#our mom was fucking cruel on this day growing up

[disaster-twins-incorrect-quotes]

I also forgot to mention that this blog is safe from April Fools stuff! No jokes, goofs, or anything else will be posted at all

No jokes will be had today, as both OPs absolutely hate April Fools Day. Thank you 💙💜

[beatrixstonehill2]

"I'm so in love with how my transition is going, shame it won't last but it's been fun while it lasted. My mom was really supportive of me transitioning through junior high but by the end of high school she met a new guy who's super transphobic and he showed my mom tons of videos convincing her I'm just a sissy who's extremely perverted and that this is only a kink. I'm twenty now and my transition has been pretty much perfect, my breasts are growing so fast! My mom and step-dad are super grossed out by my big tits, so much so that they made me get a reduction once already when I turned nineteen. I was a DD and went down to an A-Cup. I'm already back up to an E-cup! I'm def one of those trans girls who was meant to grow a set of massive MM-Cup boobs, maybe bigger! It's so mouthwatering to think about, having breasts that huge to show off for all the guys at the club. I can only imagine the kind of attention I'd get jogging with a set of boobs like that stuffed in a sports bra, spilling out. My ass would be sooo sore and leaking cum down my leg every day I get home....

But alas, my mom and step-dad are making me get my breasts reduced once again tomorrow! So, I'll be flat chested once more.... And this time I don't think I'll be growing them back any time soon! You should've seen how much they were celebrating when Georgia passed its new detrans laws. My heart sank but the sheer embarrassment and them teasing me/gloating about it made my cock so hard I had to run into my room, slam the door, and jerk off like four times in a row from how turned on the whole thing made me. Soooo as of this coming month all trans people under 25 will have to forcibly detransition, effective immediately. All trans guys will be given fertility drugs, breast growth drugs, or huge expander implants if they had top surgery. They'll be reeducated to be hyper feminine and forced to stay pregnant, like most cis girls in our state now after they come of age.

All trans girls like yours truly will be put through a brutal masculinization process. I think we're being sent to a sort of bootcamp where we'll be pumped with testosterone and dick growth pills, forced to watch all kinds of violent porn until our cocks are trained to find it arousing, then we'll be trained to fuck girls and show no mercy--that was the Governor's phrasing, anyway! And of course our boobs will be chopped off asap, so I'm going down to an A-cup tomorrow, then my tiny A-Cups will be removed the rest of the way next month. Soooo cruel but that's the point I guess, I'd be lying if I said it wasn't massively turning me on just thinking about it. Shame, if my mom didn't meet this guy we'd probably be moving to a trans-positive state and I'd get to have MM-Cup udders, a big fat ass for guys to fuck, and become the perfect sorority slut. Oh well, guess being a big muscular hairy dude with a huge cock won't be all bad...... I'll get to fuck all the cute girls I want, and all the detrans girls as they're reintroduced to being dumb, big-titted breeders, they'll get my big greedy cock as part of their warm new Georgia welcome.... Honestly, I'm kinda glad mom met this guy. I think detransing and becoming a boy will be the best thing that ever happened to me!

Although I am a bit worried.... I'm def gonna get buff and masculine at bootcamp, but my mom and step-dad have been teasing my for years that when--not if--I come to my senses and detransition they're gonna have so much fun making me a big fat incel gooner..... Mom constantly talked about it even when we were out in public. If somebody complimented me and called me beautiful, mom would tell them I'm really a boy and one day I'll stop playing dress up and get really fat and jerk off all day. "Mark my words!" She assured them all. Sooo..... there's a slight chance I might become a muscular stud when I'm staying at this detrans bootcamp place, but when I get home, I think mom is gonna make me get get fat, I guess her and my step-dad need someone to tease! So, how about it guys? Are you excited to see me in a couple years sitting around at home jerking off to porn all day as mom brings me piles of fast food? How fat do think I'll get? 300lbs? 400lbs? ..... 500lbs? So fat I can hardly get up? I bet mom and her boy-toy would love to see me get that big. My cock is getting so hard thinking about it.... mmmm..... just picture it, my huge round hairy gut, my moobs bigger than my breasts ever got to be, my face with a triple chin covered in stubble...... Screw being a beautiful girl with big tits, I think I'm finally picturing my true dream body. ❤️"

[pop-punklouis]

just to jump on from your other ask: my dad was mentally ill, addicted to pills and physically, emotionally, and psychologically abusive towards my mom when i was growing up. i saw some of this, but not all of it. he wasn’t really in my life during that time except for every now and then, usually when it was at his convenience. for the 15 years of my life my dad was barely around because he was going through his shit. he got sober, got the medication he needed, and now i have a great relationship with him. he wasn’t a bad person. he just had his own trauma and hardships from whatever he went through growing up (something he still doesn’t talk about) but my dad deserved the chance to get to where he is now. the fact that people out there would think my dad deserves to die because of what the mental illness and addiction turned him into makes me so fucking mad. my mom still has her hang ups when it comes to my dad, rightfully so, but she has the mental maturity to realise what addiction can do to people, when she was the direct victim of my dad’s actions, i think other people can figure it the fuck out when it comes to liam, someone who’s actions did not directly effect their lives whatsoever. the fact that there are people out there who genuinely believe my dad deserves death for who he was when he was in the height of his addiction and untreated mental illness, really pisses me the fuck off :)

i'm really thankful your dad is in such a better, healthier place now. i really am. and i'm glad that you've found a relationship with him and he was able to grow and make amends for those things he did and those he hurt. that isn't easy.

and exactly. my uncle passed of addiction when i was a teenager, and it wrecked our whole family. it was a struggle to see all his growth and all his relapses. and i know i stated this a few days ago, but i was in a long-term relationship with an addict when i was in my early twenties, and he did a lot of things that are horrible and downright cruel. but he grew. and he finally got help and healed. and i'm proud of him and how far he's come even if the things he did to me are something i had to go to therapy over for awhile. i'm happy for him. i'm thankful he's alive.

when you talk about addiction so poorly in regards to liam you are also talking about every other single person who has ever been an addict and saying practically the same about them. it's just beyond me.

[ateriblewriter]

Not Like This {4} (q.h)

a/n: this is it. the last part. im sorry for multiple reasons. its kinda rough read. but i wanted to get it out. i might rewrite a part later. Let me know what you think.

italics are a flashback of sorts

warnings: sad. death.

Enjoy!

Part1, Part2, Part3

3ish Years Later

Quinn sat by himself on the edge of the dock watching the waves roll over the water. He found he needed more time to himself when family and friends arrived at the house. They were all here for the memorial they held every year for the past few years. And like always, Quinn was having a hard time processing the death of one of his oldest bestest friends and one of the greatest persons he knew. This is not how he imagined this situation turning out.

If he hadn’t gotten Y/N pregnant in the first place. She wouldn’t have gotten sick and he wouldn’t be missing his brother. Quinn never regretted his child, nor did he blame the baby. He just missed his brother.

~

Quinn raced Y/N to the hospital. The day finally came that someone died who just so happened to be a match to Y/N and now she could get the heart she so desperately needed in order to survive. His prayers had been answered.

“Hey, what are you guys doing here?” He noticed his parents waiting in the lobby of the hospital. Something was amiss. He hadn’t had the chance to inform anyone of the great news and yet they were here. “Mom. Dad. What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry sweetie.” His mother broke down in sobs. He had never heard his mother cry in his life.

“What happened? Where’s Luke and Jack?”

“Quinn, there was an accident. It was bad. Luke’s in surgery and Jack.”

“No. Fuck. No.”

“Jack’s dead.”

Every ounce of happiness left him when he realized exactly where Y/N’s new heart was coming from. Why did fate have to be so cruel that it needed to take the life of his little brother in order to save the life of the person he loved the most? It wasn’t fair.

~

“Hey. Whatcha thinking about?” Y/N brought him out of reliving that terrible day for the thousandth time. He must have been taking too long down by the water and she was sent to reel him back into the group.

“Nothing.” He placed his hand over his now wife’s protruding belly. Y/N knew he was lying. She figured he was thinking about that day again. The day Jack died so she could live.

“I miss him too. Even though I literally have a piece of him in my chest. I hate the fact that I can’t talk to him everyday. And I really don’t like how our babies will have to grow up without really getting to know their Uncle Jack.”

“You can talk to me if you want. I know he was your best friend, but he was like a brother to me.” She spoke out again when Quinn didn’t respond. She knew her husband was silently grieving. But she wanted to be there for him. “Please.”

Y/N pulled Quinn closer to her, guiding his head toward the scar on her chest so he could hear her heart beating, his brother’s heart beat. She found it was often something that calmed him when he was in a mood like this.

“Where’s Theo?” Quinn quietly piped up as he continued to stare out at the calm water listening to the thump thump of the heart.

“He’s back at the house. Trevor and Luke found an old pair of rollerblades and are trying to teach him. He’s a natural.” She tried bringing a little joy to his mood, but wasn’t getting through.

“I know what we should name this little bean.” Y/N thought out loud. She had known the gender of the baby for a little while now, but since Quinn didn’t want to know until the child was born, she elected to keep it quiet.

“That’s perfect.” Quinn grinned, it was probably one of the best ways to get back a part of what he lost that day.

~

“Mommy had my baby?” Theo skipped along holding Quinn’s hand. The new addition to their little family arrived the previous day. Everything went swimmingly this time. Y/N wasn’t sick, her heart was beating strong. Now it was time to introduce Theo to his new baby brother.

“Yeah. Remember what we talked about Theo. We need to be gentle and quiet. The baby is sleeping right now.” Quinn reminded the 5 year old fragile and couldn’t play hockey yet.

“Mommy!” Theo squealed, forgetting what Quinn told him, as he climbed to sit next to Y/N. She was just finishing feeding him. “Is that him?”

“Yeah. This is your baby brother Jack.” Quinn watched as Theo leaned over to place a kiss on top of the baby’s head. From that moment he knew his boys were going to be best friends, like he had been with his brothers. 

Please let me know what y’all think. I’d love to hear your thoughts, comments, and complaints! I would really like to know if y’all like this one. 

[dominoblues]

Seto's behavior throughout the manga/anime and DSOD is perfectly understandable if you realize that this teenager never had a chance to behave like one.

I remember when i was 15, 16, 17 years old growing up in an abusive environment and dealing with such a delicate moment of our lives, my only means to vent was to get angry at my mom, to scream, to say horrible things too. But it was all part of the process to grow up, to detach myself from those toxic bonds, to build up my own personality. I had the freedom to do that, luckily.

Seto didn't. He had it for the worse. Being orphan meant for him to be the 'adult' who takes care of his brother, so he found himself in the position to actually start thinking like an adult (whatever that meant for him). Something that i consider against nature itself. A kid has to be a kid. Has to live like a kid and fuck responsibilities. There will be time for those. Not for Seto.

On one hand he had to deal with the pain and anger of being alone in a moment of life where parent's guidance should be mandatory. On the other, he couldn't even show his suffering because the idea of Mokuba seeing him as 'weak' was intolerable. And as a cruel joke of fate, things got only worse.

Growing up in a strict and violent environment meant for him to devise ways and strategies to survive to the best of his abilities. There’s a thing that happens when you grow up under the thumb of an egotistical megalomaniac person (unfortunately i had some experience with this): your entire personality gets crushed under their authority. You don't have the strength to fight (this is in fact what an authoritarian person wants: to cut away any chances of rebellion. It has happened historically with slaves too). Your only thought is to survive.

Seto didn't have a mean to focus is rage on. Or, worse, he focused everything he felt on his hatred of Gozaburo, turning him into his archenemy, and on the idea of revenge, of finding a way to win with his genius over his adoptive father. Still, that's not what a teenager should do. Hate blackens a person's soul, it makes you fall into a dark path which will be very difficult and painful to get out from.

Cherry on top: Seto acts on his plans of revenge but they take a turn he didn't mean for. He witnesses his archenemy killing himself. After spending five years trying to grasp himself on the only thing that would make him go on every day, he loses it. He loses the only thing that have kept him going. He loses the center of his hate. Can you imagine how horrible all of that must have felt on the mind of a fifteen years old boy? It was like losing every reason to keep fighting. Every reason to keep living.

And he didn't have anyone, anymore, to be angry at, to vent to like you would expect from a perfectly healthy teenager. Except his brother. Not because he wanted. But because he needed to. Mokuba was the only other human being there with him, so it's really no surprise that he was unfortunately the one who had to become a vessel for Seto's frustration and anger, the one upon which Seto had to toss all his dark emotions.

I still believe it was an act of self preservation on Seto's part. If Seto hadn't done that, the only alternative for him was probably death. This is where the path of obsession starts. Now the only goal that Seto has, it's to be the best at every thing. To always be the winner. Again, this is not what a sixteen years old boy should think about.

So when Yugi/Atem comes along and manages to beat him when Seto thought he was unbeatable, this starts a downward spiral of madness throughout death-T that has its conclusion in the mind crush. I think the mind crush is a metaphor of death. Seto's defeat in death-T was actually the death of his old self (to lose is to die, after all).

What i find interesting is that the mind crush didn't cure him of his obsession to win over Yugi/Atem. And i think the reason for this is in fact his own (not so positive) way to be a teenager and to deal with his issues. I feel like the constant approval he is looking for from Atem is not different from that of a young boy or girl to look for approval and/or acceptance in others while growing up. it's part of the shaping your own way with your own rules. It could go sideways if you do not receive the right guidance.

Which I think is what happened to Seto in DSOD. Once again, life deprived him of his only purpose: challege and win against Atem. He inevitably reverted to the state he was when Gozaburo died, culminating in him leaving for the afterlife. I think Transcend Game makes this clearer. There Seto stated first, "I'll enter duel links and rule over it as a king." A few pages after, he stated, "I'll challenge him again and put an end to the dead king", and after that, "If that place is endless darkness I will assume that darkness myself". He was clearly set on a path of self-destruction.

Again, I think the theme of death/rebirth applies here too, but in a different way. In DSOD Seto in the end accepted the loss to Yugi. He had in fact moved on. Which for him could only mean that loss was not a reason to die anymore. I think the only reason he left for the afterlife, was not over an obsession to win but to challenge Atem as a final step to put everything behind and being reborn again.

A transition from an angry teenager to an adult. In a not so mentally stable way, but well he had to deal with the tools that were at his disposal. He's Seto Kaiba for a reason.

This is my take out of Seto's actions. Maybe it's a projection of my feelings because i went through a similar path too in the past. I wish he had a better life.

[vikkrest]

Dos vaqueros|Friendship of families|Alerudy

Rudy and Alejandro didn't just grow up in the same city, they lived literally across the fence from each other. The Vargas and Parra families have always been happy to have each other's company.

— Well, what do you think? Alejandro turned his head in the direction of Rodolfo, who was sitting a step higher than him, stretching forward his legs in knee-length shorts. He twitched an eyebrow, moved his shoulder, and sucked on a slice of mango again, the juice of which was already dripping from his elbows onto the steps. Alejandro grinned and reached into a bowl of sliced fruit, fishing out an apple slice.

Rodolfo wiped the moisture from his lips, actually only smearing it more on his cheeks and wiped his lips before answering:

— You're right. It's not easy for old people to live here in Las Almas. We should move them somewhere nice, away from these shootings and drugs.

Alejandro nodded, putting the same piece of apple in his mouth, and Rodolfo continued his thought. His face twisted slightly, he tilted his head a bit to the side and shook it with an air of mild irritation.

"But you know my mother..." Rodolfo drawled the words with a subtle hint of condescending reproach. — She began to live hand in hand in our house with the father as soon as she turned sixteen, and you and I are soon over thirty. Her whole life has been spent here…

Alejandro nodded, pursing his lower lip between his teeth, and leaned his shoulder against Rodolfo's calves. He sighed, scratched his knee and looked at the intersection ahead. The traffic lights changed from red to green, and cars skidded on the road surface, looking like those big shiny beetles that he and Rudy had been looking for in the grass, scouring the nearby forest after school.

Alejandro blinked and muttered a thought that was scratching at the subcortex of his brain:

— And the husband, it turns out, is also here…

—Yes...— Rodolfo drawled thoughtfully, even stopping chewing for a couple of moments.

They fell silent again. The sun, damn it, was baking without sparing anyone, to the point that going to work only in ubderwear seems like a good idea. Everything was drying up: the grass was withering underfoot, the flowers in pots and front gardens were withering, even the fucking roads were melting. Along with it, apparently, Alejandro's brains melted too, the feeling thatthey were about to pour out of his ears. Good thing that it was a little cooler in the houses, otherwise it would have been some kind of very cruel torture. Rodolfo, although he kept up well for a couple of days, on the third day he also whined and asked for a couple of days off. Alejandro was not a bastard, so he gave the go-ahead. And then he excused himself too, not officially, but on the other hand, who will turn him in? There are no urgent matters yet, Rodolfo took the reports with him and filled them out, he's such a good guy, and the local dealers have all disappeared somewhere too. Stuffiness, as it turned out, has become the best guarantor of peace in the city and a means of reducing the crime index to almost zero.

"But you talk to her anyway. It's boring alone, but maybe if we move our elders there, we can settle them together. Alejandro muttered, turned his body towards Rodolfo and put his arm back, leaning on it so as not to fall on his back.

— I'll talk to her, try to convince her to move. And Aunt Vargas, what does she say to your idea?

Alejandro smiled broadly and shook his head.

— Mom refuses to move far away from her girlfriends. I'll introduce her to facetime as soon as I have time. And she said she wasn't going to forget about Aunt Parra, she said, take her with me, you can even leave your dad here in Mexico.

Rodolfo laughed, covering his mouth and squinting his eyes. The corners of Alejandro's lips twitched, and he popped a cube of melon pulp from a fruit bowl into his mouth, looking at his laughing comrade with warmth in the depths of his dark eyes.

- The task is very clear, - Rodolfo guffawed, not letting up. — Okay, let's go inside, I'm hot.

Alejandro nodded and went up the stairs with a loud sigh, shook his cramped muscles slightly and slapped Rodolfo on the thigh.

— Rudy, you eat like a hippopotamus. All the steps are sticky!

— Leave me alone. - The man waved him away, letting out a light laugh.

.

— Mom! Alejandro snorts, wiping traces of pink lipstick from his overgrown cheek. Rodolfo grinned from the doorway, but still stepped into the house, where he was immediately squeezed in a tight embrace.

— Our boys have finally decided to visit their parents! - Aunt Vargas chirps, her voice trembling slightly with excitement and joy, she pulls the men into the house with her, where Alejandro's father was sitting by the window smoking, and on the other side sat Rodolfo's mother, embroidering something. She looked up at the noise and immediately melted into a warm smile. Rodolfo looked out from behind the doorway and arched his eyebrows in surprise.

— Oh, Mom! Rodolfo slipped past the chatting Vargas family, kissed her on both cheeks and sat down next to her, folding his hands in his lap.

— And you're here too, Mom. It's early in the morning, why aren't you at home?

The old woman sighed, putting down her embroidery, and stretched out her hand to the man's hair, gently smoothing it.

— What's at home? Bored at home, son, what should I do there? Frida and I just came from the market, walked, talked, and bought vegetables. - The woman spoke, and Rodolfo looked at her attentively, nodding at almost every word. — That's it. And there's nothing to do at home, get up, watch the news: There's a war, they killed here, that's all the news! We don't need them, it's better to take a walk outside. - Mrs. Parra spoke with feeling, and her son only agreed.

— That's right, Mom. But did Aunt Frida tell you that Alejandro offered them to move?

The woman looked at her son and nodded, rustling in a low voice.

— Yes, son, - she said. - she was asking me to come with her, but I did not know whether to agree or refuse. We have a house, son, such a house! - The woman murmured excitedly, and Rodolfo put her hand in his.

— Mom, don't worry about the house, I'll stay here, I'll live, its's not going anywhere. - Rodolfo began to persuade his mother, murmuring in her tone, softly and lightly, but the woman began to cry:

— With your job, son, it's scary, they'll kill you, take away the house, sell everything. They won't leave any memory of your father. If there was a wife and kids, it wouldn't be so scary, but if so…

The man looked away, noticing Alejandro's parents standing nearby. He did not observe the man himself in the field of view.

The phrase "here we go again" naturally flashed through Rodolfo's head, but he returned his gaze to his mother's face and continued to press, expressing himself with the softness of a cat's step and the persistence of a mountain sheep.

— Mom, everything will be fine. If you'd live with Aunt Frida, you won't have to get up every morning to come here. There will be no shootings in the night, no one will cause riots in the markets. That's better!

The woman sighed, but nodded in agreement. Alejandro's mom called them from the other side of the living room

— Inez! Look, we called Francesca on the video! Rodolfo smiled and turned back to his mother, whose eyes shone, and he helped her get up from the sofa.

— Miracles! - Mrs. Parra exclaimed, trotting up to her friend.

Alejandro's head popped from behind the doorjamb, and Rodolfo immediately darted past the old women into the corridor.

— Well, how it went? — Straight to the point, Alejandro is impatient as always. Rudy nodded, giving a thumbs up. The man opposite let out a long "hee-ee-ee" and they both chuckled.

The first step of the plan has been completed successfully.

[orbitblitz]

Yesterday, I noticed a small statue of a frog with fairy lights draped around it before going to work.

Busy day, lots of people go to Subway after voting, apparently. Couple people in MAGA hats I didn't make eye contact with, but still spoke politely to, as that was my job.

After trudging over to my mom's car, she looked at me, excited.

"Did you see Grandma?"

I looked over at her, puzzled.

"N-No?"

"What? How could you not see her?? I put lights around her and everything!"

I kind of laughed as I realized she was talking about the frog, which apparently had been sitting on the box with my grandma's ashes inside.

"For good luck," she said, laughing. "I told (my sister), and she said 'Put a frog on it!' I was telling (my aunt) about it and she couldn't stop laughing!"

We were both nervous about the election, but there was an air of "It'll be okay." Of confidence that it would never happen again.

Eight years ago, my mom and I lived in a trailer, as she could no longer afford the house we lived in. I was in high school, in the midst of the worst time period of my life, when I was awoken earlier than usual by my mom, who shakily told me, "She didn't win."

I couldn't fall back asleep. Through the rest of the day it sunk in, until I felt like throwing up. I looked at my fellow classmates, and I knew who some of them voted for, and who didn't vote at all.

Today, when my dog wanted to go outside at 6am, I asked my mom if she could take her, as usual. But then I saw her face, and the way she shuffled around, like her mind was somewhere else, I knew. I still asked. The answer was the same; "She didn't win."

Slowly, as I made my way back to bed and settled in, it all sunk in. I know more about the political landscape now, I know just how bad it can be and could get. I felt like throwing up.

Climate change. Abortion rights. Trans rights. Palestine, god, Palestine.

Project 2025.

What would get me first? An environmental apocalypse? Or our country's nosedive into fascism? Sure as hell won't be myself.

My nephew, my baby sister, god they have to grow up in this. More than anything I'm worried for them.

Now, I'm back in my living room, and the frog's still here. Grandma's still here. Last night, in the car, we were talking about the election, and a song popped up on Pandora. A Christmas song: "Be Not Afraid". My mom chuckled and said, "You know what, I'm going to take that as a sign!"

I wonder if it actually was; or if it was a cruel taunt from the universe. Or maybe, it was a message. Don't worry; it'll all work out.

Fuck I hope so.

But I also know that we as people like to think what we want to think, and fill in our gaps of knowledge in with our imagination. And what may be seen as a sign to some, may instead just be an unfortunate coincidence.

How contrary it is, though, to one day be thinking of lucky frogs and hidden messages in song titles, and the next to greet cold reality with an arguably more powerful sentiment.

I walked into the kitchen and read the note my mom left me before going to work:

-Check to see if prescription is ready

-Eat clementines

-Fuck it

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #235

Are you currently reading anything? Why did you choose to read it? Sigh, no, and I'm really struggling without a book. Without a car we haven't been able to go to the library as easily as I'd like, and Mom just hates asking for help with anything, so. I NEED a book, I'm kinda going insane lately without one.

Do you prefer water slides or roller coasters? Is there a reason? Water slides by default, because roller coasters scare me/I don't go on them.

The last person you talked to on the phone and the last person you held hands with are in a burning building and you can only save one; who? The last person I spoke to on the phone was just me giving permission for them to speak to my mother instead of me, I don't know this lady. The last person whose hand I held was my boyfriend's, so my answer is obvious.

Are there any keys on your keyboard that have letters fading away? No.

Do you remember the exact words that were said to end your last relationship? No.

What was the last song you had on repeat for more than 10 minutes? Probably "Joan of Arc" by Powerwolf.

What is a song you think is played on the radio way too often? I don't listen to the radio.

Who was the last person you slow danced with, and to what song? I don't talk about this.

As a child, did you ever go to camp? I went to vacation Bible school, and not because I actually wanted to.

Do you remember who the first person you ever had a sleepover with was? It was probably Brianna, my first best friend.

Who was the last person you had a sleepover with? Girt.

When was the last time you were in a hot tub? I don't think I've been in a hot tub since I lived in the apartment with Jason and our friends who were another couple, and I was a teenager at this time. I'm 28.

What was the last movie you watched, and with who? Lilo & Stitch, with Mom and the kids. I was the main person watching it, lol, the kids paid almost no attention.

What is something that scares a lot of people that doesn’t bother you? Snakes and usually spiders.

What is something that doesn’t bother a lot of people, but scares you? Social interaction lol. Dark skies can too, because I'm afraid of tornadoes happening.

Do you feel bad for people easily? Yes.

Do you openly admit to your faults, or make up excuses for them? If it's a fault that I'm aware of, oh yeah, I tend to admit to it easily.

How's your mental health today? I'm doing extremely poorly.

Do your feelings get hurt easily? It depends. I CAN get my feelings hurt very easily, but it depends on what's being said and what doubts I have about myself.

Will you attend a wedding in the next 3 months? No.

Are you good at following instructions? ONLY if you give me the instructions one at a time. If you even do two back-to-back, I'm fucked. I have to focus on one step at a time.

When was the last time you took a selfie? Not since my lilac hair was pretty new.

What programs/applications do you currently have open on the device you're using right now? Discord, Chrome, WordPad.

How many steps per day do you do, generally? I don't have one of these trackers. Not a lot, I can tell you that.

Have you ever had a chia pet? Growing up, yes.

Do you have any nieces or nephews? A lot.

Do you use light mode or dark mode on your phone? I usually use dark mode on apps, if that's what you mean...

Have you ever sat under a bridge? Yes, while fishing.

Do you ever go fishing or do you find it to be cruel? ... Oh lmao. I don't care if you fish to consume, like yeah it's objectively cruel but it's also life, meat is a natural part of the human diet and I'm not going to shame anyone for consuming it. I DO think fishing for fun isn't very moral, like you're just harming an animal and letting it go to possibly get an infection, but I would still do it with my dad and nephew for the bonding experience. I grew up fishing with my dad, and regardless of morality, I cherish those memories because my dad was actually doing something with me.

What is something you want? Hobbies I actually enjoy would be nice...

Have you ever been in a castle? No. Well, besides the Disney World castle, but I don't think that counts.

When was the last time you kicked a ball? I don't know.

What all have you done here recently that you found to be fun? Not... a lot. My anhedonia has been very bad and I've been mostly trapped inside my house since June (the car has been out of order), plus I was sick, PLUS Girt has been working night shift so we've hung out less...

Have you ever tried to make your own bread? No.

What’s your favorite kind of tree? Wisteria.

Do you like mozzarella sticks? Not particularly, and I can never eat a lot of them.

Have you ever stepped on glass barefoot? Uh possibly, idr.

What’s your opinion on The Beatles? I hated them as a kid. As an adult, the only song that I know of that I like is "Hey, Jude."

Do you ever pluck your eyebrows? No.

Last time you ran into someone you know in public? I have no idea.

Have you ever been scared of something you’ve seen on the internet? Oh certainly when I was younger.

Do you share any of the same favorite bands as your parents/guardian? Last I knew Ozzy is Mom's second-favorite artist. I love her favorite too, Metallica, and my dad's favorite is Van Halen, who I also enjoy.

Would you want to know if you were adopted? Are you adopted? I would definitely want to know, but I'm not.

Is there a TV family that reminds you of yours? No.

Do you know how long your screen time is? I wouldn't want to know.

How much did your senior prom dress cost you? Hell if I remember. I know it couldn't have been too terribly expensive, we weren't wealthy.

Have you ever seen someone throw up on a plane? No, thank god 'cuz I would've thrown up too.

What is the most boring church you have ever attended? I always found them boring, it didn't matter where I went, but the Catholic church I grew up with was definitely the dullest. Especially once they started implementing MORE Latin that made zero sense to probably most people attending.

What is the most lively church you have ever attended? God, I remember going to one that involved that weird shit where people basically lose their minds crying on the floor, it was so uncomfortable. I can't even remember why we were there.

Do you find church fun or boring? I've always found church boring. I would literally cry as a child on Sundays Mom decided we were doing more than Sunday school because I hated it so much.

What do you hate the most about summer? The humidity and heat combined.

Which part of your body is the most muscular? Oh I couldn't possibly tell you, nowhere as far as I'm concerned.

Have you ever ran a cash register? Yes, sadly.

Did you collect Bratz dolls when you were younger? No, dolls weren't my thing.

Would you allow your children to date prior to 16? (assuming you want any) I would.

What was the last restaurant you made a reservation at? I want to say it was The Cheesecake Factory for a birthday.

Do you like salami? I do.

Do you know how to say I love you in at least 4 languages? I think I know four, but I might only know three. English, German, and Spanish for sure. I feel like I know Italian, or at least how it's spelled, I can't promise the pronunciation.

Do you know your mum’s first pet’s name? No.

Would you ever get a heart tattoo on your back? No.

What fruit can’t you stand? I hate cherries.

Do you know anyone autistic? My niece and me.

How about someone bipolar? A half-sister.

What do you consider private to you? My imagination. I don't know how to share my creativity with people in my "real" face-to-face life for some reason. Online, I don't care, but as soon as you're in my face-to-face life, I CANNOT share my imagination, I'm mortified.

Name something in your life that was a blessing in disguise: The breakup with Jason.

Name something that you’ve done that would be considered rebellious: Literally the only thing I can think of is sexual things in places I shouldn't have as a teenager. My mom was quite reasonable, so I wasn't super rebellious.

Name something you wish you had enough money to do: Travel.

Do you like McDonald’s Sprite? I don't really like Sprite (funny, because I was obsessed growing up), but even *I* know something's special about McD's Sprite, lol. I still don't pick it, though.

What age did you start becoming more independent? I don't even know if I'm there yet, brother.

How do you like your oatmeal? I only really like cinnamon apple, made with milk, and adding a bit of sugar is preferable.

Have you ever been to a metal concert? No, I wish.

Do you like the taste of cilantro? I actually don't know, I'd need to try it on something again.

Have you ever busted a window accidentally? No.

Do you enjoy apples? I love apples.

Have you ever made apple butter? Do you like it? No, I don't think I've ever tried that.

Do you own any pocket knives? No.

On a scale of 1-10… How happy are you and why? Like, a 3. I haven't been well.

Do you have a favorite planet? Yes, Saturn, with Jupiter right behind it.

Have you ever broken up with somebody? Yes.

Do you believe in demons? No.

Have you ever seen a spider consume another spider? Uh, I feel like I have. I certainly have on video, I watch a lot of tarantula content on YouTube and the female eating the male in breeding attempts is not rare.

Do you ever go clubbing? No.

Have you ever seen a boy band live? No.

Have you ever been dehydrated? This used to be very common for me, before I really drank water with any amount of regularity.

What’s the longest you have walked at once? Idk, but for hours. As a teenager, I would walk outside with my iPod for literally ever. I would LITERALLY go in circles in my yard. Neighbors had to think I was insane.

Do you ever take those Buzzfeed quizzes? No.

[nerves-nebula]

Hi! This is going to sound weird, but you really are the only blog I know that talks so openly about abuse and strained family relationships, so I come bearing a question or more so, hope for some advice. The thing is, I don't know what is wrong with my family. Like, I know we aren't perfectly healthy and that being here makes me feel awful, but I can't pinpoint what exactly is wrong. My parents don't beat me up and they don't prohibit me from doing normal teenager stuff. But, well, one of them does yell at me and my siblings, insults me and makes fun of me when I try to respond, tells me things like "you choose to feel bad" or "you only want to move out because you don't want to have anyone reminding you have responsabilities", she marks everything I do wrong with a lot of severity, even the little things like how I put on my clothes. And the other one simply isn't present. Even when he's here he doesn't intervene, like he's some sort of spectator and not a vital part of this family. They love me and my siblings, that much I'm certain, but they completely fuck it up on a daily basis. And I feel like I have to pick up the pieces because I'm the oldest and supposedly an adult already (according to my parents) (I'm 17). I'm very tired now and don't know where I'm going with this anymore. Just, asking for some advice and hoping I'm not being too much, sorry.

HEY. THIS IS like literally the same situation as me lmao. My parents ALSO don't beat me and they also didn't generally prevent me from doing normal teen shit (ok well that ones complicated but it's w/e ). one of them is usually away as well.

it sounds like, from what you've said here, that your parents (or parent?) are emotionally abusive. my mom doesn't have to beat me to make me feel sick and paranoid for days after visiting her. both my parents have a habit of just fucking sitting back and watching horrible shit go down in our family.

my parents have fostered a culture of blanket cruelty and ridicule and disregard for people's feelings that makes living with them a fucking nightmare. it's also made all of us WORSE people to be around to the point that it's still effecting me and my siblings relationships today because we're generally just more likely to be cruel and not realize how mean we're being (examples include laughing at peoples misfortune, laughing at people's emotions, not taking someone's emotions as seriously as we should, being dismissive, being unemapthetic/unsympathetic, and a whole host of other tiny behaviors we have to consciously work on)

me and my sisters used to say that our family wasn't exactly "broken" but we are severely dysfunctional. because we couldn't exactly figure out where we fit into the broken to healthy family scale. we were definitely NOT healthy, but also definitely not "broken" so, we settled on dysfunctional.

and i've talked about this before, but my parents DO love me. they do believe that they love me, and i know that for sure. HOWEVER the WAY they love me is in a way that I refuse to accept as valid/genuine love. because if i accepted that as valid love, then i would have to accept any other abusive person or stalker's love as equally valid. if you claim to love someone and just treat them like shit all the time, break their boundaries, and dismiss their feelings, then it doesn't really matter how much you think you care about them cause you're hurting them, and refusing to change.

anyway, one of your parents severity reminded me of something! all my mom does all day is judge people. it's like, a hobby of hers. she's made me hella neurotic about appearing in public because i KNOW people like her are out there judging everyone by every possible metric. she's often needlessly cruel and very randomly strict about things (wont care one day if i wear pants/shorts to church under my dress but will have a screaming fit about it some other day) growing up with her was a nightmare because if you didn't do things the way she saw as the right way, she would mock and belittle you. and if you said that hurt your feelings she would laugh, because it's "not a big deal" or something.

the only upside to this was that me and my siblings got very, VERY good at being mean back to her. so by the time we were all teens we were like rabid dogs chomping at the bit to absolutely roast her ass.

the unfortunate side of this is that i can be very quick witted when it comes to being mean to someone i love but it takes me much, MUCH longer to think of something nice to say. which makes me seem like i don't think nice things about my loved ones. oops!

SORRY FOR THE RANT HAHA- to get back to your question, it sounds like your parents don't respect your emotions in a really damaging way, which hey, i'm sorry about.

also 17 is not basically an adult. like maybe im not the best to ask about this cause im not even over 25 yet (btw im not saying my exact age thats why i keep giving general age ranges lol) but like. 17 is absolutely not an adult. 18-19 is like, a baby adult at BEST. it sounds like there might be some parentification going on if you have to "pick up the pieces" for them because you're "basically an adult" but i'd need to know more to say for sure.

etc etc your feelings are valid or w/e. sorry not sure how to end this.

[rottedcreatures]

I fucking HATE being insecure. I hate it so much. Every time a friend doesn't talk to us for a while, we get paralyzed by the fear that we're going to lose them just like we constantly lose Everything else. I hate being an insecure and anxious person. I hate having an insecure attachment style.

I fucking hate being the holder for all of our fucked up, disgusting thoughts. I hate being the one who fronts when the brain is doing the depression thing again. I hate being what I am I hate who we are as a person I fucking hate it.

I hate being like this. I hate that we're so downright terrified of losing people that it makes us lash out at them. I hate it especially when we lose a friend we've had minor falling outs with in the past, going to their blogs to see if they're online and finding them posting shit like "I love getting annoying bitches removed from servers" when just the other day they'd defended us to someone. I hate that when we see posts like that, something inside me aches. Something inside this body starts to grow sore and heavy with the reality that we aren't a likeable person and we are probably going to lose all the friends we have eventually because we always do. It always happens.

I hate that we've stopped trying to communicate and ask if something is about us, because when we get told "no" we feel stupid for asking. I hate that Insecurity pumps through our veins almost as easily as blood does. I hate that we're naturally a sensitive person. I hate that we're always seeking affection or even just kindness from people. I hate than we're so harsh sometimes. I hate being like this. I hate being this kind of person but I cant- I can't change. No amount of therapy or healing will change the fact that we at the core of whatever kind of being we happen to be, are damaged.

It hurts.

It hurts so fucking bad.

I just want to be loved without feeling like I am begging for it.

Everything I've ever touched, ever breathed on has come out burned or broken. We break everything we touch. We are not a gentle soul.

But we could be.

These hands of mine are coating in the blood of all the lives I've killed, all the versions of myself I've slaughtered in attempts to become something better.

This body is damaged. I am tired.

I want my mom. I want to be held.

I want to be told I am loved regardless of the gruesome damage I carry like a badge of honor.

I want to be loved despite the demons that lay beneath this pale flesh of mine.

I want to be able to not speak to someone for a bit and not think "they probably hate my guts". I want to be able to say something, and not rethink it a thousand times after.

I want to be able to maintain a friendship more than just online. I want real friends. I want someone who will walk through the darkness of my mind, find me where I am most damaged, and hold that part of me up to the light and not even flinch.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I say I'm sorry at lot because at the end of the day, I really am sorry. Sorry that I made you deal with me, sorry that I was even in your life, sorry that I exist.

I know. Just because I did not mean to be cruel, does not mean I was kind.

I am like a broken gas stove. Slowly leaking into the air, building up in your nose and your chest until it takes one spark, and suddenly I am a burning fire that isn't going out. I cry gasoline and breathe the flames like they are my own children.

My palms are calloused from gripping things so tight that they crumble in my hands.

My knuckles are bruised from punching the walls my own mind built to keep me from losing myself even more.

My mind is filled with smokey memories that slide through my fingertips like sand.

And my soul is dark. And it is fractured. And it is barely holding on.

But you liked me. At least for a little while. For a fleeting moment you and I connected. We bonded. Our souls saw one another and found something worth keeping around.

And I will cherish that. Even if it's dwindling, even though the flame is getting smaller and heat is decreasing, I will cherish that.

[arrow-dodger]

My dad's mom died on Saturday. I called her Nanny.

I can't put what I feel into words. I can barely sit down and think about it at all. But I can try to write it just to get it out of my head.

I haven't seen her in years. I've been estranged from that side of my family since I was maybe 22 or 23. To paraphrase, they're bad people. They were emotionally abusive, purposefully cruel, manipulative, selfish and volatile my entire childhood. I don't think either of my grandparents loved me, or even knew how to feel or show love in a way that I would recognize. I don't think they know me or anything about me, nor have they ever tried. The concept of "family" on my dad's side is just an endless loop of people possessing other people.

My mom always told me that since Nanny wasn't a loving person and Pawpaw (her husband) was a serial philanderer, my dad grew up in a household where not only did he have emotionally absent parents, but parents who fucking hated each other. And that's true. My entire life they had separate bedrooms and seemed to loathe one another entirely, but were just together because they had already been together that long, so they might as well ride it out. I know my dad is an adult and a father himself so he should have some kind of blame in his own actions. I just think I resent my grandparents a bit for growing him to be as emotionally absent as they are. My dad is still a little boy hiding under a bed in many ways.

As a person, I would say Nanny was best described as "unhappy." She barely smiled and always had something to fret about. She was always affronted by everything other people did, even if it had nothing to do with her. My mom has many stories of her throwing fits about things as an adult woman. She was critical and high-strung. At the same time, I know she was good natured in some ways. She gave a lot of gifts. She was always there to offer food or do laundry with a particularly challenging stain on it. She watched us as kids often enough and I know she watched her great-grandson (my cousin's kid) a lot too. I wasn't afraid of her as a child and I didn't dislike her, I mostly felt such a distance from her, especially compared to my mom's mom who I have always been very close to.

Every good memory I have with Nanny or that was set in her house ties directly back to some other weird or bad one in my head. I remember decorating Easter eggs with her, using dyes and stickers with crosses and other religious symbols on them, and her snapping at me for putting the stickers on my body because it was sacrilegious. I remember that day we ate Dairy Queen. I assume my sister was there, but we might have been so small that my brother wasn't even born yet. That would be over 20 years ago now. That story is funny because she was by far the most religious person in my family. She collected ceramic angels and claimed that once after she had some kind of surgery, Jesus himself visited her room and she kissed his feet.

I remember breaking one of her glass birds and cutting my hand on it. I remember climbing through her bedroom window because we locked ourselves out. I remember my sister and I playing with our Palm Beach Barbies in the fishing boat in the backyard. I remember mixing "potions" in her second bathroom. I remember her big black dog Magic, who seemed like he was the size of a horse to me because I was so small. I remember watching The Last Unicorn on VHS countless times in her bedroom, with an out-of-order treadmill in front of the bed and images of Christian angels decorating every surface. At her house we had the most random collection of toys, and books about dinosaurs. I always played with the toys in the sink of the big bathroom, the one with the poem about the color purple on the wall, and rummaged the drawers for her lipstick. Her feet were so small I could wear her little gold lamé slippers.

I remember her walking with us to Dollar General and buying us random little toys sometimes. Once I went there with her by myself when I was probably about nine and I remember her going on about how I was prettier than my sister and not to tell her. When I got older and my brother decided he didn't want to come visit my dad anymore because my dad was always drunk and terrifying, I remember Nanny and my aunts talking about how selfish that was of him. My brother, not my dad. And my brother was eleven years old.

I remember getting catalogues and catalogues of childrens' toys to pick from for Christmas. My grandparents and aunts always viewed buying us things as their way of expressing love, and even then it was barely that because it was always held over our heads later. I don't remember my grandparents ever asking me questions about myself or getting to know me. I don't remember them ever hugging me or being physically affectionate besides when we'd say goodbye. I don't remember ever feeling close to them in any way other than by proximity. In fact, most of my memories of going to their house involve them being in other rooms (or Pawpaw being in his shed in the back yard) ignoring us while we made our own fun, playing in the sink or watching a movie in the bedroom alone or playing Harry Potter in the front yard. In those memories everything is extremely quiet and empty.

When I'd go to her house as an adult she'd always give me random bits of food. Once she gave me a whole bunch of bananas. Then she'd spend the entire time guilt tripping me about how I didn't chat or visit often enough (I can't think of one time my grandparents have ever called me on the phone or invited me to their house) and talking about what things in her house I'd inherit when she died. It was always a pretty grim time.

When I got old enough and realized I was allowed to not be around my family anymore, I just... wasn't. There's no talking to them or reasoning with them, so I just fucked off. Nanny wasn't ever the reason for my estrangement honestly, it was my aunts (her daughters) who have both said and done way nastier shit, though she did join in things like enabling my dad to be an abusive drunk and actively sabotaging my parents' relationship. If I told every story about my aunts being awful throughout my life, I would be stuck here for days. Nanny might not have been as bad but she didn't separate herself from them in my mind, as she was always quieter than them but definitely on their side. We were never close. I never felt like she cared much about me or whether I was around or not. If she did she certainly never said anything about it to me, nor did anyone ever convey the message.

Not very long after I distanced myself, both of my dad's parents got pretty deep into dementia. My sister still visited every now and again but they didn't really know who she was. So even if I had still been around it wouldn't have made a difference, I think.

I've been distancing myself from my dad a lot lately already, so her death comes at an extremely weird time. I also can't attend her funeral tomorrow because there's a massive winter storm headed this way and I would risk being stranded. I wanted to go, too. I wavered on it because I'd have to see my goddamn aunts and their families and I know I'd be accosted and chastised and harangued by many different people. It would have been an emotionally exhausting experience for everyone, but it would have at least functioned as some kind of closure for me.

I can barely mourn my Nanny. There wasn't a loving relationship there to mourn. But I'm mourning some other things instead, like how my dad lost a parent, and my other family lost a loved one, and as weird and self-centered as it sounds, how I never had a relationship with my grandparents. The only relationship I've had with that side of the family the majority of my life has been manipulation, verbal abuse, them viewing my siblings and I as possessions and bargaining chips and using us as weapons, never being truly loved or truly known but existing as a concept and told to fit into a specific mold and to sit down and shut up and pretend along with the rest of them that we like each other. And that sucks shit.

Other people talk about these great relationships they have with their families. Other people have stories about grandparents who have always been there for them and supported them. Support is the last thing I ever got from any of those people. They have always actively resented me. They all wish I was someone else. I was the first niece and granddaughter born on that side and I know they all wanted a do-over. Luckily for them they have my sister instead, who barely remembers our childhood and lived far away for most of hers and also has some kind of infinite bandwidth for people who are cruel to her.

I wish to god I could say I was sad and hurt and missing something important from my life. Instead I never had it to begin with, and that hurts in a different way.

Editing this to say: I know it may come across harsh to anyone who doesn't know the full story of my childhood, my parents' divorce, my dad's alcoholism, etc. etc. and the roles my family played in all of those things. I will never be telling the full story so just know the nothing I've said here is harsh.

[annimator]

That Anonymous, Nascent, & Novel Inter-dimensional Traveler

[IM FINALLY WRITING ABOUT MY SONA LORE WHO CHEERED]

Across different dimensions, there’s been talk about the same person; commonly seen with a sleeveless jacket, cargo shorts, thick boots, headphones, and a beanie, all coloured with in black, white, and bright reds and blues.

Unbeknownst to the people of these varying worlds, the person they’ve been rumouring about is a dimension hopper, a traveller with capabilities to teleport between different worlds of their liking.

The traveller doesn’t seem to align themselves with any side, preferring to stay neutral in most conflicts of the worlds they travel to, and rarely if ever talk to the denizens, and if they actually do on the rare occasion, it’s to tell them to fuck off.

Their talents and abilities vary, adapt, and comply to the different worlds they travel to. If the traveller were to enter a fantastical world of magic and wonder, they would be able to learn that world’s magic system, those type of worlds were their favourite. If the traveller were to enter a world that practically mirrors our own, they’d have to comply with little to no magic abilities in their arsenal, aside from being able to conjure the same portals they use to travel.

Nobody knows how the traveller gained their transportation abilities, but then again, it’s not like most people cared about that or even think about the traveller on a day to day basis.

Only one person knows how the traveller gained that power; and that person is the traveller themselves.

———

The traveller was originally your “average” girl. Yet another person that was basically forced to grow up on their own for the most part.

Her Dad was rarely in her life, and although her Mom was primarily present, she rarely understood her interests and preferred that she focused more on her future and acting “more like a lady.”

The girl prefers to think that the internet was what primarily raised her. Because of what’s within the World Wide Web, she’s met great friends, gained some fascinating (and somewhat concerning) interests, and learned more about her personality.

Granted, she also learned more about the cruel things her world has to offer, but that still didn’t change her optimism about living life and preferring to do something that makes them happy over something that their good that, like the activities her mom pushed her to do, but then again, she liked those activities.

The girl wasn’t all that happy about doing some of the same things over and over again; waking up, doing the usual morning routine, heading to school & learning about stuff that probably won’t help in the future, and getting the same talk from her mom about how she should “be a lady” and that the things she likes is “just for kids”.

Every now and then, she wished upon a star for a way to escape her boring day-to-day life. And to the girl’s surprise, the stars answered and fulfilled it.

The God that lived amongst the stars gave the girl the chance to escape her everyday life, giving her a chance to live a life that changes everyday, with the ability to travel to different worlds of her choosing, and the girl accepted.

Right before being gifted this ability, the Starry God asked her one more thing. “Are you sure you want to accept this power? A girl like you is much younger than the others that were gifted a power like this.”

The girl sighed. “I’m sure that I want this power. And also, I don’t really like to be called a girl. I prefer the term enby nowadays.”

With one handshake, the travelller was gifted the namesake of their abilities. Before travelling to their first new adventure, the God wished them farewell. “I’ll definetly see you again someday, happy travels ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎.”

The enby snickered, and then smiled

“I don’t really like that birth name anymore.

Just call me Anni”

[aesols]

did you know old habits have a hard time of dying? once i sat down in my backyard with sofia (hangyeolie, as you call her. she hates it when i say it but loves it when you do), looking at the stars, and we talked about habits. the past. wonders of the world. we talked about her life, we talked about mine.

vern, she would say in her american style of speaking. i basically know your life already. it's all online. and she was joking, her half-tilt of a smile, but it struck a chord in me. i kept staring at the stars, let out a laugh, and couldn't stop thinking about it even well after the fact. even after violet-grey clouds passed over the bright balls of fire lighting up our sky. i know your habits. i know what you did in the so-called melona room when you were just a kid. then the conversation got contemplative, like two philosophers were having a discussion over blood-red wine in togas and laurel wreaths adorned while we stood next to a polished stone pillar. i didn't look at her until later, our gazes meeting in some weird clash of i know you and no, you don't.

we have the same gaze, you know this. it's hard to beat her because she mastered the same blunt sharpness i carry. to some degree, i'm proud of her. but it's annoying when she turns it against me.

anyway, yeah. we had a silent argument under the blanketing stars and then my mom came out with glasses of apple juice, told us to not fight, and left with a laugh. i remember telling her more than what was recorded through that dingy camcorder. about you, about us. i told her about myself with you. how we had become not two separate people but one singular being, with a shared beating heart.

how our thoughts were molding at a horrifying rate, how i couldn't bear to be apart from you in that room and even in the dorms. how our skin would melt into one another just when we touched. how you helped me, how i helped you, how we were just kids but it was an electric beginning to my adolescence.

i told her how you carried the scent of jeju waves with you, how your sweat tasted like the sweetness of jeju tangerines, how your smile was everything bright and warm and inviting. how i was just a kid who didn't know how to fit in and fought for equality because i was two different halves in one person but here was a kid from an island who looked at me like i was whole. like i was everything.

seungkwan, you were intense and i'm pretty sure kid-vernon wanted it. i was also a teenager with a crazy, raging hormonal thing going on. puberty was cruel to all of us. we witnessed our hyungs and dongsaengs grow through puberty. there was a day where the way seungcheol hyung looked at jeonghan hyung had changed. there was a day where some of the guys got touchier than usual, where at night there was a really strange unease blanketing over us all.

it was totally suffocating. it was infectious, like inhaling fucking spores from fungi that excrete them. i don't know. i remember it and feel so fucking insane.

i didn't tell sofia that. she didn't need to know it. but i want you to know it. your scent had become sweeter at some point, intoxicating, and then my body itched to just be near you. my mind and body worked in tandem. i was labeled clingy and cute because of it. we were thought to be as cute because you accepted it with ease. our faces were always so close. any closer than that and it would be taboo. it would cast us into the streets.

so, i settled for nose rubs.

yeah, did you know old habits don't die so easily? i can't help doing it now, too. my itch to be near you hasn't died down either. to touch your skin, to have you in my arms, to feel your back against my chest. anything, everything, all at once. you've indulged me then, you indulge me now.

for every half i am, you make me whole.

[sincelastsession]

I'm so tired and overwhelmed.

Yesterday my partner helped me a bit and then went to do his own thing. I had to make sure to eat. I had to go find a nice tree and observe it. I had to shirk all responsibilities for the day. I fucked up on the shirk responsibilities.

I fucked up by calling my mom, my psychiatrist's office to change appointments, and cleaning when I should have left it. I'm not mad at myself, I'm not punished, he wanted me to relax, it's hard to relax on my own and it helped.

My mom and dad do not understand that I need to move. I don't think they take me seriously. My ptsd and autistic sensory issues are on fire. It's hard to get anything done without earplugs in or a headset. I have cried to my mother on the phone. She made everything about herself. She was nasty and cruel. I'm not speaking with my dad because I have gotten no apology or heard of changed behavior. Mom is often very difficult but easier to talk to. Yesterday she was very difficult and awful to me. It ruined my sense of accomplishment for the day.

Today is not going well. I'm worried my partner is mad at me because tone is hard to read over text and I said something stupid in response to something he was Thrilled about. It's making my stomach turn. I'm worried he will be done with me I always worry that.

Turned out my brain is very mean and scared like a feral animal. Oh wait. Isn't that part of my brain still there completely overactive and not wanting to go out of hypervigiliance causing me all the problems?

It is.

He called me and I tried my best to listen more because he didn't feel like I'd been listening. I have since forgotten half if what he said and I feel like an asshole but I know it's stress. Things just kept popping up that I was excited to tell him about and I was so scared I'd forget. I think I gave him most of the conversation this time. There was more I said in text later. He helped me shop today. I was having a hard time just leaving my apartment and I keep waking up extremely anxious. Today it was not easy but better than expected. Me and my partner covered so many subjects. He complimented me on many things and it was the longest conversation we've had in months. It's cool to have a partner who lol may be a pain in the ass and have his problems but he seems to want to grow and I love that about him. His truck broke later and he and his roommate handled it. We did talk about the Justin situation, every man I've consulted has been basically like "nah"

Ashley who I've had a thing for for years has been flirty and I'm a bit swoony abt that. It's literally never going to be a thing but we enjoy our chats.

I'm worried about Trav. He's taking care of the issue he's having though and not to worry he says. I'm a worrier so ofc I worried and asked him if he needed a break from my chatter. He said that wasn't it and I let him know to tell me if he was burnt out chatting ever.

It's scary when things are going well in an area of your life like your relationship and friendship. I keep waiting on the other shoe to drop.

My neighbors are getting thier kids to antagonize me. I'm going to start doing witchcraft on my balcony Joshua. (Kidding sorta) but honestly what does one do with nightmare neighbors? It's late as hell and I can hear them fussing again. No one will do anything about it. I'm pissed and triggered as hell by the noise. Earplugs and headphones won't help forever and it hurts my ears to wear em all the time.

My parents basically said they'd help me find a place then had a tantrum when I showed them places because they believe they aren't safe. Then they wanted to look at the most expensive places. Then I found other places outside of the bad parts of town and they weren't satisfied with those and told me to basically fuck off abt it. I mean I'm aware of the fucking time line I know dad doesn't work and start getting paid till late next month, I know mom is busy almost 24/7 and always has a reason not to talk to me.

I'm going to bed. Very excited to be asleep. Hoping for no dreams unless they're good. It's hard to get to bed for me. I fight sleep. We all can guess why.

[angelbluediary]

[Side note, I’ve seen 12:22 and 2:22 today.]

Something my mom has made a point about repeatedly, when we get into it, is that she doesn’t verbally abuse me the way her mother did to her. She says she has always been a good mom and in many ways seems to credit that with not calling me fat growing up.

What she doesn’t seem to realize is that I’ve grown up listening to her tear her own appearance apart, and that affects me, too. Obviously not to the same degree. But it makes me understand, all the same, that I have to present myself a certain way every time I leave the house and every time I pose for photos. She has taught me that women (even—especially!—your best friends) will zoom in on your face, on all of your faces, and critique and compare and criticize. That every picture posted of you online is grounds for scrutiny. That you have to obsess and despair over every perceived flaw. (And that may be why I always have to edit my photos before I post them, down to the tiniest details).

Yesterday we went to a wedding—a small and casual wedding with close family friends—and while I’m rushing to get ready, she asks me for help. Wants advice on her shape wear that’s bunching up her skin and “feels like torture” and explains why the other set won’t be as good, because it’s old, but then she wants me to help pull it up and pin it to her bra on both sides so it stays in place, and I’m like ahhhhh??? And I’m visibly uncomfortable with that and tell her I won’t be able to do it and she looks at me with such a disappointed expression, with that touch of “how dare you,” that vague trace of “who do you think you are” that I see on her face towards me sometimes (and is always later confirmed by her words in private) so I do. I try. I do my best and try not to think about how badly I just want to fix my hair before our time runs out and I follow her instructions and I poke her by accident with the pin, and she yelps, so I immediately stop and reiterate that see I couldn’t do it after all.

Obviously when my dad got home, he helped her as he always does.

So the wedding service goes great, we’re all laughing and having a good time, I’m feeling really happy because the only other wedding I’ve been to as an adult was poisoned the entire evening with tension between my mom and I (that stupid misunderstanding; the both of us being hungry; me excitedly telling her about there being more food when I glimpsed the kitchen preparing a massive spread in the back; her thinking I meant it was already available and having to wait just a bit longer; her telling everyone for the rest of the night about the cruel joke I played on her, as I lightly laughed along and tried to gently diffuse while setting the record straight; her all but calling me a conniving liar and repeating her “joke” again and again till I finally blew up hours later).

And I’m determined to keep it lighthearted and easy like this, but my mom can’t stand that, apparently. Has to make me the butt of the joke whenever she can. So she tells my cousin about me sticking her with the safety pin, like it was intentional. Like I’d been waiting for an opportunity to hurt her.

By this point it’s 3 pm and I’m on my heaviest flow day, haven’t eaten, and am instantly triggered. And I just shut down. All at once I feel like I’m going to cry, in front of all these people, because she keeps up the joke when she sees I’m not playing along. She loves to poke fun of other people and she never learns to fucking lay off but you can’t say a word back to her with the same energy.

To make matters worse, apparently she had recruited M to help with her shape wear after I’d left. He hadn’t been able to do it, but he hadn’t stuck her with the pin, which she made sure to tell my cousin and the rest of our little table.

Why am I writing about all this?

Because today is Mother’s Day, and I’ve been unemployed for almost two months now, am just now starting to pick up interviews, so I wasn’t able to get her anything elaborate like a custom necklace with all our birthday gemstones, or whatever else I’ve given her in the past, and instead got a candle. A cute funny candle with a scent I thought she’d like that cost almost $30 total with shipping. And I go out there today and sitting on the dining room table is an elaborate basket M bought her, filled with all kinds of nice pampering items. And it felt like the biggest fucking betrayal, and a slap in the face on multiple fronts. Because of course this is going to add to her comparisons between us (even though my big gifts didn’t seem to help my ranking, but whatever). But also How could he? How could M do this? And what a ridiculous thought that is, because what has he done besides buy a nice gift for our mom on Mother’s Day? Yet he’s always going on about now wanting to be the golden boy, not wanting to live up to all these expectations they have of him (and I want to ask, what expectations? You don’t drive, have no chores, don’t get the grades I used to get and aren’t expected to, they shrug or laugh when you admit you’ve smoked weed or done anything, what are you even talking about?), trauma of being a Gifted Student (again???)

His gift, dwarfing mine so ridiculously, is a visual representation of how our mom sees our efforts towards her and towards our family at large. It doesn’t matter how many miles and hours I drive for them, how many days I sacrifice to help other peoples’ schedules, the times I’d keep M with me in Myrtle Beach, putting myself through college entirely on my own loans, that I grew up with household duties and they haven’t, that I set the precedent for buying her nice things with the money I earned, none of that matters.

Living with her is too difficult for my heart.

[limeswithlemons]

a letter

my therapist told me to write you a letter.

a letter to a dead person.

someone who wasn't even really alive to me anyways.

you died on some friday in december a couple of years ago.

the last time i saw you was a sunday.

you asked to see my sister and i alone once i got there. i had been at work and got the call there that you were fading.

we made our mom stay with us. i remember they had a hospital bed for you in your bedroom. you were wearing my granddad's shirt, cut down the middle in the back because you couldnt move to get a shirt on and off.

i held your hand. i listened to the steady thrum of your oxygen machine and the beeping of the other monitors that were checking your vitals. i remember seeing your blood oxygen level was at 82 percent.

your hands were cold. i wrapped your hand in both of mine, close to my chest, so your hand could be warm. i wanted to bring you any amount of comfort. i knew you were in pain and you were slowly drowning.

you explained that you had tried to find the holiday barbie dolls for that christmas. and you explained that you made your husband drive to six different stores in one day all over, trying to find them. you wouldn't--or couldn't--stop apologizing. "i'm sorry, girls. i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry." i didnt know what it was even for. was it just for the barbies? was it for the years of hell you put us through? i don't guess i will ever know.

you had tears in your green eyes. i had seen you cry before but seeing such a proud, headstrong woman cry while she was lying in a hospital bed, dying, was so different. seeing you that way was so different than i had seen you before in my whole life.

as badly as i wanted to tell you off. to tell you to go fuck yourself for leaving me over and over when i needed you. i couldnt. i couldnt look at your deteriorating body and be cruel. so instead, i helped change your diapers, i put cream in the most vulnerable and intimate of places, i yelled at your sons when they wouldnt stop yelling in front of you. i stood up for you. in a way you had never done for me.

god, i want so badly to hate you and to feel nothing positive at all for you. i want to be so angry and to feel no guilt about it. but i cant. i love you in the way one loves a house they grew up in. except the house i grew up in was constantly ablaze. you were the fire and i was the accelerant. there was no way i could stop you; my mere existence seemed to set you off. a trait you passed down to your oldest son.

how could you have not done anything? how could you have seen me when i was a baby and not wanted to protect me from everything bad in the world? how could you have watched me grow up, being abused and beaten and used by the sons you raised, and not do a goddamn thing? how could you have defended them? and left me. left me, a little kid. a small kid. i was little for my age and defenseless and was always crying out for help and nobody heard me. or worse: nobody listened to me. nobody saved me.

how could you have seen the kid i was and not said "i love you" to that kid? how could you have ignored me for two weeks when you were mad at me? how could you have pushed me away when all i wanted was to be held? how could you have hated me for trying to exist in peace?