#other than. you know. classic loop self hatred

[ghostlightfic]

hi!!! i just wanted to say im really happy with how youre treating intrusive thoughts in this. i have intrusive thoughts myself (albeit from ocd) and they get pretty violent sometimes. i haven't seen much media that talks about intrusive thoughts at all, but i really do like how loop's are treated :).

THANK YOU!! i do my best!! i'm glad i'm doing a good job 😌

[curiosity-killed]

Lang Qianqiu deserves more love goddammit: a post, unfortunately

This brought to you by the wonderful @veliseraptor & @/yuer on Twitter but also mostly out of spite and the fact that it’s preventing me from writing a very dumb poke-the-bear post abt the entire weird social media culture around The Minors

As always ✨SPOILERS!! SPOILERS EVERYWHERE✨

So first off: when I hit the scene where lqq confronts xl and screams “I will never be like you” I sat up in bed, did a little shimmy of delight, and hissed “fuck yes” at like 2 AM so. Now you have a preview of wtf this train wreck will be

1 ) lqq is a good character

We don’t get a ton of time with lqq because tgcf is 87 side characters running across stage with The Most Interesting Concept constantly one-upping each other before vanishing. But what we do get is, I think, enough to make a pretty compelling story: Lang Qianqiu is a kind and generous prince who is also the sole survivor of the bloody massacre of his entire family, committed by the people dearest to him (both in his belief that Gusohi Fangxin did it and in the reality of An Le’s involvement), who goes on to peacefully lead his fractious nation into a peaceful reign before he ascends as a powerful enough (aka beloved and worshipped enough) god to be ranked among the top heavenly generals. That’s like. Pretty fucking classic protagonist vibes right there.

And, as usual with mxtx’s characters, we get a lot more than this lovely little backstory. In his interactions in canon, lqq is capable of great grief and anger; he is willing to sacrifice himself if it means avenging his murdered family; and he simultaneously holds both great hatred and great respect for his old teacher. And, of course, he winds up raising and taking care of his enemy’s son which shows a remarkable depth of compassion and emotional messiness that I find terribly compelling. He struggles with a simplistic view of justice that is supported by lies told to “protect” him and that is uprooted by the truth and forces him to try to make sense of the world without the guardrails that others installed around him (looking at you mister fangxin sir).

Also I’m stealing my own tweets bc I’m Right but:

*pulls up single barstool to lqq is a good character table* I think it’s interesting & Says Things abt the continued relationship btwn lqq & xl that lqq *didn’t* recognize xl, implying that he left fangxin’s mask in place even when he went to kill him

Like here is the man who killed his family & best friend, who left him abandoned in bloodshed on his 17th bday—& here is also the man who saved his life, who taught him, who lqq looked up to & wanted to be like

Even when lqq *does* recognize xl, he still has so much respect for him paired with that hatred that it’s honestly rlly tragic? Like man. There’s so much grief in lqq’s repeated demands for a duel & insisting it’s fine if xl kills him as long as he doesn’t hold back

*pats lqq pompom* this bb is so sad. And so much more like his teacher than either of them seem to realize or necessarily want

Despite being a pretty minor character, lqq gets a lot of complexity and nuance! Look at this child trying to be grown up while desperately turning to his old master for guidance and “the truth”! Look at him! Be sad!!

2 ) lqq is an excellent parallel to xl

Okay stealing my own tweet again don’t look at me I yell the same shit everywhere

Xl didn’t want lqq to become like him (self-sacrificing, vengeful, alone) but lqq not only became alone, chasing vengeance, & willing to sacrifice himself for revenge—he also became kind, open-minded, & remorseful!! & he still clearly respects xl @ novel end 🙃🙃

We all know hc’s “they’re not very alike at all” and yeah sure baby go support your man but narratively, there’s a lot of importance given to cycles, parallels, and foils in mxtx’s writing and most explicitly (compared to mdzs, haven’t read svss) in tgcf. For example, *gestures at beefleaf, gestures at Xianle Trio vs Wuyogn Crew, gestures at Xie Lian & Jun Wu’s whole uh. Deal.* And while I’d argue xl and lqq are part of a triumvirate rather than a pair, we’re not including mister three-face in this conversation so just looking at xl and lqq:

Both adored and sheltered crown princes

Both taught by a guoshi who was seeking to prevent the repetition of their own tragedies and in their efforts, lied/omitted information and failed to protect their charge from tragedy

Both were betrayed* by their closest friends

Both are the last living members of their respective royal families

Both caught the interest of supernatural beings from a young age

Etc etc I’m getting v bored and distracted writing this so moving on

Most importantly to me, we have their betrayal by a very close and adored mentor and how they react. The confrontation I mention at the start of this shitshow is really imo one of the most important scenes in the novel because it a) illustrates the differences in xl and Jun Wu and b) sort of gives you a preview of how xl ultimately wins

So a) Jun Wu and Xie Lian both take a talented, marked-for ascension young prince under their wing. Jun Wu sees himself in the boy and obsesses over shaping him into Jun Wu’s own image in the belief that this will make him the perfect heir. Jun Wu pushes his chosen heir into situations where Xie Lian is repeatedly harmed in an effort to show that the common people are fickle and cruel and don’t deserve his compassion and care.

Meanwhile, Xie Lian is reluctantly roped into mentoring his prince due to his inability to stand aside when he feels he could do something to prevent hurt or injustice befalling another (simultaneously his great strength and great weakness! God I love him). Xie Lian tries to teach his student to believe in and care for the common people and not to sacrifice himself (see: flashback convo re:taking the force of the sword strike into his own body).

When Xie Lian refuses to bend in the shape Jun Wu demands, Jun Wu bashes his head into the wall. When Lang Qianqiu cries “I will never be like you!”, Xie Lian laughs and says “Good!”.

B) this of course feeds directly into foreshadowing! Like Lang Qianqiu’s bold words, xl ultimately refuses to become like his mentor and remains defiant even when it would stop him from being hurt. Xl beats lqq and says so what if I tricked you, so what if I lied, I still won. Naturally, xl beats Jun Wu not through standard swordplay but by using a trick he learned while forced to busk and wander the earth alone and unlucky for centuries.

…okay so I have fully forgotten what I was actually saying here! Anyway!

Like Xie Lian, Lang Qianqiu spends a time consumed with the need for vengeance, hunting his enemy and rejecting the heavens. And like Xie Lian, he winds up caring for his enemy’s “son” and trying to both comfort him and maintain what’s left of Qi Rong’s life force despite having previously been hellbent on destroying him—bc he sees the impact it has on another person. In the end, he even gives a gift to Xie Lian—his mentor, his role model, and the one who killed his father—that was once given to him as a symbol of unexpected kindness. Sound familiar?

But, importantly, and contradictory to what I have been yelling abt but whatever it’s 12:30 am, Lang Qianqiu is not a direct mirror of Xie Lian but a closing of a vital loop in the story. Lqq is very similar to xl (I will die on this hill!! Only I won’t bc I’m stronger than y’all and will keep swinging these pots and pans) but bc xl tries to do better and keep lqq from suffering the way xl has, lqq is able to have a gentler and more optimistic path forward. He’s proof that even a small act of kindness or even kindness to only one person still matters and has a ripple effect that can’t be seen when you’re in the middle of it—a thread started with xl giving the coral pearl to Lang Ying and closed with Lang Qianqiu returning the pearl to Xie Lian.

So I have no idea if any of this is coherent or compelling but I meant to be asleep two hours ago and the points are:

A) Lang Qianqiu is good actually

B) parallels!!!

C) look ive already started another wip about Lang Qianqiu and Xie Lian and I didn’t want this but no one else wrote it so now I have to so pls just accept this as a warning

*sort of air quotes around this for Xie Lian bc frankly Mu Qing was right & Xie Lian kicked feng xin out BUT on the other hand, it was experienced as a betrayal and we also again have all of Jun Wu’s shit so it evens out

[maglors-anion-gap]

Fic Writing Asks

Thanks to @samarqqand for the tag! Sorry for the late-ish reply!

how many works do you have on AO3?

I have 8 fics on AO3, with one WIP that I have been neglecting for Ages (so sorry to the anon who requested it, and to user findrahil for helping me beta in, like, march...), and three Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang fics coming very soon!

what’s your total AO3 word count?

Currently 36,972

how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Mostly Tolkien. One sad MCU fic (it's not finished, please ignore it, I started it in a brighter era where I wasn't exhausted by the MCU movie industrial complex)

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

"Why Breaks Thou the Wand" - Gimli/Legolas (qpl) Tam Lin!AU

The MCU fic that I will not be linking to

"Your Mouth is Poison (Your Mouth is Wine)" - Celebrimbor/Sauron, the events leading up to the sacking of Eregion, also known as "how to bottom in the most manipulative and vindictive manner possible"

"There are Roses That Come Without Seeking" - Curufin/Finrod, midwinter masquerade celebration turned hook-up

"Turning Shadows Into Shapes" - Feanor&Fingolfin, brotherly loveloathing and the aftermath of Finwe's death

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Every single one. I don't get a Ton of comments so it's pretty easy for me to do and I talk non-stop so.... it's a natural instinct. I love to see what people have to say abut my work, and I love to let them know I appreciate their commentary

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Angstiest ending is hands down "Where the Spirit Meets the Bones" because it ends with Maedhros yeeting himself toward his doom... In general a very angsty fic because it's all about failed obligations, self hatred, and being a flawed person.

do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I've never written a crossover, I haven't really found universes that I desperately wanted to smash together. The closest I'll ever get is AU works.

have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes but not on anything posted on my AO3. The commenter left me something mildly obnoxious, but when I checked out their profile they were a huge bigot. Bidoof's law for general assholery.

do you write smut? if so what kind?

Yes. More often than not. Excuse #1: the pandemic is keeping me from being my slutty self and I am projecting. Excuse #2: self-introspection. It's no coincidence that my smut fic is most often either something I find kinky, or an exploration of my identity or something I want to communicate in my life. "Halos Made of Summer, Ribbons Made of Spring" was me exploring my attraction to women (when I still thought I was a woman). A lot of my other stuff was me coming to terms with being transmasc (though I haven't included trans themes in my fics yet - that's gonna change tho).

have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope! I don't think my stuff gets enough traction for that (rare-pair hell, my beloved). I also don't think I'd notice if themes were lifted from my work. I treat fandom like a soup pot. It would be rude to take the stock wholesale and say it was your own. That said, it's likely that at some point two or more of us are going to come up with similar flavor pairings. If you're inspired by my work, it's good grace to say so. But swapping ideas is pretty par for the course.

have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! But you guys are always welcome to do so! I've been meaning to translate my stuff into Spanish, it's good practice for me and I know that fandom can be pretty English heavy.

have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! I would like to at some point, I think the closest I've gotten is like, trsb exchanges.

what’s your all time favorite ship?

Probably Fingon/Maedhros because of my penchant for self-flagellation and bad decision making. It's an old standby pairing for me, and I like its Romance, in the classical sense. Celebrimbor/Sauron is a close second because I like working through how I feel about deception and betrayal and really unhealthy love.

what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Um... I don't want to say the WIP that's currently languishing in my drafts. I have Got to finish it because I went out of my way to get people's opinions on it. Um, probably this thing I started for Gimli/Legolas, I don't think it was imaginative enough, I have a hard time being imaginative and it feels derivative. I need to significantly re-tool it.

what are your writing strengths?

Setting up a central theme, and characterization. I like implicit meanings.

what are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue is hard, pacing is hard (it's really hard for me to read, so I always want to pare my stuff down when I should expand on it). Executive function is non-existent so the writing process itself is just. odious (/humorous).

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Ah, like adverbs and epithets, it serves a purpose (to indicate something specific). I think about a) can readers understand this b) is this respectful and does it fit the situation or characterization c) does it add something special d) do I have a good enough grasp of this language. For MCU fic I won't be linking I taught myself some very basic russian to include some russian dialogue because I wanted english readers to be temporarily out of the loop like one of the characters (like, in dramatic irony the readers know something the characters don't - I wanted a situation where the readers didn't know either). Don't go looking for that fic, my russian is embarrassing to me and others.

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

The lord of the flies :( I was 13

what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Probably "Halos Made of Summer, Ribbons Made of Spring" for managing to write something long and detailed :)

I’m tagging @galadhremmin @arofili @undercat-overdog @findrahil @dialux (some of you may have already done this, sorry) - this is the moment where I forget every single one of my followers and mutuals... I'm so sorry, if you're reading this please consider yourself tagged and back-tag me with your replies

[admdmrtn]

25 (Holi)Days of Wayhaven

DAY 11 - MYTH

pairing | adam x f!detective (edith oshiro) word count | 1090 words warnings | none summary | The brown in them stares back at him, patient, as if waiting for him to remember - to remember her. And try hard as he might, even when he’s done all that he could to ignore, dismiss and erase it, he could never forget her, for so it seems that Edith has always been there, entwined in his heart strings, weaving like she does the silk.

a/n | a very very big thank you to @midmodmar for this lovely commission! it was incredibly great to work with her - she’s so accommodating, sweet and ridiculously talented i mean look at it!!!!!! i’ve been so excited to share this since i got it back but i knew i wanted to write something along with it too. i initially got the idea from this video but because i also wanted to participate in @wayhavenmonthly‘s 25hwh, i thought i’d tweak it accordingly as well! n e ways i hope you like it!!

((and also!!! let me know if you want to be tagged in my posts - i’ll include a tag list from now on for anything that involves a story whether a prompt or a one shot))

•••

Her body moves gracefully on the silks, fluid in her motion, precise in her execution - a perfected performance.

Void of any distinct emotion, Edith has her eyes closed and her expression calm as she maneuvers herself easily on the light green hammock in accordance to a memorised choreography, the music playing softly in the background. Twisting and turning, and despite being binded, there is liberation in her movements in which the material complies harmoniously as an extension to her being, her limbs working with the restraints rather than giving in to its limitation, thus leaving in its wake an enchanting aerial display.

Adam leans against the doorframe, arms folded and absolutely charmed with the way the detective is able to contort her body so gracefully. His eyebrows shoot up slightly when he watches her do a five feet knee drop before she extends her legs in opposite directions, achieving a split almost effortlessly in mid-air. Edith has more often than not showcased exemplary prowess in combat, and Adam no longer has as much doubt in her capabilities as before, especially not after she’s proven herself through several of their missions. But watching her indulge in a different form of conditioning brings forth an entirely new array of emotions; a mixed bag of wonderment, and awe, and oddly enough, nostalgia.

The song restarts itself - it having been put on loop so that there is no need for Edith to play it again manually each time it finishes - and it’s in that moment that Adam notices the lyrics, the meanings, and the haunting melody that’s encoated along with them.    

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream.

Observing her as she begins the routine all over from the beginning, Adam’s focus trains in on the song. He’s not one to listen to the words in a song usually; in fact, he’d rather music without words entirely. But there’s something about this particular track that just trickles fuel to a slow flame of realization - a pot of emotions that’s been brewing for a short while now.

I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.

Upon reopening her eyes, Edith catches sight of Adam almost instantly. She maintains eye contact despite spinning flawlessly in the air, slowly, before she offers him a knowing smile. He ponders briefly what knowledge lies behind those lips, and spares a second if he’d ever brave himself one day to venture beyond them and find out.

And I know it’s true that visions are seldom what they seem. But if I know you—

Edith nods at him, though he is uncertain if she’s merely acknowledging him or beckoning him towards her. Regardless, his feet move instinctively, reacting without question to her siren call. Like a puppet on a string, there is no denying the pull that Adam feels in the space between himself and her, so much so that he can almost hear the begging amidst their silent conversation for that very space to disappear.

I know what you’ll do.

It’s all vaguely similar to him, the act of taking these steps towards her. As though embedded into muscle memory, Adam’s reminded of a far away recollection - whether it be of stories about seeking answers from a fairy queen, the reminiscence of striding into the manor parlour before greeting esteemed guests, or perhaps the distant wishful thinking of walking down the aisle. Whatever it is, it feels right. And his heart, even as it thumps away like a band of marching soldiers, is at the ready in anticipation. In recognition.

You’ll love me at once—

Standing before Edith who hangs upside down, Adam reaches out to steady the hammock, his eyes never leaving hers. The brown in them stares back at him, patient, as if waiting for him to remember - to remember her. And try hard as he might, even when he’s done all that he could to ignore, dismiss and erase it, he could never forget her, for so it seems that Edith has always been there, entwined in his heart strings, weaving like she does the silk.

The way you did once upon a dream..

During the times of Classical Greece, Aristophanes, in echo of his friend Plato, once said, “When a person meets the half that is his very own, something wonderful happens: the two are struck from their sense by love, by a sense of belonging to one another, and by desire, and they don’t want to be separated from one another, not even for a moment.”

All throughout his life - both mortal and immortal - Adam has struggled to decide whether he was agreeable to such a claim. When he was younger, once upon a bedtime story, his mother had always made sure to remind him that one day, in the near future, he’ll meet someone who would undoubtedly make him understand - make him see that the myth isn’t a mere myth. And in those younger days, he was more susceptible to believing her words, occasionally meeting with a stranger whenever they visited in his dreams.

As a young knight however, he began spending too much time in the company of pleasure to consider the idea of monogamy; of dedicating himself to only one person. At the time, marriage and courtly love were two complete dichotomies anyway - where neither one could indefinitely put a stop on the other. “So why bother?”, his greedy self had asked arrogantly. And it was only after he was turned that things were put into perspective, one in which he remains unsure if he regrets or is relieved by. If there was anything, he was at least certain that the idea of having someone accepting him wholeheartedly as his other half vanished entirely. Or almost entirely.

He wasn’t sure exactly what it was that he felt when he, along with the rest of Unit Bravo, encountered Edith for the first time outside the abandoned warehouse. He didn’t notice it then, but when she pulled the trigger and shot him in the shoulder, it wasn’t anger or hatred that settled deep in his guts, no. Rather, it was as if his entire body heaved a long sigh of relief, exhaling a breath that’s been held in for far too long. Even as he bandaged himself later that night, it was attraction that fluttered in his chest instead of repulsion; and it was the first time in a millennia that he'd heard his mother’s voice again.

“You’ll know when.”

•••

tags | @katbee​ @losingface​

[m00nycore]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 . 𝒕𝒘𝒐 . 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 .

ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒?

𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑐

𝑡/𝑤 : 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠. 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.

𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ;; @missdicaprio @thesweethufflepuff @mads-bri

guilt had become remus lupin’s conviction.

he didn’t mean to stare, he didn’t, he knew it made her feel odd, but her buzzed hair made it more obvious to him.

lucy had stopped wearing makeup, and remus thought it was nice. he also thought her hair, or lack thereof, was nice.

but he could see the ghost of a scar on her temple, one that was quickly healed with dittany and silver powder. it was amazing, really, that it had become so unnoticeable—it could pass as a tiny childhood injury.

but, it never healed. to remus lupin, it was clear. to remus lupin, it was a fundamental piece of his self-hatred. a reminder of his monstrosity.

lucy was due to take over classes for him, as the first full moon of his stint as a professor was rapidly approaching, only within a few weeks of the start of the term. she sat at his desk, writing down notes. the students were due to revise pixies and imps, lessons from the previous year.

“rem?” lucy’s eyes were concerned, but uncomfortable from his sustained stare.

remus was quiet, smiling, albeit awkwardly, and returned his attention to peering out of the window.

it was nearing the end of sunset, and the skies were beautiful hues of red and pink. jazz, remus’ favorite record, to be exact, was playing on the phonograph, softly.

“you have guilt on your face,” she accused, but gently. he knew she had risen to join him, from the soft scoot of the chair and the quiet step of her feet. she walked lightly.

she ghosted her hand over his shoulder, pulling him to face her.

he glanced at the scar once more, feeling unable to hide the source of his unease. he often felt unable to hide things from lucy.

“rem, it was forever ago,” she assured him, voice dripping with honey, a calm ocean breeze. it almost soothed him. “it was my fault, anyhow. i couldn’t stand to see you harm yourself. i was stupid, yes, but it was my fault nonetheless.”

“the tiny grey fox against the big, bad wolf,” he laughed, humorlessly, recalling a conversation from years and years ago. “i could have killed you.”

“but you didn’t,” was her simple reply.

she quickly walked away, and within seconds she was putting a different record on to play. they had combined collections, and she drew out one of their mutual favorites.

starry, starry night.

the guitar chords of don mclean’s vincent filled the office.

“nostalgia,” she explained, suddenly next to remus once more. “dance?”

it was another late night in the common room, and he was unable to sleep. the full moon was the next night, and it made him restless. his back ached, and he was moody.

lucy had joined him, as she often did, and tried to sooth him with a dance. it was awkward and clumsy, and honestly, they were quite lucky that they didn’t wake anyone with their laughter, hushed as it was.

remus smiled, arms looped around her waist, and her arms loose around his neck.

shadows on the hills,

sketch the trees and the daffodils.

catch the breeze and the winter chills,

in colors on the snowy linen land.

there was quiet laughter, reflecting on the familiarity.

lucy had always been different than the rest of them. she had the jagged edges, but they saw the soft curves that coexisted within her.

how you suffered for your sanity,

and how you tried to set them free.

they did not listen, they did not know how.

perhaps they’ll listen now.

she was daring, she was brave, she was intelligent. she loved muggle music, especially rock, and read a lot of books—remus’ collection of muggle classics no exception. she simply devoured them.

lucy was infallibly kind, caring, and loyal—nearly to a detriment. she was able to talk sirius and james out of the near cruelty that they targeted at severus snape... on occasion.

severus still held that resentment, for all of them.

essentially, remus thought she was too good for this world, for being close to the likes of him. she was dancing with a lycanthrope.

she had her flaws, as humans did. she was reckless, she was selfish at times, she was quick to be irritated, and she was capable of cruelty.

and not that it was to her detriment as a person, but she was horribly sad. depression was her cage, similarly to remus, but her’s was more violent. much, much more violent.

for they could not love you,

but still your love was true.

and when no hope was left in sight,

on that starry, starry night,

you took your life, as lover’s often do.

but i could have told you, vincent,

this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.

“have you ever thought about it?”

remus felt his heart sink. he knew what she had meant, almost too obviously.

“more times than i could count.”

she leaned her head against his chest, saddened. they had stopped dancing, just holding one another.

and it was true, as horrible as the truth was. even as a child, remus lupin had fully wanted to die. fully and truly.

“there was no intent,” he admitted. for, as much as he had wanted his existence cut short... he had reasons to live, people to love who, in return, loved him back, as bewildering as it was to him.

“there was no intent for me, either... i had you. i have you. and that is enough.”

lucy was too good, too vibrant to want that for herself, and remus tried to suppress the tingle of tears.

now i think i know,

what you tried to say to me.

how you suffered for your sanity,

how you tried to set them free.

they would not listen,

they’re not listening still.

perhaps they never will.

the song came to a close, the final notes plucked on the guitar.

they were each other’s reason.

and as he looked at lucy, as they were breaking loose from each other’s hold, as she smiled at him and walked back to her notes...

remus agreed.

that was enough.

[aros001]

First time read through light novel vol. 6. Random thoughts.

Hey, can you guess what my favorite episode of the anime is? Here's a hint: it's one apparently a lot of other Subarem shippers hate. I say f**k that! Episode 18 and this book made me love the idea of them as a couple even more! But we'll get to that in a minute.

“By conducting these negotiations, you bear Emilia’s fate on your shoulders. Naturally, everything you say affects her, and it carries the same weight as Emilia’s words. This is not a decision you should make lightly, nor are the words you say easily taken back.”

“...Ah, uh...”

“Moreover, I ask again—should you owe me in this matter, it will mean the defeat of the Emilia camp. Are you truly fine with this?”

It really brings into the focus the problem of Subaru calling himself Emilia's knight without thinking and why the actual knights took such offence to it. At best it was a gimmick with no actual meaning to him and at worst he wanted all the rewards that came with being a knight (or at least what he perceived as the rewards) and not any of the responsibility. That's basically the reality Crusch is making Subaru face; the true burden that is on the one who claims to be Emilia's representative. Being a knight isn't just a game or a fancy title. Whatever he does will heavily impact his lady's future and he never once considered that.

“You hate the Witch Cult. That’s the reason you approached Emilia, is it not?”

Damn.

“—You have not said, ‘I want to save Emilia,’ even once.”

Daaaamn. Obviously, we know the witch cult has nothing to do with why Subaru wanted to hang around Emilia, but it's really telling of his current state that that's what it looks like from the outside. His hatred for Petelgeuse is stronger than his love for Emilia.

The fact that Roswaal has twice now been absent during events that his presence could easily have prevented tragedy is incredibly suspicious. Especially during the mansion arc, where he only left the mansion during the loop Subaru had made a lot of progress in finding the shaman and thus, unlike the previous loops, could have warned him about what was about to happen. It feels like Roswaal is intentionally removing himself as to invite disaster upon his house and Emilia, likely to manipulate her and Subaru.

Priscilla is an oddity to me, because she really feels like someone I should dislike more than I do, as I tend to have an instant dislike for very bratty, entitled, and/or spoiled characters. I'm not sure what it is specifically that's lifting her up so much for me. It's not just the looks, because I've seen attractive female characters I've hated because of their brattiness (I think she and Bitch princess from Shield Hero share the same english voice actor, in fact). I think that, one, there is just this sense of fun and amusement when Priscilla's around, like I just want to see whatever she does next, and two, despite her attitude, I'm not really getting a feeling of shallowness from her. She doesn't feel like she's putting people down just to prop herself up. There is actual strength and depth to her.

Rem followed behind both of them, and he could hear noises coming from her nose every so often. Rem had a keen sense of smell, and she’d apparently picked up some kind of unsavory scent, staring at the back of the iron helm as they walked along.

Well, Al is from another world like Subaru, so it wouldn't be surprising if he also had the witch's scent attached to him, assuming his situation is anything like Subaru's.

“Don’t be silly. You’re Ram, right?”

“I am Rem... Forgive my rudeness, but where have you met Sister, Master Al?”

Rem explained how he’d mistaken her for her nearly identical older sister as she posed the question. However, Al made no reply. He raised up his one arm and touched his helm, busily poking the metal.

“What the hell’s goin’ on here...?”

Al sounded nervous, seemingly unable to process the information. The increasingly rapid tapping offered further proof.

“So you’re Rem...and your sister is Ram?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“This might be a weird thing to ask but...is your older sister alive?”

“...? I do not understand the meaning of your question. Sister is alive, as she should be.”

The instant Rem gave that answer, Subaru, who had been listening to the conversation in silence, felt goose bumps all over his flesh.

“—This ain’t funny.”

Well...that got a lot of theory wheels turning in my head. I was already wondering if Al had his own Return By Death ability, so it's certainly possible he'd met Ram before a restart, though why he'd mix up her and Rem, I'm not sure. Another possibility is that he's maybe experienced Subaru's own RBDs, so while he can't trigger the ability himself he retains his memories from the original timelines. We've seen timelines where Ram has died but also one back at the mansion where only Rem died. Of course, there's also the possibility this story is going to go full Futurama: Bender's Big Score and Al is going to turn out to be a future version of Subaru sent back to the past.

That damn whale is like something out of a horror movie. I don't tend to care for gory horror but I do like movies with unique monsters and killers, so I could easily see myself getting into a movie about a giant flying whale that appears in a dark fog and basically consumes the entire existence of whatever it eats, including its past presence in the world. It's not just memories being erased. The person themselves never was.

You can tell the story is doing a good job of connecting when I know full well that Subaru's going to have another RBD and that everything's going to be fine and I'm still tearing up over Rem basically sacrificing herself to hold off the whale and Subaru is realizing he's allowed her to die four times over.

Huge difference between the books and the anime, as I'm pretty sure in the anime Puck just killed Subaru in the room Emilia died in. There was no bringing her to the witch cult's hidden cave like there was here.

“Unable to even pass a single trial, not even facing a single Deadly Sin, bearing great expectations only to stumble over the first stone in her path...”

The madman looked down at the sleeping Emilia, sighing.

“—Ahh, you were lazy!”

Curious as to what he meant by all that. Now that I think about it, I don't think it's been revealed yet the specific reason the witch cult went after Emilia. Yes, she looks like the Witch of Envy but it that a bad thing or a good thing to the cult? Do these "trials" she was supposed to face have to do with the dragon and royal selection or the witch?

I don't think they said why Subaru can now see Petelgeuse's previously unseen hands. I think I saw a theory about how Subaru's connection with the witch grows stronger with each RBD, beyond just the scent, so he might simply has just accumulated enough EXP to finally level up into seeing them. Then again, I did love Subaru's mocking line to Petelgeuse that the witch has been "cheating" on him with Subaru, so it's certainly possible he just has more of Satella's affection than Petelgeuse and thus he gets more special perks from her.

And finally, we get to the talk between Subaru and Rem at the end. Funny thing, when I first started watching the anime, someone I knew who'd seen it before me told me that, one, it's very different from Isekai Quartet, which introduced me to the characters, so don't go in expecting a comedy, and two, that episode 18 has a Subaru moment that a lot of people hate. Given how the arc had been since before that episode and how Subaru kept falling further and further, I had no idea what was going to happen or what was worse than what he'd already done that'd get people to hate him so much.

And it turns out it's just because of a shipping war. I'm still not sure if I should feel relieved or annoyed. Yeah, I ship Subaru and Rem over Subaru and Emilia, but hating this part of the story just because he still loves Emilia? I feel like everything else except for that one line gets ignored (the line I'm avoiding saying because I don't want a bot to flag this post) and that the lack of all context except Subaru loving Emilia while Rem loves him destroys a lot of why the scene works.

There's just so much to talk about with why I love this part between Subaru and Rem. I'm a big fan of superhero stories and a classic trope I love is when things get dark and everything is brought to its lowest point...only for the hero to make a comeback. And Subaru... The man is broken. He's given up. Not only has he experienced death, failure, and futility multiple times, he's seen the people he cares about be completely slaughtered, with Rem dying, being mutilated, and even erased to protect him and Emilia, the woman he loves, dying directly because of him. He's powerless to change anything, or at least everything he does change seems to just make things worse. He sees himself as selfish, greedy, and arrogant; that he never actually cared about anyone other than himself. He's just spewing all this very justified self-hatred...and Rem counters it perfectly, not saying a single thing that isn't true about what she loves about him. Last volume had her imagining running away with Subaru, so the possible life with him she talks about isn't just something she's pulled out of the air. It's something she's considered and wants, which means it has actual weight when she turns him down.

I think another reason Rem connects to Subaru so much is because she's no stranger to self-hatred. She's also seen her own existence as a blight on everyone and everything around her. That she's selfish and terrible. And the person who helped pull her out of that state, at least somewhat, and get her to start liking herself was Subaru, which is what she's doing for him now. It's what I love so much about the relationship between these two. It's not just that they've saved each others' lives. They've helped each other in incredibly personal ways, despite the fact that neither fully knows what the source of the other's pain is. Subaru doesn't know what Rem felt as she watched Ram's horn get cut off. Rem doesn't know about Subaru's RBD and constant failures. They didn't need to. They simply knew the other needed help and they gave it, with no strings attached. It's why, despite me shipping them together, I'm not upset that Subaru doesn't return Rem's love (yet?) in the same way. There was a great bit of art I saw of the moment, and the words alongside it were "I didn't say I love you to hear it back. I said it so that you would know." Despite her still having some issues, being a little too subservient and obsessed with Subaru, I can believe Rem's love for him is real. When Subaru hated himself and believed everyone else did too, Rem told him that she loved him, not to get anything back out of it, but simply because she wanted him to at least have that to hold onto.

Rem was clearly at least a little upset at the end of their talk, and I can see it being some regret that she turned him down or that he does still love Emilia more, and I'm fine with that. She did the right thing and she is happy the real Subaru is back, but her being a little sad afterwards keeps her human (even if she's a demon).

Honestly, while I do ship them, I think both did make the right call. If or when they hook up, it should be when there's no lingering doubts or regrets they're carrying with them. Where they can have a future where they can smile together and with everyone in their lives they love and can't just abandon. Plus, I want to see Ram as an aunt to Subaru and Rem's kid! That sounds amazing!

And Subaru saying he loves Emilia, even after Rem poured her heart out to him...well, yeah, of course he does. He just found out Rem loves him and has had no time to process it (he was trying to run away with her out of fear and guilt, thus why she turned him down). If his feelings for Emilia were that easily swayed then it'd be hard to say that they were ever that strong or real to begin with, and thus what would have been the point of everything he's been through? It's not like he said it to hurt Rem. Hell, here and in the anime he sounds pretty apologetic as he says it, because he knows it'll hurt her to hear it and he doesn't want that. But it is the truth. So I'm not going to get mad at him for it. It's consistent with his character and everything he's been through and lead to great character moments for both him and Rem. What's there to be angry about?

But yeah, there was a little bit of it in the last chapter but I'm soooooooo looking forward to next volume. I remember just the feeling of hype and "F**k yeah!" going through my chest on my first watch of the anime. Subaru, after hitting his absolute lowest point, pulling himself together with Rem's help and gathering up everything he's got to fight back against the previously hopeless situation and save the day. It made all that heartache and misery so worth the wait.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/Re_Zero/comments/gr9y77/novels_first_time_read_through_light_novel_vol_6/

[uwua3]

are you in love?

🌻🎨 miyoshi kazunari

summary: it’s selfish, he knows that, but kazunari doesn’t know who he is out of love

warnings: heartbreak, desparation, self–hatred, mental illness (depression), fear, toxic relationships, alcohol

author’s note: this is extremely personal(?) and i knew i had to write about it or else the concept would eat away at me until i did TT i couldn’t write about anything else so this stayed. it’s shorter than what i usually write, so i apologize! this is not kazunari x reader, this is more so a personal piece on kazu’s loveless life and how it plays into his mental heath

i chose kazunari for this because of his one true purpose of being a people–pleaser. i relate to kazunari in the sense he doesn’t feel valid unless he’s loved and needed by friends, so this is my interpretation of his perception on love. please know, i love you so much. you are loved by this author and you are valued, noticed, and seen. i love you, please do not feel alone, i believe in you! i am here for you anytime, my messages are always open ♡

word count: 1,347

music: still with you – bts (jungkook)

Are you in love?

Always, Kazunari would respond. There was never a moment where his heart wasn’t tattooed with another unworthy name, the letters inked with the flower petals he’d grow in his lungs, hopelessly pining after someone he knew would never be with him. Kazunari fell in love with those he knew were unattainable in a way he couldn’t help but long for. They would never love him back in this lifetime, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it! He was in love, wasn’t that enough?

Kazunari had his heart on his sleeve for anyone to take and break anytime they pleased. All it took was a single compliment, maybe a meaningless romantic gesture as well, and Kazunari was yours. A smile for him made his heart flutter. His heart’s angel wings beat against his ribcage and feathers fell to the ground. A lingering hug made the butterflies crash around his caged stomach. His energy felt like a sugar rush from how sweet love was. A text, a conversation, a casual meet up, a stare, anything was capable of having Kazunari daydream about you for weeks on end. His potential soulmate, someone he was fated to love!

Everyone had a soulmate, Kazunari believed wholeheartedly. To think that a person was born into this world with a red string looped around their future’s pinky. Or whenever you walked past them for the first time, a bell rung inside each of your heads and caused you to look back. Kazunari believed in almost every soulmate myth, brushing his hands over his features after learning his face was supposed to resemble the person he loved the most in his last lifetime. He loved himself in that moment, but it’s one of the few he doesn’t particularly care for.

Kazunari also liked dotting his i’s with minature hearts, practiced cursive just like all those romance classics advised him to. Signed every single letter of his with the complimentary closing, “Love, Kazunari”, knowing he meant it every single time. Kissed each envelope even if he wasn’t wearing bright red lipstick just to imagine their fingers passing over the faint shape of his lips. It was the feeling of knowing he was in love and his purpose was to love endlessly, it was the role he was born to play.

This meant Kazunari was in love with everyone. Anyone could steal his heart and sign their name like it was a yearbook, anyone could occupy his mind all the time and make him fantasize about a wonderful future together. It was all he knew; Kazunari only knew how to love, love, love. He was born to love as much as possible, that was his purpose.

It was the feeling—the feeling that he was meant for something. That Kazunari was born to love, to be made of love, to give love and never receive. Kazunari had never been out of love, he was constantly hitting himself with cupid’s arrow and gaining another forced scar in the process. To write all those heartfelt foolish love letters no one read, to create the most perfect playlist curated with songs that represented who they were at their best, to doodle their name with hearts all around it with a lovesick smile, wasn’t that love?

Why wasn’t it enough?

Why didn’t anyone love him back? Where was his soulmate? Was he really, unlovable? Kazunari always had lovey dovey smile on his face, the split image of another Valentine’s Day. Did they not like the romance that came with him saying “I love you” too soon? What was wrong with wanting to fake date just for a little bit; nothing could go wrong from that! Why did platonically holding hands and random, intimate skin contact suddenly become inappropiate and “too much”? Kazunari did everything right to be the best boyfriend possible, the type you’d post on social media about how he would do anything for you. But, when it came down to it, maybe it was him. Maybe, he was the problem.

Could no one ever truly love him? Did he not have a soulmate, was he destined to be loveless? Kazunari was in love with everybody but himself, and that was his crucial downfall. He’d let anyone who pretended to be nice to him do anything they wanted, use him senseless until he was nothing but a shell. He would gladly hurt himself in the process as long as you knew he loved you with his whole heart, everything he did came from his need to love. It all connected to love, it was the root of all his problems, having such a big heart that had enough space to take anyone in.

Relationships were everything to him, Kazunari couldn’t stay single for long before someone took advantage of his relentless charm and obvious desperation. Although they never lasted long or sometimes never even happened after being led on, Kazunari documented each one in his diary every night. Most times, he would gush about how romantic the date was and his feelings of being a lovesick puppy. Other times, he’d find his words smudged with the uncontrollable sobs he’d try to hold in as he struggled to write prettily on the creased paper. Kazunari would deny that he’s never had a happy, healthy relationship in his life, but it was the truth he couldn’t see with his rose vision.

After all, all red flags look like regular flags when you’re wearing pink heart–shaped rose–tinted glasses!

Kazunari closed the door behind him softly, hitting his head against the surface with a thud as he slid down, landing on the ground with a tired sigh. Another unfortunately unsuccessful break–up; at least it was in person this time, and not over DMs like always. His pink blazer and heart–printed vest suddenly felt extremely tight, as he ran his hand through his hair only to knock over the heart–shaped sunglasses upon his head.

The room was dark, it was late, he supposed. He couldn’t remember who he kissed that night after relying on alcohol to make him feel alive, he barely registered their invasive grip on him or the empty promises and manipulative lies. At least he had enough sense in him to go home, to avoid anything that would make the wound of his last love even worse. Kazunari blinked away the tears as he pulled out his phone, scrolling through previous texts with a sad smile. All he could see were stickers he spammed, and their one–word responses if he was lucky.

Of course it was him who did everything, again. Kazunari pushed himself up, wobbling on his feet as he unsteadily made way to his desk. His clumsy hands tipped over cups of art supplies, cursing underneath his breath as his blurry vision tried to find what he was looking for. Got it! Kazunari scraped his chair against the floor as he fell onto his seat loudly, pulling his lamp string to cast a yellow haze over the diary. Another one for the records, Kazunari hurriedly spilled his heart onto the pages as he relived his most recent break–up.

It wouldn’t be long before he found himself on those dating apps again, flirting away effortlessly and becoming the ideal type he knew the other person was attracted to. He’d take selfies that made him look perfect, filter and FaceTune alike. Updated his socials with a “new me!” attitude to gain more attention. Someone would catch his heart again and Kazunari would crush over them with every heart emoji ever. It was a habit he couldn’t handle anymore, it was out of his control.

It sounded wrong, Kazunari knew that, but he didn’t feel real if he wasn’t in love. Kazunari didn’t know who he was outside of the love he had for others, and as he swiped right for anyone, he didn’t want to find out.

Are you in love?

Kazunari caught himself in the mirror the next day, staring at his blank reflection as he looked away witn an indescribable expression.

Yes, just not with himself.

[yellowocaballero]

⭐ for the ask game!

Playing STRAIGHT to my ego, huh? Thank you for the question! Let’s do Martin and the Dream Boy, since I’ve been thinking about that one again recently: 

“Transfer me,” Martin said immediately.

“No,” Jon said, equally quickly.

“Do it.”

“I won’t. You wouldn’t survive the month.”

“I’m not going to survive the month anyway. Don’t you get that, Jon?” Martin said, frustrated. “None of your perfect little worlds last. Nothing ever works out. There’s always going to be something that destroys this. More than fifty times, you’ve tried, and more than fifty times you’ve failed miserably. Isn’t it time to try something else? A different approach?”

Jon stared at him blankly, the forehead eye open wide, in a classic ‘does not compute’ expression. “I just have to keep trying. It’ll work eventually.”

“You’re stuck . Literally and  - and figuratively. You’re stuck in this self-perpetuating loop where you make the same mistakes, do the same things, and fuck up your life in the same way, over and over again. And you refuse to see it.” Martin stood up, slamming his fist on the table, and Jon’s eyes widened. All of them. “You’re weak and cowardly. You ask for my help, because you’re lonely and in pain, but then you reject it, because you’re afraid of anything else. You bitch and moan about how terrible your life is, but you refuse to do anything real to fix it. You push away all of your friends, everybody who wants to help you, and then complain about how nobody cares. I’m sick of it. You’re - you’re just like me. You’re fucking just like me.” A sob bubbled in Martin’s chest, and he tried desperately to push it down. “I guess we were made for each other after all. We’re both terrible people in the exact same way.”

Jon opened his mouth, then closed it, flabbergasted. “Martin…”

“Forget this.” Martin turned away and stalked to the door, throwing it open. “Have fun with your hamster wheel. I’m going to actually do something.”

For context, this story was written before I listened to S4 and S5. (Feste was written about when I was listening to very early S4). I’d probably tweak some aspects of it with my understanding of how Jon’s loneliness was perpetuated in S4, but overall I’m very glad that this story captured something essential about Jon’s character that we see in the beginning of S5: that he will sit alone, in an empty room, listening to tape recordings of his friends back when they were all a little less sad. He is overcome with guilt and self-loathing about what he’s done, and he refuses to confront it. 

That is what Jon is doing basically this entire story: listening to his friends be happy, back when they were all just a little bit less sad. Overcome with self-hatred, he chooses to lose his identity and with it any chance of fixing the situation, instead of taking responsibility and fixing it. He thinks that everything is his fault, and that he’s the only one who can ever fix it, but confronting what he’s done is so scary that he shuts down. 

This is the point in the story where I kind of beat you over the head with the narrative parallelism. It is very obvious to the reader that Jon is doing the wrong thing, because when Jon lashes out due to trauma he does it explosively and harmfully. When Martin does shitty things due to trauma, it’s a little less obvious. (This is also true in canon and something I wish more people realized about Martin). I built up a huge bait and switch in this story, because I wanted the reader to realize something about Martin just as Martin did: that his caretaking personality is a damaging trauma response, that his focus on romanticizing somebody who he barely knows instead of making the effort to understand them is harmful, and that it’s more important that he put on his own oxygen mask first instead of trying to help other people. Martin’s selflessness was selfish: it made him feel good to be needed, and to rescue someone. I think Martin and Jon are very similar in their martyr complexes - which bites both of them in the ass in the canonical Season 4, when they both use these complexes as a vehicle for attempting suicide. It’s not good for them, chief. 

Martin, of course, is a good person. Jon is also a good person. In this story I explored the question of how good people, with good intentions, from a place of deep love and care, can do terrible things. Neither Martin nor Jon ever wanted to confront their own behaviors and their maladaptive coping mechanisms, because that would involve admitting that they were sad and lonely and they needed help (The only TMA characters to ever do this are Daisy and Melanie, especially Melanie).  Whenever I write Jon, my central tenet for him is always “coward”. Martin’s is always “brave”. I think they’re a very interesting pair, both in their similarities and their differences! 

Thanks for the question! I would apologize for the length but I think everybody expects that of me now. 

[beerecordings]

Wait what about Anti????? Does he not need therapy??????

haha, great minds think alike i guess! i actually got an ask about a softer Anti too, but I’ll talk about a more classic Anti first. cause he DEFINITELY needs therapy, but it’s not going to be easy to get him there.

a classic evil Anti is going to be in a padded room talking to a therapist through glass, institutionalized and imprisoned for whatever he did that was criminal enough to justify him being taken away from society but insane enough he’s not in a traditional prison. and at first the only reason he’d talk to this stupid therapist they keep sending to him is trying to scare him, freak him out, have something to play with while he waits to get back to Jack and the others to torment them instead. the therapist would have to be an expert in criminal therapy - unfazed, unintimidated, “i’ve seen worse and you don’t scare me, you tiny Irish bastard,” just quietly listening and asking a couple questions and adjusting his medication as needed.

and let’s assume this therapist has an effect.

suddenly Anti is getting quieter, getting less cocky, having trouble now, losing his self-confidence as all the dark thoughts he has find themselves in a more stable brain, and suddenly start to look as scary as they are. he’s a little doped up from heavy-duty meds to keep him under control and stop him from hurting himself, and he’s starting to get thin and very pale, sitting on his bed with his knees drawn up to his chest, mumbling about the boy, the boy, the boy, clutching at his throat, sometimes giving off soft cries, asking for somebody to come save him, he doesn’t know what’s happening, he doesn’t know what he is...

and this, this is interesting. this is where the therapist really gets to digging. “What are you, then, Anti? Do you remember your parents? A creator, but not your father? Tell me about him. Why did you try to kill him? What was going through your head in that moment?”

and he starts to realize he’s dealing with HUGE delusions, and not just the narcissism. Anti is paranoid, Anti is self-loathing, Anti is obsessed and convinced that he needs to kill someone to get enough attention to survive, to have revenge on him for creating him as some broken error. He believes he’s some kind of demon, computer virus, copy of a man???

so the therapist starts trying to find distractions.

“You don’t want to be in here anymore, do you, Anti? I know, I know. It’s okay, don’t claw at yourself like that. That’s what we’re working on, right? Well, why don’t we try thinking about something other than the boy with the bloody throat. I want you to try something for me, but you can pick what.”

“Try something?”

“A hobby or something. Not one of the habits the boy had, no drums or video games or anything like that. A hobby you picked.”

“A hobby or something?” snaps Anti, hiding with his face against the wall, rocking himself. “You’ve said a lot of stupid fucking shit, Casper - ” he NEVER calls Casper “Doctor” and they don’t know how he learned his first name - “but that has got to be the stupidest idea yet. I’m going to give you frostbite and make you choose between chewing off your own fingers and let the infection spread. I’m going to pull your ribs out and you’ll still be alive to watch me dissolve them in acid. I’m going to find that cute little wife of yours and next week she’ll be the one sitting here in this bed, and you will scream to see what I have made of her.”

And Casper’s unfazed. Unintimidated. Unafraid.

“I’ll be back next week,” he says. “You have a decision for me by then. I’ll have the nurses remind you, so you can think about it. You tell them if you need anything. You tell them if you need me.”

Anti shoves his forehead against his knees and does not wish him goodbye.

But next week, he has an answer.

“Want to knit,” he croaks.

“You’re not allowed have anything sharp, Anti.”

Anti doesn’t say anything. Fuck, but he looks white today. Fuck, but he’s shaking hard. Casper’s never seen him scared quite like this.

“How are you doing today?” asks Casper.

Anti’s pupils are blown. He stares at the wall, licking at his dry lips. Rubbing at his throat.

“Anti,” says Casper, a little louder. “The nurses said you’re not eating. Do you want to be put on a tube again?”

Anti makes this noise Casper has never heard before.

Almost like a sob.

Casper waits for a long time to see if he can calm down. But today is not a good day and Anti is in pain, replaying memories in his mind, trying to reconcile the two self-images conflicting in his brain, trying to figure out why he did the things he did.

“I can see if there’s a way for you to knit without needles,” says Casper, softly.

At that, a tiny nod, the only response Anti has in him. Yes, please. He wants that. He wants to knit. He’s not doing well. He can’t take this obsession anymore. Can’t keep thinking about what the boy’s doing, what the boy’s eating, what videos he’s made, what it would look like to see him die, what it would feel like to kill him, to end him, oh, fuck, oh, fuck, this used to make him high and now he’s leaning over the bed to choke up bile on an empty stomach, trying to scream but only able to sob, clutching at his throat, grabbing at his throat, squeezing at his throat -

He has to be sedated. by the time next week rolls around, Anti is being fed through a tube, drugged out of his mind, watching with agonized eyes as the one nurse he tolerates comes to take care of him like he’s some weak, broken thing. sometimes she even pushes the hair out of his eyes, her warm hand brushing against his forehead, and he lets himself think about the way the boy used to have people to hold him and hug him and show him affection, and it used to make happy chemicals light up in his brain and smile cross the face they share, and he wasn’t in pain...

The knitting gives him something else to focus on.

Maybe a little too much. He knits obsessively, without pattern, just looping, looping, looping, looping a longer and longer blanket, his eyes fixed on it, only eating when his nurse tells him he has to if he doesn’t want his yarn taken away. for once, he does not mumble to himself, does not try to slam his hands against the wall or tear his throat open, does not speak of the boy.

Until Casper comes back the next week.

A long line of knitted yarn stretches out on Anti’s feet. There’s a little color in his cheeks again. A little light in his eyes. Casper prepares himself for yelling, for insults, for threats to make lesser men weak in the knees.

“How are you doing today, Anti?”

Anti loops, loops, loops.

“Better since last week?”

Loops, loops, loops.

“You know, it’s six months since you came here. Did you know that?”

Stops looping.

And for a second, everything frantic and angry and violent and cruel falls away from his face, and he is just another patient, another young man who’s done terrible things, who needs Casper because nobody else cares to care about him.

And he says, “I hate him because I am not as complete as he is, and I feel like a shattered thing, and I wish he made me whole.”

It’s a breakthrough.

Anti picks up other hobbies. He reads. He draws a little. Once, he’s even allowed out into the mess hall, and he bounces a ball back and forth, quietly, with another inmate.

They start to talk meaningfully. He’s disorganized mentally and hard to follow, yes, and he’s still violent and threatening, still angry and cruel. but sometimes, in a blue moon, he bares his wounds to this quiet, unafraid man, watching him from across clear glass.

They talk about Anti’s hurt. About Anti’s hatred. About life outside of this room, but not outside of the institution.

He’s never getting out, of course. Or he’s not supposed to. But, well. He does. Somehow. He’s the only inmate ever to escape this place.

Casper still thinks of him sometimes.

Hopes he’s doing well.

[thouroghly-inconsequential]

A day in the life - Patton angst

Warnings: angst, swearsy, self hatred, negative self talk, thoughts of suicide, bad writing, a mention/suggestion of cuddling at the end, food mention, let me know if I missed anything! Also the bits in italics are Patton’s internal monologue.

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, mostly hurt, a dash of platonic moxiety at the end, 

Patton woke unfortunately to the sound of his alarm beeping. 6.00, as always. Why bother getting up? No one wants to see you; you never do anything important. He grumbled and rolled over, maybe five more minutes. His stomach growled. Oh, you’re hungry? What gives you the right to eat? Are you really so selfish as to waste a valuable resource on yourself? He huffed to himself, pushing his feet into his bunny slippers. Surely one piece of toast wouldn’t hurt? Wouldn’t it? Selfish waste of space. No, one piece would be fine.

He drearily wandered downstairs to see Logan already up, drinking his coffee, and deeply engrossed in a book. He doesn’t want to see you, he hates you. Go back to bed where you aren’t a problem to anyone.

“Good morning, Patton” Logan said without looking up from his book.

“Morning Lolo!” Patton answered brightly. Liar. “Whatcha reading?” he elongated his words with his usual tone, if Logan thought there was something wrong it could bother him. And then because he’s kind he’d try to help, and then he’d be wasting his time, and no. Patton could not have that. You’re already too much trouble, a waste of time and space.

Logan looked at Patton with a -mocking- teasing look and waved his copy of the Silmarillion in his general direction.

“Same as yesterday, Patton.” Patton nodded and chuckled to himself. Stupid, stupid, STUPID. He poured himself a cup and put his toast on. He sat down, not too close to Logan, -because if you sit too close you’ll annoy him, he’ll hate you. He hates you. You don’t deserve love- because it was easier to get to the toaster from that seat.

Just as his toast popped up, Roman busted into the kitchen, already dressed and made-up flawlessly. He’s so much better looking than you. Not that it’s hard. You’re so ugly, and fat, and useless.

“Morning Roman! Would you like some coffee?”

“Indeed, I would! Thanks Padre!” Roman danced over to the toaster, ruffling Logan’s hair as he went.  Everyone here is so talented. Except you. Everything you do is wrong. And they’re just too kind to kick you out. You don’t deserve them. You don’t deserve anything. Roman sat between Logan and Patton, stealing the jar of crofters still on the table, much to Logan’s dismay. Don’t get any ideas. If you tried to do that you’d be out. Why give someone as unimportant as you something they love so much?

Last but not least, everybody’s favourite storm cloud walked in, chugging the last of the coffee.  Oh look, another person who hates you. Not that I can blame them. You’re pretty easy to hate. Virgil sat down without a word, curling his legs up in front of him.

“Do you want some breakfast kiddo? We have the gay-swimming-rings if you want some!” Virgil chuckled -at you, he’s laughing at you, you’re so hilariously pathetic- at the family nickname for fruit loops.

“That sounds great, thanks Patt.”

He’s just being polite. He doesn’t need your help. He doesn’t want it. Why are you still trying?

Patton smiled and got Virgil his bowl.

Once Patton sat back down again, Logan began to go through the list of what needed to be done today. Uh oh! Look which useless unhelpful piece of shit forgot his pen, now you’re gonna have to bother Logan asking about your responsibilities all day! Oh well, now he hates you even more. Why are you so incompetent?

“Uhh, Logan? Sorry to be a pain, but do you think you could put that on the fridge door? I just don’t want to forget anything!” Patton smiled brightly again in an attempt to make the request seem as sweet and unimportant as possible.

“Of course, Patton, but don’t worry, just get the red things done first, they’re most important.” Patton nodded a quick and vigorous thank you to Logan before collecting up the breakfast stuff and starting on the dishes.

Finally, something useful for you to do. Heh, knowing you, you’ll probably screw it up though.

After that he had been asked to clean the kitchen.

Maybe if we don’t clean the kitchen we’ll get food poisoning and die. That would be good.

And then Logan wanted some input into the upcoming video.

He’s just doing it to make you feel included. He doesn’t actually want your help, who would? Your opinion doesn’t matter. You don’t matter.

And by then it was lunch. Patton washed his hands and made some classic grilled cheese for them all. Good. If you make it ok, they might not be as angry with you as normal.

“How has everyone gotten on with their tasks? Patton, it’s nice to see that you’ve completed yours already.” He doesn’t mean that. “Roman?” He only had one more to do, and he seemed pretty happy with himself. “Virgil?” He had two more to do, but that was normal, he had gone straight back to bed after breakfast.

“Lo, ‘cause you don’t have any left, and you’re good at organising stuff, could you help me tidy up later?” He doesn’t want your help, your awful at everything. You destroy everything you touch. You can’t do anything. He hates spending time with you.

“Of course, Virgil.” Logan knows it too. Virgil hates you. Everyone you love hates you. Everyone hates you. The words began to fill Patton’s head even more than usual. He stood up and offered a pathetic excuse as to why he was going to his room. But the others let him go without an argument. The don’t care. You could kill yourself and they wouldn’t care. Just kill yourself already. He curled onto his bed, holding his not-so-stuffed bear close as though it were someone who loved him. He didn’t cry into it though, like he had done, so many times before. No, he just lay there and let the words consume him.

 “Lo, I’m worried about Patton.”

“Virgil, in the most respectful way possible, you are always worried.”

“Seriously! I dunno, but he just didn’t seem ok!”

“And what’s to be done about it? If he doesn’t talk to us, there’s not a lot.”

Virgil nodded meakly and went back to tidying, devising a plan.

As soon as he finished, he rushed to Patton’s room. Knocking, he peaked his head around and saw his best friend sleeping, cuddling his bear. Sighing he went in. On the one hand, they needed to talk, on the other hand, Patton needed rest. Virgil ran his hand through Patton’s hair. He was so cute when he slept. And if Virgil joined him for a little, curled up in bed, mumbling “I love you”s and words of encouragement, well, who’s to say.

[timelesshonesttrailer]

Content Warning: Frank discussion of depression and suicidal themes. 

One of the most controversial parts of the Timeless finale is the death of Garcia Flynn. The series staff and a section of the fandom believe it was an honorable, heroes’ death. The other side of the fandom believe it was nothing more than glorified suicide.  

So, which is it? 

Sometimes, when it comes to media, things are truly left up to interpretation and there is no right or wrong answer. Other times there is a clear answer which is obscured by a person’s prejudices or ignorance. (I want to state that ignorance is not inherently a bad thing. It simply means a person is unaware of specific facts/realities.) 

So, let us break down what happens with Garcia Flynn, not just in this specific moment, but through all the events leading up to it.  

We know that Flynn was suicidal when Lucy visits him in São Paulo. He tells her as much in season two when she asks him about the journal and how he came by it. His family had just been murdered in front of him (the movie later telling us only weeks before Christmas) and he was being blamed for it. Not only was his wife and daughter dead, but he had no support mechanism either. He was completely cut off and alone. It is unsurprising that Flynn would consider ending his life.

Then Lucy appears, gives him the journal, and�� well… things become complicated. 

The movie would like us to believe that this is a Closed Loop, but it’s not. As I explain here, the series has always had a Causal Loop which means the Lucy that visits the Flynn we meet in the pilot is not the same Lucy who meets the Flynn we see at the end of the movie. That isn’t even the same Flynn from the pilot as this Flynn has an older brother and possible other changes. 

The Flynn we see in the show does not act like someone who has been told he will die without saving his family. Everything in the Season One finale completely contradicts a Future Lucy telling Flynn these things. From teasing her about aging well to screaming at her about trusting her with the life of his child. These are not the words or actions of someone who went through the São Paulo scene we were given. 

But, this makes sense, because it’s a Causal Loop, not a Closed Loop, therefore we don’t actually know what the first Lucy told Pilot-Flynn. An assumption can be made that she offers some kind of hope since Flynn is basically the embodiment of hope throughout the series. As he tells Lucy, they will somehow save the people they love, as long as they don’t give up hope. 

However, his depression never goes away. The more we see of Flynn, the more we see of his self-hatred and conflicted nature. He tells Lucy he doesn’t sleep. We see him haunted by memories of his family. There is the speech he gives to Lucy about having become something else, stopping short of calling himself a monster. And when Lucy tries to tell him he’s wrong, he can be a father again, he has a very classic case of depression brain saying ‘hold my beer’ and trying to prove what he believes to be true. 

Throughout the first season, Flynn shows several signs of being passively suicidal. (This is when someone doesn’t actively try to take their life, but doesn’t try to safeguard it either, often letting themselves be put in dangerous situations because they just don’t care if they live or not.) The biggest moment is when Flynn saves his brother, he’s risking his own birth because his mother may never decide to leave the country if she has her eldest son to take care of.  

A parallel can be drawn here between Flynn and Wyatt, the latter man being far more passively suicidal. During the pool scene in season two, Wyatt confirms this by admitting he took the mission because he figured it was a suicidal one and he didn’t care. This is most notable during the Alamo. When Wyatt decides to stay behind, this is literally a suicidal act. If Lucy hadn’t talked him out of staying, then his death would have been suicide, not a heroes’ death or risking his life, etc. He didn’t think his life was worth going back to, so he figured he’d go out ‘doing one good thing.’  

This is very much the thought process of someone who is depressed and suicidal. Depression brain likes to minimize a person’s worth and positive impact. It ignores the fact that Wyatt likely saved thousands of lives getting that intel out, and just tells him he’s a failure… at everything. That he was expendable. But Lucy was there to remind him that he is not a failure, nor expendable. It’s enough to get him back on track long enough to get home. Though, odds are, if they hadn’t convinced Christopher to let Wyatt stay on the team, Wyatt would have gone back to drinking away his PTSD and possibly be dead within six months. 

In season two, both men show progress away from these tendencies. Wyatt’s admission to his suicidal feelings was a good step in the right direction (though I would argue the healthiness of hanging his recovery on a romantic relationship). Flynn shows his progress by actively trying to stay alive in prison and get back after Rittenhouse.

We can also throw a parallel in here with Season Two Lucy. When she is betrayed by her mother and then believes her support mechanism is gone (Wyatt, Rufus, Jiya, etc), she actively decides to become a suicide bomber. She gets the grenades specifically to blow up the Mothership, with herself in it if she has to. But once she realizes she is not alone anymore, she scuttles that plan. However, the depression that had been building through both seasons gets magnified after being betrayed by her mother and the whole thing with Wyatt. She turns to alcohol, and one might interpret her chasing Emma as a passively suicidal move.

Now, back to the grenades, if Lucy had not run into the guys and had instead gone through with her plan, this would be classified as a suicide mission, not committing suicide. These are two different things, though yes, there is a fine line between. If she ran into them and decided to go through with her plan anyway, even though there were now clearly options, then it would be committing suicide.

And now here becomes the crux of the argument. What makes these things different?

Risking One’s Life: If you choose to do something dangerous to save someone, then you are risking your life. Running into a burning building, taking a bullet, these things aren’t guaranteed to kill you, but you know the risk is there.   

Suicide Mission: If you choose to do something guaranteed to take your life for a perceived greater good, then it is a suicide mission. This is the ‘one person has to stay behind to throw the switch’ type scenarios. The ‘you’ll make it in but you’ll never make it out’ moments.   

Committing Suicide: If you actively take steps to avoid being saved, ignoring obvious avenues of possible rescue or repair, then it is suicide. Saving another person(s) during this act does not minimize the fact that it is still suicide if you could both save the person and possibly yourself but choose not to. 

Now, let’s look at how Flynn’s mission went down and see where it fits in the above.   

First off, Flynn does not talk to anyone about his plan. He doesn’t say ‘hey, someone has to do it, someone has to take the risk, I’ll do it.’ He doesn’t give the team a chance to either a) stop him, or b) come up with a better solution.

The first part can be read many ways. It’s not inherently suicidal to not want to be stopped from doing something that would risk your life. But the second part is very telling. There was nothing that said that Rufus had to be saved right then. They only had the journal a very short time. A journal that Flynn admitted wasn’t always reliable. And they hadn’t even made a concrete plan of how to deal with Jessica or other options.

Instead, Flynn simply decides to slink away and risk his life on a plan that isn’t even fully formed or realized. This is clearly a passively suicidal action. Made all the more so by Flynn leaving a suicide note, for that is what the message to Lucy is. He may preface it with ��if you’re reading this, I didn’t make it back’ but that does not change that he calls himself expendable, a direct parallel to Wyatt at the Alamo. This is his way of saying 'let me do this one good thing’ which we have already established is a clear sign of suicidal tendencies.  

Flynn leaves the note then goes back (forward) to 2012 to take out Jess. Now, I won’t get into the logistics issue with this because a) if Rittenhouse wants her alive why would they ask her to get out of the car, and b) where the hell did he park the Lifeboat to be so close but not give himself away, c) did Jess really die that close to his home or did he call an Uber or something, and d) when he eventually dies on the beach near his own home why didn’t his fingerprints and DNA pop up in the system seeing as he’s an NSA agent? 

Anyway, Jess dies, and then Flynn goes back to the Lifeboat. By this time he’s had some headaches but has basically been able to stay on his own timeline for quite a fair amount of time. Enough that one could reasonably assume that if they got out of their own timeline, they might actually survive. Yes, the script says that he believes he’s dead anyway, but there is no physical reason he should believe this.  

He’s not bleeding out from a fatal wound. He is still mentally coherent enough to work the controls. All he has is some blurry vision and headaches. Now, if he interpreted these signs as reasons why he would not make the two-minute trip back, why would he assume he would be able to make it to his home and then far enough away from his home not to disrupt his life? If he thinks Rufus will be in 1848 and there isn't enough room in the Lifeboat, they can take two trips between 1848 and 2018, especially as the Lifeboat has a new power core. He should know this better than anyone seeing as he had the Mothership. 

The only way his actions make any sense if his depression brain kicks in and convinces him to actively take steps that would end his life because what is the point of living anyway? He’s expendable. He’ll never save his family.  

Let’s rewind for a second. When Flynn landed, what if he had immediately sent the Lifeboat back? While we can argue the idiocy of him running off like he did, it wouldn’t be such blatant suicide. Because yes, he doesn’t know if he will succeed on his mission. He doesn’t know if he will make it to Jess before his brain craps out. Or if Rittenhouse will get to him first. So sending the Lifeboat back immediately would actually be the smart, tactical move. 

But no, he clearly believes he will make it back to the Lifeboat because otherwise he’s just stranded Lucy, Wyatt, and Jiya in 1848. So if he believed he’ll make it back once Jess was dealt with, why not go with the Lifeboat? He’s survived this long, perhaps leaving his own timeline will allow him to recover. Jiya recovered(mostly) from being the fourth person in the Lifeboat, so there is cause to believe he could survive this.

His decision to jump from the Lifeboat and stay on his own timeline where he is guaranteed to die is quite literally an act of suicide. 

The mission is over. He has a chance to save himself. He chooses not to. 

Garcia Flynn commits suicide. 

This is made all the worse by the fact the team may not realize this is what he’s done. They know he went back to the Lifeboat after killing Jess, though it’s unsure how they could know he didn’t send it back before going after Jess. So maybe they do realize it was a suicidal act? Regardless, when 2023 Lucy tells Flynn he will die, she’s inadvertently, or purposely, telling a suicidal man to go ahead and kill himself, but not until he’s taken care of a few things for her first.  

And again, this is a Causal Loop, not a Closed Loop. The simple fact that things like Amy, Emma, and Jess don’t appear in the journal, that the series staff admitted the journal can change, and missions listed in the journal don’t take place, prove that it’s a Causal Loop and it doesn’t have to play out the same way.  

The team has five years to write a new journal, one that could literally fix everything. They could ensure Anthony doesn’t die and Mason Industries doesn’t blow up. They could bring back Amy. They could keep Jiya from both gaining her (forgotten about) powers and from getting stuck in Chinatown. They could even make sure Lucy and Wyatt end up together. 

“What’s the point of having a time machine if you can’t fix your regrets?” 

Instead, they tell a traumatize man to do horrible things, let him commit suicide over what he does, and call him a hero for it.  

[redlemonz]

Day #19

My liver feels quite betrayed this morning. Just lying in bed, dehydrated as hell in mind and body, and I can anxiously hear my heart beating the way it is with the after effects of the alcohol in my system. Although, that effect thankfully only lasts so long once I gulp down some glorious and thirst quenching icy cold water. The physical medicine to all my real troubles. Probably also helps that I healed rather quickly and am not hungover due to the fact that I ate a huge burger and 20 nuggets at 3am - I'm such a genius. Actually no, I'm not. The exact opposite in that regard because of how I got to that destination, but I'm not going to be able to disclose that now without further self hatred incurring so I'll leave it as it is. Nevertheless, though my memory is lacking in its details, it was a nice night hanging with my ex-work mate. Her dog was also very adorable - the poor thing is blind in one eye and quite deaf though, and is sadly nearing the end of her time supposedly. Even though she was rather smelly (even after a bath - wet dog smell, I believe it's called?) and riddled my sweater with fur, she was a joyous and welcoming new friend to me. I also got the chance of reliving my days as my high school's table tennis captain (we didn't have the most formidable team) which was exciting, as I demolished my friend in a game when we decided to start scoring (though she put up a good fight). My friend was telling me about the past weekend in which she happened to go to the same snowy mountain as her too, and stayed there around the exact same time. So obviously my mind was then fixated on her yet again, and questioned whether my friend was lucky enough to be in her presence as I wish I could've been, especially in the snow. Thankfully I didn't end up making too much of a drunken mess of myself and end up calling her. Though I did send a couple generic snaps, and I may have texted her a heart emoji at 2am.. fuck. So close. I acknowledged it today in another message, but haven't heard anything back at all - not that I need to. I'll just leave it there as it is. Here's just hoping I didn't awaken her from her beauty sleep in the middle of the night is all (though she doesn't need it). Overall it was still a good learning experience - Im pretty content now with not drinking again for a while, unless I'm comfortably with her somehow. Day 19 - personal security Spending my morning with all the nieces, as my sister and brother in law are busy cleaning their house and running errands during the day. The kids are running wild and causing havoc and destruction to everything in their path, as kids should I suppose. Someone's gotta do something though before things get too out of control and the house burns down - this feels like a job for.. The Godfather. Okay so I just wanted to hype up the scenario so that I could say that. It's actually a pretty chill time as the eldest one is watching some teen YouTube vlogger and I'm just playing catch with the 1 year old and my favourite one (whom is the only one I'm ironically not the Godfather for). Just kidding though of course - they're all my favourites. Because they all bring so much love and joy to my heart with their sweet innocence and adorability. But also because they all watch Pokemon with me. Anyhow, I picked up my guitar and started playing all that I could with my limited skill - and my nieces gathered around and loved it, and would dance along to it or simply listen in content. Except for the elder one - she's 7, so she's sensible and knows I'm probably shit at guitar. I'm actually procrastinating going to the gym and getting some exercise in too, even though I really should given the fact I actually do have decent energy right now. Fuck that unnecessary anxiety right now though, I'll just go tomorrow. I mean I'm still suffering from a busted finger from indoor (who knows how the hell it happened) so that's a valid excuse. But also primarily because I have to work security (and by that I mean we usually just stand around in a friendly red and yellow uniform for hours on end) tonight at some World Darts Championship that's supposedly a big deal. Should be entertaining I suppose, except that I'll be surrounded by old, drunk English men in the West part of town ( I've only agreed to the job tonight so that I have something to pass the time with, instead of wallowing in my thoughts and striking myself mentally further about how three weeks ago right now I'd be down there, by her side, feeling whole. Great, I miss her again - how flabbergastingly unusual. I don't think that's going to change much either when I transform into a security bitch tonight however - considering she use to be one of my colleagues too. I initially got her and a couple other friends the role, so we could all attend some free concerts essentially, and get paid for the minimal effort of work required. Also because I thought it'd be another avenue in which I'd just get to spend more time with her in general too. Except she'd be allocated the blue shirt role, which was sort of more like ushering and promoting the 'awesome events'. It made sense though - she's pretty good at putting people in their place after all, and at guiding them to where they need to be in life (yup, even ushering has philosophical undertones now). We would always try and meet up for our breaks, grab a delicious bratwurst or something - though she would've maybe resorted to a pie and donuts instead, and enjoy whatever performance was on. So you'd have me, in my red and yellow shirt (sort of like a red lemon, you could even say), and her rocking her favourite colour, but without the lime green tinge (which was a missed fashion opportunity on the Company's part - though what the hell do I know about fashion), and together we'd make one badass security couple who saved lives. Or maybe just strolled around aimlessly and showed people their seats. Wondering what she's up to this weekend as I eat some noodles and yam (thrilling meal, I know). Last she told me she'd be doing some domesticated duties such as helping around the house with cleaning and some gardening. Hopefully she's actually managing to keep an empty sink that's not up to its neck with dishes. Shouldn't be a problem considering that her parents should still be down there I think, cracking that whip. I'm actually so glad that they have been there too - ideally that's reduced any sense of loneliness she would otherwise feel when being alone in that house. That's why I suppose that I haven't felt as much worry as I did at the beginning, even though I constantly still continue to. Seems as though she's doing well and moving on with her life best as she can. It helps that she's a proactive and focused person who can potentially shove any negative thoughts aside and move forward a lot easier than others, especially me. That's just because she's always been a stronger and tougher human being. She did also mention that some twin lambs were born at the farm house at which she resides, but that unfortunately one was unable to walk, and ultimately did not make it through that evening. It was heartbreaking to hear the way in which that mother lost one of her babies, and that the other baby lost its twin sibling. In that moment I just wished I could be there and give her a comfort cuddle. There's more newborns to arrive in the coming weeks apparently too, so here's hoping things go swell in that regard. Nevertheless, I'm happy and I feel pretty lucky that she's kept me in the loop with her life and all the happenings, even though I've been demoted considerably and don't actually know where I fully stand, except on the other end of the bridge from her. She wasn't wrong at all though (classic) - it is nice that we're mutually navigating this weird after relationship zone and putting in sufficient enough effort to remain in each other's lives. Of course I'd say that though - I freaking love her after all. Star power! Myself and my mate, the leader of the pack were coincidentally working together side by side tonight, as we got designated the same team & duties. Supposedly we did an amazing job considering we were informed that our team leader sung our praises back to management as we were signing out at the end of our shifts. I actually had a reasonably great time as a result - and very enjoyable so, as none of it really felt like much work. I also ended up with a new free umbrella, which was left unclaimed. My first one since she broke mine a while ago - guess I can finally move on now, like Misty did from Ash when she finally received her bike after 5 fucking seasons. Despite everything, I still missed her presence tonight as my secutie (see what I did there). The sad part was just at the beginning as I was signing in, as the big boss was asking me where my girlfriend was. I just said that she moved down, out of our town - way too much effort and time to explain otherwise, when he's busy and doesn't actually give a shit. Just another crappy reminder of my reality though, and further makes me realise that a lot of friends (even close ones) who are presently unaware of these circumstances also. But again - I don't think they give a shit either. It's not like I've really had any of them even bother speaking to me anyway so yeah. That's probably why I'm enjoying and valuing time on my own significantly more than I believed I would initially. I don't require any fake or convenient friends, who likely probably judge me or don't want to make the effort to be present. Not that I can speak - I'm probably a hypocrite when it comes down to that too - primarily as I'm simply just not a very nice person. On the other hand, there's also been some really wonderful people in my life that I do in fact value so much more because they've reached out to me. Essentially everyone I've mentioned previously is included (local homie, mastermind, two thirds of the pack, the work-wife, my family, etc) under that, in addition to others. It's not an award ceremony so I'm not exactly going through the effort to name everyone. There's also Blondie, who was part of our New Years crew - she's always been lovely to me and is the tough yet kind, and caring yet non-sympathetic friend who slams down reality on you (in a good way - tough love). I'd definitely break more bones for her if it were ever required. So she's trying to sort out some dinner plans and catch up and everything which is rather nice. There's also my other indoor team mate who had described her similar relationship story which was almost reflective of mine - the dentist, who's been supportive and has always made the effort for me, and others whenever she's capable to. I have an incredible level of respect and admiration for her, as she's quite inspiring herself. A great dancer too - she taught me a few steps which was much more enjoyable than I imagined, once I started understanding how to move my feet. So she's taken the time to message me details about a potluck dinner which is tomorrow night - which I haven't decided upon whether I am attending yet, due to the crazy level of sociable activity this weekend has already involved. However, she has actively messaged me regarding the event, including the rescheduled date that turned into tomorrow, and has otherwise also been involved in generally just being the kind of friend I've needed. When people personally make the effort to invite you along to their events for which their social media usually simplifies the task on a broader, networked audience - it's just something a little more special. More so because they don't judge or question why you're taking a break away from the social media platforms - they simply just accept you and move on with life as your friend regardless. I mean as I've said before - I have enough self pity in my own endless hole of despair already, so I don't require any further of it from anyone else. These true friends are the ones that have shined a light as a result, and it's just a surprising comparison I suppose, because the ones I'm closest to usually (with exception to mastermind) have kept their distance. Even so, I'm grateful for all these people I constantly probably take for granted otherwise, for being the human beings that I could only aspire to be more like. Especially her - through everything we've been through, she's still been sticking by my side and has been making the effort of putting up with me and my 2am text messages. I ended my Saturday night with some late night snap message exchanges with her, right up until 1am. Though she did disclose to me that I did in fact unfortunately wake her up with my stupid heart emoji late last night, as aforementioned, so I'm not proud in regards to that. I apologised. She was much too sweet as usual, and constantly displays such care and concern for me that is simply heart warming, and brings a loving smile to my face. I really couldn't ask for a better conclusion as a result really - well, except for maybe if I had her head against my chest right now, and her arm wrapped around me. It's freezing after all.

[isuckandotheressays]

PART 1 ; self-saboteur

How can you even start to talk about something like this without sounding so fucking cliché it makes your teeth hurt. Stuff is hard, like really hard, and it will be forever, and I know that. I am like, obscenely good at whining, I can whine about pretty much anything, the weather, the fact I have nothing to wear, the fact that I don’t get what I want. I'm internally spoiled, but I think everyone is really, any one that isn't is lying, what type of crazy person likes when they don’t get what they want? Unless you are ,like a masochist, which in some ways I probably am, or at least a self-saboteur.

Anyway, unimportant. More importantly, my life is currently in shambles. The love of my life won't talk to me because he's upset that I tried to kill myself. Now I'm sure from an outwards perspective that makes him sound unfeeling, a dick, but to be honest I'm the dick.  

Don’t get me wrong, I 100% wanted to die, I could not see my way out. I weighed out my options, I could hang myself from the loft bed he built for me, but I'm too tall and it wouldn’t have worked. I would slit my wrists, but then I would get heaps of blood on the 70's carpet and that would be just like, disrespectful to my housemates. So, my final thought was just to take as many of my sleeping meds as I could and just like, go to sleep. I wrote a note, in tears, obviously, I had fucking lost it.  

I individually popped out the pills and took them one by one, slowly getting more and more tired, getting less and less conscious. I kept thinking about random things, like how mad everyone is going to me if I survive this, how fucked it's going to be for Luke, how I've probably ruined his life. So I thought in my drug addled state, I should probably just like message saying I'm sorry to all my friends or whatever. Because I'm a dirt human.  

Suicide, is a really selfish thing, the most selfish thing you can do, but at that point in time, I couldn’t see my way out. I felt worthless, that the person I cared for the most in the world was never going to trust me again, that my best friends didn’t want to hang out with me because I'm so fun because I'm a useless sad lump that wines, can't even drink red wine because I become some heaps horrible bitchy cynical version of myself. That I would always disappoint my parents, because to this day, I don’t actually want to do what they want me to do and I really just want to be a starving artist and make art about how sad I am all the time.  

Anyway, I squeezed out some drama queen ass text to the people that meant the most to me, 'I'm sorry I love you' , which I meant but in hindsight as someone that wanted to die peacefully and alone in their house, is not a good move because people care about if you are dead or alive and well, got scared if they get that message out of the blue. So next minute, my dad, arrives in a cab, and I go to Emergency, and no one really takes what goes on particularly seriously and then in a bed and some doctor is making me drink some sludgy black coal shit to soak up all the medication in my stomach (side note it's been three days at this point and all that is coming out of me is like spirited away anime style sludge.  

So, I wake up and I'm going to the ward, this is like 8 at night, I did all this pill business at about Noon, and I'm sitting in the waiting room with my mum and dad who are literally at their whit's end with their nerves shot because their only child has an inability to cope with real life.

Side note, I am a productive member of society, I have job, that I mostly like and work hard at, I do a little bit of 'faffy' modeling for cash when I can, I get up I get coffee, I catch the train to school etc. Granted my mum pays my phone bill because I'm a 22 year old child that can't do real life human things. But yeah, back to the ward.

PART 2 ; repercussions

I'm sitting there waiting at the mental health ward and they literally come and give me some belongings I left there the time before. Like I'm some frequent flyer, I sort of laugh under my breath but try to stifle it because I love my parents  more than anything and I don't want to make this situation any more confusing and awful than what it is. I go to the tiny mini fridge and fish out a cheese sandwich because the stuff I took to OD makes you so fucking hungry.  

So I'm admitted, given the awkward PJ's, some hectic sedatives and put in the room with the vinyl mattress like the ones in jail I'm sure, except in the ward they give you milo and night and speak in hushed tones and take your blood pressure a lot and offer you adult colouring books.  

Then I'm in the room and I'm thinking things. The things I'm thinking are about the fact that I did not succeed in ending my life and now there are repercussions. I have to not only feel shit, I have to feel guilty because what I have done to the people who love me is so monumentally horrible and I'm a bad selfish person who is never going to be loved, etc. Then I think about if I had done it another way, if it had worked, then I fall asleep.

I'm woken up by a student nurse that looks about 15 rolling in a huge blood pressure machine. The soft voice ensues like fucking silk "so, uh, cay, do you feel safe? Do you feel like hurting yourself? Killing yourself? Feeling a bit better than yesterday?" And me, being a fucking idiot, says, "oh yeah I'm fine now, just tired you know". Because, from lots of practice, I'm a master at pretending I'm okay (I'm being sarcastic hopefully you get that and I don’t just sound like a prized IDIOT).  

Hours down the track in walk out in my gross green PJ's and look at who else in in the ward. Literally exactly what you would expect, some full grown woman with pink hair doing a puzzle of teddy bears, some 'methy' looking guy talking to himself in the room (until this point I thought this was a ward for woman only) that has a video of a waterfall on loop and an extremely greasy middle ages Asian woman being scolded for trying to sleep when she has to be awake because its day time. Nobody talks to each other, we are all sort of collectively embarrassed, no one really knows how to act, do we like smile at each other? Or do we have to prove our sadness to each other? I just keep my head down mainly until I get handed the sludgy meal that we have to eat with a spoon because u could mince yourself with a fork or knife. I recon if you really wanted you could use a spoon, I recon if you really wanted you could use anything like, it's pretty fucked up but I think about that all the time. I know pretty much all the things in a room that I could use to hurt myself.  

Like spoon? Easy, I would just either with all the force in my body, sorry for the gore, slam the not spoony part into my wrist and like , blood would Tarintino style go everywhere. I could also just like shove it down my throat and choke. I recon I could like, paper cut myself to death, that’s so morbid, oh my god, sorry.  

PART 3; insidious thing  

Fast track to now, I'm at my parent's house, with a shaved head, in the country, the love of my life won't talk to me. I'm almost certain that he's going to leave me, he's already moved out and he's basically sick of my shit. And to be honest, even though it fucking hurts, its fair enough.

Backtrack again, I worked at the pub, and everyone there just like, happened to do cocaine, so I tried cocaine, and of course, it was great but very expensive. If went from something fun to something I needed to get through a shift because I was so tired. Then I would spend all my money on it. Then the guy would show up at the bar and I would just swipe my card and take money out of the till. Like at the start it was spending my money, and then I started stealing the money.  

Now, I have a huge problem which honestly, I like being on drugs, plus being bipolar, oh yeah, but now that’s up for negotiation and could be a personality disorder or whatever. I didn’t tell anyone I was doing this, not even my partner or my friend who could have helped me. Especially, my partner. But again, dirt human remember.  

So, I was holding that secret in for ages, like was literally killing me. It was the most insidious thing ever. But I've always stuffed in and marred the truth to protect myself. When I was younger, like childhood till I was 16, I had a really hard time at making friends so I literally would just make shit up. But when I was first diagnosed and had my first break up, I worked out that, that probably wasn’t optimum to being like an alright human. So I stopped saying I was related to famous models and that I got kicked out of karate because I punched the teacher and started telling the  true story about the stress nose bleeds, of the white robes and I was related to a bunch of people that lived in Yass, as in many merinos (no offence to my family - you are all phenomenal).

PART 4; him

Forward, I hadn't told my parents this immense thing, and I was lying about what actually happened. So I told them. And, they really didn’t care. Not only what this an insane and complete surprise to me, it made me feel even worse that I have been an absolutely horrendous person to my partner.  

So now, I am petrified. I'm writing this with my newly shaved golf ball head, he's not talking to me and I'm this total wreck of self-hatred and total disarray. Because I want to be with him, I don’t want to hurt him. But I don’t know how to move forward. I don’t know how to make someone trust you again, and I sure as hell don’t think I deserve to have such a fucking angel in my life.

Like you know those classically handsome boys from teen movies, yeah think about that, but like Bowie dreamy. Big ass blue eyes, freckles, tall, absolutely killer smile. He supports my art, he's good with kids and animals, he's stupid crazy intelligent, goofy and gets my humor, that I barely get sometimes. Like I have no idea how human trash like me could have made this person fall in love with me. One time, he fucking flew overseas to see me on our anniversary because he missed me. He has written obscure punk songs about me. He also supports me immensely, which I owe my life to, on many occasions.  

To be honest, I will understand if he's over it, he could do so much better, he could like, date a  girl who is not legally insane, that would not self-harm and lie and do batshit stuff like some crazy murderer. But, I do want to get better for him. And I am trying, I've enrolled in this crazy program that the psych lady said would improve my honesty as well as make me be able to deal with real life grown up situations like an adult and not some mentally inept baby thing. I am trying. Shaving my hair was a thing for me. I needed a physical change to put stuff in motion. I'm in motion now. And I hope that he sees that, but I understand, I truly I am the worst.

Skip forward to two weeks later, we ended it, I broke it I really did. But that okay, because you have to have a red hot go at being by yourself. I am weirdly happy, elated even, I feel like ive got myself back. Its crazy that you don’t even notice how much you have lost yourself until your alone, the cracks in what seemed like a perfect relationship start to show. Not to throw shade, but I think that I embarrassed him sometimes and tried to hard to act cool. And to be honest, I recon I am pretty fucking cool. I bent myself to fit around him, even my aspirations, even my work even my internet presence. He never let me 'vlog' he thought it was lame, seems like such a teeny thing but I full want to vlog. I want to talk into the abyss that in Instagram, hear an echo or not.  

I guess its all a learning curb really, you got to lose what you think you want to get what you need. I could 'smiths' along and ask to 'please please, please, let me let me let me, get what I want this time' but right now, I'm still working out what that is. It's pretty flippin' great.

[psychotherapyconsultants]

When Family Members and Friends Don’t Understand Depression

We’ve come a little way in reducing the stigma that’s associated with mental illness, but not nearly far enough.

Consider these results pulled from a public attitude survey in Tarrant County, Texas, conducted by the county’s Mental Health Connection and the University of North Texas in Denton to determine the community’s view of mental illness:

More than 50 percent believe major depression might be caused by the way someone was raised, while more than one in five believe it is “God’s will.”

More than 50 percent believe major depression might result from people “expecting too much from life,” and more than 40 percent believe it is the result of a lack of willpower.

More than 60 percent said an effective treatment for major depression is to “pull yourself together.”

Unfortunately, these beliefs are often held by those closest to us, by the very people from whom we so desperately want support.

Resenting them for their lack of understanding isn’t going to make things better, though. It almost always makes things worse. Whenever I hit a severe depressive episode, I am reminded once more that I can’t make people understand depression any more than I can make a person who hasn’t gone through labor understand the intense experience that is unique to that situation. Some people are able to respond with compassion to something that they don’t understand. But that is very rare.

Don’t Mistake Their Lack of Understanding for a Lack of Love

Whenever I try to open the doors of communication and express to a family member or friend how I am feeling, when I try to articulate to them the pain of depression, and am shut down, I usually come away extremely hurt. I immediately assume that they don’t want to hear it because they don’t love me. They don’t care enough about me to want to know how I am doing.

But distinguishing between the two is critical in maintaining a loving relationship with them. My husband explained this to me very clearly the other day. Just because someone doesn’t understand depression or the complexity of mood disorders doesn’t mean they don’t love me. Not at all. They just have no capability of wrapping their brain around an experience they haven’t had, or to a reality that is invisible, confusing, and intricate.

“I wouldn’t understand depression if I didn’t live with you,” he explained. “I would change the subject, too, when it comes up, because it’s very uncomfortable to a person who isn’t immersed in the daily challenges of the illness.”

This is a common mistake that many of us who are in emotional pain make. We assume that if a person loves us, he or she would want to be there for us, would want to hear about our struggle, and would want to make it better. We want more than anything for the person to say, “I’m so sorry. I hope you feel better soon.”

The fact that they aren’t able to do that, however, does not mean they don’t love us. It just means there is a cognitive block, if you will, on their part — a disconnect — that prevents them from comprehending things beyond the scope of their experience, and from things they can see, touch, taste, smell, and feel.

Don’t Take It Personally

It is incredibly difficult not to take a person’s lack of response or less-than-compassionate remark personally, but when we fall into this trap, we give away our power and become prey to other people’s opinions of us. “Don’t Take Anything Personally” is the second agreement of Don Miguel Ruiz’s classic The Four Agreements; the idea saves me from lots of suffering if I am strong enough to absorb the wisdom. He writes:

Whatever happens around you, don’t take it personally … Nothing other people do is because of you. It is because of themselves. All people live in their own dream, in their own mind; they are in a completely different world from the one we live in. When we take something personally, we make the assumption that they know what is in our world, and we try to impose our world on their world.

Even when a situation seems so personal, even if others insult you directly, it has nothing to do with you. What they say, what they do, and the opinions they give are according to the agreements they have in their own minds … Taking things personally makes you easy prey for these predators, the black magicians. They can hook you easily with one little opinion and feed you whatever poison they want, and because you take it personally, you eat it up ….

Protect Yourself

I have learned that when I fall into a dangerous place — when I am so low that mindfulness and other techniques that can be helpful for mild to moderate depression simply don’t work — I have to avoid, to the best of my ability, people who trigger feelings of self-loathing. For example, some people in my life adhere tightly to the law of attraction and the philosophies of the book The Secret by Rhonda Byrne that preach that we create our reality with our thoughts. They have been able to successfully navigate their emotions with lots of mind control and therefore have trouble grasping when mind control isn’t enough to pull someone out of a deep depression.

I struggle with this whenever I fall into a depressive episode, as I feel inherently weak and pathetic for not being able to pull myself out of my pain, even if it means simply not crying in front of my daughter, with the type of mind control they practice, or even mindfulness or attention to my thoughts. This, then, feeds the ruminations and the self-hatred, and I’m caught in a loop of self-flagellation.

Even if they aren’t thinking I’m a weak person, their philosophies trigger this self-denigration and angst in me, so it’s better to wait until I reach a place where I can embrace myself with self-compassion before I spend an afternoon or evening with them. If I do need to be with people who trigger toxic thoughts, I sometimes practice visualizations, like picturing them as children (they simply can’t understand the complexity of mood disorders), or visualizing myself as a stable water wall, untouched by their words that can rush over me.

Focus on the People Who Do Understand

In order to survive depression, we must concentrate on the people who DO get it and surround ourselves with that support, especially when we are fragile. I consider myself extremely lucky. I have six people who understand what I’m going through and are ready to dole out compassion whenever I dial up their numbers. I live with an extraordinary man who reminds me on a daily basis that I am a strong, persevering person and that I will get through this. Whenever my symptoms overtake me and I feel lost inside a haunted house of a brain, he reminds me that I have a five hundred pound gorilla on my back, and that my struggle doesn’t mean that I am a weak person not capable of mind control. At critical periods when I’m easily crushed by people’s perceptions of me, I must rely on the people in my life that truly get it. I must surround myself with folks who can pump me up and fill me with courage and self-compassion.

Depression support groups — both online and in person — are invaluable in this regard for offering peer support: perspectives from people in the trenches who can offer key insights on how to deal with the invisible beast. I created two online groups, Group Beyond Blue on Facebook and Project Beyond Blue, but there are many forums worth checking out, like the ones at Psych Central. Actual support groups hosted by such organizations as National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) and Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance (DBSA), and support offered by a therapist, are also great resources to help give you the coping tools you need to get by in a world that doesn’t get it.

Join Project Hope & Beyond, the new depression community.

Originally posted on Sanity Break at Everyday Health.

from World of Psychology https://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2017/04/25/when-family-members-and-friends-dont-understand-depression/

[redlemonz]

Day #2

As humans we ruin everything we touch, even each other. That’s the first thing I read when turning on my phone this morning randomly (I use this word lightly as I confess I did have some subconscious intention of what themes I was going to look through probably) browsing. Don’t even ask what depressing shit I was looking at. But anyway that phrase - it does speak truths, doesn’t it? We, as the flawed creations we are, all carry our own similar and unique set of flaws that beautifully make us who we are as human beings, but also we disperse these flaws among everyone else in this world so helplessly - it’s kind of like an intangible disease really.

Day #2 - better, but never for long

Much like day #1, though not present in the ramblings of that day - due to focusing on more pressing matters of fucking up her day with flowers, chocolates & a crappy balloon (which she smacked the flowers with in a snap she sent me last night - it was cute & I obviously replayed it), I lay there in bed just after 5am for an hour, rolling around & trying to fix my irreparable, evil head. I quickly reminisced about her voice and the final events of last night, which temporarily filled me with glee & joy, until the reality of a new day without her struck me again. Failing to go back to sleep due to my worst enemy (as aforementioned, my head - me, more self hatred, woo), I once again curled up in a ball on the floor of the shower and let the tears flow freely, merging with the pelting water that struck me. Just to add insult to my own injury, I intentionally decided on making the shower extra hot after the tears flowed away, closed my eyes and imagined her there with me one more time. Not in a sexual way (mostly - though I don’t owe anyone an explanation, but I guess I always feel the need to explain myself because as mentioned on a number of occasions, I am a master at fucking up). She simply appreciated the scorching hot water, especially against her back - temperatures which I can’t usually handle. But I did this time - to feel as though she was with me, even though the fiction was clear.

Work work work - another day, another dolla & more holla.. as I like to say. Or at least I just came up with that. Am slightly in a chipper mood as the aircon in the office is currently nice and freezing - classic facilities management messing up our lives however they can. Why the positive mood though? Probably because subconsciously this chill still reminds me of my weekend - the snow. With her. Best moment ever. Definitely a highlight consisting of low temperature in my life. It brings a smile to my face as I think back to tackling her down into the snow playfully (I think - might not have realised my own strength), us laughing together whilst potentially my toes suffer the effects of what feels like frostbite, and the sweet warmth of her lips in that moment of what could only be described as simple, pure, happiness. An actual fairytale moment for the hopeless romantic when he least expected it. Back in the real world now, I sit there wondering how her day is going and what she’s currently working on. Nearly every fibre of me is pulsing towards sending her a simple smiley face via text message, or to wish her a nice day, but I can’t afford to keep butting into her life and bringing a constant reminder to her of my existence. I believe yesterday was probably more than enough for her in that regard. So I refrain from my actions, and just hope that she’s having a nice day as she always deserves to. Another humorous moment just occurred as I was seeking clarification regarding some common-sensical stuff within the work I’m doing, and my new team member laid down for me that, yes, it is in fact common sense. She then proceeded to apologise for being too honest, to which I just smiled & told her that I’m use to, and now quite desensitised from ‘brutal honesty’. I reflect even further now as a result, upon the fact that my relationship had helped me strengthen and grow, even in the littlest ways - which just brings another damn smile to my face in the strangest way. Boom, it’s after lunch time now and an ever so slight anxiety arises. ‘The three’ of us went into a gaming store during lunch that has the same initials as her (she once even joked about it being her store when seeing an old plastic bag in my car boot from the store, when we were on a date at a craft beer cafe. Ah craft beer - what finally brought us together to begin with. Jesus, I’m really linking up everything to a memory with her aren’t I. Oh, the beautiful insanity). Nevertheless, I sent a group snap, in which I included her, of some cool geeky stuff in the store. Why did I include her? Who knows - pretty sure she doesn’t actually give a crap. Probably goes back to earlier where I wanted to message her wishing her a nice day or just send a smiley face, and accordingly acted like it was an almost heroic gesture for not going through with it. This was a subtle way, again subconsciously to an extent as I don’t even realise / think about it at the time, to get her attention & insert myself in her life at a minuscule level I guess. There’s always the nerve-wracking insecurity that she’ll forget me sooner rather than later. Though who am I to interfere with that if it is the case also! I’ll tell you - I’m the past. Not the future. It’s been made clear. Hence here we are with the ever growing slight anxiety as I reflect upon all these moulding elements slowly coming together to form a longer and longer bridge between us. Confessions of a broken mind. More so, confessions of a broken heart. Halt! I’ve also figured out that I’ve come to feeling my heart thump against my chest as a result of remembering that I have my first indoor football game this evening. Where does she come into this as well? She was obviously part of the original team.. it’s where I actually started getting the growing opportunities of spending time with her (when she wasn’t busy being a dedicated student - which was most of the time, although she still made more time for me as time flew by - boom, another realisation way too late). It was after one of our games that I offered her a ride home, and she sat in my car for the first of many-to-come times, as I introduced her to some hardcore gangster rap music that I only got into due to joining the bandwagon of the “Straight Outta Compton” blockbuster movie fanclub. She surprised me that car ride as she was actually, unexpectedly into it..Though that’s my own pre-judgemental self that concluded otherwise to begin with - definitely learned my lesson there, as she continued to defy, well, anything.. which is what ultimately made her that dream come true. So football begins again tonight - just without her, which is truly tragic. She was definitely the ruthless and aggressive player who wasn’t afraid to get hurt in games - she was certainly the most enthusiastic. Her absence will definitely be felt - especially by the other half of our pack. Speaking of which, I’m afraid to even face the other half of the pack, and even more so, people in general. This isn’t exactly the time to be social, but I do require the exercise, the passing of time (as the quicker it goes, the quicker the wounds heal - right? Even though time is relative you dumbass), and just the distraction from wallowing in my pity party of one. The social interaction will ideally be limited, and hopefully I can continue to fake it till I make it. Goodness, the reminders just keep coming! I also have to prepare a monthly quiz consisting of 10 multi choice questions tonight, that are somewhat intriguing to a diverse range of people in my workplace. I usually spend way too much time than required - but the cool part is that she always was my test subject for the quizzes before I went live with them, and that she actually did quite well - better than the average of teams of 5-10 people anyway. That’s just her though. Though my workplace are full of idiots (including myself as aforementioned on various occasions), she nevertheless has always been, and displayed that combination of brains and beauty.

Indoor football! After having a break and watching game shows with the family, it was finally time to head to the first game of indoor in high spirits and be overly thrilled to see familiar faces on a voluntary basis. Don’t get me wrong, they’re wonderful faces.. it’s just that trying extra hard to feel socially accepted can really be exhausting (tragic that I’m using the word I absolutely hated hearing from her often). Anyhow we all have to do it. It’s a pretty common occurrence, more so than we care to admit to, but hey - welcome to humanity. So I tried, and vowed to myself not to say anything and just be.. okay. Whatever that means. Shockingly enough, things didn’t go as expected.. absolutely flabbergasted. After initially walking inside and catching up with, and seeing my cool, bald, and professional footballer of a team mate and friend after a year, a few of the first words out of one of my other close friends’ (¼ of the pack) mouth, without knowledge of current circumstances, in our small vicinity, were that of asking how things were with her. Then close friend progressed to explain to said cool bald friend that me and girl-who-all-of-this-is-essentially-about were now together (as he’s been out of the loop) and he was thrilled, and congratulated me. What a fantastic start to the evening as you can imagine. I controlled the emotion & managed to muffle my voice enough to get a hold of myself when speaking. Long story short, I continuously throughout this moment attempted to remain cool, calm and collected (I’m use to collecting a lot after all) as I revealed the unfortunate and sad truth. Being great friends they are, they also threw me a mini pity party but I assured them that I’m perfectly good, and it was not required. Anyway after the game against our cat obsessed opponents (we won 5-4, what a thriller), I decided to ask another close friend on the team about her current relationship background, as I knew she’d just gotten back & is taking it slow with the guy that she had previously broken up with. She was sweet to share. What amazed me about her story were that all her details were oddly similar and reflective of mine - when they began, the length, the breaks they took last year, the eventual long distance (which is currently still their case), the personifying characteristics of her significant other, and there was even a magical weekend involved (but not with sick day Monday). She was me in this scenario, and he was her. I felt some sort of outsider closure and comfort knowing I wasn’t alone - except I was. Why did I even ask? I could easily lie to myself & say I’m not sure, but it’s clear I was latching onto any potential chance of false hope that may exist. Though my weekend(+sick day monday) already decimated that possibility pretty fiercely and brutally, I was still determined to find out? Thankfully I came back to my senses to realise that I wasn’t ever going to be her. I’m not the luckiest guy in the world anymore, I’ve lost that privilege. I’ve had my share of chances, which were all ultimately missed goals in the end. Better off buying a lotto ticket. In the end, close friend #1 who made my reality publicly clear unintentionally at the start, was being her supportive self. So was the other friend (leader of the pack) - even though it’s not usually his style. Whilst he acted in his classic mannerisms and lost his keys for 30 minutes, close friend #1 kept checking on me. I kept up my guard stating I was fine.. and I think I may actually have been for once. I realised I don’t want or need any of this support, let alone deserve it. My heart and mind instantly crossed to her again - alone in a house in a different town, bottling up any feelings.. or so I imagine anyway. I can’t keep inserting myself into her life to check how she is - as much as I love and care about her - more than anything. She wants to be able to actually move on with my constant interference holding her back (as I ended up doing in our relationship enough as it is) surely.. so I let it be, and urged said friend to be her friend rather than mine at this time. Not that she needed the urging at all anyway - she’s always been caring & onto listening and being there for her friends. Hopefully she can get through.. after all, the strength of the wolf is the pack. Sadly have not heard from my.. ‘past’ today either at all which sucks, but is the new harsh reality I have to deal with.. I hope she had a nice day at work.

The drive back home. First song on the radio - Despacito. Enough said really if you knew her when that song comes on, especially over the last weekend. She makes you smile nonstop with her voice in song. I looked over to the empty seat next to me, where she’d be my singing buddy most often, and still managed my own smile at the memory. Usually she’d be there after a game, we’d get some takeaways and watch a movie at my place whilst eating, or just cuddle up together, and sometimes even just sleep blissfully enough. Other times I’d find some shitty reason to start a fight which I’d blame on my own insecurities - well that part is true. But nevertheless, looking back.. I don’t even remember or care about why I was fighting. I just want to take back all the unnecessary pain, stress and pressure I put her through, and once again see that beautiful smile. Queue last weekend (+ sick day monday) memory as a dream sequence on repeat. Relationship goals.. lived at end of relationship. Nevertheless, that time has well passed, and once again Its too late & any hope that once was present is now lost. I don’t fit in any longer. I deservingly suffer the consequences of my choices and actions, and eat my takeaway food alone tonight. The only problem is that she doesn’t deserve to suffer too. Self hatred slowly back on the rise.

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Day 2 - continued - oh woe is me.

My world almost turned upside down, and shook my mind all around. I messed up again and called her. The darker it gets, the more things just become tougher. I’ve learned this through my historical experience on several occasions now. So we spoke for about 40 minutes. Why? Because my overly attached self checked my instagram, specifically my followers, knowing full well what I was looking for, and as you would have it - the waves crashed down on me hard. She stopped following my page. That’s basically the equivalent of deleting someone. My heart started thumping against my chest again as I double, triple and even quadruple checked. It was real. Why am I making this a big deal though - Just one simple removal from a social media outlet I wouldn’t even be using anymore? Its rather more what the broader definition could be of these circumstances. The true beginning of the end all. These were shades reminiscent of last year where we completely stepped out of each other’s lives and it was absolute hell. We became strangers again. Sure you can argue I’m being overly dramatic about this, but it’s not just about this, as mentioned. My mind and heart are slowly now preparing themselves for further detrimental and unexpected havoc to occur as time goes by. Did she want me to stop snapping her once in a bit also as I had been doing? She wasn’t responding anyway so obviously I assume, when linking things up with this situation, that she doesn’t want to be bothered or annoyed by me. That she wants me completely out of her life, and that best weekend ever (+ sick day monday) is already fading away from her.. it’s starting to feel like it didn’t mean much to her. That I don’t. Well that’s fair I guess, that’s the goal after all to get over someone isn’t it? I suppose I just didn’t see it coming (I’m a professional at that now) and needed clarification as to if she wants me to just fuck off. Ironically here I am trying to seek that very clarification over the phone with her. She states that the unfollowing was more impulsive, yesterday after the flower incident. It’s easier that way. I agreed to just delete the whole thing - as they were beautiful photos of her after all, so technically her property. Though I stated it is fine and no big deal, in the end it was actually extremely tough to delete that part of my life which romanticised her publicly as my dream girl, but at the same time also quite easy to do, for her. So now the basis of it all is that she needs more space, even though she said she doesn’t mind receiving the odd snap. She told me she’d tell me before potentially removing me if it was too much for her (though she technically didn’t in this case where it happened, but I understand as it was also technically inactive now). However she also told me to take things as they come. Everything once again started falling apart in me to hear that ambiguity, but I always knew it was the reality waiting to happen. It’s time to take my leave of absence unless she wants to reach out to me.. which I don’t exactly see being the case. She’s a naturally reserved individual to begin with, who never reaches out.. and especially won’t to me. It’s all truly coming into perspective. I love her so much. I just want her to be okay and be there to make sure of it. But I can’t obviously, because I’m the bloody problem. None of this is fair. Fuck life. Ah well, just pray for the best for her no matter what it does to you. You always wanted her to be happy, now unconditionally love her as you promised, as it’s time to extend that bridge between you both after all. I’m going to miss that voice now..