#me when im totally sane and normal (lie)

[kuragesoda]

HELLO AIMONO JYUSHI NATION TODAY WE FEAST ‼‼‼‼

[artificialqueens]

drawing new lines, chapter seven (branjie) - holtzmanns

AN: So…normally I’m a bit more on the ball with submitting to aq. Oops? This is chapter seven, but here’s the link to all the chapters in between. Most of you have been reading this story on ao3, too, so thank you so, so much for all the love and support for this fic. I appreciate every single message and they make me so happy. So, thank you. As usual, Writ continues to be the best beta and friend one could ask for.

(read on ao3) | word count: 3730 | tumblr: plastiquetiaras

“Here.” A’keria slams the burrito bowl down in front of Vanessa, and she can’t help but let out a delighted squeak.

“God, I could get used to not having to pack my lunch. This month is gonna be lit.”

“Don’t get too used to it.” A’keria snorts as she mixes up her own bowl. “It’s only for a month, as the bet specified.”

“Hey, I don’t care.” Vanessa’s voice is muffled as she tries to talk with a spoonful of the sweet, sweet rice, salsa, beans, chicken and vegetables in her mouth, but it’s hard. “Imma enjoy it.”

“Good, cause you earned it. Top ten things in my life that I didn’t need to see - you and Brooke practically fucking on the dance floor. Nasty hoes.” A’keria makes a face, and Vanessa grins right back at her while Silky snickers.

“You just jealous you ain’t got a blonde skyscraper on your arm.” Part of Vanessa still can’t believe it, really. That Brooke’s willing to do this with her. Not that she’s complaining in the least.

A’keria flips her hair over her shoulder. “I got my man, that’s all I need.”

“He’d rock a blond look though, I ain’t gonna lie.” Silky’s statement makes Vanessa pause, try to picture it.

“You’re right Silk, he totally would.”

“Enough about my non blond man.” A’keria takes another bite of her own burrito bowl before handing it to Silky to share. “What do you want for tomorrow’s lunch?”

Vanessa has to stop herself from practically rubbing her hands together with glee. “Lord almighty, I did not realize how great having my food brought to me would be. Pizza? Poutine? Gimme that unhealthy shit.”

Silky lets out a whistle. “Damn Vanj, you ain’t gonna try and look good for your girl?”

“It’s called happy relationship weight. Imma get it, cause I’m happy. And in a relationship, and she thinks I look good anyway.” As if Vanessa actually is in one. But hey, why not? She’s allowed to enjoy poutine.

“Brooke looks like she can lift you up with one hand, anyway.” A’keria’s tone is almost envious. Which is understandably, really, because her boyfriend is on the scrawny side.

“Damn, I should get her to try that. Do you think she would?” Vanessa remembers when she’d been dating Kameron, who’d brought her to the gym often. Kameron had picked her up once  and done squats at the same time, and Vanessa would be lying if she said it hadn’t been fucking hot.

“You know her better than we do, Vanj. If she’d let you be a human barbell, go for it.” Silky shrugs. “I ain’t getting anyone to lift me anytime soon.”

“Imma go find her. Share some of this burrito bowl, ‘cause it’s technically her victory, too. Not that she knows about the bet.” Vanessa stands up, packing the burrito bowl up once more. It’s a bold faced lie, because Brooke does know, though Silky and A’keria don’t need to know that.

Brooke’s on the phone in her office when Vanessa pops by, the fingers of one of her hands pressing against her temple. She looks up, gives a small smile before turning back to the papers on her desk and ripping the person on the other end of the line a new one.

“No, we can’t use the support beams from the other manufacturer. I don’t care if it’s going to lower costs - it’s not going to matter if the structures collapse in five years because of faulty material and we’re the ones who get sued. So, save it.”

Vanessa plops down in the seat across from Brooke’s desk as quietly as she can, her eyes transfixed on Brooke. It’s kinda hot - Brooke yelling at someone on the other end of the line while completely maintaining composure. Not that Vanessa would ever admit it to her.

“You need to liaise with the first company again, because they’re the ones that have been working well this whole time. I need the estimate from them by tomorrow.” With that, Brooke slams the phone down, letting out a sigh. She shoots a small smile towards Vanessa. “Hey.”

Vanessa holds up the bowl. “Brought you some lunch, ‘cause I know your overworked ass ain’t eating.”

“I had a protein bar-”

“Rabbit food doesn’t count.” Vanessa pulls out the extra set of cutlery, lays it out for Brooke. She’s already had enough of the bowl, and Brooke looks tired enough that she needs as much as she can get.

Brooke raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t rabbit food supposed to be what people call vegetables?”

“You telling me any sane human is gonna eat a protein bar for sustenance?” Vanessa can’t even picture having them on the regular, so tasteless and quite unlike the chewy bars of her childhood.

“Are you calling me nuts?” Brooke’s finally smiling, and it makes Vanessa’s heart grow when she sees it. She hates seeing how tired Brooke’s job makes her.

“Remember, you took us to a spin class for a date.” Of course, Vanessa had enjoyed the shit out of it, but she’s not gonna mention that to Brooke.

“I distinctly remember you having a great time.”

“Maybe.”

“Did you eat half of this already?” Brooke holds back a laugh when she takes her first spoonful, looking down at the already picked-over bowl.

“Hey, I was hungry.” Vanessa shrugs. “Plus, this is the start of the free food A’keria is giving me for the bet. Figured I’d share it with my partner in crime.”

“Well, that was very sweet of you.” Brooke’s voice is muffled by her bite, and the contrast is adorable from her blazer and the smell of her expensive perfume.

Brooke’s an enigma, a person with so many facets that Vanessa is relishing in the chance to discover. The fact that Brooke’s willing to open up to her more and more is Vanessa’s favourite part of the bet, mostly because she’s an open book herself. Because what people see with her is what they get.

“Gotta make sure you don’t waste away on me while yelling at your minions.” Vanessa snickers when Brooke makes a face at her.

“They’re not minions. Just people who should know how to do their jobs.” Brooke sighs, gathering the papers on her desk and pushing them to the side. “Don’t go into management. The title isn’t worth it.”

“Can you imagine me trying to get people to do shit? It would be a whole lotta yelling.” Vanessa tries to picture herself at a desk like Brooke’s, having to spearhead projects and be responsible for them. At least she’d get to wear a power suit.

“You’d be good at it, though. You have charisma, the kind that most people don’t and the kind that can’t be bought.” Brooke takes another bite of the bowl. “Dang, this is good.”

Vanessa raises a skeptical brow. “What do you mean, charisma?” She’s just her natural dumbass self, which pays off sometimes.

“I mean, you convinced me to fake date you thirty or so seconds after introducing yourself. I’d say that’s pretty impressive.”

Vanessa snickers as she leans back in her seat, resisting the urge to lift her feet up onto the chair. “True.”

It’s funny to think back to that day months ago, when Vanessa had barged into Brooke’s office, convinced she’d be able to get her to agree with no evidence to back her up aside from sheer dumb confidence. Though it had worked by some miracle, something that still surprises Vanessa every now and then - and she’s sure that it’s the same for Brooke, too.

Brooke lets out a contented sigh when she finishes the bowl, pushing it away from her on the desk. “So, are you going to share all of your lunches with me from now on?”

Vanessa doesn’t miss a beat. “Why, Miss Hytes, are you asking me to lunch for the next twenty nine days?”

Brooke rolls her eyes, but grins nonetheless. “Only if the food is good.”

“You can bet on that.”

Brooke really, really doesn’t want to go out.

It’s a Friday, she’s had a long week. Really, all she wants to do is curl up on the couch with her cats.

But Nina’s birthday only comes once a year, and she’s a good friend, and so she has to choose a dress from her closet even though pyjamas sound like an infinitely comfier option right now.

The buzzing from her phone on her bed distracts her from her closet dilemma, and so she hangs the dresses in her arms back up in favour of checking her texts.

VVM: Kahanna is singing along to the radio

VVM: AND RILEY IS DUETING WITH HER

VVM: we bout to get complaints from the neighbours at any moment but this shit is hilarious

BLH: Omg. Send me a video

The resulting video from Vanessa makes Brooke crack up, because Riley’s spinning around and howling in the same key as Kahanna is singing. The best part of the video though, is the shaky quality of it, because Vanessa seems to be giggling too hard while filming to hold the camera straight.

BLH: These two need Grammys

VVM: RIGHT! IM SAYIN

VVM: I wanna join in but I’m afraid of ruining it

VVM: anyways how’s your evening going, blondie?

BLH: Trying to choose an outfit. Nina’s birthday and she wants to go clubbing, as if we’re not too old.

VVM: speak for yourself, grandma, some of us are still young

VVM: that being said, you’re not too old for clubbing at all

VVM: show me some of those outfits

BLH: Like, take pictures of them?

VVM: yeah

VVM: better yet, facetime me

It seems like as good of an option as any. Maybe Vanessa can help her decide.

Vanessa picks up the call on the first ring, Riley’s singing reverberating loud and clear in the background. “Hold up, lemme go to my room and close the door. These opera singers be too fucking loud.”

Brooke watches as Vanessa falls back onto her bed, her hair fanning out all around her. “There. Much more comfy. Now, show me some outfit options.”

“Let me prop my phone up on my dresser, hold on.” Brooke leans it carefully so that she can get a clear, hands free shot of herself, and gives a little wave to the camera.

Vanessa giggles on the other end of the line. “Hi to you too, you dork.”

“Okay, help me decide, I’m stuck. Mostly ‘cause I don’t wanna go.” Brooke pulls out a couple dresses and lays them on her bed. “I guess I’ll just hold them up one at a time, or something?”

“Nuh uh. You gotta try them on, give me the full fantasy.”  Vanessa snuggles further into her pillows on screen, and it makes Brooke raise an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Mhmm.”

“Fine.” Maybe it’ll be fun, help Brooke decide a little better.

She pulls out a blazer dress, steps out of the frame to try it on. When she comes back, Vanessa is nodding appreciatively.

“Okay, I could get into this. Suits you.”

“Yeah?” Brooke faces the screen, turns a little so she can see her back. “I dunno if I wanna wear long sleeves tonight, though.”

“Clubs do get warm.” Vanessa shrugs. “What other options you got?”

“How about this?” Brooke steps back in front of the screen after shimmying into her knee length, floral form fitting dress, one which she doesn’t pull out often because of how long it takes to take off when she has to pee. But it feels like a good option.

“Woah.” Brooke’s almost not sure if she hears the words or not, but Vanessa’s eyes are wide as she shuffles closer to the screen, and Brooke has to bite back a smirk.

“Yeah?” Brooke puts her hands on her waist, turns slightly so that Vanessa can see what it looks like from the back. She knows what she’s doing.

It works, from the way Vanessa gulps.

Brooke knows that the two of them have chemistry. She hasn’t forgotten the holiday party, hasn’t forgotten the way it felt to have Vanessa gasping into her mouth. The way Vanessa had pulled her closer, the way Brooke hadn’t stopped wanting to kiss her, either.

Well. They’re not actually together. But it’s nice to know she has chemistry with her fake girlfriend, at least. Sells the fantasy.

Because that’s what this is about - being believable.

That’s it.

Right?

The club is a lot more boring to Brooke when she doesn’t feel like dancing with anyone.

It’s too sweaty, that’s why. The club feels like it’s a million degrees, and adding dancing to the mix will only make it worse. Heck, Brooke’s sitting at the bar in front of a fan that is directly blowing cool air at her, and she’s still sweating like crazy.

That’s why she doesn’t want to dance.

All of Brooke’s friends are on the dance floor with their respective partners - save for Courtney, who’s found a girl for herself to make out with in the corner of the club. Brooke can’t help but feel…bored. Why dance anyway, when it’s too warm and sweaty and crowded? Why talk up a girl when-

When she has Vanessa?

Technically, Brooke doesn’t have Vanessa. They’re not dating. She has to remember that.

But they did sign a contract together, saying that they won’t mess around with others while doing this. Yes, that’s why Brooke is staying away from chatting up nearby girls. Because she has a commitment to keep. Not that she really wants to talk to other girls in the first place. But her gin and tonic is nearly done and she needs another if she’s going to be at this bar for any longer, so she signals to the bartender and opens up her phone while she waits.

BLH: Help, the club is boring

BLH: I’m wasting away at the bar

VVM: omg

VVM: go dance, you’re at a club

BLH: I don’t wanna

BLH: Stinky guys

VVM: stinky, huh?

BLH: You need to spray your perfume on them. You smell so much better

VVM: weird compliment, but I’ll take it

VVM: we should go out dancing. I’d give you such a better time

BLH: Would you, now?

VVM: you know it, blondie

VVM: let’s do that for another date

Brooke is reminded of the holiday party, of how they’d danced pressed up against one another and how it was fucking hot. The chance to do something like that again with Vanessa? She’ll take it.

BLH: You wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of me

VVM: you say that as if you’d be able to keep yours off of me

VVM: I know how much you love grabbing my ass

VVM: not that I’m complaining about it

Brooke smirks at her phone screen. She remembers how Vanessa had keened into her touch, spurred her on to keep going with little gasps into the crook of her neck. Dating or not dating, Brooke loves how easy Vanessa has been to take apart. She wants to do it again.

BLH: Interesting. Noted.

It’s funny. When she and Vanessa had signed their list, they had agreed on light PDA only. But there’s a part of Brooke that wants more more more, that wants Vanessa on her arm and wants everyone to know it. That Vanessa’s hers, that she’s the one who gets to take Vanessa home every night.

Brooke almost wishes that those things were actually true.

“C’mon, Nina. There you go, come on out of the Uber. Small steps, don’t slip on the ice.” Brooke wraps one of her arms around Nina’s waist, holds her up as they head to Nina’s apartment.

“Ugh. It’s too cold.” Nina leans her head on Brooke’s shoulder, and Brooke reaches out to pat her hair.

“Almost inside. You got your keys?”

Nina fiddles in her pockets for a good thirty seconds before pulling them out, holding them towards Brooke. “Please?”

“I got you.”

Brooke is usually the supportive friend in situations like these for Detox, helping her get home in one piece after she’s had too much to drink. Nina’s not usually the one to need it, but Brooke had found her in the club bathroom leaning against the mirror and sniffling about her fiancé. Considering the fact that they’d gone out for Nina’s birthday in the first place? Brooke had felt her duty calling.

“I don’t feel so well. That car ride was fast.” Nina rubs at her eyes as Brooke tries to get her coat off, pushing it off her shoulders and hanging it on the coat rack.

“Bathroom first, then.”

Nina sighs, resting her head against the lid of the toilet after sitting down on the ground. The scene feels reminiscent of Brooke’s undergraduate days, when she’d partied too much and absolutely did some damage to her poor liver. She pulls Nina’s hair back, has to keep her nose from wrinkling when Nina lets out a retch.

“Thanks, B.” Nina sighs when she lifts her head up, only to turn back towards the toilet to throw up again.

Brooke’s definitely been there before.

“No worries. It’ll feel better when it’s out of your system, anyway.” Brooke rubs her back, trying to keep her voice as quiet as possible because she knows Nina’s probably got a pounding headache, too. “Now, tell me. What made you drink so much today and end up crying by yourself on your birthday?”

Brooke’s surprised by it, really. Nina’s usually the one who takes care of everyone else like its second nature, because she has a high tolerance herself. Which means that to reach this current point tonight, she’s probably had a lot to drink. Which also means that something has to have really rattled her to get her here, bent over the toilet and looking slightly green.

“It doesn’t matter.” Nina mumbles the words, looking down, and Brooke puts a hand on her shoulder, gives her a little squeeze.

“Course it does. You can talk to me.”

Nina finally, finally looks at her, and Brooke can see the dimmed sparkle in her eyes, the sadness along her features. No, not sadness - more defeat.

“Am I making a mistake, Brooke? Marrying Ben?”

Booke pulls back in surprise. “What? What do you mean?”

Brooke has multiple friends that are in long term relationships and Nina’s, by far, always has looked the steadiest. The most wholesome. Nina never shuts up about her fiancé, telling Brooke all the time about the picnics he takes her on or the gifts he gets her or how they’re absolutely soulmates. Nina’s always looked happy, truly happy with her man, something that Brooke has loved to see, because Nina’s the kind of person who believes in true love. In a happily ever after. And, up until this moment, Brooke has believed that Nina’s been living exactly how she’s always dreamed of.

But what if she hasn’t?

“It’s just-it’s good. But it’s also just good, y’know? He brings me flowers and always opens doors for me and snuggles me at night but…” Nina lifts her head, looks at Brooke, and her face is more lost than Brooke has ever seen it. “I don’t feel anything else with him. Like, it’s happy, it’s good, he’s good, but-”

Nina cuts herself off, takes a deep breath as she lifts her left hand up, holds it out in front of them. The sparkling bling on her ring finger reflects sparkles along the bathroom tiles and walls, ones that make Nina wince when they shine on her face.

“I just don’t know. I’m not feeling what I��m supposed to feel, y’know?” Nina sits back, scooches away from the toilet to lean against the wall.

Brooke joins her because really, does she have anywhere else to be? She doesn’t know what to do though, not when Nina’s looking so forlorn and lost and all Brooke wants is be there for her, somehow, even though she’s never felt the way Nina is feeling right now.

So Brooke leans her head on Nina’s shoulder, feeling the comforting warmth of Nina leaning her head against hers, too. “I dunno, babe. I wish I could tell you I had the answer, or how to make things magical, but I have none of those answers. All I know is that you deserve to be happy. You deserve the ending that you’ve always wanted. I think you need to first figure out exactly what that is.”

Nina sighs, twisting her ring on her finger. “I have no idea what that is.”

“No need to decide on your birthday with a tipsy brain. It can wait.” Brooke unfolds herself from the ground, gets herself up before holding her hands out to Nina so that she can help her up, too.

“C’mon. Let’s get you into bed.”

The conversation replays in her mind, though, as she Ubers home from Nina’s. It makes no sense - how has Nina lost that spark with her fiancé, when they’ve always looked so stable? Did Nina ever really have it in the first place? Or did she just think she did? Was the way Nina had felt in the bathroom just cold feet, or was it something bigger?

And then there’s that spark Nina had talked about in the first place. Brooke tries to picture what it would feel like, what the concept of sparks flying actually even means. Fireworks and butterflies and falling head over heels? Hell, Brooke feels fireworks when she kisses Vanessa, but it’s only because she’s kissing a pretty girl after ages and ages and fully enjoying it. The concept of sparks flying feels elusive, something that could be searched for forever and ever without ever truly being found. It feels similar to the way that Vanessa’s looking for her true love and Princess Charming, and how she’s absolutely convinced that she’ll know when she finds her.

It feels like everyone has a radar for knowing these kinds of things except for Brooke. Not that Brooke minds, not really. Being in search of something that’ll never be in reach seems fruitless. Unnecessary. Especially when she has other things she’d rather be spending her time on.

Quite frankly? Brooke’s good with just her cats and friendship - especially Vanessa’s.

[teaandribbons]

I can’t

I can’t pretend like I don’t know what I am doing to myself and my body and how bad it is. I can’t pretend to be happy anymore. I am truly broken. I’ve been dealing with this for the past four years of my life on and off, but I can’t anymore. Always thinking that “I’m not underweight so it’s not that serious, really” well guess what? It is fucking serious! What about your family? You’r friends? You’r boyfriend/girlfriend? My relationships with my loved ones are not the same anymore. Coming on to tumblr and acting like the things im posting and liking and reblogging are totally sane, is not normal. This behaviour is not normal. YOU WILL DIE. 

Now this is something I’d usually would’ve scrolled past before, ignoring it, but I can’t do it anymore. Denying the facts and acting like you are the only exception “oh but it could be different for me” or “It’s okay, I’ll just get to ... and then I’ll stop”. No you won’t stop, because guess what? you think you’re in control, but you’re not. Stop it. If you proceed like this, you will DIE. You know what I would usually say? “I don’t care, I wanna die.”.Yeah, well that’s a lie. Life is fucking fantastic and you shouldn’t have to feel this way. Life is worth living. Everything might feel shitty right now, but that’s just a little bump in the road. 

I really want you to be happy, and not miss out on things in life just because of a desire that wont last. I want to be happy too. I have hopes and dreams and life goals, and when I think of what I will look back on and treasure when Im an 80- something year old lady, being skinny will not be on that list. It will be the experiences I had with people I love. The places I travelled and the things I got to see. 

I’ve been avoiding recovery because I’ve been scared. Because the thought of being skinny is all I’ve ever known for the past four years and not having that anymore is scary. But I’m ready now, even though I’m scared as hell, I am ready.  I hope you guys chose recovery too, you are worth it.  If you have any questions, wanna talk or if you need help just feel free to DM me at any time and I will respond as soon as I can.  (using these tags to reach out to as many as possible suffering from this - I am not pro ana.) 

[survivingthejungle]

hello friends here is a part 2 for my most recent one shot! i am really just about to babble a bunch of words onto my screen but i hope they are good words

_______

You were recovered, fully, and on your meds 24/7, no exceptions. (Your family [and you] didn’t want a repeat of what happened the last time you didn’t take them.) People thought of you differently, of course. That was to be expected when people find out that you had to go to an asylum for the criminally insane for attacking a boy with a lacrosse stick. You didn’t mind, you had kind, loyal friends who never thought anything but the best of you. Anyone else didn’t really matter. You were allowed back on the team eventually, and got right back into the game like nothing had ever changed.

There was one thing about that fiasco, though, that still haunted you. The screaming please of the ginger boy you had befriended during your stay. You didn’t tell any of your family or friends about him, for good reason. (They would be wary of you if you told them that you made a friend in an insane asylum. They would worry for your safety if you told them he threatened to find you.) You did your best to forget him, but sometimes his empty threat and screams, or memories of your short-lived friendship, still managed to make their way back to you. You wished it would stop.

But regardless, no one but you knew about these thoughts. You successfully got back on track in all of your classes. Being an honors student was demanding and tiring, but it was beneficial to your academic growth and college applications. You were a fast learner, to your advantage, and catching up on the material you missed only took a week or so. Life was back to normal sooner than you realized, and you were happy. Sometimes, you forgot for a moment about where you had been and who you had met. Study dates in cafes and running amuck (abiding every law, of course,) in the city allowed you to feel like it was all just a strange dream. But all dreams come to an end, and this one was about to.

The stories blaring on the news all had one thing in common- 6 prisoners in the asylum had managed to break out, and were not nowhere to be found. What scared you the most about this was that Jerome, the ginger boy, was amongst them. But you kept your cool as best you could- no one knew about your relationship with him, and you didn’t necessarily want anybody to know.

Of course, as soon as he was broken out of prison, the first thing he decided was that he was going to find you. After all, he couldn’t go back on his word (he was a man of honor, after all). He only had one condition for agreeing to do Galavan’s bidding- it was to have you. He wanted you back. What you thought of as a convenient friendship, he always thought of as something more. In his mind, the moment you allowed yourself to be comfortable with him, you became his. He was under the impression that this was an unspoken agreement- you, however, never came to see it that way.

The both of you were in for a rude awakening.

It came one day after you returned from practice after school. Your parents were out of town on a business trip, so the house was empty for him to break into and await your return. (Your dog- while you loved her dearly- was not, by any means, a guard dog. If she was given attention, she was perfectly placid.) When you got home, you found both Jerome and your dog sitting on the floor of your living room. You froze in shock and let your bags, both school and sports, fall to the floor with a thud. That was when he looked up at you and instantly broke out in a grin. “Well hello there,” he said, standing up and talking painstakingly slow steps towards you. “Long time, no see, huh?”

Your breath was shaky when you tilted you head to look at him. He was looming over you, had you backed up against a wall, and you were beyond intimidated. “Why… why are you here?” He let out a well-mannered scoff.

“Why do you think? I told you I’d come back for you, bird. I wouldn’t break a promise.” He took notice to your fearful expression. “What’s wrong? Something bothering you?”

“Please… Please leave me alone. You’re sick. You need help. Please get out of my house. I won’t tell anyone.”

(This was a lie, of course. You were calling the police as soon as possible.) He just laughed at this.

“What are you talking about, (y/n)? I’m not leaving here without you. You’re mine, we were made for each other.” You scrunched your brows in confusion. “All you have to do is free your mind… these people have it clouded. You think you’re sane, but really… you’re just trapped. I know you can’t see it just yet. But don’t worry, I’ll show you.”

Now it was your turn to laugh. “‘Show me’? Jerome, there’s nothing to show. I’m not a psychopathic anarchist like you. I don’t want to 'free my mind’. I’m perfectly happy being sane and healthy.”

He just shook his head. “Wow. They really did a number on you. Just about snuffed out your spark! But I’ll get it back to ya in no time, believe me.”

“Why do you care?” you blurted out suddenly. “Where is this all coming from- why won’t you just leave me be?”

He tilted his head at you, genuinely confused. “Well, because- because you were made for me! You’re mine. I need you."

"Well then you'd better stop needing me, Jerome, because I'm not yours. You can't just come in here and claim ownership over me, like I'm some... some thing! People don't belong to people, and I don't belong to you. Get out." You didn't know where the sudden courage to say this came from. Beneath your tough exterior, you were terrified that he would lash out and kill you any second. But you composed your posture regardless.

"Is that so?" he questioned, taking it concerningly lightly. "Well then. I can see when I'm not wanted. Take care, then. But you'll regret this sooner or later. You'll come to your senses and see that you're mine soon enough." Finally, he stepped back, far enough to let you take a deep breath and not bump into him. He began to walk away, when he quickly turned on his heel. "On second thought," he looked at you, "I can't just leave you like this."

You began to form the beginning of a question when he had you pinned to the wall, again, hands around your throat. You struggled against him, clawing at his arms and hands. (Damn it, you play lacrosse, why can't you fight back harder?) "Don't worry, I won't kill ya. Just make ya sleep for a few hours. Don't want ya callin' ol' Jimbo down at the GCPD, now, do we?" You slumped to the floor, black spots forming in your vision. "Sleep, princess. I'll be back soon enough." His threatening promise was the last thing you saw before you totally blacked out and fell into a deep slumber.

Hours later, when you finally awoke exactly where he had left you. You were a sobbing mess, and there were fresh bruises scattered along your throat. It registered in your mind that he now knew where you lived, attended school, and could kill you at a moment's notice. You rushed to the phone and dialled 911, hands shaking. When the operator picked up, you spilled everything that had just taken place, taking a few, short shaky breaths after talking a mile a minute. The police, as well as an ambulance, was on the scene in five minutes. You contacted your parents next, and they booked the earliest flight possible to get back to you.

You saw his shenanigans on the news throughout the rest of that week. An oil truck heist, attempted arson, and raiding and massacring the police station.

(What scared you most about that one was when he talked about you in his cheaply-recorded monologue to the police chief. He vaguely mentioned his anger at society for tainting the mind and heart of his 'pretty bird', followed by a rant about being cogs in a machine. It was unsettling.)

You didn't sleep well for weeks. One night, you woke up in a cold sweat, convinced that he was in your room. You fell back asleep soon after, but in the morning, Your window was open and there was a rose by your head.

(You went to your backyard and burned it. You held it up high, just incase he was hiding somewhere, watching.)

(He was. He brought back two more the next night.)

This game of retaliation continued for a few days more, until it stopped. He was stabbed in the throat on live television, after hours of terrorizing a charity gala. You were relieved, of course, but a small part of you was disappointed.

(You did really want him to get better. You wanted to be his friend, you really did, but not if he was a psychopathic criminal who didn't care about anyone but himself.)

(But he did care about someone other than himself.)

(It was you.) (Deep down, you knew it, too.)

________

YEET SKEET I WROTE IT

i'm so tired

i thought i would let u kno im getting a lot closer to one of my friends and its making me really happy. we will refer to him as cool boy.

dumb boy still walks through my life every now and then. i can't avoid that. he's dating one of my best friends. he said he wanted to still be friends but hasn't taken any initiative on that yet. am i disappointed because we used to be so close and now we don't talk anymore? yes. will it kill me? hell no

im still so tired.

another guy friend, we will call him ugly boy because he is an ugly boy, started dating another one of my good friends recently. they are cute as hell and i hope he makes her happy bc she is a great person and her last boyfriend was a jerk.

i, myself, still have no love life. im cool with that. i've managed this much of my life without a man and i don't necessarily need or want one at the moment. the boy previously known as cute boy is a bit of a bore anyways.

please gimme feedback on this fic ALSO thank you i need constant validation that u guys like what i do, since, u know, i do it for u, and i don't get paid for this

[betwixttwoendlesswinters]

The Scratching

It started right after Reagan’s second inauguration,

Something clawing gently at the walls,

Sometimes fast and frantic digging desperate to reach the world outside;

Often slow, thought out, methodical,

Trying to find the weakest points, possibly for fragile paws.

I stayed up all night searching to find the source. 

Occasionally for too many days at a time. 

The exterminator politely avoided saying I was crazy,

And gently said sometimes rats can hide inside of walls and go out scavenging during the day,

I protested that I knew about the nests, and meant to call sooner but this was new and must have another cause.

He didn't say he found any rats, but he would come again and see what he could do. 

It seemed that he felt bad for me, since he only charged half his normal fee. 

I set out an tape recorder, to see if the noise was just inside my head,

But in the morning, the battery was dead. 

This doesn't sound unusual, but considering both battery and device were new, it left me scratching my head. I got some more new batteries, but the same thing happened the next night, and the next. 

It happened with every camcorder and, and every new cassette recorder died. 

The cheap ones plugged into the walls, all had frayed wires and never worked, I finally gave up on this when I realized how much the total cost had come to be. 

But it seemed that something didn't want what was in my walls to have it's noise heard in any way but live.

My performance at work was suffering, my boss asked if everything was okay,

I said I was having trouble sleeping, explained it away to him as stress. 

I had vacation days saved up, 

And in a surprising twist, I had no ongoing cases,

The only client had settled out of court the other day.

A week in the Cayman islands later, I felt much more relaxed and sane.

But the infernal persistent scratching kept me up that night again. 

My mortgage was too fresh and, loan too high, for me to move out to somewhere new,

So I slapped my forehead with bloodshot eyes, looking in the bathroom mirror late one night, I tried getting some earplugs, At 3:00 AM to the sound of monotonous intermittent scratching, once every 10 seconds by my clock, I found them set neatly on the shelf where I kept my notes on what the defending lawyer’s case history was and strategies quite often were, before they appeared in my ears minutes to hours later, leaving me more confused and anxious then before.

I started working more overtime, even though being on salary meant that I didn't get paid any more,

I filed and sorted and organized and cleaned, doing anywork I could find,

Until my boss in the calm and soothing voice of one trying not to get bit by something foaming at the mouth,

Said I had worked enough the past two weeks that I could take the next three weeks, off and still not fall behind,

I hadn't noticed in my manic feverish productivity borne out of a desperate need to be anywhere but at what I once had called my home, that my job title might as well as have read “paralegal” or “secretary”. 

I hadn't met with a client in over a month, for that I was secretly grateful,

For if I hadn’t been sent home to rest, I wouldn’t have had that encounter most fateful.

I realized I could either spend the rest of my days, driven mad by the repetitive, scratching, Or I could take back control of my life.

I checked my local library, out of one last desperate grasp for any chance of taking back my life. For a book on morse code, maybe there was a hidden message in this endless scratching on my walls?

I passed a newspaper stand, the owner talking about how someone who i’d prosecuted for murder, he managed to get the charge down to manslaughter despite my best attempts, a decade ago got released on parole, it was high profile at the time, but right now I had more concerning things on my mind.

I found a book that looked like one I wanted, it was really easy to understand, had lots of illustrations, and I continued with what I had planned. That night as with every night, for months without any end in sight, the scratching kept me up again, but no message came too light. When at dawn the scratching stopped, as was often, but not always the case, I threw the book down in frustration, and slept while I could trusting the clawing to eventually cause me to wake. I woke up sometime later, to an unexpected sight, with scratches on the book I’d left unattended and out of sight. Some of the pages were torn out, and scattered on the floor. I’d grown used to unexpected occurrences, and thought about it no more. 

I busied myself cleaning up, putting the shreds as close as I could back to how it was before.

And when that evening soon arrived, the book unharmed with not one page out of place but that detail soon went out from my mind without a trace I nearly fainted from surprise. In unsure, hesitant scratching, that I had to check what remained of the book to be sure if I was right, the clawing gave me a message, it said

“Im sory for giv frite”

I tapped out my response on the wall, with shaking unsteady hands,

“You can talk?” I wasn’t expecting much, thinking I may have lost what remained of my fragile, brittle mind, But stayed up that night for a new reason, listening to the sad story of a scared and lonely creature who needed a friend.

They didn’t know who once they were, where their mouth went, or how they got their long and torturous claws.

Or how and why they got trapped inside my house, unable to put one scaled and gnarled foot inside.

Or even why they seemed to have no form to touch the world, barely any mortal guise.

But sunlight seemed to banish them, they couldn’t stand the taste of day,

And in their broken faltering english, they finally managed to say.

That they wanted to find someone, so they could finally relate, but never had any means to speak, or any message to relay, any damage or effect they had on the physical world that would cause people to take notice, would quickly fade and turn back to how it was, leaving them with no ideas on what to do.

The only exception to their ability, was that what living things they shredded with their dastardly and grasping claws, stayed forever sundered, and I realized that's where the rodents I once had must have gone,

The thing I could not see explained, it didn't mean to do me any harm, I said that if only it would let me sleep, we could have our little talks.

In its endearingly innocent way, ignorant of the trouble it had been making, it asked me to explain what sleep was, since it spent every moment waking, and was trying to make sure that when I died at night, that I would come to life once again.

With confusion and some difficulty, I explained that sleep is only a partial death, but is needed in some quantity for us humans to maintain our health, we came to an agreement, we would talk to each other in our long and short patterned, coded way, during the hours between day and night, near dusk and near each dawn, 

But during the dead of night I needed sleep, and life went on in this strange, but bearable new way.

When I came back to work days later, my boss said I looked like was much better, and I agreed. I said the reason why was complicated, but the problem was now removed.

It only was a little lie, the cause of the issue was still there but was now a little more understood.

He said that I should be careful, as the leading witness in the case that started my career was found in a lake, strangled, blue, and floating,

I said that I’d be careful, and vowed to call the police for some patrols to come by house,

I’d arranged with the clawed and mouthless thing that I could now communicate with, to stay late at the office, but leave the tv on to entertain it,

It liked the PBS channel especially, and Sesame Street even more,

It often told me at great lengths, what Big Bird had been up to while I slept.

I arrived that night quite past sunset, to a certain smell, unfamiliar and nauseating, 

On my doorstep I found filleted corpse, of someone for who the police were now ineffectively searching. I rang them up immediately, they arrived and had a number of questions which I answered with the truth.

I didn’t see what happened, or know the name of anyone who might of, And that the murder weapon appeared to be several knives, but no blood trail was to be found.

They took the body with them, along with all the evidence, and said if they had anymore questions, they’d let me know, but didn’t seem particularly worried.

They figured it was likely a sort of wild cat, lost somewhere in the city, and since he likely would’ve gotten the chair anyway, the figured someone had done the city a service.

I asked my new friend and new protector, only one question about what happened to that man, I asked “Why?”

And waited several minutes of contemplative silence for the similarly brief reply.

“Friend, good, man, bad”

I left it at that but realized, I could take on more cases such as those, without the expensive security, most lawyers who chose such a path often required.

I still live in that house to this day, comfortably retired, and left a note in my will that my next of kin who gets this house must comply with,

Morse Code must be learned, and an open mind is unquestioningly required.

[somedaypast-thesunset]

this mentally ill person causes an extreme amount of chaos in my life which is completely not needed because although i lack certain things - i could probably get by without them. like im going to be sad and whatever but im not going to die and ill find a way to live. 

but their illness absolutely causes many of my issues to be triggered which does not in anyway allow me clarity in the moment because i am still working on my issues. and heres what i can give to myself: i never ran away. ive been knocked down and shit on and dragged through the mud and as much as ive even wanted to - ive never run away and i never gave up. this is my strength. this is the resilience. 

i have alot of complex feelings about this and i want to not entangle all of them into this giant lump of grief and sadness but to address each part of it and work through each part on its own to complete the big picture. and i feel im doing this in my own life like ive gone from complete mental break downs to just being really sad. my immediate thought is not ‘i want to fucking die’. like maybe i feel this way and its one of the thoughts but its not the first one. its not the overwhelming one anymore. and i cant even express how this has made things better for me. i am able to cope so much moe when im not in an anxiety attack like death could truly be imminent just by my own hands. 

like heres an overwhelming fact: no one will ever give a fuck. no one will ever really want to help. 

one day im sure ill be romantically surprised by the prince charming that changes everything for me but until that day comes - ive spent a decade involved in other peoples lives because i have no life of my own. i have no family, no traditions, no holidays. no one can join me for a thing - i join them. 

and heres another overwhelming fact: this is not remotely fair. i was dealt a really shitty hand and its not fair but nothing changes this. nothing changes that its not fair. i will not get my parents back. i will not have a family i grew up with. its not fair. this is just a fact, not whining - it’s not fair that this happened. and of course “life is not fair” but its truly not fair to have your parents die at an early age. its not fair to have a child die young. theres many not fairs. its just .. not fair. 

what do i do with this information? this is like .. a real turning point to make. 

i guess to start, how do i feel? and i feel... sad. and frustrated. and lke.. i wish the world was a better place. im angry that like.. people really take for granted what they were just handed and i dont know how to stop being super bitter about it. im not even pissed i didnt live a glamorous life but the older i get the more i realize that my parents were completely and totally unfit parents to their core. and like this is so hard to admit because i loved my father soo much and this person did so much for me and my ungrateful mother but he did so little as well. 

and i repeat this cycle. i was given such little attention as a child that i am absolutely grateful for something i should have gotten purely out of love. like why do i walk around with “i never asked for this” tattooed on me? since i was a small child i just felt like - wow i never asked to be here you know. like im not TRYING to be here. i was just popped out of the womb and now im like this giant burden to your life and like my mother didnt care at all and she held sooo much resentment towards me. and this is what i knew. this is all i have ever known in my whole life. mentally ill people who are completely incapable of caring for anoter human being making me an intregal part of their lives. 

and what really has confounded me for years is whether or not i am mentally ill. like is everyone around me crazy or am i the crazy one? and its like -- no one knows the isolation ive had except me. and they take this as like being lazy or unsociable but ive been terrified to go out and interact with people because am i the crazy one or are they? 

but as i get older i realize i honestly may not be the mentally ill person. how could one ever tell this when ive been under duress since i was 3? its not that i am mentally ill its that im reacting to my surroundings like any normal human being. i am not psychotic or paranoid, i dont have delusions or an ego. im actually, i believe, a pretty fine and sane person who appears mentally ill under these scenarios. i thought i had a mood disorder - no, i just live an extremely stressful life. and have for like two decades. of COuRSE i feel different things quickly and without regard. of COURSE. thats a REACTION to the scenario, usually of which is completely abnormal. 

and there is not a single person in my life to pat my back and be like hey, its okay to feel this way you know. its okay that youre angry. its okay that youre sad. ive begun developing the voice in my head that will be this person. i realized its the only way i will be able to survive. when ram dass said you are not your depression, i realized i am not any of my emotions. i am just feeling these things. and there is a reason why i am feeling them. im not just waking up rying to feel this way. thre is a root problem.

but when you are surrounded by mentally ill people, they suck you into their illness and you react to this. so not only do i have my own issues im dealing with seperately on my own but now i have these issues coming up begging to trigger certain emotions and thoughts in me which really are not issues im capable of dealing with because IM not  a therapist or a trained professional and i can barely navigate my own life right now. but i work especially hard not to have this fall on other people. i understand that i was handed this deck. no one else was handed it. this is for me to do what im going to do with it. so i blame no one for me not having parents. it is no ones responsibility to fill their roles. or even be a family member to me. 

for example; hearing constantly about how this political system doesnt work or poor people are disadvantaged or the city is corrupt etc. -- all facts im well aware of which linger in my mind on a daily basis which i have to fight with everything i have to get out of bed and keep doing something. but now i have it being reiterated to me as well on a regular basis and my desire to do anything has dwindled to nothing. 

i have become trapped in this non relationship because it was easy for him to get what he wanted by giving me just a bit of what i wanted. he has been very very very selfish from the beginning because he knows he will not be monogamous or fulfill my emotional needs but continues to maintain this non relationship. he believes i am responsible because he “told me this” and i continued to be involved with a mentally ill person who spent all of his time with me, usually by his own choice because again, it was “easy for him”. he reiterated ENOUGH times that he believes i need to be cared for and that he has done everything he is currently possibly able to do within his own means to care for me. 

but its kind of like .. this stray dog. like you know this dog needs care despite its survival on its own and you feed it every once in awhile maybe give it a bath, hang out with it for awhile but you never give the dog what it needs. 

and also, you’re treating me like a dog. as if i have no emotional brain to feel what it’s like for someone to treat me like this. as if i dont know that you have a home. and you have all the things you need. and youre just feeding me scraps because you feel bad. 

ive lost respect for him because hes running. its not even a jealousy issue becuse i know if i went away for three months and returned, all of my problems would still be there. my parents dont come back in thre months. he never tried to improve his situation and instead ran away from it and ive just lost alot of respect for him for doing that. 

and if i cant respect him i dont know if i can even be his friend. 

and he has not shown appropriate respect for my own issues either so what i am feeling right now is just an overall lack of respect for this person. like i still love them but i feel like i cant hold my own head high or like sleep at night knowing i dont respect this person but im still supporting them. its like nikki sixx. i dont respect him anymore and i probably will never support his projects again. but i had such a deep love and adoration and like i still have that first love kind of feeling like this person really influenced my life and i owe their character alot for my character but omg do i not respect him at all. could i never look at nikki sixx again?

no. 

and thats the confliction. like it does not matter what he does at all. it matters what i do and what i decide upon this and how important he is to my life. i lost all respect for my ex when he cheated and lied. u know its the lieing. its not even the cheating. im not even mad about the cheating, its the lies for months on end. like what a mar on your character. thats who you are now. youre a person who lied. do i still look at him?

yes. do i still talk to him? no. did i talk to him? yes. because being so young i didnt know how i would feel in this scenario like this was anther nikki sixx. five years out of the gate - i would not watch video games to this day if i didnt have this relationship and this is like the most comforting thing in all of my life. like even beyond weed, the most comforting thing is just some guy playing video games. and thats only from my ex. i wouldve never developed this comfort in watching games had i not ha this experience. now thats apart of who i am. and i think about him atleast 10 - 20 times a month. easily. i think about the time we spent together, i think about how much i loved him, how much i loved his guitar playing -  i felt really lucky at the time and that this would be the man i would marry and spend the rest of my life with. i wanted to do this. 

and i talked to him because i wanted this sooooo bad i hoped that he could say or do something that would regain my respect and nothing he did or said made it any better. i never regained respect for him. and its because the action was already done. i dont think i could forgive an abuser, you know? like i dont think i could get punched in the fucking face and be like oh it was just one time they changed. they did not change at all they just learned to not do that again because the consequences are dire. the action is already done. you were a working brain of a person before you cocked your fist and then you completed the action and NOW you’re sorry? NOW you learned? 

i think he is not a person right now you can currently admire or respect. and like nikki sixx, he gave me alot. like alot of negative experiences whch couldve been much worse that allowed me the opportunity to learn about myself. life is not fair and life couldve been some fucking piece of shit jamming a dick down my throat. and like for the position im in thats actually alot more likely to happen to someone like me so its lucky that i encountered some mentally ill jerk off living with his mother. 

to be fair, i guess hes right - he hasnt BEEN someone to respect or admire. he has sat on his high horse while crying and then running away. and i cannot at any point n the future see myself saying “wow good job you abandoned all your responsibilities to work on yourself.” because again - you abandoned them; they werent taken from you. you took for granted what youve been given and then took advantage of your priviledge to “take a break from it” and that’s just not respectable in the least bit. no matter if you come out of this as jesus fucking christ - if jesus murdered a dude before he was crucified - fuck jesus. 

i feel as the mostly not mentally ill person n ths situation as i look down upon it i see this person running away and realizing how much they took for granted and how poorly they treated me and the love that i actually provided to them. this of course will take weeks, if not months to realize as lonliness sets in and no one is really interested in being friends with someone mentally ill or he encounters similar situations. 

what i feel like right now is that i have a choice. i could gamble upon my gut feeling whch could very well lead to repeating a cycle again; hes “not monogamous”. so even if he were to realize anything at all, it remains tht hes “not monogamous” and i would have to gamble two years worth of hearing that against it suddenly changing (it wont.) 

or i could walk away and commit myself to the knowledge this person is mentally ill, unlikely to get better an caused a large amount of pain in my life so i should not maintain any communication with them because mentally i will always be thinking like.. i dont care. go fuck yourself. and in turn never provide them with anything they are looking for from me. 

because i would also not detriment any future relationships with maintaing contact with him. not because i would be some cheater but because he has proven to make inappropriate and disrespectful comments to other peoples spouses when he has a failed relationship with the person. and i want to respect my future partner enough that they wont have to endure that kind of treatment from someone who thinks they know me on an intimate level. 

i made a comment some weeks ago like i’m not going to walk away, i know you’re ill and unlike other people i’m not going to blame you for it. and he said that that had made him feel good and like he could lessen the anxiety of going away to work on his illness and then tonight he commented that i would probably “fuck off” within a few days of him leaving. 

and then i think about asia o’hara. and how this is my only reference to anyone without parents in any circumstance that is moderately close to my age. and like all these things she does and says - i get it. i know where its coming from. and one of the last few thngs she said on the runway was that she was put on this earth to serve. and you will feel that way when you lose parents or they become ill before they die. you are here to serve an make other peoples lives better. and  feel that. ive felt that. i felt that standing in my fathers living room realizing no one would ever know what this was. if i did not exist my fathers life wouldve been worse. so my existences purpose was to make his better. not to like go out and succeed and be amillionaire and put him in a house. but to serve, to make it my life to make another persons life better and i could expect absolutely nothing at all for it. like my life mightve gotten worse for it. but to this day i am not regretful at all. i couldve went to school and had luxurious jobs and did all the things. i couldve. but instead i stayed home and cared for this stubborn sick man who got up every day for 35 years at 4am to drive a transport truck on winter canadian highways for 14 hours a day. my existence was to see that. i was supposed to see that. i was put on this earth to see my fathers life and to honor that he existed and he worked and he lived and he breathed and people should know this. 

she said, “ive learned that friendships have become extremely important and i treat them like family to me” and thats not wrong. thats another person just like me who is saying because i have no family, the people in my life are going to take a bigger step because i do not have the responsibilites or obligations to distract me from helping the greater good. 

and m so sad. i could scream from teh top of my building how sad i am and cauterwall like a cat in heat. and im hurt. and im so many things.

but this sick man, who is leaving for months, took the time to ave this conversation because i began the threat that what we currently had was going to be over on his return. and we cannot define what this is. but if you believe you will return and i will be adoring and in love and fascinated and interested by all your tales - probably not. and he is saying, “i may never see you again”, “i cant make any commitments to you.” “i cant tell you whats going to happen” and the ease of the relationship has ended, and he is saying “we are broken up, this is not a relationship anymore” but the conversation continues. no.

no.

its not a conversation as i sit silently tears streaming down my face as he rants on and on about things, contradicting himself at every turn. and hes “angry” but hes not angry, and hes upset that he’s worried about me like he’s never been in love before. he’s upset he doesnt want to leave because hes worried about me like hes never been in love before. and it all sounds so .. psychotic. and he hangs up, and i call back and he answers and he doesnt want to do this and he cant do this and hes done everything he possibly can for me. 

i could choose to put myself aside and serve the “greater good” of this person “becoming better”. and by doing this i take full acknowledgement that i could receive absolutely nothing in return. i could be shit on again. i coul watch this person fall in love with someone else (they will) and i have to have the strength to be happy for them because theyve reached “better”. i guess im like.. disappointed in myself that im not better than i thought i was because of my history. like i should be able to accept this opportunity to fulfill my fucking existence but im really ... begrudging my exstence because im still resentful for not getting anthing for my father.

like not like money or anythng but like you get literally nothing. no praise. people literally question whether you should even be applauded for it like it was your job anyways. and thats such a dark side to humanity that you have to remain positive and loyal and “happy” while witnessing all of this and carrying like the burdens this had all created for you. 

and i guess i kind of lost respect but i dont think ram dass would say thats okay because i lost respect for the fact he became worn out by being a caregiver. but only a few people in the world are legitimately care givers. you have to truly have something in your soul in order to endure the care of others. and not everyone has this. this is why we have to like super respect nurses and people like that because they are care givers. we respect mothers because they are primary (usually) care givers. they are always obligated. mom has to be there, period. many women upon giving birth learn the trait of being a care giver. and like many women will live until they give birth being selfish ungiving pieces of shit and then spend the rest of their lives caring for someone else. 

my care giving is an extremely respectable part of my character. if not the most respectable part. but i have lost alot of this trait over the past three years - i never asked my dad for anything in return. like yeah he already ~ gave me things but i never was like hey ill do ths an this for you if you give me 10$. like hes not paying me to do his groceries. hes not paying me to change his bandages. im not asking him to do that either. nor am i trading any service with him - i dont change hs bandage for him to make me lunch. i am just serving him as a care giver and you will not get anything in return and a good and true care giver expects nothing. i am no longer this person. i went kind of backwards  in life and i worry now that maybe ive become sooo jaded that maybe i will never truly be a care giver again.

and of course. of course i dont need to at all give this care to a capable grown ass priviledged man. i absolutely do not. is this even the most deserving person? 

i dont necessarily have to jump to a decision right now because the next three months will dictate it for me but i would love to break the cycle by making a commitment to myself on a decision/action i will take and living with the responsibility of that action because if you choose not to decide you still have made a choice. 

and my gut says no. my depression says yes. my depression is very desperate and i think holds on to things that arent there. my gut says no, dont support ths person. our call ended with, “ill call you in a few days”. to which i feel like - why bother? i cant actually speak about how i feel about anything and ill just have to sit and listen to his stories about whatever the fuck he did. and i dont care. and i cant pretend to care and i cant pretend to be happy for his decision i barely respect. 

i dont wan tto spend my summer looking forward to his calls, you know? i just want to let it go and have my mourning period and move on. 

and maybe its shitty of me but i hope he feels guilty and i hope its hard for him. i do. because thats the result of a decision that cant be respected. and thats how you should feel when you go through with it. because honestly? none of this is real and its a projection of the fear of losing me. if it doesnt matter we wouldnt have had the conversation. 

and yes, the moment he sleeps with someone else this will all be over for me. and thats the result of being involved with someone who is monogamous. thats a choice he made and will probably make and when youre a hundred miles away, i never have to care about you or choose to see you again. like even with my oshawa ex i fet like i hope he feels like shit. not because i want to be with him but beause he deserves to feel that way. it doesnt even benefit me. you just deserve it. 

i do not regret not spending another night with a mentally ill person. i wish i couldve spent the last night with a person i loved but it wasnt able to happen. 

he told me i should “take this as a wake up call” to have “more than him” in my life nd i dont believe at all thats what it is. its a wake up call to learn how to take care of myself - n all ways. like no one else can or will or should fulfill anything in my life, i should fulfill everything that i need. so that i make a choice as to who to be around. i will have to live more frugally and learn how to moderate my pleasures. 

i am disappointed that again i feel like if i do talk to him that i will begin to lie because i want to be left alone. i do not want to be told what to do or that what im doing isnt enough. i jsut want to tell him what he wants to hear. like i want to tell him that ive gotten a job but the job is on a farm. i want to say that like im already doing what he said he wanted to do. and like i want to be fulfilled with myself so that when i lie and say that this farm is owned by some family who treated me kindly and i felt ths and this its just a personification of my self improvement. llike im half way into it anyways - i lie about a therapist to justify things i already fucking know but no one listens to me so i hve to make up ths story to make it sound like it didnt come from me and now its respectable. 

so fine. ill ‘see a therapist’ and ‘go to work’. but again, i’m not really going to talk in detail about these things. and if he asks  i would just tell him that its just something im doing and im not interested in talking about it. that it doesnt define me or anything in my life at all. it gives me an ongoing excuse to turn down phone calls or texts when im not prepared to answer them at that time as well. remaining silent is just not good enough. 

ive been a very honest person in my life and i think its time for me to be selfish in order to et myself to the next step and it sounds really stupid to be dishonest to better myself and attempt to regain my care giving traits nd maybe itll all blow up in my face and ill learn a new lesson but for now this is how im going to sleep. i will tell him its my therapists advice not to talk to him about these things until weve established a mutually respectful way of communicating and if we dont it doesnt matter what i did or did not tell him because it literally doesnt matter. if he is capable of maintaining his own interest in my life then maybe ill open up more - he can either work towards that to be a mature, respectful human begin or disregard it and any sort of relationship between us. of course, the position is just a summer job, giving me an out if ths somehow lasts the summer. 

tomorrow i have to go through excruciating pain - again for my fucking cyst and i have contract testing at some point and i really want to do these things on my own and grab my last weed for like a week and just exist. not for a week. id like to wake up and do shit on friday too. and i know so hard that depression will be the firs tthing i feel when i wake up. and as the days go on its going be even harder and sadder but i just have to figure it out an get myself through it.