#logs for Thomas

[s-the-seething-songbird-2]

Logs for Thomas, Part 2: #5

Song stuck in my head: “Waves” by Robin Schulz and Mr. Probz

Hey, Thomas.

I’m currently in a lounge at my school, waiting for my boyfriend to finish packing up our stuff. We just finished doing something really fun related to his prospective career—I can’t go into specifics for safety reason—and it went really well! He was stressing about it earlier, but I told him that it would be alright, and it was.

I’m… not feeling great right now. I’m not the most outdoorsy person in the world, and I’m sensitive to extreme temperatures, so I’ve been chilling inside. In my defense, I did help him retrieve everything from the car, which meant we were on a significantly smaller time crunch than we would have been—not that he owes me anything for it, but maybe you can understand why he’s insisting that I’ve done more than enough today, all things considered.

But I’m safe, and semi-comfortable (I found out that I’m super allergic to a necklace I borrowed from my girlfriend), and all I have to do is wait.

Just wait. Alone. With my thoughts.

Yes, obviously, I’m never truly alone—for reasons that you already know but will not be disclosed here for my own safety—but I don’t want to talk to them right now. Truth be told, at the moment, I don’t really want to talk to anyone but you.

I’m having a hard time remembering how euphoric it was back then, when we were together. I know it felt euphoric because I documented the shit out of that part of my life via video, audio, and writing, but I can’t seem to feel it anymore, even when I’m lost in thought over the whole thing.

I can remember some of the pain just fine, unfortunately, but the warmth and excitement for that particular month of my life is just… gone. I can read it, and I can see it, but it’s so far away now.

Yes, I’m still capable of feeling happy and excited, but… This is hard to explain. Have you ever felt a certain “vibe” in a particular place and time? Like,,, okay, hold on:

Imagine it’s 2008. It’s warm outside, with wind chimes in the distance. Some clouds here, some tall trees there. Thick, lush grass that’s just been trimmed. You could play outside like this for hours. In this moment, you are this version of you. The feeling of being at this age, during this season, not quite aware just how large the space is around you. Life is just a blurry home video that spans a period of weeks or months, and you think that this is all your existence will be. It doesn’t occur to you that, within a yet or so at most, everything will feel different. You will feel different, you’ll be different. But for now—right now, in this moment—you’re alive. You’re self-aware. The air even smells “special” somehow.

That. You felt it, right? It’s like an aesthetic, but mentally- and emotionally-driven? That’s what I mean by “vibe,” which I know is an inept term to properly describe anything, but it’s all I can think to use. Maybe there’s a word for it in German or something. Maybe this is what ‘nostalgia’ is?

(Tangentially, the concept of nostalgia has always confused me. My guess is that past trauma has had something to do with it. When people say, “Man, don’t you miss being a kid, and playing video-games, and hanging out with your friend at reheat birthday party?” I’m like… No. I don’t miss it. I don’t miss it at all.

Sure, I remember experiencing those things, but there was almost never a moment in my childhood where I felt truly free and happy anywhere. Even the moments of temporary joy or hope were always overshadowed by the fear of getting in trouble, or doing something bad/“sinful”, or losing something I loved.

It makes me so angry to think about. Those lovely childhood memories that normal people relive have been robbed from me forever. I didn’t get a say. I didn’t get the chance to defend my peace, to defend my innocence. Like a sandcastle, it was just decimated right in front of me over and over again.

Sorry, I’m getting angry, and this has nothing to do with why I felt the need to—jesus, it’s almost been an hour, is my boyfriend okay? I’m going to check on him.)

Anyway, that “vibe” from autumn of 2018 is gone now. Maybe one day I’ll get lucky and feel it again for a couple of seconds, but then I’ll blink, confused by it, and then it may just disappear for good.

Why does pain always last longer than joy, Thomas?

Sometimes, I just… I just want to go back to that time. Even alongside all of the horrific bullshit I was going through. Just to feel what it felt like to be loved by you again. Just to have it, to remember it, to appreciate it one last time.

But I know it’ll only hurt me again once I open my eyes.

I want you here, Thomas. I want to introduce you to the rest of my friends, to my partners, to my sister. I want the world to know how important you are to me. But maybe that’s just the BPD talking.

I had a dream about Kai last night. They were wearing all of their clothes from high school, from that one photo on their Facebook. We somehow went to high school again after college and bumped into each other. We smiled at one another, and I said, “I know you might be mad, and I’m sorry. But I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much.”

And they grinned and said, “I missed you too.”

And we hugged. We hugged, Thomas, and I was so happy. And it even occurred to me that if they were okay with me, now… maybe Shay was cool with me again, too. And then maybe, just maybe, I’d get to see your face again.

But I won’t.

And it hurts so bad.

I want that sense of family between all of us again, just as Jack does. But every day without any of you around, that hope grows dimmer and drifts further and further away.

It’s heartbreaking.

God damn it. God fucking damn it, Thomas, this is so unfair!

I know the world doesn’t owe me anything! I know that I’ll live through the pain! I know that I’ll probably feel better tomorrow! But it still hurts, and I miss you, and I wish we could hug and make stupid jokes and have a nice dinner with your and Shay’s pets! And you could crack jokes and make her laugh, and one of the dogs could try to steal my food when I’m not looking, and I could politely tell it no, and it could give me sad puppy eyes, so I’d feel bad and give it extra belly rubs later!

Ughhhhhhhhhhh I want to scream

Okay, sorry, I have to go now. But thank you for listening. You know, if you are.

Although, more than likely, I’m talking to no one.

No one.

Just me. Here. Alone with my thoughts.

-S

[logan-the-artist]

heyy, if you're still taking requests could i please ask for a sassy logan?? interpret that any way you'd wish lol. thank you!!

you can hear the insulted princey noises if you listen closely

[handfuloftime]

Log of HMS Terror, Saturday, 25th September 1841:

Punished Thomas Jopson, Captain's Stew[ar]d with 36 lashes, for Drunkenness when on duty.

[let-roman-bite-someone]

saw @logan-the-artist ’s DTIYS and thought i’d give it a try! (belated) congrats on 1k followers!!

[skettchyartendevours]

Hehehehe, I discovered Picmix the other day :]

I just wanted to create something silly and fun to get the hang of the site's image editing, and bedazzling the James Log was the first thing that came to mind

[hotchs-big-hands]

Hi we've been trying to reach you abt your car's extended warranty-

[porto-rosso]

.

[mavibonghostexpress]

Doodie

[belovedapollo]

a little something on the dining table with ofc the most fitting book on top 🗡️ reblog is ok, don’t repost, use

[s-the-seething-songbird-2]

Logs for Thomas, Part 2: #4

Song stuck in my head: "Be Alright" by Dean Lewis

I woke up this morning with a terrible amount of anxiety in my gut. For most of today, I've just felt upset, scared, and a little nauseous.

Then, a little bit before writing this, I realized that today is the day we confessed our love for each other exactly five years ago. November 14th.

It's crazy to think about. I know how long ago it was. Ages have passed, and my life is so different now. Apparently, my body doesn't care.

It was so scary, and so wonderful, and I had... such high hopes for what would come after.

It literally could not have ended worse XD

Before I even realized the date, I also couldn't stop mulling over memories of that whole mess. I thought maybe I was just having a Bad Brain Day--and truth be told, that could still be the case; maybe the date is just a coincidence--but the date explains a lot. This has happened to me every year since then. November 14th is a rough day for me, as is December 23rd. The latter is significantly worse, at least, so I have that going for me (until then).

God, I hate the holidays.

I don't hate you, if that wasn't already clear. I never did. I can't.

I've been thinking about everything that went down with Shay this year. The idea of you hating me just doesn't match up with things you've said in the past. Then again, there are many things you've said that contradict with the things you've done.

But maybe thinking about it over and over is just going to drive me crazy.

It hurts, Thomas. I'm so hurt. I'm so hurt, and confused, and there's so much I would give just to talk to you again. Yes, nonplatonic things happened between us, obviously, but what I'm most upset about is that I've lost a friend, someone who was there for me for years and years.

Even back when I was in high school, when you'd call me stupid, insult my (former) religion, or make fun of my appearance, there was always a part of me that wanted, needed, you to like me, to be proud of me.

You said you were... You said you were proud of me. How can you be proud of me and hate me at the same time?

I know that, tomorrow, a lot of these feelings will dip back under the surface, and I'll be able to feel normal again, but waiting for those hours and minutes to tick is maddening.

One moment--I'm cooking d*nner, and I have to strain the p*sta.

Okay, I'm back!

Sorry, I know it seems silly to censor those words, but based on what Shay--and you, come to think of it--have said about y'alls sensitivities about f*od, I figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

Also, the weirdest thing happened to me a few minutes ago. I had already opened a can of p*sta sa*ce to add to the sp*ghett* literally moments before, but after writing one of these paragraphs and returning to what I was doing with dinner, I... completely forgot how to use the can opener?

Warning, boring rambling ahead. Skip to the blue asterisk to bypass.

Thomas, I've been using manual can-openers for years, especially more recently, since I've agreed to cook for my partners and their kids two nights out of every week (my girlfriend was overexerting herself both at work and at home, so we came to a consensus so she's less stressed out). But all of a sudden, it was really hard to twist the thingy correctly, and the lid wouldn't budge, save for a few dents in the can. And then I realized I was holding it upside-down. Except, I wasn't, because I tried it the other way, and that didn't work either.

I paced around the kitchen and got very irritated, wondering what the hell was going on.

Then, after taking some deep breaths, I tried again, and... I did it?

Look, I'm used to forgetting a variety of things--trauma does that--but this seemed excessive, even for me.

I got really freaked out for a minute or two because one of my biggest fears is developing early-onset Alzheimer's/dementia/etc., but I still had to finish making d*nner, so I put that thought on the backburner for a bit and finished what I was doing.

But then I noticed something else: I left a mess. I may not be the most organized person in the world, but this was on another level. I could barely even pour the strained n*odles back into the pot, so 1/3 of it was just strewn out on the stove, like a fresco of shitty m*c*roni art. And that doesn't even mentioned the sauce splatters all over the counter, among other things. I was even having trouble opening the can of br*sch*tta s*as*ning, and it's literally just a matter of opening the right side of the lid, which I did incorrectly several times.

Then, I wanted to clean everything up before setting the table, but I just... didn't have it in me? Every time I've made d*nner since I agreed to this deal, I've cleaned up after myself. Every time.

How did I forget all of these adult responsibilities so quickly? It was just, like,,, POOF, gone.

*And then I realized that these were all problems I used to have back in 2018, around the same time the affair started, when I was (bodily) 17 and just starting to learn how to cook.

So... it would appear that these mental/emotional flashbacks haven't stopped yet. -_-

That was frustrating--and unnerving. But I suppose this is further confirmation that our brain is still really fucked up over the whole thing.

I'll be alright, I promise.

Shit, I have to go now

-S

[uselessalexis165]

Y’know what? Fuck it! Puts these three in fun little outfits

———

S: Like I said: society is hanging by a fucking thread. Be lucky you two missed most of this shit.

T: I…I see your point.

———

@sodorsteam @gone-fishing-engines I thought it would be fun to put these three in some cute little outfits 🚂 💜🖤🤎

[logan-the-artist]

my favourite trash rat got a cape!!

@thatsthat24

alternative version:

commission me!

[kata-loging]

Thomas Ian Griffith as Jan Valek in John Carpenter's Vampires (1998)

[fallauween]

by Thomas Kinkade

[theryanitecorruptionandothersins]

intrigue.

credit to @adifferenttime giving me brainworms since forever with their Andrew Ryan vs Robert House analysis post. flat version of red and transparent worm version of coloured under the cut.

[noble-atomics-railway]

29. Misty - Tornadoyoungiron's traintober list

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I've gone vintage postcard with this one. Home of one of the catchiest Thomas songs, Misty Island.