#my head's in a million places

[loserchildhotpants]

October grows closer.

It is at once my favorite and least favorite time of year.

Every day, regardless of the month, of the year, I am in motion - my friends tell me I'm too hard on myself, some of them even tell me I work too hard, but I am in motion because I am constantly trying to outrun the obsessive belief that harasses me all day and night; I need to justify the space I take up.

I don't feel this way about anyone else. I don't think anyone else needs to justify their own existence.

I'm constantly looking for forgiveness, for someone to say, 'you've finally done enough good to have outweighed the harm you've done (intentionally and/or unintentionally), good work! Now you can rest!'

October comes and reminds me of everything, makes the inside of me so loud, I can't focus.

I was a miracle baby, born at 11:59pm, October 23rd.

I'm a Jewish witch - I love the serious holidays that fall in October, pagan and Jewish, and I love seeing people in silly costumes at the end of it.

The night I turned sixteen, I finally confessed to my parents that I'd been abused most of my childhood. It was around midnight then too.

I had done something unintentionally cruel to a friend (unprocessed trauma makes for some weird fuckin' behaviors), and we weren't exactly on speaking terms. I knew it was my fault, I knew I'd been the fuck-up, but she was my best friend, and I needed her there that night. I called her up, and she showed up.

She wasn't pleased with me. She didn't get why she was there, and I told her first - before my parents.

I told her who had done it - someone she knew. Someone everyone I knew also knew.

"Do you believe me?" I asked.

"Yeah, [person] tried the same thing with me, when I was younger."

I was flabbergasted.

"What happened?"

"I called for my mom," she told me, "why didn't you call for help?"

I don't remember if I said it out loud or not, but the answer was; it hadn't occurred to me as an option, to call for help.

She spent the night, slept as I went downstairs to tell my parents the worst of it, as much as I could assemble the words.

("I think it started when I was around 7 but it could've been earlier than that," "when I went to their house, someone else might've been involved, but my memories are all messed up, I don't remember," "there was a knife - I don't know if everything is okay, down there but I'm too scared to look," "yes, that's why I'm always covered up," "yes, that's why I-" "yes, that's why -" "yes, that's why-")

I hadn't really said the words, I was vague and it was still like clawing up heavy stones from out of my chest.

I'd wanted to die with those secrets. It's a longer story as to why I couldn't - why it fell on my birthday, why I had to come forward or someone else would.

My friend was gone in the morning and distanced herself more permanently.

My parents turned it into a weapon - against each other, and against me. No one knew what to do with me, no one knew how to help, and no one felt particularly inspired to learn how to.

I remember going up the stairs to bed that night, and it felt like I was shedding weights as I climbed the stairs. I'd never felt lighter, I'd never slept better - I thought, 'oh, good, finally, all the Bad Feelings will stop, and I'll be normal.'

My mother co-opts it where she can, is sometimes disbelieving of it, sometimes reduces its severity, but it depends on her audience. My father doesn't speak of it at all, which is fine, because we don't speak and never really have.

The friends I had then - they didn't rally around me. Maybe a month later, I moved 1500 miles away from everyone and everything I'd ever known, and started again. Right in the middle of my Junior year of high school.

My birthday used to be a happy sort of day, and then it became so somber, and regardless of the mood, I was alone in it.

No one understood October 23rd like I did; every year past the year of my first suicide attempt (I was 11) was an incredible mile marker. I didn't think I'd make it that far, I didn't think I'd have it in me - it was a day I had been raised to allot for praising my mother for having given birth to me. It used to be for someone else. I didn't know how to make it about myself, and making it about myself always felt like some sort of trap.

But it was also the day I freed myself of terrible secrets, it's the day that I showed some of my scars and said, 'if I don't live honestly from here on out, I think the memories and secrets will kill me.'

As October nears, I know it will be a countdown to my birthday, because it always is in my own head - it's not just my birthday, it's a day that marks many things, unlikely things, improbable, miraculous, horrible, ugly things.

As it comes closer, the mantra in my head gets louder.

I need to find forgiveness. I need to justify the space I take up. I need to be more helpful, I need to be more active, I need to be smarter, I need to be more cultured, more accomplished, more well-rounded, I need to be more than I am, I need it to serve everyone, endlessly, and I need to smile while I do it, I need to be convenient, I need to try to do better all the time.

That feeling of not being enough encroaches upon me, and I want so badly to enjoy October, but I don't know if I can.

An ex-boyfriend I had dated at the time I came forward accused me of lying about never having had an orgasm in my life (I hadn't), because, "you've been having sex since you were like, five, you probably had it and just didn't know what it was - here, I'll show you."

(He couldn't show me, he didn't, but I faked it because I needed to be convenient.)

There are 4 occasions I can remember that he ignored my 'no,' or pushed past clear barriers, or took advantage of me when I wasn't in my right mind - 3 of them took place AFTER he knew.

With life-long friends dropping like flies, a 21 year old 'boyfriend' my parents LET date me at 15-16 pestering me for my body, the aforementioned situationship with someone who would tell me regularly how hard I was to love, my family retreating into themselves in the face of my trauma - I was falling with no net at the bottom to catch me.

I crashed at the bottom of it all, I picked myself up, and have spent all the years since apologizing for walking with a figurative limp.

The 21 year-old was convinced I'd cheated on him or something. I don't remember, and don't care to. I broke up with him over the phone. The situationship became my boyfriend for the 100th time since we'd known each other, and he was horrible to me, and I took it, and I was grateful for it, because all I knew was that I was hard to love.

So, here comes October.

I came forward 14 years ago. I'm turning 30. And it all still hurts. And I still don't know how to get through October.

The tattoo in my mind, the one that bang-bang-bangs all day and night, telling me I'm not doing enough to justify being alive, that I'm a burden, that I need to do more and be more all the time - it has an edge of fear to it as we inch closer to October. As if I'm running out of time. As if I need to find forgiveness from someone, somehow, and fast, or I might die before I find it, and I'll pay some terrible cosmic price for lacking so much.

I hope that someday, someone throws a birthday party for me. It doesn't have to be a surprise, just - I can't do it myself. I can't. Maybe more to the point - I won't.

And I hope that when they do, if they ever do, in this daydream where anyone gives half a shit about my birthday - I wish they'd tell me they're proud of me. I wish they'd announce that it's not just my birthday, but the anniversary of the night I unveiled the truth and clawed my way to some happiness.

Maybe someday, there will be a celebration of me - and it won't be about telling my mother how brave and heroic she was for the terrifying birth she gave, and it won't be about me entertaining friends that would drop me as soon as I became inconvenient, and it won't be legions of people, but just a small group, just a handful of people that really respect me, that know me, that see me and understand me, and tell me I'm worth something still, even after they know it all.

Maybe someday, October won't be so full of loneliness, fear, or utter surety that I'm fundamentally a bad person destined to be abandoned.

Not this year, but maybe some year. Maybe some October.

[wispscribbles]

Just gotta say I’m absolutely delighted you don’t give ghost chiseled ass abs, that man needs all the strength he can get and the meat on his bones feels much more realistic/healthy than him having vanity esc muscles :)

Manifesting your days are well!! <3

Big. Big man. Mountain to climb :)

Hope your days are well, too! Thank you <3

[jakkenpoy]

[bobosbillionsknives]

Concept sketch for a Knives planet gunsmoke figure set because I'm completely fucking insane and I'm losing my mind

[respectthepetty]

IT WASN'T A DREAM!

And now I gotta figure out this blue!

[the-bi-space-ace]

There is just something about Echo and Rex’s relationship that makes me wanna scream. There’s so much history and love and respect and I cant even begin to describe how much they mean to me.

The way they reunite on Skako. The way Rex’s face looks when he sees Echo is alive. The way Echo squeezes Rex’s hand back.

Rex basically giving Echo his blessing to go with the batch. Reinforcing the idea that Echo belongs where he decides he belongs. That Echo goes where he is needed.

Echo trusting Rex at every turn. With no hesitation. Always. Even with little information. Even when the deck is stacked against them. He trusts Rex. Always will.

That’s so fucking good.

[clowningcrows]

not sure if i’m projecting or crazy or stupid or just actually incredibly good at characterization but will graham is extremely ethel cain coded 2 me

this man would drunkenly listen to strangers on repeat on his bathroom floor and bawl his eyes out while murmuring along to, “i tried to be good, am i no good? am i no good? am i no good?” while thinking about abigail and alana and beverly and and and….

[raiiny-bay]

patty sighting !!

[screamin-abt-haikyuu]

I love Asahi Azumane a normal amount

[sysig]

Let him dad her!! (Patreon)

[avitus-ostrander]

Many thanks to kingzu and immuni for the brush patterns used.

[sonic-adventure-3]

exploding rn

[craacked-splatters]

Every day I wake up and it's like I fall in love more with the world. I don't know how else to articulate it .

There's always these feelings of warm fuzzies every time I witness the beauty of mundanity or human creativity/compassion or something. it's like everywhere I look, it feels like I'm cradling a newborn kitten in my hands. It's wild.

Really wish ppl didn't make fun of me for it tho, or call me a stupid idiot for being "too soft" Grew up thinking there was something wrong with me lmao.

[ohitslen]

Something something I was thinking about this afternoon over on Twitter right here

[cheruib]

this song is the equivalent of a time machine for me

[krikidilly]

Calling out of work scariest shit in the world im so frightened but ooohhh the aches...