was clear that North Carolina wasn’t going to be any better for work than Seattle I decided to drive back to the west coast. I had to drive through Texas and I didn’t stop at Moms house. I didn’t even try. Why would I?  I was so hopeless and out of my head with depression and PTSD. I was screaming into the great black nothing. I was cutting myself all over to get the evil out. I would punch my own face black and blue from self loathing… again, thinking it was all my fault and that I was defective. I mean… my own family didn’t want me. Nobody did. It was me. I was a horrible piece of shit and deserved to die. Nobody loved or wanted me. Nobody kept me safe. I was deeply lost in the void. I wanted to die. Goddamn. Let it end.

That year in the car was by far worse than the 8 years of being tortured by sex traffickers or the 13 years of living with my sex predator father or the 7 years of being stuck in bumfuck North Carolina with my moms abuser boyfriend stealing the show.

Without question having nobody and knowing that nobody cares if you are safe, in your integrity, have a door to lock, privacy of any kind, if you are fed or showered… knowing for a demonstrated fact that there is not a single person on earth who cares enough to validate your humanity is the absolute worst feeling I have ever known.  Being completely dehumanized, demoralized, erased. I begged for death.

Whats wrong with you Melissa?

Fun fact: during that time, instead of helping me or offering me a job at her business doing the exact job I did so well at Amazon (I asked for one and told her I would sleep in the attic at the office and she told me No), to mock me and show me what a failure I am and that I was just trying to manipulate her for money because Im a lazy loser

Mom went to her local Costco and applied for a job to show me how easy it was for her to get hired.

I mean, if youre going to be void of a soul, you should really go for it. Kudos, Mom.  

I drove through California on the way back home to Seattle and met my sister Patty for the first time. We look like two peas in a pod. We think exactly the same. She is undeniably my sister. It was the most incredible feeling.

For the first time in my entire life I actually felt and thought the same as someone else.

She casually declined to introduce me to her family. They kept looking at me incredulously because we look just the same… but she would shoo them away when they would come over to talk. I met her at her restaurant and then she took me to her palatial home. She has a huge family. She had tons of photo albums… and then she started talking about Dad…like she was in a trance and talking about a favorite lover… it was clear that Dad had sexualized her and maintained that relationship with her well into her adult life and that was the reason she had no contact with us and didn’t want a deeper relationship with me. One conversation was all I got with her. I slept in my car outside her home. My sister didn’t help me. Whats wrong with you Melissa???

In one shot from LA I drove back to Seattle. I figured out that the Queen Anne neighborhood had the lowest crime rate so I parked there. I was so sick to death of all the nights that year that I would wake up with someone trying to break in to the car. Thank god I had Milo with me. He saved me multiple times from intruders that year. My body was a wreck from car living and shit food. My mental health beyond destroyed. I was really just done. Run through. All the way run through.

I did a brief stint staying in Silverdale with my friend from NC that I managed to re connect with on my drive back… but the hour drive into Seattle from Silverdale was too much so I lumped it and just slept in my car in Queen Anne once I secured my job…..

I went in to Top Pot Doughnuts every day for a month and demanded a job until they gave me one. I was 8 weeks into that job, still sleeping in the car but I had forward momentum when I totaled the car. I had the very last car payment in the seat next to me I had worked so fucking hard to maintain my payments in good faith despite it all and come out of that situation with my car but nope…fuck me. I was on my way to the gym and I was giving myself a pep talk telling myself everything was going to be ok….and I ate it…40 miles an hour into a stopped truck on the West Seattle Bridge. Entirely my fault. Milo went to the pound. All my earthly belongings went to the impound yard. I went to the ER…. And I called every single person I knew and who I thought could help me.

Just when you think you have nothing left, turns out you can go lower. Nobody returned my call.  

Me, the unwanted, loveable piece of shit. I could die and nobody cared. Whats wrong with you Melissa?

I got out of the hospital, I had made contact with my online friend Rishad and he let me stay for a couple days… BLESS HIM… In those two days I got on the bus. I took the bus that goes through Capitol Hill and up to Queen Anne where my job was. I wrote down every apartment for rent phone number I could see and I started making calls. In the first true lucky break I had in years, this apartment manager woman at a really sweet little apartment on the hill heard me out…heard my story… it was the 15th of the month. I had my car payment check and I cashed it and gave her the money… She gave me the keys and a wink and told me I could move in “on the first”, that’s what the money I gave her would pay for…. and that she definitely didn’t know anything about a dog so no pet fee was needed.

I went right upstairs, LOCKED MY OWN DOOR and laid on the floor with literally nothing left to my name and cried so fucking hard.  

I had whiplash from the accident. I fractured 4 molars on my steering wheel and over the years as my dentist promised they have slowly one by one fallen out of my face. I had broken both my feet and wracked my knees…. But I had a place that was my own and a job and that’s all that mattered.

I went right to the pound the next day and got Milo. I went to the impound lot and got what was left of my life. I missed a sum total of two days of work…. I was so thankful to have a job again I blocked out the pain from my broken body and I just kept going.

(Mind you the only thing Mom has ever been proud of me for in my lifetime is losing weight. That’s what got her attention…that’s what she was impressed by. I went on a diet.)

That next year, I lost 70 pounds at the gym. I perceived my training team as the family I never had and I was good at lifting weights. They weren’t honestly my friends or family but it was something consistent and I needed that stability and I needed them so fucking bad. It took 5 years to start to return to a somewhat functioning human... Lifting helped me get back into my body and stop checking out so much. My nutrition plan made me focus on myself every moment of every day…and nothing beats depression like clean food and working out. Structure and consistency.

My PTSD was off the rails though. I was worse than a soldier coming back from war…I never signed up for that shit and it started when I was a child. I was suffering. I wanted to die. Every moment of every day. I was miserable to be around. Nobody wanted to be my friend. So, trust me…just work and the gym with my illusion that people were there for me and me inappropriately and overly attached to them.

The irony is that I looked amazing and strong and I was, yes. The reality is that I wanted to die. I begged for death. I had two suicide attempts in those years….I surprised myself and cut my wrist with my house keys on the way to work one day and another time I walked into traffic but the car swerved.

Coming out of all that happened and processing all that trauma took more will power and resolve than anything I have ever done. It was so dark. I felt demon possessed. I was out of my head. I would find myself walking out of my place into public with no skirt on just my tights or other crazy shit like that. I was talking to myself, having heated arguments with nobody there all the fucking time. I was punching myself in the face. I was cutting and other such self harm.

It was really bad. I was hurting so fucking much.

And, I had another sociopath boyfriend taking full advantage of my disadvantage…keeping me fucked up because it kept me there for him. Thomas was in my life for 7 years. Absolute Scum. But he was the only person who would show up in person for me. I needed to be held. I was so out of my head and I still had no friends in my life…just people on the internet.… So again, this familiar situation: I just let him use me so I could have literally anyone there. The social and emotional isolation was killing me and I was convinced I was in love. He felt like home. He kept telling me we would be together if I waited. That he loved me. That I was the Key! I was the only time he was happy. The reality was he wouldn’t speak to me during the week. He would just show up on a Friday or Saturday night when he felt like it, from 1am to 3am…literally show up with his dick out to fuck me…very often wouldn’t speak to me when he was there…then he would leave and that was what I considered my relationship and love. It was about 2 years into our “relationship” that the truth slowly started to surface that he was in a long term relationship and he lived with her….

The details of how twisted he is and how he manipulated my daddy issues is disgusting. How he used neglect to keep me working so hard for him to be there and begging for his attention….really sick.

He felt like home which is the worst part. He was exactly like home.

It took me three years at the doughnut shop to get emotionally stabilized enough to make a plan for next steps. I was too emotionally fragile to go back to corporate work or be in an office environment. I knew I wanted to go to massage school and I really thought it could be an answer for me even though Mary Jane and mom had previously shamed and mocked me when I said I wanted to go. Mom didn’t think I could be anything better than a waitress. She told me to stop complaining that I hated my work and just go do it.

It was around this time that I had to move out of the apartment because they raised the rent by double on my sweet apartment and I found my way into squatting in my Art studio, where I have been for the past 7 years.

This studio has been so needed and healed me in so many ways. It is private enough to have a complete mental collapse and since it was a former isolation tank/jail… Nobody can get in here….bars over the windows and a steel door…so, I could sleep at night for the first time in years. The rent is crazy affordable which allowed me to go to school and later afford activities to try to learn social skills and be a real person in the world…. This place is my everything.

When I had my first art show… consisting of the photos that I took when I was living in my car. One of the ways I survived and changed my paradigm to get out of the car alive was that I would walk around and task myself with Looking through the eyes of Love. I would try to find one thing each day that I could see beauty in so I could continue to see good in the world…thus my collection of flower photos that I maintain to this day as my gratitude practice.

Mom picked up the phone and called me the night of my show.

(Mind you, she has never been there for me. Over the years since she kicked me out I think we have talked on the phone maybe 10 times. There have been years where she refused to give me her phone number…she made a game of it for years…I would email and ask for it she would say she was going to give it to me in her reply but never would. Then she finally did and a week later she changed it again. Psycho. Another time I can remember a time we talked on the phone and I ended by saying I love you and she was silent and struggled to say it back. Whats incredible is that she has always pretended to be someone who knows me and knows whats going on in my life and talks about it with such authority. This is a narcissistic abuser in action. What she was doing was scanning my social media and whatever scraps of information she could get and twisting it into whatever story she needed to support her storyline about me being a problem child and a fuck up and what a wonderful mother she is so she could continue to live in denial. She cant face the past and she has never done any work to own her part or apologize. So, now Ive cut her off. She does things now like call the place where I get my mail and had the people who run the PO box office tell me my mother called and she is worried about me and she asked them for whatever information they had on me -so I had to get a new PO Box place where the owners have English as a distant 2nd language-  or she will go through my friends list on social media and contact people to see if they will keep tabs on me for her and share her story about what a problem I am and how she is just a loving mother who I have scorned and of course people believe her. She said the magic word: Mother. Nobody would suspect what kind of Mother she actually is and they see me all angry, regressed emotionally like a child and so fucked up and struggling in the world so she must me right about me, yeah? Text book actions when you try to break away from a Narcissist)

So…I get into the studio and Im all set up for my show and she called me to say this: “So, youre having an art show huh? You think youre so great. Youre still alone though aren’t you? (the mean girl was jealous that I somehow retained a sense of self and did something neat to be proud and again, she wanted to punish me…the woman is demented.) You know, the longest relationship you’ve ever had is with that damn dog.” And then she laughed at me. Made some shit comment about my basement studio “not having air” and some other bullshit and we ended the call. My party guests were arriving. My self-confidence was missing in action for the rest of my night.   Nice, right? That’s my mom.

Shortly after I get in to the Studio Milo got sick. Really really sick. As I promised him from day one, I would never let him suffer for my own selfish reasons…. So, I rented a car, took him to the vet and had him put down. The love of my life and my great protector. This sweet soul that was my constant source of love and hope for 14 years. When I posted on my facebook thread about his passing, mom commented that she was devastated at her loss. Because, you know… Milos death, this dog that she wanted me to throw away, was about how it impacted HER.  …yeah….ok.

I want to mention out of the context of a clear timeline that somewhere in here I trained for and ran two Tough Mudders. They are 12 mile courses with 20 really fucking hard obstacles. They are designed to be run with a team. I ran them both solo because nobody wanted to join me. On the days that I went to the events, neither my Trainer or the man I was so in love with, Thomas, sent me as much as a good luck text to wish me well or acknowledge my accomplishment. My previously 215 pound ass had shrunk to 140 pounds and, at 40 years old ran a team event solo and made it through in TWO AND A HALF HOURS completing every single obstacle, no excuses…. And nobody who should have been excited and invested in my success said a word.

I was still invisible. I still did not matter. I was still not celebrated by the people who should have been there for me.

I want to point this out: Even I did not think I mattered or what I was doing was noteworthy. I was still so checked out and erased to myself that it didn’t click in my head that my life and all that I was doing and surviving was me doing the impossible.

My friend Luke (who I met online dating but I knew we were meant to be solid friends for life) made a point to come with me to the first Tough Mudder. He spent the entire day out there and he took photos of me… He is the reason that I can now reflect on what I did and actually SEE MYSELF. That gift is immeasurable. Luke evidenced me. Im here today as a whole person in part because of him.  Also of note, the transition time between the apartment and the studio: Luke let me stay with him. He kept me safe and he was my sounding board and my true friend. I have nothing but the deepest most heartfelt love and respect for him. His story is equally harrowing and he is a miracle in action. Thank you Luke. I love you. Youre in my inner circle for life.

Now that Milo was gone and I was feeling somewhat more stabilized as a human, I knew it was time to make my career plan and try to get into massage school. Here is the next great stroke of luck in my lifetime: I went to Discovery Point and I talked to the women that run the school I explained my situation and that I was completely broke. They let me go to school for free in those 9 months with the understanding that I would clean the school on the weekends, make what payments I could as I went along and work out a payment plan immediately after graduation and that they would hold my diploma until that was complete.  OH SWEET MERCY.

My days during those 9 months were 17 hours long. I would manage the café in the morning 5am to 1pm, go to the gym to lift and run from 2 to 4, then to school from 5 to 10pm…all the while walking to get to each place. I was getting something like 12 miles a day. I did it. I made my 9 months of cleaning the school and keeping my life on track ( no cheering section, nobody doing laundry, cooking, keeping bills paid or there to comfort me but me: Whats new?) , I passed my exam and I was on track to move my life forward.

I feel like there should have been a celebration when I graduated because that’s fucking astounding…. but, hey… nothing happened, nobody in my life said a word of congratulations about it. Surprise.

I live alone. I have no friends beyond those that exist on the computer, acquaintances from community, and a few co workers that I have hung out with from time to time and I always make a big deal about that on social media which gives the illusion that I have people, but I really dont. My only contact with others is at work. I go home to an empty room and there is no support or comfort. Its really impossible to describe to people who have people what it is like to live with this constant isolation and utter lack of emotional intimacy and how it eats you alive…but this has been my life.

People who don’t understand tell me to get a dog or volunteer or pay for therapy for companionship. That’s a cruel tone deaf response. People need people and it is reasonable to want to be loved, intimately, from the outside in. What I want is to simply matter, and be loved and valued, and have someone who is there without having to do something to receive that…..

Because I have yet to be understood when I talk about it, I have for the most part stopped talking about my isolation that is to this day very real for me.

Im so lonely I just want to die. Whats new.

In the next year, I was waiting tables still and somehow managed to pay off $10k for my license… on a year where I only made $24k. again, no celebration when I told my co workers about it…. I thought it was a big deal.

During that year I went to the doctor and discovered that I was literally malnourished. I was pushing it too hard with working out and keeping everything on track and my personal trainer wasn’t actually reading the food journal I sent him each night… so I got pneumonia as well….but just kept going.

I also got my Personal Training Cert and my Nutrition Counseling cert that year and started working as a Personal Trainer while I looked for a Massage job. Things were lightening up for me. The tremendous crushing weight of my entire life was lightening up.

But the reality of who my Trainer was and what a fraud he was came to the light. He was sleeping with some of his clients and I have a laundry list of unethical things he, and his business partner, were doing. When I held him accountable that was the last straw for him. He was sick to death of weathering my PTSD and how fucked up and sick I was and how fucked up I was over Thomas all the goddamn time… and additionally I was calling out all the ways he was unethical: I was bad for business. I was bad for him in the fitness community.

He kept gaslighting me to try to get me to leave but that was my community for 5 years and I didn’t know what to do…….So, Matt did whats guys do: Shes crazy… and shit talked me throughout the fitness community.  He kicked me out of his gym and I now have no gym to work out at and no trainers willing to work with me. Thanks Matt! Super appreciate you!

I maintained my own lifting program for another year but honestly, I was in it for the community and sense of belonging that I never had before in my life. Without that and with Matt shit talking me in the background so I had no support elsewhere my program started to slip…. Add to that, I had begun  working full time in massage and my shoulder got burnt out. I have a repetitive stress injury from my Amazon days that was made worse at Tough Mudder when I got my arm yanked nearly out of its socket in an obstacle… so, Lifting started to fade… and honestly, I was burnt out on the regiment of it all. I needed a break. I deserved a huge break.

I think it was right around 2014 when Mom had me come to Houston for Thanksgiving as though we are friends or she was a Mom. The highlights of that visit include her telling me the reason I wasn’t welcome in Houston during the Recession was because her husband Rumi forbade it.

(I forgot to mention that all through the years of her being with Rumi she has painted this picture of him being physically and emotionally abusive. That she was hiding money to escape him and what a horror he is. She had some secret email account that she sent me emails from at one point and told me that she was trying to hack his email to see who he was having affairs with or some other drama….. but you know if you ask Jim2 who his best friend is, its Rumi…apparently they text all the time…so, you know…she loves to lie and paint these horrific pictures of who people are to support whatever her manipulation is to get sympathy or whatever pay off)

Anyway, While I was in Houston visiting her she was acting like everything was normal and fine and that I had just made up whatever it was that I went through during the Recession. She reminded me that since I “left home” at 18 she has had to give me something like $20k in support and implied what a burden I am and how I always have my hand out. She has kept track of the financial support she gave me as a parent and wanted me to feel like shit for needing her. Cool….

Another example of how mentally deranged she is: While I was there we went out to lunch. Mind you, I have maybe $100 to my name at that time. I offered to pay for lunch at this fast food place and after we ordered she commanded me to go pick a table. So I got a booth with a chair. I sat on the booth side so I was facing the café and could see her when she came out of the restroom… I waved her over and she sat in the chair. Unbeknownst to me, the booth side made me taller than the chair side…. She got this twisted angry look and became livid that I thought I was better than her. Paying for lunch and sitting above her like that….. The next day Mom and Rumi started playing a really fun game where they forgot my name and kept calling me “Savannah” (my niece) for the remainder of the time I was there …. You know… because at 44, they saw me as a child. Nothing like a little game of erasing your daughter’s person hood and replacing it with infantilism to let your daughter know you really see her and respect her.

I really hope this is making clear why I have a strict no contact in place with her that I will never change.

Now its 2017 and I get hired at my dream job. The Spa that I am at is beautiful. My co workers are the best. I make really fine money. My mental health is slowly coming together. I got Thomas out of my life and have enough mental clarity now to really see him for who he is.  I had spent yet another holiday season alone and the isolation was killing me, as per usual…so I decided that the best thing for me to do to help pull me out of my PTSD and stop being so scared to be seen or heard would be to go to music school…. Learn how to make friends for the first time in my adult life and be with people who were not my co workers. Try to trust people again. Try to trust that I could be liked for who I am….though rejection has been a very prevalent theme in my life… Try to learn some social skills that I missed out on basically my entire life.

How to simply hang out and play….was brand fucking new to me. Music school was really really really hard… not to mention I have no musical ability and I get triggered by stress pretty quickly and freeze… but I knew it was the right thing to do to reparent the kid inside me who never learned to make friends or be in activities with others and who wanted to play drums…. So hell yeah. I did it.

Thank you to Katy,Tracy,Melissa,and Kiyan for coming out to see a couple of those shows and being there to support me. You have no idea how much that meant to me.

I thought if I could make friends there I would have people to go out with and maybe could have a chance to meet a man and have a relationship… but all the women there were married with children and had little interest in going out at night, and I still wasn’t fully integrated as a Self yet… so that was a bust.

Music school was really me making up for my 20s and 30s when I should have been out at shows and hanging with friends and making art and and dating but instead I was being mentally tortured by my entire life. I gave it a good shot, but Im a mixed media artist not a musician and that’s really that. I have to take it in stride: Bless my heart for trying. Thank you to all my bandmates for being so kind and supportive of me and for being stellar humans

I was in my first year of Music school when I met the most amazing man, Joe. He was magical. He honestly loved me for me and I loved him right back. It was fast and deep and I felt so completely seen and wanted by him and OH MY GOD I NEEDED THAT FOR SO LONG. He made incredible things happen and took me on dates that made me feel like a Queen…. But Joe was terminally ill and two months later took his own life. I was in shock again….but kept going as I do.

Also out of context of timeline: When I got into that sweet little apartment I would go down to Edge of the Circle which was just a couple blocks away and get Tarot readings from Raven and Kiyan. I didn’t know how to simply ask for friendship so I would buy Tarot readings to have someone to talk to. These two helped me so much in so many ways…through their compassion and through helping me develop my Self and my skills. Over and over again these two have shown up as real people who have treated me with integrity. People who genuinely care about me and support me in my developing personhood. Ive made it through because of them and so many others along the way.

The shitty thing about being knocked out of your self is that even though you have people around you who care, you often cant see it or feel it and like a dick minimize what people are doing for you because the all-consuming feeling that nobody is there is so much larger than the gentle loving efforts of those around you…. And what happens: you push away the people who are there for you because they have self-respect and youre unwittingly being a dick. I want to say Im really sorry about this because I know for sure Ive done this.

Also out of context of timeline: Somewhere in here I started working in Tarot and caught a lucky break and got hired at Percys to be their Reader. Huge shout out to Krista who made that so possible for me. That Tarot night did more for my sense of Self and well being than I can explain and I was a success there largely because Krista made it so beautiful and kept that night going for me.

I also want to say Thank you to Tracy, Katy, and of course Brian who were my friends and co workers at the RowHouse Café… through those early massage school years. Endless support and encouragement from these guys, even when I was too fucked up to really receive it or reflect it back. Im really lucky to have met you and have had you in my life.

It was right around the solar eclipse and the night before that hurricane hit and flooded Houston and moms house got flooded that I emailed her a long list of things she had done that hurt me and explained that I would be taking time away from her and Id let her know when we could speak again. The next morning after I sent that email I again felt puppet mastered…. But this time by the little kid inside me… I literally woke up, jumped out of bed and started to dance. I was filled with glee. I was amazed by myself. I don’t know where that came from except to say that the kid inside me was OVERJOYED to be free of her.

In the coming years I kept proving to myself that I wont let her back in and that Im safe now… and as I have been staying true to this practice of not letting her, or anyone like her, back in my life… I have become happier and more whole as a human being…. More capable of making good choices in friends and finances….

She made an attempt to contact me around the holidays this year. I saw her call but let it go to voice mail. The message she left was something to the tune of her wanting to know if I had forgiven her yet and gotten over it. …See, because its about me and what I need to do because its my damage that is the problem here…. Nothing had changed with her. It was still my fault. No apology. No self reflection. Had I forgiven her yet. For fucks sake: I will never forgive her.  

I have learned to celebrate myself, take my self on vacations and to my great delight I had friends who spent time with me and took care of me!!!!!! Incredible!!!!!, give myself the compassion and nurturing that I always wished I had and reasonably should have had from my family. I have been working on being able to see the love that is there for me from the people that I have in my life, though I still struggle with that.  I have been working so hard on Self Love, Self Respect, Healthy boundaries, creating safety and stability in my life in all way and I know that Im doing great work because my inner me, those little kids inside of me that needed a parent are really responding to the parenting Im giving them…. Check this out:

A month or so after I declined her call I was out at the café in my neighborhood, having a treat and a coffee and doing some writing. I was sitting at the table and this incredible feeling came over me as though a golden light was shining on me and I could see it glittering down on me. I started laughing and crying like when you cum really hard and youre filled with ecstasy and bliss. And then I had a vision of being in a hospital room that was in the forest… it was just two walls of the room and then the woods…I could see deer and birds. In the hospital bed there was a person in a full body cast. The cast had moss growing on it and tiny sprouts of pine trees. The Doctor walked in to the room to check on the patient. I was both the Doctor and the Patient. I told myself: Hey, its time to get you out of there. And I grabbed my circle saw and started to cut my cast from end to end and crack to open like a sarcophagus. I told myself Welcome Back! We are so glad you are here!!! Go slow, take your time getting up. No rush.

I was so elated. I walked home immediately. Upon arriving at my studio I had another vision of all the ages of myself, down to the youngest and up to the oldest and wisest all linking hands. I recognized these women as my Sisters/MySelf… all of us agreed that the next would watch out for the next and that nobody would ever hurt us again. SOUL RECLAMATION.

For the first time in my life I am here, in this body, in this present moment. The first time in my life I am ME. Im currently 6 months in to my actual LIFE. THIS IS ME. I AM HERE. OH MY GOD. I MADE IT.

Yes now, of course, the world is ending and my career in massage is tenuous at best and I might be fucked again…. But so not worried because honestly, Ive survived worse with less. So I will figure this out and keep myself alive, housed and fed.

Over the years my attempts to talk it out with Mom were pointless… she would erase my feelings and angrily tell me that it was hard on all of us. She would hold no space for me and just be my mom and have some compassion for her baby girl. Nope: It was hard on all of us so stop complaining… but see, I was a child and they were my parents and that was my family and I had no choice…. So really, at this point, Im done. Im better off on my own.

I don’t know what else to say other than those yearly years were tremendously bad for everyone in my family, yes. I can now at this time in my life see and understand why everyone did what they did…. That my parents were also victims of abuse from their parents and all that and yeah, I have compassion and Im really sorry they had to go through that….But it doesn’t make it ok or make mom someone I will let back in my life. I mean, I went through it and Ive dedicated my lifes work to helping others heal and I try to be so good to everyone around me so…. No excuses. And, I still have questions like: Fuck, why did dad never go to jail? Im guessing it was about the money…..and really, how did nobody in my family see that I needed help?

Anyway… Ive done epic amount of self work to be here today as a whole person and really change my reality to one where I have value and can share love. Im still working on it… My social anxiety is still the worst. I can barely form words into sentences when Im out in public and I dont have a job to do as my role to play....but you know, I keep trying and its easier and keeps getting easier… and I have amazing friends like Brad to have mini adventures with… and I have my Studio to do my art in and now that Im feeling so much more whole as a person I think I might actually see some work through to completion that I can be proud of… and I have a job that I love and Im getting training for some other skills to expand my skillset and I feel that things can only get better from here so

I feel so lucky to be alive and so fucking grateful to be me and I really like myself. It’s a miracle. All things are possible if you just remember: LOVE IS THE KEY and keep moving in that direction.

That’s my experience and now you know.

[readbythestarlight]

c2e88

Taliesin is so confused by this ad lol

Where is Laura?

The groans xD

Laura's?? Not here?? I mean I'm glad she's at the game awards but THIS IS SUCH A BIG WEEK STORY WISE

Boy we've just started and I'm already ready to die

[[MORE]]

I only just caught it just now but are the CA saying they recovered the beacon that was stolen? Aka the one the M9 returned to Xhorhas already? Or a different one?

The Bright Queen gave them a house and the best the empire can do is a cozy inn? Lame.

(I was always more pro-Dynasty than Empire but it's pretty much set now.)

Didn't even pay for their dinner?? Rude.

Cad: "I've had to learn new words for what happens to me now."

The Dynasty: "We cannot afford to 100% trust you but you have done us a great service so here is a house and a symbol to show you have the favor of our Queen."

The Empire: "You did us a great service but also fuck you here's a hotel and no meal and also if you don't do this thing for us we'll charge you as traitors even though only two of you are actually from the Empire."

lol the hotel workers are funny tho

Empire people? Cool. Empire rules? Fucking suck.

Nat20 for free stuff xD

F: "who's the grossest?"

Cad: "I was swallowed."

Y: "I haven't had a shower in months."

F: "oh! God! What!?"

Cad: "You've won first place."

Y: "Oh, no, I wasn't trying to like..."

J: "IM GOING FIRST!"

I'm worried about Caleb

Snuggling his cat and thinking over his trauma </3

Laura just left the awards show omg

Also the way that Travis looked at her like heart eyes and Laura being like "hey baby ;)"

She looks hot by the way

Yasha paying Fjord back from MONTHS ago is sweeeeet

The book? What's the book? I don't remember?

"Is there a chair...?"

"There is."

"Kill it with fire!"

Oh boy here we go

"And I think we need to work with him...?" I don't like that and I don't think you do he's a liar and a manipulator and a piece of shit

But I understand his point because they are in the worst potion right now

Cad: "if he even looks at you sideways we will not leave enough of him to be found."

Goddamn Caduceus. I love him so much.

Cad: "Well, what I mean was we will do all we can to keep you safe. Is... what I meant."

They're being very serious about this and I'm so glad

Well okay they WERE being serious...

Lol Beau with this teenager is so funny and adorable

I'm glad they're not all sleeping alone

Jester is all sad that Beau doesn't want to double up :(

The B/J/Y shippers just went wild lol

F to C: "if you want to finish this personally... let me know." Thank you Fjord

My old Widofjord shipping heart is happy

Omg Cad handing over the symbol of the Wildmom and telling Fjord he's doing well on his own IM HAVING A LOT OF FEELINGS TONIGHT Y'ALL

Oh boy Yasha dream

I'm emotional

Like crying

Sure this guy does something neat with doors but doES HE FLOAT??

I miss Essek

The only mage with a tower I trust is Yussah and it is NOT this guy

Of course Trent is the one who confirmed it had been found

It's definitely trapped somehow

I don't like that they have to go somewhere that Trent decides

WHISPERS

he's a shifty fucker right we all know he is

Double whispers

Lol meeting in the Happy Fun Ball

I was gonna say the Forge

Jester wants to have it at Traveler con xD

Jester is weirding him out and I love it

God sure have this very serious possibly war ending meeting on The Ball Eater sure

They're disasters

I can't decide how I feel about him and I want to hear the results of the whispers

Oh no I'm worried about Yasha

Okay... so he's helping hide Yasha that's good, but is he also gonna hold that over them?

I hope Trent looks at Caleb sideways so the M9 can cut him into pieces

I feel like this guy is meant to be the Empire version of Essek but he's got nothing on Hot Boi

In a dense forest under a bunch of trees and a tower in the middle of nowhere

Oh fuck the sanitorium oh god oh fuck someone immediately check on Caleb

Trent did that on purpose

Hey Cad remember when you said y'all were gonna tear Trent apart if he tried to hurt Caleb? It's time to start ripping.

I haaaaaate this

I'm still trying to decide if Caleb legitimately snapped or if something was done to him

I want to crawl through my screen and strangle Trent myself

Someone please stay between Caleb and Trent at all times

So... nobody in the empire questions why Trent Ick-athon has a laboratory in a sanitorium huh. Like that doesn't ring any bells?

Also fuck it's Edowulf

Astrid's gonna come in to try and throw Caleb off isnt she

Liar liar pants on fire every word out of your mouth is a lie you vile don't of a biiiitch

WHISPERSSSS

he's a liar liar liar

Or he's telling half the truth

So the tripod... prevents it from working?

God he's such a condescending fuck I hate him

I haaaaate him and I hate that he's playing it so cool and calm because that makes Caleb seem like the unreasonable one which is brilliant of him but it just makes me loathe him even more

Oh god Caleb please roll well

Fuck fuck fuck I hate him fuck someone GET BETWEEN THEM

I feel gross and I'm not even in the room with Trent ugh

This tense standoff between Caleb and Trent is physically fucking me up my skin is crawling

Also Nott touched it and nothing happened

Eowulf is one of Trent's "favorite" and and he's looking at Caleb like a creep

Even if I don't trust him I appreciate Ludinus stepping in to cut the tension

Beau trying to trip him upppppp I love her

Alright time to get them out of there Ludinus

Shut the fuck up Trent you state away from both Caleb AND Yasha

C: "Wulf. It's good to see you again."

Eowulf: "it's good to see you too. It's been some time. You look good."

I haaaaaaaaate that they're all being so calm and semi-friendly because again it makes Trent and his ilk look like the reasonable ones

Ludinus: "I can always deal with Trent after the fact."

Y: "Let us know when you do that. We would like to help." Damn fucking straight

Essek scrys because he's worried about them and he pops in just in time to hear Jester insulting his teleporting Lol

I get the feeling Matt is tweaking the time of Traveler Con a bit because he doesn't want Jester to feel pressured to interrupt important things

Is the Wildmom illegal in the Empire?

Ha Fjord impressed Ludinus nice

L: "it's... entirely off-putting how disarmingly charming you are. I don't know how to handle it." That is the funniest thing anyone has ever said about Jester

J: "are you alright Caleb?"

C: "I don't know."

Y: "I don't like him at all."

Everyone else: "same/oh god no."

Okay Wildmom is illegal time to hide your shiny thing

Cad: "I have never seen another person walk so daintily around the truth."

See every time Caleb talks about how Trent gave "private lessons" my skin crawls it just draws too many parallels to creepy creepy shit

Yasha is gonna be good for Caleb here, they both understand what it's like to be used and controlled and manipulated

So like Trent was THERE and if he saw that Caleb knew about the beacons then he's gonna know that somehow they were involved with the beacon disappearing

Oh she's creepy

Cad gonna buy the femur flute lol

The pranksters gonna get that glue oh lord

Yasha gets a bone harp and she and Caduceus start the most unnerving band ever and I for one am THRILLED

Don't they still need to fetch something for the three kobolds in a trench coat? Let alone for Pumat and now this woman lol

Pride silk.... oh dear it's gonna be mutant bugs

Called it

Three silk worms good luck bringing those back

Matt's like WOOO fight tournament hell yeah!

Y'all should go take downtime in Xhorhas in the Xhorhaus and talk to Essek about all this

....I just really miss Essek guys please

Liam O'Brian you will NOT let Caleb sneak off on his own to go see Astrid you CANNOT ajslajkssksk

This episode didn't go as painfully/badly as it could have but it still stressed me out a lot and I'm still worried about Caleb and Trent Ick-athon can choke and if Caleb really goes go off on his own I will scream like baby PLEASE

God now we have to wait a whole week IS IT THURSDAY YET

[oneblckcoffee]

Only Us [2]

Pairing - Mob!Harrison x Mob!Fem!Reader

Word Count - 2,044

Warnings - drinking, swearing

A/N - i have no excuse as to why this is EIGHT MONTHS LATE. im sorry ok, but life got in the way. im not sure when the next chapter is gonna be up but @rupimiller kinda pressured (but mostly motivated) me to write this, so i guess peer pressure is the way to go? ALSO, the name is based on the song Only Us from Dear Evan Hansen, you can listen to it here. it’ll make sense eventually. anyway enjoy!

chapter 1

—

Harrison woke up that fateful afternoon, feeling numb. He was hungover, with a pounding headache, and the unexpected wake up call from Tom had left him slightly disoriented. This was his new normal, though. The drinking, the smoking and the occasional drugs; anything to ward off his actual feelings, to numb the pain. He was simply going through the motions; taking each day at a time, still struggling to come to terms with reality and the consequences brought about by his actions. 

He sat up at the edge of his bed, resting his head in his hands, waiting for the dizziness to subside. With a sigh, he stood up and made his way to the en suite bathroom. Harrison stood in front of the vanity, taking in his reflection. His eyes were bloodshot, lids still heavy with sleep, and the bags under them could never fully describe how tired he truly felt. His hair was disheveled, sticking out every which way. His eyes fell on his torso, on the scar that ran down his chest, all the way to gunshot wound in the middle of his abdomen. The physical wounds had healed very well over time, the scar almost invisible to the untrained eye but the pain was still there, the memories all too fresh in his mind. Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, Harrison entered the shower. 

—

This meeting had been in the books for a while now and Harrison had been dreading it ever since. When he first discovered that Tom had reached out to you, he was livid. He could not believe that Tom would undermine his authority and ask a stranger for help. Harrison did not want to admit that they needed the help, especially not from some random girl who’s father just happened to be well respected in the industry. However, he was painfully aware that things needed to change if they wanted to stay on top. Once he got over his initial anger, he did of course realise that this was the only way to climb out of the hole they currently found themselves in. So even though he didn’t agree with Tom’s methods he trusted his judgement and decision, partly because Tom had never failed him but mostly because he was grateful that Tom hadn’t dropped the ball on things, unlike him. 

And for those reasons, Harrison got dressed and found himself sitting in the passenger seat of the Porsche as Tom drove them to their destination. As he sat in the car, Harrison noticed a silence that would not be there on any other day. Usually, Tom would put on some music for car journeys as long as the one ahead of them and would talk about some client that was being difficult, but today he was way too occupied in his thoughts to bother with any of that. The pair had been inseparable ever since they met in primary school; they were as thick as thieves and had been with each through the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. They knew each other better than the back of their own hands and trusted each other to a fault. So of course Harrison noticed his tense demeanour instantly - his jaw was clenched and his hands were gripping the steering wheel a bit too tightly. His brows were knotted and even though his eyes were trained on the road ahead, they seemed distant and lost in thought.

“Alright, out with it,” said Harrison, who couldn’t take the silence any more. He’d much rather have Tom talk his ear off than watch him battle his thoughts, alone. 

“What d’you mean?” asked Tom, not once taking his eyes off the road.

“Mate, I know you’re worried about this but I can’t have you this distracted when we’re there, so what’s on your mind?”

“This needs to work out. I need it to work out,” Tom sighed, “And yes, I’m incredibly aware that this could very well be an ambush. We’re not armed, have no backup and are meeting a very dangerous stranger in the middle of nowhere. Things could end badly, not that they were great to begin with. I don’t know why I agreed to all her terms and I regret not setting our own but we have no leverage, she’s doing us a huge courtesy by even agreeing to meet us ‘cause we all know that she doesn’t need this. Which just makes me question her intentions further, ‘cause like, she can just wait us out and watch from the sidelines as we fuck ourselves over and then there’s one less family in the mob world. But no, she agreed to hear us out and discuss a possible merger which doesn’t really do her any good, at least nothing that I could think of. And to add to that, we barely have anything on her! I’ve done my research, if I can even call it that, and all I could find is that she’s young and runs the business and has ruffled some feathers here and there. That’s it! There’s nothing else on her, not many people even know that she’s a part of her father’s business. She may as well not exist, that’s how little we actually know about her, and that’s never a good sign.”

Tom let out a deep breath and brought a hand up to his eyes to try and relieve some of his headache. He was rambling and he was stressed and tired and way in over his head. This was new territory for both of them and neither knew what was going to happen in that bar. They were desperate and this was probably their last chance to save face and not burn their business to the ground.

“I trust you, you know that right?” Harrison reassured, “You’ve never made a wrong decision. Hell, you’ve managed to keep my ass out of trouble for such a long time you deserve a goddamn award!”

Tom let out a small laugh, “Yeah, it’s not easy mate.”

Harrison clapped Tom’s shoulder, “I know and I’m sorry that we’re in this situation right now and I know it’s my fault even though you’re never gonna blame me for it. But we’re gonna fix this, alright? One way or another.”

“Yeah.”

Harrison didn’t really know if he was going to accept your offer, he didn���t even know the specifics of the deal that you had discussed with Tom. But he trusted him to make the right decision so he stayed silent while they sat in the rundown bar waiting for you to arrive.

—

Forty-five minutes.

They had been sitting there in that bar for forty-five minutes, drinking and waiting. Tom was still anxious and lost in his thoughts while Harrison was getting more annoyed with every passing second. He’d suggested leaving twenty minutes ago but stayed because he didn’t want to argue with Tom. 

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, getting up from the booth to make his way to the bar to get himself yet another whiskey. The bartender had been eyeing them ever since they walked through the doors, sometimes even eavesdropping in on their conversation from time to time. He handed Harrison his drink, without exchanging any words and watched as he walked back towards the booth before continuing with his work.

Harrison sat down beside Tom, sipping on his drink. He had almost finished his drink when a soft thud caught his attention. His head immediately moved in the direction of sound, eyes straining to see the figures at the door in the dimly lit bar. His eyes were trained on you, as you and a guy entered the bar, following your every move. His eyes travelled across your figure; you were wearing a light blue shirt with some trousers and a pair of heels and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think you were attractive.

“Mate, she’s hot,” said Tom, his face flushed with relief at your arrival. Harrison gave him a pointed look. “What, you told me to relax?” Harrison rolled his eyes but a soft chuckle fell from his lips.

He watched as you took a seat at the bar, listening to your conversation with the bartender. He tried to get a read on you, as you intentionally made them wait longer, but couldn’t which was new for him. You finally finished your conversation with the bartender, grabbed your drink and joined them at their booth.

“Hello boys,” you said, as you sat across from the two of them, studying them. Tom was sitting up straight, his fingers interlaced in front of him on the table, eager whereas Harrison leant back in his seat, his left arm resting on the backrest of the booth, uninterested.

“Fucking finally.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’ve been waiting for an hour.”

“No, you’ve been waiting for fifty minutes. But I really do apologise for making you wait ten more minutes than I initially planned; you see, something important came up.”

A snort left Tom’s lips that he tried (and failed) to cover up with a cough and Harrison rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, I guess I should properly introduce myself, eh? I’m Y/N Y/L/N. Yes, Y/L/N. Meaning that Y/D/N Y/L/N is my father. And you must be the Osterfield family disappointment, yeah?”

You were trying to rile him up, push his buttons as far as you can, just to see what he would do. You noticed his jaw clenching, tightening the grip on his glass, his eyes never leaving yours as he brought the whiskey to his mouth.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice, Ms. Y/L/N,” began Tom. “You may have heard that we are in need of some assistance, financially, and the prospect of a deal with you and your dad is very appealing to us. As discussed, we’ve agreed to share the profit and territory with your organisation. In exchange, we’re willing to provide you with any assistance or man power that you may need.”

While Tom was talking, your eyes never left Harrison’s; his icy stare meeting yours. You only looked away when Tom was done rambling.

“It’s Tom, yeah?” You asked rhetorically, finally looking at him, “you can cut the bullshit, Tom. Everyone in the fucking country knows you’re sinking and the sharks are beginning to circle and you’re need me to come in and save you.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“That is the only way to put it. Let’s be honest, I’m your best, worst option. Everyone else wants you dead, and most of the time I agree with that sentiment. But you could be useful.”

“Oh how so?” asked Harrison mockingly, pushing himself off the backrest and leaning forward. He knew you were going to be cocky given the circumstances, but your know-it-all attitude was beginning to annoy him.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, you’re just gonna have to wait to find out.”

“That’s not how it works, love.”

“That’s how it’s gonna work, love.”

You knew of Harrison’s reputation. Cutthroat, unyielding, short tempered. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before. Yet he annoyed you, which wasn’t something you were expecting.

“So, Tom. How does 80-20 sound?”

“Fuck, no.”

“What, no way. That’s not what we discussed on the phone. We settled on 60-40.”

“Yeah I know, love. But you see, I run the south and you barely have a grip on the north. Your business is failing and honestly, I don’t trust you. So, 80-20.”

“We still have some power.”

“In your fucking dreams, Osterfield. The only reason why you’re not dead yet cause people are still scared of you.”

“And you’re not?”

“I don’t see anything to be intimidated by.”

“Would you go for 70-30, maybe?” tried Tom.

“No we’re not doing fucking 70-30!” said Harrison, “It’s 60-40. That’s it. Take it or leave it.”

“Well, it was nice meeting you, boys. Let’s go Michael.” you said, getting up from the booth. Tom had his head in his hands, Harrison was angry underneath the cold exterior but also worried. Didn’t Tom say that this was their best chance?

“Fuck you, mate.”

chapter 3

tags - @deleteidentity @rupimiller

[https-bkg]

Bakudeku fics to read during quarantine

I would appreciate if you reblogged/liked this if you used it! Please 🥺

Uncompleted:

The Way You Used To Do by edema_ruh

"We're really sorry," his father says, in a teary-eyed, wobbly way. "But your friend, Izuku, he's... He's gone, son."

Katsuki can do nothing but blink up at them for moments that feel like an eternity, eyes darting between both his parents in obvious confusion, disbelief, and, more than anything, indignation.

"What the fuck are you two talking about? The damn nerd is standing right beside you!

During a battle, Midoriya gets hit by a villain whose quirk detaches his soul from his body. Stuck in a ghost-like state, the boy enters a race against time in order to save himself from permanently dying. Much to his luck - or lack of it -, the only person who can see and talk to him in this state is no one other than Kacchan.

Alternatively: Deku and Kacchan are soulbound.

This fic is my all time favorite bakudeku fic. updates are not too far in between, characterization is PERFECT, bakugou's development, and the LENGTH of this fic is genuinely supreme. I will 100000000% say with my whole heart that this fic is perfect.

Bad At Love by officiallytrash

(abandoned)

Class 1-A is put to the test in one of U.A.'s classes and tests where they face a faux-villain they can't seem to win against. During the two-day fighting, Bakugou noticeably becomes more and more shaken by the faux-villain.

Midoriya wants to help him and to become his good friend once again. Bakugou knows there is more than friendship in his own head but wants to keep Midoriya close, if only to keep him safe. But with jealousy, friendships, and their dreams on the line, they have to get even closer to help the other.

been awhile since I read this since it hasn't updated BUT this fic is amazing with it's characterization. It's realistic and a breath of fresh air.

The Art of Indifference by qye

Bakugou is used to being the center of attention- be it anger, confussion, or fear (mostly fear) everyone always gives him a reaction.

Until all the sudden, Deku doesn't.

What a fucking asshole.

FUNNY!! ANGSTY!! AMAZING. CUTE. IM IN LOVE, AND YOU WILL BE TOO.

The Space Between by Kanae_vR

Holding his expensive camera tightly between his hands, Midoriya Izuku looked up at the once-white letters displayed on the black storefront banner. “The Hard Luck Bar,” he murmured to himself, unsure if he was getting ready to enter or flee.

Amateur photographer Midoriya Izuku is stuck in a rut and desperate for a change of pace. Deep in his city's grimy underbelly, he finds exactly what he's looking for in the form of an underground punk sensation on the verge of their big break, fronted by a foul-mouthed firework of a human being.

Loud, brash and passionate, Izuku may have just found the creative spark he needed, as well as something new to set his soul ablaze.

Craving a rocker!Bakugou fic? Badabing, badaboom. This right here is perfect. In character and beautiful.

the baking prodigy in all-might pajamas by lucyheartfilia

College AU in where angry art major Bakugou Katsuki kind of, sort of falls in love with a cute, green-haired nerd that likes to bake in his all-might pjs at questionable hours of the night.

cutecutecutecutecutecuteCUTE.

Once Again From Better Days by limesicle

Katsuki wakes to find himself reset. It's a time when quirks are just starting, and he only remembers a bit about happened the first time. He remembers enough to know Deku is someone he hurt a lot. He remembers enough to know he had to watch Deku fall. He remembers enough to try to make things better this time.

Achingly beautiful,,, ANGSTY,, in character. Amazing.

Completed

Sink to Swim by cinnabee

“Kacchan, I think we’re supposed to--”

“Supposed to?” Katsuki whirled. “Supposed to? Will you fucking.. Listen to yourself? Shitty Deku, we just woke up in a dungeon and you want to play some villain’s game? Like it’s a goddamn puzzle we can just solve?”

~

As if there's any other choice.

WARNING: dark. very dark. ANGSTY. shit made me sweat. even tho it's dark the beauty of it cannot be missed

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You by Seeress

Stress-release sex was another one of their things. Friends with benefits, it was called. No strings attached. Just a bit (or a lot) of fun under the sheets.

By the time Katsuki noticed, it's been almost 3 months since he last heard from Izuku.

Or

Three years into their friends-with-benefits arrangement, Izuku begins to behave oddly. And Katsuki has difficulty dealing with it.

:/ too sad. heartbreaking. so beautiful.

Kacchan by KyuukaKoinu

Izuku always called Bakugou "Kacchan" growing up. But when peer pressure from others and society get in the way, the two boys grow distant and the nickname is buried. While Katsuki is running away from his emotions, Izuku is stuck trying to figure out how to cope with a broken heart. Kai Chisaki steps in to show the boy a new path. Will Katsuki figure out his own feelings in enough time to save him from the mysterious man?

[Izuku-centric / BakuDeku EndGame / Alt Overdeku ending is the very last chapter!]

Aight listen,, I ain't one for fics with a lot of smut.. but this plot was well-written and very interesting. It grabbed me and didn't let go.

Threads of Fate by hallyu1

It started with a dream—a dream about a prince. Izuku, future Chief of a remote tribe, is a dream-seer. And as he grows he will come to realize that his power is both a gift and a curse. When he meets the prince in his visions—The Dragon King, Bakugou—he must decide which path to follow. Change the future, or embrace the fate he had foreseen?

Will always hold this fic close to my heart. It's gorgeous.

2,645 Miles by mynameis152

Izuku wants so badly to get to the other side of the country without his parents realizing he's missing. He just wants to find out who he is.

Katsuki is desperate to make it to Los Angeles without being caught by the police, desperate to fix his mistakes.

Neither know what to expect, but on a roadtrip across the U.S. involving four fugitives, two oblivious runaways, a high risk crime ring, and a police taskforce, the two will discover that there's more in store for them than what they originally thought.

Who knew country bakugou and country kirishima were so powerful??? I did. I knew this bc of this fic. This fic is genuinely awesome. Definition of awesome.

Dream Sweet in Sea Major by showtiime

The day of the Hero Incident ends much more horribly than anyone could've imagined, but only Izuku knows that. He thinks as long as he forces himself to push through it that he can get over it, but of course, that's not how things go. His mom, friends, teachers, and even his childhood friend-turned-rival take note of his odd behavior and try to help, but he refuses to talk about what really happened. How long and how thin will Bakugou's patience go until Izuku finally confides and accepts the help he needs?

(in this fic, Shigaraki takes more from Izuku than he should've, Katsuki comes with the class that day at the mall, and there are still finals to be taken. Plenty can happen in only five to six weeks.)

Look at the WARNINGS! The way this story is written... I've never been in his situation but I felt it. Absolutely beautiful

Spider’s Web by infectedscrew

When a series of seemingly random attacks all over Musutafu leave civilians and heroes alike Quirkless, Inspector Midoriya is put on the case. Little does he know, he’ll be teaming up with the only person who has come out of an attack unscathed and Quirk intact—Katsuki Bakugo.

One of the first bkdk fics I've ever read and I haven't seen many people rec this so—here you go. It's SOOO good. It's like a movie and it's so well written. Absolute genius.

Leftovers by brichibi

When the rest of the class heads down the reality of the situation sets in — they’re both missing class at the best hero academy in the country, their classmates flat out calling their scuffle stupid.

Izuku still doesn’t feel like it was, though, especially when Uraraka asks the million dollar question:

“Did you two make up?”

That. That’s why that fight felt like it was worth it, even if, technically, Izuku can’t answer her. Have they made up? Is this making up?

He actually doesn’t know.

[Or: the house arrest fic where it is, somehow, more awkward to talk through feelings than it is to fight]

AMAZING AND SOSOSO CUTE. So glad I found this fic after thinking of it for so long. It's the perfectest oneshot ever.

[babiewonho]

thoughts on shownu nd wonho

[audio of calebcity’s anime villain laugh bass boosted plays] WOW….amira u truly want me dead askfjaskfj wow…Hyung Line…i’ll start with mister wonho bc that’s where my brain is takin me   Buckle up!! [this is 2k words when will i die]

my favorite fake maknae…mister babie..something i find very unique abt him is even tho he was supposed to be the leader   he also has a lot of youthful naive charm that matches more of a Follower type of personality. like while we saw him be a leader in no mercy, and he did an excellent job esp with gun being covered up for his lack of dancing skill, i think that is a very unnatural state of being for him, and he exerts an unfortunate amount of energy trying to lead others. he has the skills necessary but i think he overextends himself to employ them. his natural state of being is more of a follower in that that’s where he’s more comfortable. he stresses too much about keeping everybody happy at once and takes too much responsibility. he’s naturally a workaholic and sacrifices his health for the sake of work. 

so honestly i’m really glad he didnt end up being the leader and i’ll get more into leder shownu later :D but i take it as a blessing that he’s allowed to take more of a backseat and speak up when he wants to rather than always being in charge. tbh wonho is kinda Out Of It all the time and while i think if he was a leader he’d fight to stay in the moment i think he needs that time in his head to decompress. tbh it’s really funny that he cld have been the leader to me in no malicious way just bc he’s never There askfjasf like when minhyuk said he always needs to go looking for him bc he just wanders off and he’s getting coffee and he’s like what :D and he needs extra explanations and stuff all the time and minhyuk n the others need to direct him in what he’s doing all the time. 

that’s why i said the fake maknae thing bc in many ways he has a really youthful kind of innocence to him like just a silly child. like when ck took the glass away from him at the awards show so he wouldnt break it kasfjsa and then the bottle   like a big brother would do  and wonho was like :/ okay…and wiping his tears. we rly see a shift from him as a Hyung to someone who the others end up taking care of in a very natural way. there’s a big reverse dynamic there, in particular with him and changkyun. which is rly interesting! changkyun kind of steps up to be more mature in situations with him. it’s really cute…

when i think of wonho in the position of a hyung, i think it’s in a non traditional way. when i think of him i think of light blue and him being a Healer. he is a big reminder to stay in touch with your emotions and feel them. at the taiwan concert…i believe at least! that it was that one…when everyone was holding back their tears wonho was like just cry!! to hw in particular he said that there were a ton of people there to hug him and support him when he cried so he should just do it so he didn’t regret it later, and he has a very nurturing heart. he makes this one face…it’s like a mix of a pout n a sad smile?? when he pities another member…it’s a very gentle and empathic facial expression…i’m not used to seeing men make that face. 

so i think he DOES offer a form of guidance/wisdom as an older member but it’s not in a structural way if that makes sense like minhyuk saying “walk over here” or ordering them around it’s like a Healing presence..a calm spirit to offer Peace and Serenity. being in touch with his emotions i feel also creates an openness within the group where they feel better about expressing themselves, at the very least bc they cld use him as a scapegoat, which i dont think he’d mind. like wonho cried first!!!

part of his openness with his emotions is what makes him seem childish not in an unlikable way but rather…like he never got that Hard adult shell that makes people fear expressing themselves and their true thoughts. when he is happy he is brightly adorably happy he’s literally :DD just delighted and that brings out protective instincts in those who are around him which is another part of why he’s a fake maknae 2 me…he gets teased like everyone else but i dont think anybody cld have the heart 2 be mean to him his eyes are just too sparklie…also his LAUGH…is so loud and genuine and beautiful and it makes me feel such joy and it makes the others happy too  nothing is really funny to me until wonho laughs that’s like the official comedy stamp his :D smile n HAHAHAHA laugh  n his wheeze

he’s also really stubborn like a child which i find endearing but i know cld be frustrating sometimes but i find it funny askfjas he’s a baby…he asks for opinions n then doesnt care bc he already made his mind LMAO

he is also!! just so so full of LOVE. his heart is so big…he loves his family and monbebes and his members and he’s so transparent about it and it’s absolutely precious. he radiates love and puts a very beautiful calming blue energy into the world and everything about him is very gentle like body language wise. he speaks very softly even though he’s Loud sometimes the words come out soft if that makes sense. the way they are pronounced in spite of volume. he doesn’t spit out words and i think that’s kind of why he stutters so much they’re so soft n undefined they blend into each other. they need more shape…but he also holds things gently and doesn’t exert a lot of pressure in his fingertips. he’s very cautious and not aggressive and is not prone to anger, though he can get frustrated.

i really thank him for his honesty with fans abt how he’s feeling etc bc i think it creates a very nice friend like relationship. he rly cares abt keeping up updated and it’s so precious i feel genuinely cared for lmao…i literally take care of myself sometimes bc of his tweets like dont forget to eat etc and that’s so special

there’s more things i cant think of right now but u know…i cld happily do this forever but MISTER SHOWNU…ur time to shine (forever…)

NOW…shownu is the official leader which is also unique because nothing about shownu besides perhaps his powerful body commands Leadership our eyes are drawn to him because of this quiet power he exudes but he doesn’t have that dominant personality type in fact i find him a very passive person he’s not fussy at all and seems to value group harmony over his own personal feelings

i think sometimes being a leader is burdensome to him for the reason that he has more of a quiet let things happen personality but that’s what’s interesting. the members don’t respect him because he Commands their attention. they follow him instead rather bc they just respect him and Know he’s the leader. 

even though leadership doesn’t come naturally to him in the traditional sense and minhyuk often assists or does more tradition leader things and has to remind him to speak, he has a whole different form of leadership where he’s quiet but when he Does say something everyone just respects it and doesn’t question it. i feel ppl follow him out of respect and affection rather than anything like intimidation if that makes sense. they just look up to him and admire him and respect his wishes. 

he was a leader during no mercy and ppl followed him without question mostly. he’s really good at having a friendly personality but still making sure people focus during dance practice. ppl might think this form of passive leadership is bad but i think there’s no need for him to interject generally bc mx flows very well with their dynamic and doesn’t need to get adjusted much. he also imo has kihyun and minhyuk as co-leaders which happened naturally and not out of his inability to lead efficiently, so i think if he’s lacking in any way, they’re there to cover that up and i think this also helps remove stress from him.

shownu is also just so likable!! on running man they said when ppl dont talk much, strangely you want to pay more attention to them and i think that’s happened to shownu his whole life. people are watching him without knowing and then when he speaks they’re so pleasantly surprised because he’s so funny and most of it is said in such a flat way, like deadpan humor. he’s a comedy genius because what he says is so unexpected most of the time but also so powerful. if shownu said like…”legs” i’d pee myself laughing bc something abt him is so fucking funny and endearing and goofy and HIS laugh itself makes me laugh too like …he invented comedy lmfao he’s absolutely not boring that’s a misunderstanding of his personality  he definitely needs to get comfortable somewhere before his real personality is revealed but he’s gotten a lot better at that which is why he’s been advancing through variety and im so proud of him for that and impressed

also adding to him being so endearing the members just genuinely adore him and i think when he went to law of the jungle a taxi took him to the location and ck said to the cab driver “take care of him/drive safely” which is very sweet and just shows like the Depth of their affection for him. everything he does the members just find so cool and funny and endearing and he brings them a lot of happiness

he’s also such a good fit for the group because he’s so CHILL like minhyuk cld be gnawing jooheon’s leg off while wonho fights changkyun over a piece of shrimp and hyungwon is getting dusted by kihyun and shownu’s like :) i love my family and HE LOVES THEM SO MUCH LMAO like he genuinely adores his members and you can feel that too like not even just things like him giving up lines (hw in beautiful) or splitting his commercial earnings among his team which he didnt even want kh to say but he imagines himself doing things with them in the future like going on trips and he really sees them as his friends/family rather than coworkers and it’s so lovely and beautiful he’s just so goddamn fond of them lol

also hyung line with each OTHER is so precious bc wonho is rly like a little happy kid around shownu n shownu is so calm n chill and wonho is like :DD hello!!! n shownu pretends he doesnt care asjfsafj  it’s so funny wonho is just going around hoping for shownu’s love like he said in that fansign note n shownu ignores him n teases him asfkjasf it’s so cute when shownu teases it’s so funny it rly shows just how fond he is and shownu always laughs when wonho laughs and humors him?? and by humors him i mean wonho babbles a lot n makes little silly side comments and if shownu is within hearing distance he always tries to reply to those and he makes wonho giggle and it’s precious and he listens and shownu just really Understands the member’s personalities like when he said he likes when mh talks a lot etc he understands them and just doesn’t want them to change bc he loves the way they are like i kno that sounds fake deep but it’s true…

wonho is just so cute…n youthful around shownu i love the dynamic it’s amazing how similar they are in age like a year apart n yet wonho seems so young around him and shownu just teases him n theyve known each other for a long time n are so comfortable with each other n they work out together like…we love strong muscle men with hearts of gold …also this is just random but wonho pronounces “shownu” so cute n also i love hearing shownu say hoseokie like it’s just adorable shownu always calls the memebrs by their real names n fogets to say the stage ones like   who is even calling changkyun “I.M.” at this point   who is that….

[aquarianlights]

Hey Killian, it’s been a good minute huh? That one strangers back from a long stay in an institution. I’m sorry for not being around to give you the kind words I wanted to. You’re a beautiful man my dear. I love that you can go into long flowing monologues over the littlest things. The way you put words together is unlike anybody I’ve met before. Keep being you, my dear Killian. You’re stronger than you know and I believe you can be anything you want. You can do it!

It’s okay. You need to take care of yourself, too, okay? I’m going through a major, major rough patch in my life and honestly the only place I can vent is on a completely anonymous site where no one can find me. It’s the one and only place I keep anonymity. Which is very weird. I mean, I’m transparent about who I am and everything but the site is so... small and unknown that no one would ever trace me back to anything like the normal social media sites. It’s unreal. I’ve used it a lot in the past, but I was never really, er... anonymous on it. I stretch the truth a bit on there to make me feel more comfortable. Nothing about my life. Everything about my life on there is true. More-so facts about me. For instance, I don’t disclose my transgender status and pass myself off as cisgender very blatantly. Little things about myself like that that would make a reader NOT connect it to ME. Lies about Killian not being my first name. Lies about my initials. As my initials are KQR. Stuff like that so if someone WERE to find me outside of that site, they wouldn’t so much be able to connect the dots unless they were to find this answer right here, which is highly unlikely. But honestly... if it does come to light, I wouldn’t be that upset about it. Because the lies aren’t big and it’s not like I’m forming friendships or bonds with anyone there. And no one looks up to me or forms bonds with me like they do on social media. It’s more of a ....follow my journal entries and send me messages if you want. I can make certain entries private if I want. Blah blah blah. Like. I don’t make anything private, obviously. Anyone who knows me would know that. In fact, anyone who knew me WAY back in the day would actually know what site I’m talking about and yes, if you’re one of those people and you’re thinking about a certain site that I used to be very popular on a long time ago anonymously in the top most popular diaries/journals section for... gosh, months, years? I don’t even know. But if you’re thinking of it, you’re right and yes I’m back there and yes feel free to go find me. I’m p easy to find if you know what to look for. My entries are all true to my life so if you know what site I’m talking about, then you’d be p intimately involved in my life in some way (or... a stalker of some sort LOL) so you’d instantly be able to read even ONE of my entries and know it was mine either from my writing style or from the content of my life that I write about.

I mean, I’m definitely not suppressing emotions like I used to. That’s stupid and immature and the most childish thing anyone can do. Like, no, I’m not a fucking teenager. I’m 26. I’m not suppressing anything. I express my emotions freely and let them flow however and whenever I want or need them to in whatever way I desire wherever I desire. But it’s also nice to have a place where I can be completely anonymous to every single goddamn person on that site and just... be able to vent nonstop and not bother anyone because of my chronic pain issues and the psych issues that come with having severe chronic pain and the stress that goes along with my life and my majors in my two schools. It’s ridiculous.

I don’t know if it’s been scientifically proven that bitching and whining and being loud and noisy about your issues when they’re severe and interfering with your daily life can help... but it has ALWAYS helped me. ESPECIALLY when they’re physical. I feel like that’d be a neuroscientific view of triggering the active distraction mode versus the passive distraction mode in your brain when you literally cannot do anything because of the physical pain and there are no pills or IM or IV meds to help anymore and all the physical therapy, electrode therapy, gels, creams, patches, and anything else will not help. The only thing left is a neurologist... and for that, I have to wait for my insurance to transfer. Sigh. LONG fucking wait and who knows if it even will, tbh. Fuck the government. Fuck america.

Anyways... I’m just having a really rough time because that’s the biggest issue right now and that’s just overshadowing all the other “major” issues which would be like... the major issues in a normal person’s life that would p much shut down even the most neurotypical of people, but I seem to be handling it like a boss. So idk. I’m a fucking demi-god, though, so that’s why probably. Pfft.

I cannot even BEGIN to list the amount of adulting things I am doing on the daily that people are not even slightly seeing because it’s all overshadowed by the fact I need really long breaks and need to be laying down a lot because of the fact I now have the prodromal symptoms to scoliosis and need an MRI stat. So that would just be fucking FANTASTIC to add on top of fibro and ehlers danlos. Fucking shoot me, tbh. I’d take death over this chronic pain any day. ANY DAY.

The pain is so bad that I’d take all the years of suicidal MDD where I was attempting suicide every other day and slicing myself to shreds all the time, barely existing as just a pile of apathy and lethargy, unable to even function as a normal human being coz I was too busy trying to die all the time and fighting with all the people who were forcing me to stay alive.

I literally stabbed myself with a pen just to try to take my mind off of chronic pain and see if acute pain would make it better. Wanted to stab myself with a steak knife but couldn’t do it... coz my A&P classes have me freaked out I might hit something... ugh. And I begged my roommates to hit me over the head with heavy objects or punch me as hard as they could in the temple or strangle me or rip a chunk of my hair out or stab me for me or ANYTHING that would cause major acute injury/pain. They wouldn’t do it. And the pen stab felt like a mosquito bite for about 2 seconds. And all my very serious migraines that impair me to the point of being unable to function at all just feel like pressure now. My joint and muscle pain from fibro and ehlers danlos... are practically gone because of how bad my spinal pain is. And when they examined it, sure enough, ligaments were out of place and either popped out or inflamed...very badly. And the lumbar region ... that part of the spine was just... too far down. It was reaching way too far down into me and sharply pressing onto or into something. And it’s twisted. The wrong way. And it’s fucking agonizing. Thank fuck the doctor was like “Jesus christ, fuck the opioid epidemic... you need this.” Because everything I have been using---voltaren gel, tens machine electrode therapy, lidocaine patches, oral nsaids at the maximum dosage, tylenol at the maximum dosage switched every two days with nsaids, lyrica, physical therapy, valium, who knows what else at this point---hasn’t done a single thing and it is only getting worse and worse every single day. And it’s getting to the point where my gait and my speech and my gestures and my vision and my concentration are..... gone, so to speak. And I’m experiencing the worst sense of vertigo ever and I’ve almost blacked out so many times that it’s terrifying because I have to lay on the nearest object---NOT lean, but LAY. The floor, a bed, a table, a chair.. LAY down on it. Otherwise, I would black out. And I have absolutely NO idea why.

A neurologist is my last and final hope... coz I’ve seen every single other fucking major specialist, barring a chiropractor which is a LAST resort option. If anyone is medical... you’ll all know why and I know you’re all snickering and nodding along with me.

ANYWAYS

Life is fucking painful and I am playing Dark Souls on nightmare mode. I thought living with crippling suicidal depression and a ton of psychotic disorders was daunting and impossible to live with. HAHA. Fucking hell, man. I look back at all those years and fucking LAUGH thinking about it compared to the pain I feel right now. NOTHING compares to it and I would take it all back and get off my medications if someone would just take all of this pain and these physical issues away. For fucks sake. ...thought it was impossible to live with... thought it was the worst thing in the world... I was such a child. Lmao.

So..... that’s the major thing that’s overshadowing everything else that would break a normal, neurotypical person and would probably break neurodivergents just thinking about it, nevertheless doing it, so idk how the fuck I’m functioning. I really don’t know. Here I am at 6am writing this reply because the pain is always too intense to sleep with. Even with these pain killers. Sigh. Fuck this.

Ahem... Rant over. I really go on rants about the most random of things. Jeeze. But that’s why I love myself. And why a lot of people love me. Or hate me. Either or. Doesn’t matter which. Haha.

But I really hope you were put on the “good” side and not the “bad” side or the “bad” building so that you don’t have ward induced PTSD or came out worse than going in. I’ve never been on the good side, but everyone who has are the people who are always the ones who are the ones saying “No omg wards saved my life and they are great whine whine wards are amazing and I’m gonna voluntarily commit myself every time I’m feeling anxious now hahah they’re so good for the soul!” and stupid stuff like that. Maybe not to that extreme NORMALLY, but I damn well HAVE seen it to that extreme quite a few times and dear god it’s annoying because they are the ones who are set in their ways and won’t listen because they’ve been in wards so, obviously, there’s no such thing as a “bad” side or they would know. So they call to find out or ask at their next voluntary admission and see if there’s such a thing and when they get the answer of “no” on the good side, they come back adamant that there’s no such thing because they don’t know how that works, how the laws work, and what the entire purpose of the “good” versus “bad” sides are and how they came about in an historical context and they don’t even bother to listen attentively for the slight codes over the speakers or the hushed phone calls to and from each side. Or, if they’re lucky, it’s COMPLETELY out of sight and out of mind because it’ll be a completely different building instead of a different floor or different wing. And then they get REALLYYYYYYYYYYY set in their fucking ways. In that case, it’s fucking IMPOSSIBLE to talk them out of it because “Well what you said didn’t happen, so it’s wrong. Duh.” Yikes. Just... yikes. Like, hello, hi, yes, I’m Killian and I stopped counting my institutionalizations at 20 times so I don’t know how many I’ve been in now but I’m p sure I know how it works now. Not to mention I dated someone who worked at one. So you can just, uh, fuck the hell off, yeah? (That’s usually some snarky response I have in my head when I’m flabbergasted at the ignorance these people have, honestly, to not know of the existence of the separation of the two and WHY they are separate and WHY it’s all hush hush when you’re on the good side and you don’t hear about it and WHY you have a grand fucking jolly good time on the good side and feel it genuinely helped, WHITE BECKY. ugh. Me at these people, seen below, as a corgi.)

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..

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BUT ER YEAH SO UH

I really hope you were on the good side so that you actually got help and so that you didn’t come out worse and with a huge extra shot of PTSD attached to your already very valid issues. And I’m so sorry if you got accidentally or purposefully thrown on the bad side. It happens accidentally a lot. Hell, an older woman with Alzheimer’s was on my unit once. It helped everyone, though. There wasn’t any blood spilled while she was there because everyone was doing their best to help her. She didn’t belong there at all and it was just her grandkids fucking her over for some reason we weren’t privy to and ... oh jesus christ, man, like thank fuck I have a heavy medical background. Came in handy. Really did. Ofc, as soon as she left, it was back to the blood and nonstop fights and lockdowns and thorazine cocktails and getting strapped down for nothing more than a sarcastic comment and all the physical and verbal abuse from staff and patients alike and the not getting seen or heard and this and that blah blah blah I could go on for hours.

But ahhhhhhh......... Just really hoping they purposefully (or even accidentally... either way is perfect) put you on the good side and you came out either the same, okay, or better for it. Take care of yourself and heed your own advice.

I want you to do something for me, okay nons? I want you to take every bit of those kind words you say to me and I want you to imprint them on yourself. Can you do that for me? Take all those words and internalize them and make them your own. If it helps, imagine I’m saying them to you. Okay?

I mean, in the end, you do you. Coz you’re an awesome person and a loved person. So... if that means ward time, then okay. That’s fine. You do you. I had to learn that the hard way. It’s not a bad thing. The only bad thing is the PTSD associated with it all and ofc all the things associated with PTSD... which is uh... you know... kind of er.. LIFE CHANGING IN THE WORST OF WAYS.

SO take care of yourself, okay? Dw about me. If I die, then it’s a purely good thing. If I live, then it’s an equally good thing and bad thing. Either way, I win in both scenarios. Since there is no getting rid of chronic pain. Especially the two chronic conditions I’ve been diagnosed with and now THIS spinal thing that I have no idea what it is except the prodromal to scoliosis or possibly actually scoliosis. . .which could and WOULD destroy my life. So. Right now, I have no reason to live, tbh, The pain is THAT intense. Yes, I have reasons but they’re overshadowed by how intense the pain is... Except for Echo. He’s the only thing thing I’d have a hard time leaving. I’d have to find someone I know and trust with steady finances throughout their entire adult life who knows how to handle spitz breeds and can properly take care of a neurotic 17lb pomeranian and really has the time to devote to him and all.

Most people cannot handle a pomeranian or spitz breeds in general and I honestly did not know that until I got Echo and owned him. I thought I knew what I was getting into just from extensive research and my grooming parlour history and my volunteering history and my pet sitting history. But... no... I had no fucking idea the extent at which you have to go for spitz breeds. And double coats. It’s... WAY above and beyond. And then on top of that, he’s diagnosed neurotic which is a little different in terms of what that means in dogs than in humans. So he’s, er... snappy and he’s very... adversarial. 

“A neurotic dog can be defined as a dog that is excessively anxious and highly emotionally upset.”“If your dog seems moody, in need of constant reassurance, and excessively suspicious of other dogs or cats in the house, or even of human beings then chances are you've a neurotic dog.”Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/1113508

That’s a pretty damn good and concise article on canine neurosis. Echo is more extreme in his neurosis than most. It happened before we got him. That’s why they called him “The Bully” and told us “Oh no, you don’t want him” when I was adamant that “Uh yes. That is going to be my dog and you cannot tell me otherwise. I don’t want the others. I want him. He is my dog. He is MY dog. I am HIS human. We are family. . .” I have never had a connection wth an animal like I do with my son.

...which is why I cannot die for him. And why I DO have one reason to live for that DOES overrule the pain and how intense it is.

The rest of my reasons... some come close, some are right at the border... some are right ON the border... but none are above it. If you get my drift. Echo is the only thing keeping me here.

...and honestly? It sucks. It sucks that I have to remain here because that’s how bad the pain is. My dreams to stick with pre-med and follow it through all the way to my dream residency program and one day be an attending at that hospital and take on a fellowship.... That is one of the VERY few things that are so close to the top of the border that it’s almost bursting through to Echo level... but not quite. And that kills me. Because I finally found my purpose and I may be knocked out of the game before I can even find out if I can make it there. Because of my body and because of physical disabilities that I cannot help and could never foresee. It had nothing to do with genetics. Nothing to do with my drug use or my alcoholism. Nothing to do with any of my habits. It was all completely fucking random. It was literally... Ehlers Danlos and fibro? “Some people are just born with it.” That is verbatim what my rheumatologist said to me when I begged him for answers on why this was happening to me, holding back tears. “Is it genetics? Is it what I did in the past? I used to do a TON of illegal drugs and drink a ton, too. Usually at the same time. All day and all night. It was terrible. For years upon years. And I’ve been anorexic for a long time. And this and that and... I don’t know. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN!?” “Some people are just born with it.”

Fucking hell.

Alright, I’m gonna shut up.

But, man, that felt good to rant.

Thank you for being my muse. Lol.

And I appreciate the encouragement so much.

People either LOVE my little novellas to death... or they’re like “What the fuck is with you ranting about absolutely nothing when someone just says “hey” to you? Completely unnecessary.” I’m like “Uh, FIRST OF ALL” and then I complete that WITH A NOVELLA LMAOOOOOOO. And usually get the answer “Uh, okay, professor. I’m not reading that.” And it’s great because I usually didn’t write it for them. I usually write it for me. So I know they’re not gonna read it ahead of time because of hat comment.. so I just write about a ton of stuff that I’ve been needing to vent about for a long fucking time and get it out and no one will read it because they think it’s a furious, passive aggressive rebuttal to some nice guy(tm) telling me he hates the way I go into tirades like this. HAHA. So it’s a win-win situation for me when people like that pop up in my life. The simpletons who give me one word introductions or one line phrases. I get to respond with huge novellas and they get SUPER offended about it for some reason and feel it’s necessary to tell me how offended they are in that passive aggressive manner and it’s just... ahh, it’s so refreshing to me because it feels like my weekly debt collector calls. I absolutely LOVE my debt collector calls. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, if it’s a debt collector, I stop what I’m doing to answer it. It’s just so much fun. I feel bad for one of them, though, coz it’s the same guy who has been assigned to my case and I end up changing my spiel to him every time. So now LAST TIME HE ASKED ME “Is your name [birth name]?” as per usual to confirm it was me before going into “This is a call to attempt to collect a debt” spiel. And I answered with “You know, I’m actually not sure. You tell me.” And he FUCKING HUNG UP ON ME AND I HAVE NEVER LAUGHED SO HARD IN MY LIFE. Every debt collector call I get brings so much joy into my day that I just... even if I’m having the worst day and I’m sobbing on the couch about to slice my forearm open... if I debt collector calls me, I will answer and pretend to be a forlorn widow, twice abandoned, which is obviously why I’m crying because my partner just ran out on me. TRAGIC, AMIRITE. I like it when they have enough heart to ask me “What’s wrong” when I say “I just... don’t know if that’s my name... I’m in such dissarray right now that I don’t even know who I am anymore.” And they say “Maybe I should call back later.” And I say “OH no no, this is a fine time. I need a distraction. Desperately. Please. You’re all I have.” Which then normally chimes the hesitant “This is a call to collect a .... actually... I just... what’s wrong?” And then I have to force myself to keep crying as I put my 10 blade down and go “Well, you see, it all started when...” and I make up some super elaborate story, choking and voice shaking all the way. Improving on the spot. It’s SOOOOOOO much fun. Jesus fucking christ. And by the time I get off the phone, I’M NOT SAD ANYMORE AND I DON’T WANT TO KILL MYSELF ANYMORE!

But the ones where I can just... answer EVERYTHING they ask me with a question... and then when they FINALLY (very frustrated at this point, ofc) get to the end in double or triple the time that they should have, I’m guessing, and can ask me “What would you like to do about x amount of money/How would you like to pay/take care of this?”, I instantly drop whatever facade I had going to say something like “Bitch please, you can send that bill to the orange in the whitehouse. He’s the one who is forcing it to continue happening in the first place.” I keep that one as concise as possible. It has a major variation of that every time, though. Telling them to send it to Trump with the implication of how opposed I am to our healthcare system and how angry I am about my exorbitant medical debt and how completely unnecessary it is that I have it and how the 1% should be fucking paying it until the ones in power fix it to the right system, with absolutely bitterness seething from every fucking syllable like fucking poison. And then, ofc, they stutter on the end of the line: “I, uh... we... we can’t do that, so, uh... how do you want us, to, uh...” “Well, dear, let me spell it out for you. No, I really will spell it out for you. Are you ready? I have the address to the white house. Got a pen and paper handy? Computer?” “What? No, you can’t jus-” “Okay good. So the address is-” And I go on to speak OVER THEM with whatever address is listed online that I can find in the moment through a quick google search and as they try to cut me off, I just talk as loudly as I can. And every time they try to cut me off or tell me they can’t, I just get this super chipper, sadistic tone and go “Awe, thank you so much for sending it for me! I’m super excited to hear the response from a piece of fruit! Don’t think those tiny hands are big enough to hold a pencil, but we’ll see, eh?” And the jokes just go ON AND ON and I have a fucking MILLION of em and they don’t STOP and they’re terrible and I DO NOT STOP until the debt collector on the other end is so frustrated that they finally say “I’m going to put it down that you’re not going to pay.” And I just keep responding with. “You’re such a sweetheart for getting that payment taken care of for me! Now, where did you say you worked out of again? What’s the weather like? Super hot here in New Orleans... gonna be one HELL of a summer. GET IT!? HELL!? HAHA” Click. Line dead. And then I’m just fucking howling as I drop my phone.

And my POINT is (yes, I actually have a point, wow haha) that when good guys(tm) feel the need to point out their unnecessary opinion about my completely unnecessary novellas of ramblings, I like to respond with one paragraph of a “FIRST OF ALL” message so they think the ENTIRE message is going to just be a passive aggressive rebuttal... and then I have a bunch of fun with the response and get to vent a fuckton about what’s going on and get to also have a ton of fun and throw in “did you know” facts and horrible, horrible puns and dad jokes and then end it with a paragraph that seems like it would be fitting to a rebuttal that was started in the first paragraph because I legit do want to write a rebuttal but I don’t care enough to say much but I love to use the opportunity to vent in a public space (usually here on tumblr when a nice guy anon sends me a question I deem stupid or in a threat on fb that I deem stupid and a nice guy(tm) is mistreating my friends and I have to sigh to myself and step in and make everything better, as per usual, because confusing the masses with doublespeak and making people question whether or not they’re absolute correct information and absolutely wrong information alike is right or wrong is my specialty). 

Public venting is the only way that things make me feel better because I need an anonymous audience. I don’t want to force people to listen to me whine, but I need a platform where people CAN listen to me whine if they WANT TO (and surprisingly a LOT of people do lol) and get feedback and help and similar stories and advice and such of their own free will without me prompting anyone or asking for it. Helps a fuckton. Just writing stuff down in a journal or notebook? Doesn’t do a fucking thing for as a coping mechanism. Forcing people to listen to me? Boring and defeats the purpose and isn’t a coping mechanism for me coz that means they’re not actively listening. Like psychologists. People who are fucking paid to listen. I don’t trust people who are active listeners. I need passive listeners. People who will overhear a conversation in a coffee shop I have on the phone with someone in a corner while there’s a group of perfect looking, white, trust fund, fraternity and sorority people chatting and laughing loudly in their expensive brand name clothes in the middle of the shop and have that one person come over to me after I’m done with my phone call to say something about how they like this or that about how I talk or was interested in what I was saying and wanted to know more about x or y. Or something else about a topic or the way I spoke and gestured or something weird like that that really intrigues me and makes me feel heard and appreciated and loved because I never prompted anyone into coming to me. Never.

And that, my friend, is the story of why the grinch stole christmas.

No, that’s the story of why Killian literally needs a public platform to vent on.

Okay now I’m REALLY done. I swear. I promise. I fucking PROMISE lmaaaaoooooo. Sorrryyyy.

Nah, I really hope you’re okay, fam. Coz I certainly most definitely 200% am NOT haha.

Live long and prosper.