#rephrased it to be more poetic sorry guys

[jedaos]

in 2002 korea was the first asian team in a world cup semifinal. today, 20 years later, morocco is the first african team in the semifinals. historic

[b0mblover]

.

By: J

major tw; minor ed/ weight loss mention,

the absolute biggest tw for suicide, really just probably dont read this at all if youre suicidal, or prone to it, or uh really just not good in the slighest,

i uh, talk about in detail ways i could kill myself, really, i don’t recommend reading this unless like, you need a refrence on how highly suicidal people speak 💀

ah but srsly, probably dont read this for your own sake, im basically venting on alt, but like, not poetically in the slighest, theres only so many ways a guy can rephrase wanting to kill himself without being direct kay?

uh, probably dont worry abt this, i uh, even if i /did/ try to kms id probably survive, dont put that much faith into me

ok nvm irl i just spilled my goddamn penrice im gonna actually kms this is my breaking point (hard joke)

ugvfnd god im so sorry for writi g this and postint it, i cant do the whole keeping my feelings to myself anymore, its awful.

CHOEKS imagine this is jiro nitos suicide note or smth and critize it I DONT KNOW 😭 please laugh, im trying to hard to deflect from how awful i feel.

i urge to you turn back and not read this.

-from this point on, i am not responsible for how anyone interprets this/does because of this, you have been warned, this is the writer venting and being highly suicidal, no one is forcing you to read this. if you cannot deal with this, then dont read it, im not responsable for how others react to my writing, for your own sake. again, you have been warned-

i apologize for writing this.

words are escaping me at the moment.

ill probably be fine.

im human in the end.

something we all can agree on.

every sign points to it.

it is in the end correct.

but now,

i question if im even enough to deserve the title.

my anger is consuming me over nothing.

at the same time.

i feel so numb.

my throat feels tight.

like im going to cry.

my vision is blurry.

and yet.

as always.

i cant.

i wont.

im tired of the “sympathy” 

someone like me doesnt deserve it

i dont deserve it.

i dragged myself into this hell.

and im not getting myself out.

i said that the next time i fucked up i would kill myself.

here we are.

still- annoyingly- alive.

i dont know if ill try.

i dont feel.

scared.

to try.

pills, a noose, drowning, gunshot, razor blades, 

i know about every way to kill myself

i have about every way to kill myself

and yet

im still here.

alive.

my noose, sits beside my on the door, id have to move my chair, get a stool,

the last time i tried it didnt break,

and ive lost around 10 pounds, i know it wouldnt break, i know it would work, but as last time, it took too long, i got bored, ‘came to my senses’

the pills on the table, i know of at least three medications in them that would kill me, not to mention the combinations, but, i cant normally swallow pills well, i usually end up gagging, plus, getting your stomach pumped is really costy,

the water would be, rather easy i believe, ive only tried it once, but, after she tried to do that, i dont know if i could even force myself underwater, even to kill myself,

the gun that resides on that same table, it works, i have two bullets that fit it, no more, no less, i know it still works perfectly, granted being older than me, it probably would be my best chance, but, i - well, i cant say i remember the parts to shoot that are vital, thatll finish the job, and i really rather not waste my bullets and money on surviving,

the razor blades on my desk, everywhere, the black letters on the box reading “do it” only feels more like a calling, but, even when i try to cut deeper, i almost never can unless on accident, no matter how hard i seem to press- no matter how quickly i do it, i can never seem to get past the first layer of skin, 

i, really- really dont know what to do,

i said id attempt, i fucked up, im tired of people seeing this awful side of me, but when thats almost all you have left of what you can barely even call ‘you’. 

the only way i see my life going.

is ending.

weather the original plan,

suicide,

an accident,

i know in the end im destined to kill or get myself killed.

i truly don’t believe that ill die of anythint “natural” unless you consider jumping off a roof natural.

in a way, i want to listen to what she says,

to give up on art, become a scientist.

i know its not even possible,

its just my own sense of punishing myself, because the mental pain of knowing that i shouldve died years ago stings so much more than my arms ever will, hurting myself, barely hurts, and i know that the only person that it would hurt from- wont. 

even if i were to beg, plead, i know they wont.

its almost june.

i 

i dont really think i want to live to then,

im 

im scared that last year will repeat itself,

i dont know if its rightful,

but i want to get out of their life,

i dont want them to suffer like they did,

i dont want anyone to suffer besides myself.

and.

i believe that taking care of me.

is suffering.

therefore.

the only thing i feel i can do.

is leave.

i dont want to leave.

i want to stay with them.

but.

im horrified that ill fuck up again.

and no one needs to deal with that.

besides.

people get bored of others.

move on.

i seem to always be the only one who cant.

i know how illogical i sound.

i know that.

but to me it makes perfect sense.

its clear.

im so sorry.

[bmgmw]

Homecoming (chapter 2)

I finally reunited with my computer so I could write chapter 2! Apologies for any grammar/punctuation errors. I’m running on 4 hours of sleep after a long work day, so…

Anyway, I think this thing may end up being more like 5-6 chapters instead of the 3-4 that I initially planned…..oops! 

Thanks for all your lovely comments on the first chapter (chapter 1). I don’t really (aka ever) write fiction, mostly just research or poems, so this is all pretty new to me!

Chapter 2: Observer of Humanity

The harsh city streets of Greenwich Village softened as the autumn leaves speckled the asphalt in shades of red and gold. The wind provided an encouraging nudge to the throngs of people moving about with their own individual rhythms to form the city’s unique collective cadence. Mid-rise luxury apartments, renovated 19th century row houses, and NYU’s signature purple flags encircled the downtown neighborhood, inflicting architectural warfare on the ghosts of the Village’s bohemian past. As Riley made her way down MacDougal Street, she passed one such ghost, the cornerside club Cafe Wha?. Home to one of Bob Dylan’s earliest NYC performances, the club still stands today–although rising cover fees and the changing neighborhood landscape have slightly diminished its once bohemian atmosphere. 

But as Riley gazed at the club’s quirky signage over the door, her train of thought wandered to the club’s lesser known history. Observer of humanity, the phrase formed in her mind. Her great-grandmother Rosie McGee was a frequent patron of the club in the 1960s, and although the two had never met, Rosie’s story came to life every time Riley passed by Cafe Wha?. Riley pictured Rosie in a cozy booth feverishly jotting down poetic fragments in her journal, about the nomads she encountered passing through, about the folk artists attempting to get their music and message to travel beyond those four walls, and about the love she found–and then lost–there. Observer of humanity, the thought echoed once more. Riley was fascinated by her great grandmother’s intuition regarding others and her uncanny ability to tap into previously unbroken ground in order to connect so deeply with people. As Riley thought about the people in her own life, she desperately hoped she had inherited even just a small fraction of that talent.   Riley crossed the narrow street, weaving her way carelessly between taxis stalled in traffic, and descended the stairs into the courtyard of Topanga’s. She eyed Farkle and Smackle tucked away at the corner table seated across from each other and deep in quiet conversation. With their eyebrows furrowed and their backs slightly hunched, they emanated a sense of gravity that Riley did not want to intrude upon despite her natural curiosity. From the corner of her eye, she swore she felt them glance in her direction. I’ll say hi later, Riley thought as she made her way to the entrance.

Riley continued on through the door, and the warmth of the bakery enveloped her as she took her place on the orange sofa next to a very relaxed Maya. Maya dropped her feet to the floor from the coffee table and turned to Riley. “So how’d it go? Did Ranger Rick finally show up?” she asked. “Yes,” Riley replied. “You were right. He didn’t forget about asking me to homecoming!” Well, of course I was right. I did help him with this after all... Maya thought to herself. She smiled and revived her best terrible 1950’s educational video accent. “Well, golly gee whiz! Riley Matthews asked to the homecoming dance by that swell lad Lucas Friar! Cheese souffle!” she joked, with accompanying gestures. “Did he bring ya a Yogi on skates, Sally?” The joke had long worn thin, but Riley didn’t have the heart to say anything. Instead, she forced out a slight chuckle.  "No, no Yogi on skates. But lots of my favorite candy.“ Riley tossed a handful of chocolates from her bag to Maya. “I got some for you and Auggie”.

“Thanks,” Maya said, losing both the ‘cheese souffle’ accent and enthusiasm. She couldn’t help but feel weird taking the candy that she had told Lucas to buy, unbeknownst to Riley. Maya slowly unwrapped one anyway, hoping the sweet chocolate taste would overpower her discomfort. “So are you excited? It’s only a week away,” she said.

“Yeah, I’m excited! But I still need to pick out a dress! Want to go to Demolition later?” Riley asked as she took out her mountain of textbooks, grasping them tightly in order to keep in place her scattered notes burrowed in the pages. “Sure. I guess I should get a dress too.” Maya didn’t have a date, but that wasn’t going to stop her from having fun with her friends.  “But I can’t stay long,” she added casually. She glanced at Riley with slight apprehension, hoping Riley wouldn’t ask for a more detailed explanation that Maya wasn’t ready to give. Luckily, Riley was already buried deep into página 72 of her Spanish textbook, trying her best to memorize the long list of verbs for the upcoming quiz. “Caminar…..cantar…..conseguir…..cambier…” “Cambiar”, Maya corrected. “To change.” “Cambiar”, Riley repeated intently. Spanish was not her strong suit and she was glad to have Maya to help her. Riley giggled as she went through the vocabulary list one final time. “Even when I get them right, I still think I sound like Chewbacca.”  She uttered its cry and Maya laughed. “Well if you’re Chewbacca, then does that make me that Han Solo guy then?” Maya asked. She had never seen a Star Wars movie, despite telling Riley otherwise, but she had read enough of the Wiki page at least to pacify Riley when the subject came up. “Sure,” Riley answered, her eyes glued to her textbook. Sudden silence grew between them, teetering the fine line between comfortably studious and tensely awkward. As it slowly evolved into the latter, Maya pushed a tuft of her soft, blond waves out of her eyes and picked up her strawberry smoothie.  "So why do we always order these things when it’s not even warm out? I’m much better at pouring them than drinking them anyway,“ Maya stated, hoping the self-deprecating humor would lighten the mood. She wasn’t quite confident in its success, but it was her go-to method in awkward situations. Riley looked up from her book. "Out of habit, I guess,” she replied. Maya smiled and stretched her feet back out on the table and began to drink her smoothie. Feeling deserving of a study break already, Riley looked over at her friend and did the same. “Ya know, life’s pretty good right now,” Riley said in earnest. 

“It’s–,” Maya began, before she was interrupted by the bakery door being swung open with urgency. Smackle and Farkle stood at the door in tandem. Their expressions had softened since Riley had seen them, although neither looked entirely comfortable. They stood in front of the girls and took a deep breath. “Riley. Maya,” Smackle began, turning towards each girl as she addressed them. She continued on, quick and undeterred. “Farkle and I were just discussing homeostasis— how variables are actively regulated in order to remain constant……like how the plasma ionized calcium concentration level is controlled in our blood via the parafollicular cells of the thyroid, as well as the parathyroid gland.” Smackle paused and looked intently at the two girls. They stared back. Unsure of what to say, they said nothing. Farkle took a half step back and listened silently as Smackle continued. “Sorry, I forgot we’re not all in AP Bio. Let me rephrase.” Maya and Riley exchanged a glance before smiling back at Smackle. They were neither angry or offended, but rather, slightly surprised that Smackle didn’t call them amoeba brained or some other colorful description.  “Yes, Smackle, explain to us lowly peons, please,” Maya said in slow exaggeration. The girls loved Smackle, refreshing honesty and all, and Smackle was used to the girls giving as good ­­as they got. Smackle looked at them warmly and continued. “In biology, an organism being able to regulate and remain constant despite outside changes allows it to maintain life.” The girls nodded. “Okay, that makes sense,” Riley replied. “Yeah, yeah. Science and stuff. But what about it?” Maya chimed in. She knew they were going around in circles to get to a point, and she wanted them to arrive at it sooner rather than later. Farkle straightened his shoulders and looked up towards friends, still avoiding eye contact.  "Smackle and I were talking not just about homeostasis at the molecular level, but at the human level as well.  When the external variables of this world make us go haywire, who is the one that helps us return to homeostasis? Who helps us maintain our true selves even as we grow? “ he recited. For a boy whose eyes typically gleamed when it came to science, there was a dullness to them today. An unusual reluctance replaced the typical ardor in his speech. 

Riley and Maya’s eyes remained fixated on Farkle, expecting a further explanation, or at least some type of follow up. This wasn’t the first metaphorical science speech Farkle and Smackle had given, and the girls were waiting for the pair to answer their own question as they usually did. But Farkle offered no answer. He turned to Smackle, who stood up and announced simply, "If we are not each other’s regulating factors, then we cannot achieve homeostasis. Based on this scientific fact, Farkle and I have decided it is in our best interest that we separate ourselves on amicable terms. We wanted you to be the first to know”. Farkle nodded silently in agreement, keeping his eyes glued to the floor and his hands glued to his jean pockets. Before either Riley or Maya had a chance to process the bomb that had just dropped in front of them, Farkle and Smackle nodded and left the bakery as quickly as they had come in.

Maya finished the last sip of her smoothie, still not quite sure of what had just occurred. Smackle and Farkle were the most stable relationship of anyone in her class. “What the…? Well Riles, I definitely did not see that coming, did you?…”

Riley absentmindedly shook her head as Maya continued on. But Riley wasn’t listening. She had scooped up her books and bag, and before she knew it, was halfway out the door. I have to go talk to him. She wasn’t sure exactly what to say, or what she thought talking would accomplish, but she could feel every instinct in her body screaming at her to go. This isn’t the Farkle I know, she thought as she entered the courtyard. He was holding something back, though Riley had no proof nor any inkling of what it could be. As she brushed passed the round tables on the way to the stairs, flashes of conversations past rang in her head. “We don’t lie to each other, Riley.” 

Riley accelerated as she went up the stairs and onto MacDougal Street. The evening sun was reflecting off the windows and for a moment, it almost felt like the Village was glowing.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Maya appeared at the foot of the steps, puzzled.

“I’ll be back soon and we’ll go to Demolition, I promise,” Riley replied, eager to keep moving.

“Okay, but what about Lucas?” Maya shouted as Riley walked down the street. 

Shoot. Lucas was supposed to meet them at Topanga’s in fifteen minutes once he finished his baseball practice. Riley fiddled with a strand of her hair as she thought about what to do. She had already not watched his practice, and the thought of ditching him at Topanga’s made her feel worse. She didn’t want him to think she wasn’t excited for homecoming. Feet frozen on the cement, Riley bit her lip. “Tell him, I’ll be back in half hour!” she replied. Pivoting, she continued down MacDougal and unlocked her phone. 

‘hey. can you meet me @ the arch in ten?’ she clicked away with her thumbs with ease. 

The purple doors to Cafe Wha? peered at her as she made her way north towards Washington Square Park. The doors were closed, but she could picture Rosie’s booth clearly. She paused and gazed at the doors for a few seconds longer, hoping this feeling in her gut about Farkle wasn’t just her imagination. She hoped she read him as well as Rosie read the people surrounding her.

Observer of humanity. Riley repeated as the arch of Washington Square Park began to emerge in the distance. Or at least…so I hope.