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the-archetype-of-civilization · 5 years ago

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I saw a Kingdom Hearts concert today. It’s funny, because I wasn’t expecting to go to it at all. My friends had asked me many months back if I could, but I didn’t have money at the time because I was low in funds and I refused to let them buy it for me so I could pay them back later (which wasn’t foreseeable to me). Apparently my friend’s brother couldn’t make it, so he asked me last minute today if I wanted to see it. I did. And so I went into the city and watched it with my good friends.

It was breathtaking. Yoko never ceases to amaze me with her beautiful music and KH is truly her tour de force. I was spoiled on KH3, but I didn’t have enough investment to really care all that much anymore. The series burned me out a long time ago when they refused to make the third game for all of these damn spin-offs that you HAVE to play. Either way, I enjoyed it and loved the whole symphony.

I hated when it was over. Because then I returned to the real world. My reality. My awful and garbage rock bottom that I’ve found myself in these past few months. Actually, that’s not true. I’ve felt worse now than I have months before. I’m just...there. I feel so hollow and emotionless now. I’m like a zombie. The concert was enough to make me feel again, but after that I just flat-lined.

My friend asked me what I’ve been up to, since I haven’t been in contact with them all that much and haven’t seen them in a while. He’s really one of the few friends that actually cares and asks if people are all right. He truly is my best friend and I wouldn’t change him for anything else. I don’t talk to them because I didn’t want them knowing about my situations these past few months. Although, I did tell them that my relationship is gone now and they were (more or less) supportive...marginally (understandably so considering how I treated her, though). I did tell him that these last few months were pretty shit, especially after the break-up. He said that if I needed to talk to him, I could. His Uber, as if right on time after he said that, came by and picked him up. We parted ways and I walked to the subway.

Waiting for the A train was hell...three trains came by going uptown, the exact opposite of where I needed to go. I think I waited about 15-20 minutes for my downtown train to come, listening to some Led Zeppelin on the way with my Turtle Beach headphones because I need something to drown out my inner thoughts and think about anything else but her and how awful I was to her.

Needless to say, it didn’t help.

After a long train ride, I made it to Times Square hoping that the shuttles were still active. They weren’t. So, I walked out to Times Square and decided to walk back to Grand Central. I walked out and saw a family doing the Orange Justice dance. A part of me felt disgusted (I hate Fortnite), but my hollow nature simply acknowledged it and walked off. I saw a bunch of posters for the show “Euphoria” starring Zendaya. I remember seeing a bunch of commercials for it and it looked depressing but real as hell. Considering that the posters showed Zendaya looking off in the distance, with a purple hue over her face, and a sparkled trail of a tear going down the side of her cheek, I assumed it was about wanting to feel something, to be loved. I couldn’t help but understand that all too well, considering the present circumstances.

The tag line? “Feel something.”

On my way down to Grand Central, blasting “I Want To Break Free” by Queen, I saw a huge group of girls (I mean like school field trip huge, like two whole classrooms worth) walking down the street cheering at anything and everything. High school age, most of them appeared to be. I couldn’t tell because I was behind the band of them, and I didn’t care. I figured that since I had time to kill, I decided to stop by McDonald’s and have some food.

I didn’t get to eat anything for most of the day leading from the time I left the house and to where I was now (about 7 hours). Two homeless men were standing outside the McDonald’s, one on each side of the double doors. One of them opened the door for me. I was feeling depressed and I thought that maybe by trying to make myself feel better or less of a shitty person, I gave some loose change that was in my pocket to the man that opened the door for me. It was a bunch of pennies and a dime, I think. After I went in, though, I felt bad for the other guy that was standing opposite to him (though I wasn’t sure if maybe he was talking to the guy as a normal person or he really was homeless, but looking at his Dunkin’ Donuts cup, he most likely was to me at that point). I looked back at him and pointed at my wallet and then at him. He nods. I go back outside and give him the rest of my loose change. I gave him a few pennies and several quarters. It was imbalanced charity and I felt worse that I gave one guy more money than the other, the one that was nice enough to hold the door open for me. But, I didn’t care anymore. The damage was done.

As I was standing on the line, mistakenly blasting “Lovers Rock” by Sade and trying so hard not to think, I saw a group of people being drunk as shit talking and laughing loudly with each other. That’s what the headphones were for, as far as I’m concerned. Besides, I had my own problems going on. They took a while to get their orders in, but I managed to get mine and waited as the drunk people left and it was just the other people that were quietly waiting on line or at the food pickup like me, and my music. I picked up my food and walked back to Grand Central.

Once I got inside, I was walking through to the center (where the giant star map is on the roof) and saw a few people calling to a guy named “Francisco” and (most likely) wanted him to come with them to get tickets at the ticket machine. He turns and looks at them, having glasses, long black hair, and I believe a Filipino look to him (I’m not good with physical looks by nationality) and points up to the star map. Didn’t even say a word and they said “Oh, okay.” I guess he liked looking at the star map? I don’t know. I walked past the information booth smack dab in the center of the terminal, a group of black women asking for information on their tickets I assumed. I walked past a couple of MTA workers hanging outside the entrances to the Metro North platforms, one of them saying to the other “keep that shit out of” something. I assumed the work place, I wasn’t sure.

After taking my seat, I thought about writing this. I thought why I should, what the point of it was. Was it supposed to have some great meaning to it? Was it trying to paint myself as this tortured soul that couldn’t find emotion or “feel something?” Was I just people watching and realizing just how kooky this city can be? I wasn’t sure, but I felt like writing it anyway because I felt like it. Maybe it was all of it.

As I started to eat my McDonald’s, two men (who I had assumed were a bit drunk or at least were mildly obnoxious like my friends are) took a few seats nearby and were chatting. One of them said “[blank], welcome to the Metro North.” First time going on, surprisingly. He asked the other what he should text to his friend, whom I assumed was trying to check in on them. The other said “I ain’t no bitch walking,” his friend repeating the line and sending it on his phone.

The man that sent the text pulls something out of his bag, looking like a bagel or something (I wasn’t spying, I just caught them doing stuff every time that I looked up). He said that he was afraid that the bagel or baked thing was “upselled” to him, like he was cheated with a cheap piece of food. It did look cheap, honestly. He takes a bite and it takes him a moment and he says it “tastes exactly like what he ordered.”

After I finished eating, I pulled out my Switch and started playing Smash to avoid wasting battery life on my phone. I played until I got off the train. The two men were pretty passed out, but one of them woke up as I made my way down the car and to the train door. He asked if I dropped some sunglasses, where I turned and looked to see a pair of sunglasses on the floor near where I was sitting. I didn’t bring any, so I said “No. Thanks.” I got off, drove home, and ended up here.

I don’t know why I wrote this. I’m not trying to put meaning behind this. Maybe I’m writing it to show how empty I felt the whole time, how emotionless I’ve become. Maybe I’m writing it because, in some ways, I do love this city. It can be crazy and with its quirks, but it’s enjoyable. And I might not see it again if I land a job in California. Or, like I said, maybe it’s both. Maybe I just enjoy writing and describing the lives of others, lives that seem much more interesting and worth while than mine.

I don’t know.

I don’t know anymore.

#ooc #out of continuum #this post is long #if you want to read what my night's been like then go ahead #it's kinda depressing and stupid so read at your own risk

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eddie-and-jennifer · 6 years ago

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May You Live In Interesting Times...

Facebook showed me pictures of Edwin and I at Rouleau at the set of Corner Gas. That was an important weekend for us. It marked the turning point in our relationship, when two friends who had known each other for more than a year realized that maybe this was going to be something different. As I reflected on the past 9 years, it made me realize that I’ve not given an update in quite some time, so here goes…

I turned 33 recently and as a present to myself I took the day off. I used a vacation day and did nothing but take naps, watch TV and eat take out. While binging a favorite show, which just so happens to be set in my favorite city, at the peak of an episode one of the main characters muses to the other “You know the Chinese curse… ‘May you live in interesting times’?” and the other character responds, “These certainly are interesting times. But do you remember the second half of that curse? …May you find what you’re looking for.”

At one point I was sprawled out on the couch looking out our giant living room windows at the buildings through the trees and it was reminiscent of when I lived in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan and would peer through the trees at the buildings on my poster of Central Park, displayed prominently in my living room, while dreaming of what life could be like in the big city. I realized in this moment that I have nearly everything that young girl dreamed of. I have an incredible husband who loves me, who doubles my ministry, and is willing to sacrifice a lot to make my dreams come true. I live in the Big Apple! But more than that, I am living in the Hells Kitchen neighborhood of Manhattan in a small, well-maintained walk-up building. Everyday I walk down tree-lined streets past people jogging, making deliveries, or walking their dog to get to the subway, where I travel down to the Financial District to work for a non-profit, Movement.org, where by no other explanation than God’s grace, the President took a chance on me and hired me to do a job I had never done before, Director of Operations. It’s been five months now and I could not be more content in that role. It’s the first time in a very long time that I can say that keeping a pulse on other opportunities isn’t at the back of my mind.

Pics from the Manhattan Street Art Tour we took recently.

It’s been quite some time since I wrote, and the last time I admit it was a little cryptic and unfortunately I’m not going to go into too many more details now. A lot was transpiring at the time and we were uncertain of the future. The move to Brooklyn was incredibly difficult and the cause of 3 unable-to-breathe-dry-heaving-from-uncontrollable-sobbing-unsure-if-we-would-survive-the-week panic attacks. Edwin’s time was completely consumed by school and having seen a glimpse of opportunity I had pieced together an unconventional mis-mashing of part-time work so that I could take advantage of an opportunity to work at Redeemer Presbyterian Church, alongside Michael Keller (Tim Keller’s son). The work Redeemer was doing was integral in our decision to stay, so I couldn’t pass up getting my foot in the door. But as the saying goes, everything changes in a New York minute. It was an extremely challenging season that pushed me to the brink of what I thought I could handle. It was the only time in my entire life where I could actively see where I needed to grow and how God was going to use the current struggle to prompt that growth right in the middle of it all. Both Edwin and I learned a lot from the time at Redeemer. We grew closer to each other and gained a lot of perspective during that time and have become much more focused as a result. And right when I felt like I had successfully come through to the other side, Movement.org approached me.

Edwin is rocking his Master’s program with an A average! He is working with a local non-profit, Voca Center, that helps people find and follow their calling, and he is on the Board of, and helping drive a national non-profit, Hear My Story, that is working to reduce stigma around mental health challenges and provide hope through storytelling. If you haven’t heard Edwin’s story in full, please check it out. I know it’s long, but it’s worth the 10 minutes!

I also got into school and start tomorrow! Tomorrow is the beginning of what I anticipate to be one of the busiest seasons of our lives, and even though I cringe when I look at our schedule, I am excited about the direction we’re heading. These are definitely interesting times. The question is if we will find what we’re looking for…

#Happinessinthepursuit #JenniferWroteThis #nyc

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shitloadsofwrestling · 7 years ago

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I came across a VERY cool find: a photo tour of the WWE warehouse! The photos above were taken inside the warehouse which holds billions of dollars’ worth of memorabilia, including rings, props, cages, caskets, you name it! There are more photos from the tour here. Definitely worth checking out! Here’s the write-up from the tour:

Back in March WWE and Charity Buzz ran a bunch of Superstars for Kids Auctions which had different Meet and Greet Opportunities. One that really caught my eye was a Tour of the WWE Warehouse and it would be hosted by Howard Finkel and WWE Warehouse Archivist Ben Brown. I wound up winning this auction. Dont ask me how much!!! lol. Although myself and cousin split it. Also it did all go to charity. I arrived at WWE Headquarters at 9:40 for the scheduled 10am Meet time. Right from when you get off the exit for WWE HQ you can see the building with the WWE Flag at the top. Its such a cool sight! They had us park in the visitors section of the garage. When we entered the hallway from the garage there were various WWE photos of superstars and events lining the walls on the way to the lobby. I asked to use the rest room. I had to take the elevator to the second floor. Inside the elevator they have WWE Programming playing on a small LED screen above the door! Really cool. Once off the elevator, like the previous hallways this one was also lined with different event and superstar photos. Just really cool. In the lobby they have the life size statues of Andre the Giant and Bruno Sammartino they had on display from the past two Wrestlemanias. They also have a giant size poster of the upcoming PPV for the month. So its currently a Payback poster. First our escort from WWE came down and introduced herself. Shortly after Howard Finkel and WWE Warehouse Archivist Ben Brown came down and said hello. Howard Finkel remembered me from past conventions and last years Wrestlemania Axxess VIP Backstage Tour. After we said our hellos, we all got into a waiting SUV which took us to the WWE Warehouse! From the outside you would never guess this was the WWE Warehouse. It has no markings at all indicating WWE. Inside the warehouse is huge. Aisles and Aisles of three tiered shelves with nothing but WWE Equipment and Memorabilia. The first section had a bunch of unconstructed rings. The wood for the rings, the ring posts, ropes, ring steps etc. Also in this section was the Punjabi Prison set which was cool to see in person. The next section had one item I hoped would be there. An actual WWE Ring!!! Ben Brown said they use the ring for training sometimes when wrestlers are in the area. So I asked to make sure if it was ok to get in the ring to take a picture, and they said it was ok. Now I have been inside Indy rings which was cool, but this was an ACTUAL WWE RING. Such a cool moment. i have to say to, the mat was alot harder with alot less give than I thought there would be. The next section over had alot of cool random stuff. Some of the cool highlights were the original King of the Ring Chair used on TV, the old Wrestlefest Arcade Game, random promo posters, an old Saturday Nights Main Event Entrance Sign and even an Arena used sign from the FINAL WCW PPV. Greed. Next they had the last remaining piece of the old school blue steel cage, an unconstructed hell in a cell cage, an old original WCW logo sign and the giant fist which used to be part of the Smackdown Set on TV. Ben Brown said the thing weighs 6,000 pounds. They also had a pile of event used barbed wire baseball bats, sledgehammers and other weapons. Back in 2009 at the Bragging Rights PPV they had RAW vs Smackdown and the winner got a Trophy Cup. That was there also. One of the coolest pieces to me was the Original Tumbler used at the early Royal Rumble PPVs which wrestlers would draw their numbers out of. Another section had all the old caskets used in Undertakers various caseket matches. A few that stood out were an oversized casket used for Big Show, the big black coffin used at the 98 Royal Rumble for Undertakers match vs Shawn Michaels. The one Kane lit on fire at the end. It was all burned and still had the holes Kane put in it with an ax. Another was the one used for Mark Henry at Wrestlemania 22. The lady from WWE who was our escort took a photo of all of us by it and tweeted it from the Official WWE Twitter account. They also had the 2 coffins used in the background during the funeral parlor skits from the early 90s. Another Undertaker piece was the the big Undertaker logo that was set on fire on Raw back around 1998. Probably the coolest piece there was the actual ring used in Madison Square Garden for Wrestlemania 1. It was not setup, but you could see all the pieces. The final couple sections had more random props or event used memorabilia. Slammy Awards, Saturday Nights Main Event Neon Sign. HBK Ring Worn Entrance Gear. L.O.D. Shoulder pads. Damien Sandows MITB Briefcase, Brutus Beefacke Clippers, Andre the Giants and Buddy Rogers boots. Old Womans title from the 50s. John Cenas original US Spinner Title. They even had the actual "contracts" used on WWE TV at contract signings. Two that stood out for me where the Triple H vs Brock Lesnar for Summerslam a few years back and also the Hulk Hogan vs Vince McMahon for Wrestlemania 19 which Hogan made Vince sign in his own blood by busting him open. The contract still had Vinces dried blood on it from 11 years ago!! I saw so much stuff in the warehouse, yet there were still TONS of boxes unopened that contained even more memorabilia. Some boxes even the Archivist Ben Brown admitted he had not even got around to opening yet. You could spend days upon days in this place. Any true old school WWF fan would LOVE this place. At the end of the tour Ben Brown gave me an actual event used RAW Ring Skirt which is really cool. After the tour we went to lunch at a BBQ place called Dinosaur BBQ. I never heard of it before, but it was really good food. After lunch Howard Finkel and Ben Brown said they had one more place they wanted to take us. They brought us to the WWE TV Studios where their HUGE video vault is. The vault room alone was worth the visit. Row after row of shelves from floor to ceiling of ALL the WWE,WCW, AWA, Memphis etc. wrestling tapes. I even saw a shelf with TNA & ROH logos. It was crazy to think that pretty much almost every piece of wrestling footage ever was stored in that room!! The guy who showed us around the TV Studio was George from the duo "George & Adam" from the mid 90s. They played WWF Superfans and did small skits which aired during WWE TV then. After the TV Studio they took as back to WWE HQ where we then parted ways and started the drive home. I have to say this was an AWESOME Experience. Seeing all those props, sets and pieces of memorabilia brought back so many memories. Definitely worth it to me.

One thing I left out from the TV Studio was one of the areas they showed us was where Lord Alfred Hayes, Sean Mooney or Mene Gene would do the Updates segment from the control center with the tvs in the background. They still have that room just with updated screens. Also the area Todd Pettengill used to do WWF Mania from. That area is still there also.

Also, I got a kick out of this. Read the “contract” from the 2012 SummerSlam match between Triple H and Brock Lesnar:

#wwe #wwf #ecw #wcw #pro wrestling #wwe warehouse

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connormurphyobsessed · 7 years ago

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Dreams- Connor Murphy x Reader w/ smut

A/N: Hello everyone! This is a piece of writing I’m pretty proud of, but as always please give me feedback! I’m sorry I haven’t been posting as much, I’ve been going through some stuff but I feel a lot better. Love you all!-Ella Requested: Yes, or at least some Connor smut was Words: basically 4k Warnings: Suicide talk, swearing, mild smut Summary: Connor and reader meet at a treatment center and bond

Whatever the usual way of meeting somebody you love is, how you two met wasn’t it. Fluorescent lighting, and feet covered by thin socks is how you met with the tracking of every move. You ended up there in the usual way, and so did he, so maybe that’s the small bit of normal you two share. “Greenway’s Premier Adolescent Treatment Center.” That’s where you met him. You were both in for swallowing a deadly, but obviously not deadly enough amount of pills. This is the place where you go after your 72 hour hold is up and your doctors won’t send you home. Saying it was any better than those 72 hours would be a bold faced lie, or really just for the first few days. Everything you did was tracked, or at least in the unit you were in, “The Intensive Watch Unit”. The secluded residential treatment center housed and treated teens with a variety of problems, some even a year into their stay, while others left after a month. You were in the unit for those who weren’t trusted to be in the more stable units. Just like at the hospital your shoes were taken and replaced with rough socks, your body was scanned for any old or new marks, and you were asked any and every question imaginable.

Two weeks. That’s how long you’ve been on the now dubbed “suicide floor,” a floor for those who can’t go to the bathroom alone because you might kill yourself instead of peeing. The routine of it all slowly settled in for you. Wake up. Make bed. Eat. Meds. Shower. Group therapy. Art therapy and it goes on and on. You liked the routine that had come about for you; it was comforting to know that at 11am you would draw, and that the same nurses would help you with your worksheet from group. Your doctor even told you that he believed that in another week or two, if you kept on track you would move to the ‘not so suicidal floor’. Well, he called it the “The Learning Unit.” You wouldn’t admit it, but you were proud that soon you could move up a level after seeing people spend only two or three nights in the unit. On the other hand you didn’t admit much. You stuffed and stuffed everything you felt until, BAM, you were swallowing as many pills as you could find until you woke up in the hospital, sobbing how you were mad for not killing yourself better. Looking back you thought that sounded like an oxymoron. Perfectionist at its finest, or lowest depending on your point of view.

When somebody new enters the “death please come knocking unit,” you don’t meet them until lunch time. Everybody who arrives at the center is escorted by parents, or guardians, at 7am sharp. They are toured while everyone is in therapy and then meet one on one with a doctor while someone else talks to whoever brought them. Then at the end of lunch they are brought in and introduced with enough time to makes small talk before entering another group therapy session. New people usually arrived once a week and it usually excited people, but it didn’t for you. Why get excited that someone else is also kind of fucked up in some way?

The day he showed up was like every day you’d been at Greenway. Everyone sat at a round table together that was in the middle of the unit floor. Your whole unit was basically one giant room with doors to other rooms for therapy, staff, bunks, and some that were locked. You remembered from your tour that other floors had dining rooms, and was open, but where you were wasn’t that.

He was brought in by a nurse, and everyone turned to look. He was tall and sort of lanky, but seemed strong. His light brown hair was behind his ears, and the look on his face reminded you of a pug trying to seem like a wolf. He sat down a few seats away from you next to a boy, Shane, who had arrived two days earlier.

“So what’s your name?” girlssomeone asked taking a bite of a cookie.

“Connor,” he spoke. His voice was stronger than you imagined. The other person took a response to their question to allow them to go on and on about some TV show you had never watched.

After lunch came group therapy, again. Connor followed behind the ten people on the unit, including yourself, into a room with chairs in a circle and inspiring posters on the wall. “Welcome to group everyone. For those who can’t remember, my name is Ms. Lowe and I run group therapy for all of you during the afternoon.” Ms. Lowe was nice, but tough when she needed to be. Everyone meets her since she conducts the interview you go through before entering the unit. “Y/n,” at the sound of your name your head snapped in the direction of Ms. Lowe, “Since you have been here longer than most, would you mind showing our new member, Connor, how we start every group?” “Okay, well I’m y/n and I’m here for trying to kill myself. I have been on this unit for two and a half weeks, and my goal for today is to talk more openly.” For the rest of the group you allowed yourself to zone into a place of dreams. You imagined everything that life would be if you weren’t the way you were, and everything life could offer for someone like you if you were happier. At school you weren’t the popular person, but you were nice and people liked you. You had boyfriends, and first times of everything you would expect for someone in high school, but somehow you felt like you were dying.

Quiet time was an hour a day where you could nap, talk to people, play games, but everybody napped. It seemed like an unwritten rule that everybody would climb into their bed that felt like a rock and try to sleep. You usually followed that, but sometimes you would sit on the seats in the common area and read. The variety of books was depressing, which was ironic for the unit, so you had your parents bring you books from home. When you brought yourself to the seats you were painfully aware that you weren’t alone. Connor, the new guy was sitting on the couch. New people on the unit usually annoyed you. They were so closed off, even more than you, or they were played into the depression like a lifetime movie. You like honesty, or being blunt about it all, what was the point of trying to hide any of it? “Hey,” the voice of Connor brought you from the rant that was playing in your mind. “Oh, hey,” you said sitting down on the opposite end of the couch and letting the variety of books fall into the space between you. His eyes grew wide looking at all the books. “I can move them if you want” “It’s fine. How did you get all these? The books here are all shit,” he said pointing to the bookshelf. The declaration from Connor made you laugh. The noise was a surprise to both of you. “What do you mean? You don’t like ‘How to stop sadness’? Come on, that’s a masterpiece.” “Totally. That’s on my top ten favorite books of all time.” This time Connor let out a small chuckle. “You can borrow one of my books. I have way too many. When I asked my parents to bring me enough books to last my time in ‘Suicide daycare’ I didn’t expect this many. I guess that shows how much they believe in me.” “Suicide daycare?” “You know, we’re on the unit where they make sure we don’t kill ourselves. Suicide daycare.” “Honest. I like that.” “Thanks, I’ll be here all week, or more, you never know.”

Connor wasn’t as bad as you thought, hell he was probably your favorite out of the other patients. He was actually nice and didn’t try to dig into you to find everything wrong with you. Instead you started reading next to each other and would partner up during projects. For Sunday’s group you all had to find a partner and talk about your hopes and dreams. Seems simple enough, right? You and Connor partnered and sat in the corner of the room on the floor facing each other. You had partially been checked out of groups for a while since tomorrow you got to move to the level up. Finally you would get to have some freedom and would get to shower in privacy. “So y/n what are your hopes and dreams,” Connor said smirking. Connor would also get to move up a level. He had actually been going along with the program well and had an undeniable strength. “Ha-ha Connor,” you spoke with sarcasm dripping from your voice, “You first if you want to know all my innermost hopes and dreams.” “Real talk, or not?” he said. This had become something between you. “Let’s go with real talk for once.” “I want to make it out of here soon and graduate. I have no fucking idea what I’ll do after that, but leaving here and making it through high school seems like a good place to start.” These words didn’t surprise you; Connor had something pushing him inside. In group once he said that he was going to try to live for his mom. She had sat by his hospital bed and begged him to try, saying if he died part of her would. Maybe she started him on this, but you thought somewhere inside he wanted to live, even if it was almost nothing, part of him did. “Your turn y/n,” Connor said. “I don’t know if I have any. I don’t mean that in the way of I can’t picture a future, because I can, but it doesn’t seem like something to dream of. Why jinx the fact that for the moment I can picture life. Now that’s a miracle, so I’ll just sit with the fact that I’m okay with living.” “How do you manage to even make that seem dark?” “I learned from the best. I mean you taught me so why not put it to use.” “Hey! I didn’t teach you that, if anything you just speak like Edgar fucking Allen Poe.” “I didn’t know fucking part of his name,” you said smiling. A grin spread across Connor’s face, something that might have seemed unnatural at first, but now it fit perfectly.

Moving day. Well you were moving from ‘If you kill yourself here your parents will be so pissed’, to ‘Okay so they aren’t as depressed unit’. This unit wasn’t just one giant room with smaller rooms, but two floors, with 20 teens. There was a cafeteria, a school room, and all the nurses and doctors didn’t watch you as intensely. You would be on these floors for the rest of your stay, but you could move up levels, and earn rewards. When you arrived you were handed a schedule. Damn this place did know you. You only had two hours of school a day, then a bunch of therapy, and free time where you could join in on activities that were optional, or just hang out. Still you weren’t allowed to have shoes yet. You would have to move up a level. Connor on the other hand was allowed to have shoes. That made you annoyed and made Connor laugh.

With all of this new free time you and Connor got to hang out more. You spent your afternoons reading and talking. Sometimes he would read to you short stories that he wrote and you would draw for him. When there was group family therapy you heard stories about how he was horribly mean, but he seemed so different than that. Of course medicine and the right therapy will do that, but sometimes he would get mad. He would yell when he didn’t feel heard, but it didn’t freak you out. Better yelling than pushing it all down inside of you like you had done. The more time you spent with him the more you felt. He saw you and you saw him. Friday night is when the nurses would put on a movie in the large common room. Almost everyone would gather around and would eat popcorn. Sometimes they would play multiple movies and everyone would get candy. You and Connor had always enjoyed those nights, but that days therapy had been intense for him so he retreated to his room. There was a strict rule that you couldn’t enter someone else’s room, but Connor seemed to need somebody. The movie was playing and everyone was concentrated on that so you made your way to the boy’s wing. You knocked on the door quietly. “I told you I’m fine Nurse Roman. I just need some alone time. I promise I’ll come down for the second movie,” Connor said, exasperation coming through. “Actually it’s me, y/n,” there was silence and then the door opened. “What are you doing here? You aren’t allowed to be in this wing,” he said looking around the hallway. “It seemed like you needed someone, so I’m here. Besides, when have you ever been one to shy away from breaking the rules?” A slight smile broke through his furrowed brows. “What the hell, come in.” With that you walked into the room. The room held three beds and looked just like the girl's wing. “So are you doing okay?” “I don’t know how I’ll do when I’m out of here. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. Maybe I should just make it very clear to them that I can’t go home anytime soon.” “Don’t say that. You’ll do amazing whenever they say you can go home.” “I know, but I don’t think I should go now.” “They haven’t offered it yet and at least you’ll get to chill with me for a while if you want to stay after they do,” you spoke nervously laughing. “You’ll go home soon.” “I don’t think so. I haven’t ever truly talked emotions with them. That’s step one.” “We’ll be depressed buddies,” he said. “Buddies?” “Or not,” he huffed he lips turning into a frown. “Don’t frown Connor, it makes you look emo.” This comment got a laugh from him. His eyes filled with something you could only call happiness as he let himself laugh. “I guess we aren’t really buddies,” he said, now causing a frown to form on your face. Seeing this he spoke up. “What I mean is we’re too close to be buddies. We’re not friends or some shit, we’re just more.” You watched him say this and he seemed to truly mean it. He looked like what he said was the truth, like he cared for you. You thought this while you both stood in the middle of the room. He was watching you, having no idea what was going on in your mind. You took a step closer to him. Confusion was now clearly evident on his face. “More,” you whispered. You were sure he didn’t mean it like that, but he was there, and he cared for you and you cared for him. He was better than he could realize and he felt like home when your hands accidently brushed against each other, so you brought your lips to his. It could either be a disaster or it could make something more than you could hope or dream for. Your hands reached for his neck as you let yourself feel his warmth. “More,” he whispered back breaking your lips apart. His eyes seemed to search for what brought this, but he didn’t care in the moment. Swiftly he pulled you close again. Your lips slowly melded together, your mouths open and burning, your bodies pressed against one another. Your hands found his hair and his arms firmly pulled your waist as close as possible. There was no space between you with your hips against him. Where you were and everything that had ever happened seemed irrelevant. All you knew is that you needed every part of him, and for him to know that every part of him was magnificent. The feeling overwhelmed you and the clothes that covered each of you felt to be keeping you apart. You tore at your shirt and Connor yanked his own off. His lips attached to your neck and down to your collarbone where he nipped at the skin. “More,” you managed to say as you pushed him onto his bed. Connor reached to unclasp your bra, but struggled against the clasps. “What the hell kind of bra is that?” you laughed heartily at his annoyance as you moved to unclasp it yourself. Connor immediately pulled you back to him as you stumbled over your feet and landed on the bed. Connor took this as an opportunity to climb over you. His lips once again went to your body. His lips traveled to your breasts and he placed wet sloppy kisses along the sides. You pulled him up to your face as you then started unbuttoning his pants. A groan escaped from Connor’s lips as you finally pulled them off of him along with his boxers. Your jeans and underwear were soon being pulled off of your body as Connor entered you. The feeling of his body on top of yours and him moving within you outweighed any fear of the future in the moment. In those moments you were one with every rushed movement of hips, whippers, and digging nails.

You stayed in each other’s arms, a layer of sweat on each of you, until you each got up, giggling trying to put your clothes back on. You walked to the common room together and sat on the couch next to one another, fingers intertwined in the dark as you watched the movie. Your fingers brushed over your lips where not long ago Connor was. You slept that night hoping for an ending with him that would make even a Disney princess blush.

The next morning you went on with class, which you and Connor didn’t have together, and individual therapy. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the night before, and when you did you felt your face flush thinking of the feeling of him. You brought your lunch to the small library where you and Connor ate. Of course you didn’t know how things would be between you, but you had trust that it would be okay. “Hey,” Connor said as he entered the almost empty room. His face was bright and beaming, more than you had ever seen. You could feel your stomach turn. “Hey,” you said smiling. “I have the best fucking news,” he spoke quickly, sitting next to you. “You are going to meet the Rock? Because I could support that,” you teased. Connor rolled his eyes, but the smile didn’t falter. “No you dipshit! I get to go home!” the words that tumbled out of his mouth with that bright smile stopped you. The smile on your face frozen, your heart stopping. “What?” you said, the strain in your voice evident, but Connor was so excited he went right past it. “You know how I was all freaked out?” you nodded, your face going from strained smile to blank. “Well that’s because they told me I could go home in a few days and I was scared. They said I’m expressing myself, I’m not suicidal, I’ve been moving up on levels, I’m better with my family, and I think I agree now.” “Wait, you knew yesterday?” you interrupted. “Yes, but that’s not the point. After we-you know- I figured that if I can do that, or at least talk to you about my feelings and shit, I can make it out there.” “You knew yesterday?” “I already said that y/n. Isn’t this great?” Connor said smiling at you with those eyes that made you want him in the first place. “You knew, didn’t tell me and then slept with me,” you a little louder. “Come on y/n. It wasn’t like that-” “No, it’s exactly like that. Was it a joke to you?” “Now you’re being fucking stupid y/n” “Stupid!” you fumed. The look on Connor’s face went from happy to angry. Why weren’t you being supportive and happy for him? “Come on y/n! I didn’t mean it like that. Why aren’t you happy for me? Isn’t this what we talked about. This was one of my dreams! I’m doing it, my dream!” “Happy for you? I’m not happy, I’m angry! How could you fuck me knowing you were going to be leaving?” “Everyone leaves here y/n! This place isn’t a future, you know that!” “You could have told me last night before we slept together! You should have told me before I made you my dream!” You were crying now, but you were wiping the tears away as fast as they came. “Your dream? Now that’s fucking stupid. I won’t be your dream. We slept together. It was amazing, but we both know that we can’t build a future off of each other. We have to build a future off of ourselves.” Connor’s anger was apparent, but he looked at the tears on your face and all he wanted to do was hold you. Of course he wished that you could be something together, but you can’t when you need to take of yourself. “What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t make a future?” you said, almost to silent to hear. Of course you were mad, but not at him. You put all of your hopes and dreams on others, but all they could do was let you down even if they didn’t mean to. “You can do it,” he said softly, walking closer to you. “How do you know?” “If I tell you, you’ll never know that you can do it yourself.” You were now close enough to kiss him, but instead you just looked at him. “You’ll do great out there in the real world,” you said “I know.” “We shouldn’t talk once you and I get out.” “I know.” “It would be too tempting and then I wouldn’t be able to focus on me.” “I know.” “Wherever you are when you’re out of here, think of me sometimes.” “I will.”

That was the last conversation you had with him before he left. Of course you thought of him, and you were allowed to, but you didn’t let it consume you. You thought of him a lot at first, but then you spent your time thinking of how to get better.

You spent another two months at the center. It was hell there for a long time, but then it wasn’t. When you went home the house felt different, it was the home of a girl who viewed herself as already gone. When you entered you viewed yourself as a girl who had come back.

Now you were in your second year of college and were transferring. It didn’t feel scary, but felt amazing.

Three weeks into the new semester and you felt like you belonged. You sat in one of the courtyards eating lunch and reading a book when you were pulled from your thoughts by a voice from behind you.

“Y/n, looks like my dreams are coming true,” you could hear the smile in the voice you knew so well.

“Connor?”

#deh #Connor Murphy x Reader #dear evan hansen #evan hansen x reader #dear evan hansen x reader #deh x reader #deh imagine #connor murphy #connor murphy imagine #dear evan hansen imagine #Smut #angst #zoe murphy #jared kleinman

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familyvisionis2020 · 5 years ago

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Day 5 - Huntsville

Jeremy’s up the earliest and sends a text to us that he’s getting breakfast with Noah at a place called the Grit. Rather than opt to join I just post up on the porch with Trey and indulge in a long long blog post.The weather is cooler and grayer, joggers and dog-walkers and kids on bikes roll down the streets, slow syrupy sunday morning, humidity and gristle, butter pats wouldn’t melt if you left them out on your plate but they wouldn’t be too taut to sink your teeth into. I feel a fundamental sense of repair from typing, reviving a column of spirit I’d quietly suffocated, knock loose a clot of rust in my clockwork and the machinery is humming along again. Now that I have the link to the blog to share to people I feel like I’m gingerly handing the missing puzzle piece to my patrons and well-wishers and companions, indulging a curiosity and rounding something out to myself that might prove the regard and sensitivity my quietness can bely, might be a kindness or a service to people who find me austere or impenetrable or bristly. I was staring at a picture of a cactus and identifying with it the other day, tall, two arms, tiny head, spiky, full of water, not so bad if you’re careful with them, just like me.

Later tonight I will watch Tired Frontier play the last set of their tiny tour with us and what will end up being our last show of the tour as well. Watching the face of the guys I see things so so different then when I saw them for the first time, when they were complete strangers, tourmates but sight unseen. What I saw in their faces the first time I saw them play: Royal is tall and broad-shouldered and country and active and maybe a little sloppy and expanive and reminds me a ton of my friend Mike, so I have love for him off the bat, also his weird tuning and rococo pedal board setup and heedless mustache and you know, wife, set off little clockworks of insecurity in me and my mind props up baseless criticisms of him sourced solely from my ignorance of him. After three shows we are not friends but I know him much better, have seen him from more angles, have a better sense of him, he loves doing bits and laughs high and loud and chills endlessly, in this way he matches the tone and cadence of Kabir magnificently. Paul is beautiful and has a face like a svelter Jim Carrey and kneads the keyboard effortlessly, digital dough, his fingers are narrow and elegant and move only enough to play the next keys, the same sort of parsimony of motion I used to see from chefs with expert knife skills. I envy his bouny raven thick-sable hair. Trey looks plainly joyful when he plays drums. He extends his crash cymbal hardware to the maximum length so his crash is preposterously high up. I can’t discern a reason other than it’s kind of fun or different. He’s enthusiastic about my writing, I get to share him some other work I’ve done, he says he loves it, I swell with gratitude and we exchange emails.

The morning in Athens goes more or less like the morning before: me and Kabir and John and Paul all go get breakfast at Donderos’ again, drink tea and coffee, pack up our stuff. We take some group photos with both bands outside on the porch with the orbs and they’re cute and silly. Kabir flipped a coin to decide whether me or John drives the next stretch, it’s me, I’m a little apprehensive because I haven’t driven a 15-passenger van in awhile, but once I’m in it’s like riding a bike, I have muscle memory of driving big vehicles from U-Haul trips and, before that, the box truck I drove to transport food donations to the pantry of the Servant Center in Greensboro. I’m a good driver, I check my mirrors, I put on a halloween mix I made in 2015 and I am feeling myself, focused, caffienated, surrounded by friends, there’s some clouds in the sky and drizzles but it’s not bad and we’re making good time. The boys just listen along with me to the DJ mix for awhile then start up a new crossword puzzle and we all 4 do it collaboratively, one person describing the clue, letters, cross-clues, and we brainstorm for answers, between the four of us we’re really good at this, and we’re all laughing and in great spirits as we methodically complete the puzzle. We stop in Marietta Georgia at one point to use the bathroom, we stop at a KFC with a 20-foot mechanized/animatronic chicken head whose eyes roll back in its head and whose giant beak opens and closes in regular time like a campy pendulum. I buy a postcard and a souveneir cup from here because I think my Mom has family from Marietta Georgia but when we’re back in the car I can’t remember if it’s Marietta Georgia or Marietta Ohio, but I figure it will be well-received either way. We get back on the road and now we’re off the highway and onto some more remote state routes and we pass into Alabama and the rain lets up but its still overcast so the light is gentle and diffuse, the hills are rolling, we pass a colony of tiny homes, weird, livestock, bulls with giant horns that when I see them I just say ‘aurochs’ absent mindedly, livestock and cotton fields and when we see police someone will just say ‘ops’ and the whole drive everyone is just in a good mood, making jokes, kind and breezy. I marvel at how these boys do not seem to carry the same sort of darkness I feel I do, or maybe they just don’t wear it on their sleeves, or maybe none of them are neurodivergent or addicted or traumatized, or maybe they are but hide it well, or have coped and healed…something I’m used to is being around people who require a space to talk about extremely serious and heavy and heartbraking things. Maybe it’s a vestige of a lifestyle I’ve left behind. In all the time I’ve spent with Kabir and Jeremy and John and David (our NC bassist who plays home shows when Jeremy is in NY), I’ve never seen anyone come close to losing their temper, yelling, crying, crumbling, whatever. I marvel at the putative stability of my friends. I like having stable friends, I like having a stable life, it’s not how my life has always been. There is a level of tranquility and calm that washes over me while I’m driving through rural Alabama with my stable friends in a well-maintained van in my healthy body wrapped around a heart that is not broken and a mind that feels as clear and capable as it has ever been. Grace is unearned, I’m told.

We make it to Huntsville on time, the venue is called the Salty Nut, kind of a spacious and tidy bar with a kind bartender my height but with a double thick country accent and the show booker is slight and soft spoken and exceedingly kind, he receives us and then points us in the direction of a nearby restaurant called Banditos Burritos. The restaurant is festooned with vaguely southwestern or hispanic decorations and also random camp like a dirty 1990s Bart Simpson doll, a ruined acoustic guitar, a King Khan poster, a garden gnome on an old-fashioned scale with the sliding thing, a skateboard without trucks painted with a sleeping cactus person wearing a sombrero, etc. The people there are so so nice and when we say we are playing the Salty Nut tonight the guy behind the counter explains that menu items with steak and all beers will cost, but otherwise we can order whatever we want for free. We get burritos, nachos, beans, rice, salsa, hot sauce, ice water in a paper cup. We feast, scarf down, all hungrier than we realized, it’s essentially a non-franchise Taco Bell by my appraisal, which is absolutely perfect as far as I’m concerned, the beans and rice feel good and substantial. Tired Frontier shows up a little after us, gets the same stuff basically, we eat and laugh and finish and go back to the venue and wait around for awhile, I join Jeremy and Royal outside skateboarding and act crazy and try to film them doing tricks but my phone dies and and eventually they stop and we go inside and set up and play. The show goes fine, TF sounds as good as they have so far. They’re playing to a crowd of the other two bands and maybe 8 people in the bar sitting at a table eating food they brought over for Banditos Burritos. The show is fine, unremarkable. When we play, I do the usual routine of trying to play my hardest and with my whole body, and end up dropping sticks more than once and missing some snare hits and not being able to keep up on the driving floor tom parts, mostly because I’m not warmed up and maybe not focusing enough, I’m letting myself get a little carried away trying to play hard and fast rather than keep things tight, I worry this may miff the other guys but after the show there is no indication that anyone even noticed it or cared. There was a cool part where I dropped a stick but instead of it falling to the floor it bounced around on top of the snare and tom and I managed to snatch it out of mid air and keep playing and Jeremy noticed that and that made me feel cool. We played hard and to my ear we got good claps between songs, we are pretty live and high energy and I think even if people don’t like our sound they appreciate the energy, but also some of the songs are earworms and catchy and people like that too, I’ve heard. We finish, the other drummer from the other band, Golden Flakes, says great set man, we perch at the merch table but sell nothng. We listen to Golden Flakes play for close to an hour, very jam band vibe, many many guitar solos, kind of sloppy, sort of high energy rock and roll I guess, I by this time am tired and pretty disinterested, get on my phone for most of it. Toward the end of their sets someone who I assume is a townie is drunk and heckling them between songs in a way that they are clearly fine with and they know the guy and to me for some reason he looks the way I imagine the way the protagonist John from Shit Town the podcast would look. We are in Alabama after all. He sounds like John (not from our band, from the podcast). He’s annoying and I’m being judgy in my head about him when I should maybe feel sorry or indifferent, idk. It feels sad to me, I don’t feel like writing more about it. It’s awkward enough, the heckling and banter from Golden Flakes, that by the end of the set we all kind of joke-rush out of there, quietly agreeing that what’s happening is awkward and unpleasant and we should go. We get put up in Thomas’s apartment, and on on the ride home the guys talk about how Huntsville’s claim to fame is being the place where the Nazi engineers taken during Operation Paperclip were taken after WW2, whose skills were put to use developing rockets, and that all manner of testing has taken place in and around the nearby military base, the Redstone Arsenal. Kabir tells a story about how a nuclear warhead was dropped on NC and by freak chance did not detonate. It would have wiped out the population of the entire Southeast. I didn’t believe it but you can read about it here:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1961_Goldsboro_B-52_crash?wprov=sfti1

At the apartment I make a b-line for the couch, get my sleeping stuff out, eat an apple and a banana and a bunch of peanut butter out the jar and go to sleep. At the end of every day I feel so much more irritable and grumpy than I do at other times. I still really treasure a quiet space all to myself to sleep in and so this troubles that. But I just listen to a youtube video on European history, learn nothing, and have no dreams I remember.

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