#so ive spent the night MISERABLE AND DEPRESSED

[warmpilsner]

im so fucking miserable dude i am so so so so sick of headaches and migraines ive spent several weeks going to work and doing my very intense job through deep pain because i have to and then coming home and doing absolutely nothing enjoyable because migraine care means doing absolutely nothing enjoyable. i still have a headache but i am going to go out anyway and drink anyway and probably im going to regret it tomorrow but whatever im being all rebellious teen about it because ive been practicing responsible chronic illness care as much as i can (given that i cant take multiple weeks off work at a time) and its making me so depressed and yes, still ill and in pain, so im making the informed choice to trade off a little extra head pain for a fun night

[diamondmind777]

Letter to Sharon 8/6/24

Thank you for your lovely letter, the blue theme you selected was beautiful. Lately I've been obsessed with earthly tones, like blues, greens, and browns. I know that the earth holds many more colors, but these colors remind me of water, dirt, and trees.

I've been longing for days spent within nature. But my world is too hot at the moment. I am ready for autumn to arrive, to go on a hike again. I told my husband, George, that I desire to feel the earth beneath my feet. I might walk the next hike barefoot; a friend said my feet would get callused, I said ' I don't care." I could always schedule a pedicure.

I've been also dreaming of the sea. I had a dream the other night that I fell into a flooded path while hiking. When I managed to get out, I noticed a starfish attached to me, I was confused because I knew it didn't belong there. I spent the rest of my dream trying to find my way to the beach to return the creature back to its habitat. I woke up before I made it there. Do you like the beach? I'm hoping George and I can plan a trip to the beach before summer ends.

I've been doing much better mentally; the anxiety is pretty much nonexistent. I stopped going to therapy and no longer on anti-depressants. I've been enjoying my life again, which is nice to think about. No more paralyzing fear. The change of pace of my new job really helped me out. I get to bring my hobbies to work to pass the time when it's not so busy.

I agree, skiing is most definitely exhausting. I made a mental note to physically prepare for the next trip. I see dumbbell workout YouTube videos in my future.

Congratulations to Josh for finding a job! I understand the chaos of planning something when work schedules/ limits get in the way. My work schedule is not consistent, I definitely had to adapt to this irregularity.

What do you love about weddings? You're the second person to tell me that this year. The statement intrigues me because I cannot relate.

I've heard Les Miserables is a good musical many times before but have never given it a chance. I might watch the film to see what the hype is about.

My husband also loves sushi, he has it once a week. But like you, I can only have it every so often to truly savor it.

To answer your questions:

i. my favorite memory from April was going to a Safari and feeding the giraffes

ii. my favorite outfit lately has been athletic shorts and a t-shirt for comfort.

iii. First friend I made at my new job? well, I work alone in the lab, but nurses occasionally come in and I'll talk to them briefly. They've all been kind, but I don't know if we know each other well enough to call ourselves friends.

iv. I did not have any resolutions this year. Congratulations in staying hydrated though! Today I got to see a kidney stone that a patient passed in their urine, a gnarly reminder to stay hydrated.

That is all for now, sending you and your family my love,

💚

[midwestdiscontent24]

The great depression

I think im depressed. Yesterday i had the day off and what did i do with my time? I had my breakfast and coffee, wrote an entry on here, masturbated to fill time, then spent the rest of the day in bed, on my phone, playing crossy roads. The only reason i even walked out my front door yesterday was to walk a block and a half up the street to buy a painting from facebook marketplace. Its a section from the painting "birth of venus" and it looks really nice hanging over my desk.

I honestly do think i might need to get back on anti depressants. Or anti anxiety meds. Something to make me feel more normal. Maybe i should start smoking weed, that might chill me out. Theres a dispensary one town over and a weed bakery. I might try those. They can really put weed into anything these days. ive even thought about asking my mom if she wants to get stuff from the bakery and eat them together; i honestly dont think shes ever been high.

I cracked last night and snapped jordan. It was a moment of depressive weakness but i dont really regret it. We snapped back and forth for about 3 hours. Im glad he was at work, otherwise i would have cracked even more and asked him to come over. I shouldnt even be messaging him. He rips my heart out every single time i get my hopes up. I want to be with him so bad and he just wants to fuck. I want to be loved and cherished and seen.

Sometimes i miss my last ex, because it was just easy being with him. I never had doubts about him cheating on me or breaking up with me (at least not until the very very end) It was like a fairy tale. I even drove 3,000 miles to meet his entire extended family. Then he broke up with me a week later to "see what else was out there." I still think that reason is complete bullshit and just a cover up for something else. But dating him was 4 months of bliss. I was happy and i want to feel that kind of love again. I deserve to have that kind of love again.

Sometimes i feel like im meant to be alone. Theres a certain level of comfort i feel in lonliness, i wont deny that. But when im 90 years old and i look back on my life, i dont want to remember endless days where i sat inside and did nothing but go on my phone and watch tv. A house full of my friends is literally a mile down the road and i have yet to call any of them. Granted, its summer so its still miserable being outside, so maybe i'll wait until fall. Plus walking down the main road gives me anxiety. I really do miss them though. For the brief time i was homeless in 2022, i stayed in that house. Theyre nice people, and i love them all so much. I feel bad for not calling them sooner, but i cant fix the past. I dont even know if Kayla is still in town. She likes to travel.

The last time i lived on this side of town i got super depressed too. I talked about it a little bit when i talked about rosy views of the past. I would sit in the shower with the water running for hours, just curled up in a ball or standing away from the shower head, just letting the warm water wash over me.

One time at my last apartment, i was so depressed and unhappy i would watch the same movie twice in a row after work every night before going to bed.

I wish i could just stay curled up in bed all night and not have to go to work or get up to use the bathroom or get up to eat and drink water. I just want to stay in bed with the fan pointed on me while im wrapped up in my comforter.

[crucifixcavity]

maybe I’m crying

[gaygollum]

in dave malloy’s genius annotated lyrics on “the duel” he says that dust and ashes was originally going to be put in the middle of the duel, starting with with dolokohv about to shoot pierre and ending with the sound of the gunshot instead of putting the song directly after it all and i get the reasons why he didnt do this (because of hamilton), but also... i am constantly thinking about it. 

this song destroys my soul to an even greater extent if i think about it happening midway through the duel because while pierre is realizing that he didnt live how he wanted to live, there is nothing he can do to change it because he’s about to die

he’s so full of regrets and that’s kind of what dust and ashes is to me, a six minute soliloquy of regrets and self-hatred, a list of reasons why pierre thinks he deserves to die, because he’s spent his whole life searching for some kind of meaning and here at the end he’s come up with nothing. “was i kind enough? was i good enough? did i love enough? did i ever look up and see the moon or the stars in the sky? oh, why have i been sleeping?” this man does not believe he will make it through the night. he has spent his whole life generally being miserable and thinking that he “used to be better” but now he is an old man who has wasted his entire life and he says that he cant even blame it on others even though that would be easy because it was all on him. he does not deserve to live, he does not deserve to love, and then he asks “was happiness within me the whole time?” in this choked up, defeated voice and it guts me every time because he thinks he is going to die and it’s too late to change anything now

“nothings left, ive looked everywhere” is the epitome of what it feels like to be so disillusioned with the world that you cant imagine going on. pierre is accepting death - “so alright, alright, ive had my time” - but at the very end of this song (which pierre tends to do at the ends of his songs, have a tiny glimmer of hope after his depressive spiral), he realizes that despite this acceptance of death, there is still a tiny piece of him that wants to live, that wants to be better, that wants to know what it’s like to truly love. he pleads: “God, don’t let me die while I’m like this, I’m ready to wake up” and then the gunshot rings out. and the bullet misses. 

having the realization that you have the power to change your life and instill meaning in it and acting upon that are two different things. pierre is faced with the fact that he is alive. he didn’t expect to live, he didn’t expect to have to deal with this further, so he does not return to this train of thought until the ending. 

(small aside where i recall the off broadway lyrics to letters where pierre says “dolokhov is recovering, he will be alright, the good man, it shouldve been me.” he didn’t expect to make it this far, and he continues to lament the fact that he is alive, and that is why he does not do anything about it.)

but the comet scene. he is no longer lamenting about being alive; he is released from his agonies for that small moment in time. he realizes that there is beauty in the world and his last words (the show’s last words!) are that his heart has now blossomed into a new life - he now believes that he is deserving of life and love. it’s such a transcendent and beautiful moment and i’ve always wished that i could have seen this show live.

i just think the shock of being alive and his subsequent continuous anguish with life makes a little more sense and makes the resolution with the comet all the more meaningful if dust and ashes happens in that time freeze. but maybe it’s just me. 

[28dayslater]

okay so basically my question is, is uni as fun as it looks?

i'm 23 and never went, i couldn't even finish college bc of mental health and then i never knew what i wanted in life so thought it didn't matter that i didn't go right away and i kept meaning to like figure it out but then i fell into a job i really like and have been here for a few years now and am content enough. no one in my family went to uni so it was never expected of me so when i didn't go there were no consequences y'know.

but social media is full of people in/who just graduated uni and it looks so fun that i feel like i've missed out. people posting videos in their new accomodation and with their flatmates and becoming best friends and staying up all night, going out doing random things and just having fun and being young with no expectations, and i feel like i've never experienced anything in my life.

like i did some of it, i moved out but there's no parties, no events or societies or getting off with strangers. and i hate to admit it but i still only have a single friend, not the friend group i always wanted. i've been on nights out a few times but it's always different because i know i have to go to work tomorrow, it's never the carefree "i don't know where i'll wake up and that's fine just living in the moment" type of experience. everything is different as an adult i guess. i'm tired by 8pm and going out until 10 is late for me.

and like i know myself i know i would not do well in uni due to my mental health and i would have dropped out or failed, and honestly i do not want to study i do not do well in education. i like finishing work and not having to worry about homework or whatever, but i really wish i could have experienced the social side of uni. i don't know if i'd have even enjoyed it, and it might have gotten old real quick, but i wish i could have at least tried it. and especially when everyone i work with met their partners and friends at uni, and i'm here doing everything i want to do just on my own because my singular friend doesn't share most of my interests.

but i also know people often exaggerate things on social media, and that lots of people don't share their experiences so i'm not sure whether uni is as fun as it always seems or whether it's just select people only sharing their few good experiences. idk i'm just kind of feeling like my entire life has just passed me by or something idk.

sorry for the dump omg i did not mean to say all that i was just gonna ask the question but lost the plot a bit 😭

i think the thing with uni is that like most things it is what you make of it. its a wonderful opportunity to hang out with people your own age, party and ignore your lectures and make stupid decisions bc youre on your own for the first time, and theres no other situation where youre gonna be so free to do what you want, but even when youre there that opportunitys only there if you take it. i went uni for three years, spent half of it violently depressed and not getting out of bed or doing any work, fucked up my actual degree and left with precisely one friend that im still in contact with. so even if youre in the position to be having the time of your life its very easy to waste it and end up having had no fun at all.

it sounds like you wouldnt have enjoyed the actual studying and what you're envious of is purely the social side. and tbf the social part of it does get old quickly, i spent my entire third year living with my best friend just watching crap tv every night instead of ever leaving the house or seeing anyone else. but also, theres no reason you cant create that social life for yourself! all the parties and that i went to at uni were just club nights in town or occasionally at the student union, you dont have to be invited or know anyone before you go.

and as miserable as it is to do and as trite as it sounds, you can make friends even when you're not forced together by school or uni or student accomodation. coworkers, friends of friends, roommates, online mutuals who don't live hundreds of miles away, you can ask those people to hang out and see where you can get from there. and as much as it sickens me to say bc i sound like my mum, theres always societies and events and stuff you can join if you go looking. most my adult friendships have only stayed in my life bc ive put effort into them and made a point of seeing those people and actively making plans. fucking sucks shit but thats the nature of being an adult, when youre not forced together by circumstance every day you have to cling to every friendship youve got and dig your claws in hard

but i hope you do okay! and i think you will

[pbandjesse]

I am at my parents house! Things feel good. I still miss James very much. But its been a pretty excellent day. 

I did not sleep well. I couldnt fall asleep until almost 3. And so when I woke up at 8 I was pretty miserable. I considered sleeping more, but I didnt. I shook it off and got ready. I wanted to get in the car and go. 

It was very cold and rainy this morning. James texted me and told me it had snowed where they were. Crazy. 

I got up and ready and I felt alright. I had to make two runs down to the car to get everything in order. I was very proud of myself for how I packed. And I was out the door around 830. 

I took the long way to the mcdonalds, not on purpose but whatever. I got three hashbrowns and a sandwich and was on the highway around 9. I did miss the entrance and had to backtrack a little. 

It wasnt a bad drive. I enjoyed my podcast. It was mostly just a boring drive. Only had a little trouble near Delaware. But I made great time and was at my family's house at 11.

It was so good to see my parents. We spent lots of time talking. Joking. It was really nice. And after lots of hanging out me and mom headed out into the world. 

It was the first time weve gone out and shopped together in over a year. Which was really weird in how it just felt so normal. Everything felt super normal and it was just really nice. 

We went to goodwill and I got a small ratten foot locker, and some clothes. I also got James some shirts. And I got a salt and pepper shaker that looks like a duck. I love it. It was just a fun time though. 

We went to a restore next. I got a basket and a beanie baby. The smaller version of the one James got me for my birthday. Its its baby. We just talked about stuff and it was a good time. 

We went to marshals next. Smelt all the soaps. I got birthday cake scented soap, mom got lavender. And then we went to have a late lunch at Panera. 

It was only the second time Ive eaten inside in a year.  We only did that because it was so windy outside. We got soup and I got a salad. Mom got a half sandwich. We talked about plans. About travel. About weddings. About depression and medication. Ive missed this. 

We headed home after that. Jess texted me so it wouldnt be long until I was on the road the 5 minutes to go hang out with her. 

It was a great time. We roller skated! It started raining and it was very windy. But it was fun. We will do it again for sure. We went inside and her family had ordered pizza. So I enjoyed that. Jess cannot eat pizza right now, so I ate it for her. And then we talk to her mom. I told her crazy stories about my life and work and family. It was good to tell stories. I always like that. 

We went upstairs and exchanged the squishmallows we got eachother. And then she cut the back of my hair. Kerry, her sister in law, came and sat with us and we talked about DND for way to long but it was so cute and fun. I am having a blast. 

But man am I tired. I was at Jess's until about 730. But I had to head out. I made a stop at the grocery to get mom some flowers for mothers day. And some drink. Raspberry blood orange juice, coconut milk, a box of tea. Im going to make some concoction tomorrow. 

So now Im sitting in the kitchen. Not in my old tall chair, but at the table. Making orange tea. And soon I will take a shower and try on my new clothes. I really hope I can sleep tonight. I hope you all have a great night. Take care of eachother. Goodnight. And happy mothers day

[xiolaperry]

Four Ways Gaston Could Have Died (And the One Way He Actually Did) - Chapter 5

Chapter Notes:  Somehow, this chapter veered away from being simply a Gaston “death” and ended up turning into a Colonel Ives backstory. For those of you who have not seen the movie "Ravenous", I highly recommend it. It is a surprisingly funny dark comedy horror story, and Robert Carlyle is amazing in it (as always).

---

Francis Ives had not expected to discover he had a half brother when he attended his father's funeral.

He hadn't seen his father in years (and was better off for it) when a solicitor contacted him to inform him of his death. Malcolm had somehow gotten rich before he died, and the will stipulated attendance of the funeral for access to the funds.

Tempted though he was not to comply with the demand, the money would be welcome. He had recently been diagnosed with tuberculosis and wanted to visit America to see if the doctors there could help him. Therefore, he made plans to attend. His miserable excuse for a father owed him a chance to live.

The church was empty. Every movement was magnified and echoed through the cavernous space. The only ones in attendance were the solicitor, who had to be there, the minister, who doubtless had never laid eyes on Malcolm Gold in his life, and a pair of drunken old men. Ives wondered if they’d been bribed, too.

The minister waited a few minutes past the time to begin, hoping in vain for additional mourners to fill the empty seats. He'd just cleared his throat and begun to speak when a well-dressed man entered. A beautiful woman and a little girl followed him. They sat down and the man, a fierce scowl on this face, gestured with impatience to the minister to continue.

Ives watched them from the corners of his eyes, wondering who they could be. Forced into attendance like him, no doubt. Malcolm Gold was not the type to make friends.

Unnoticed, he studied the older man. His longish hair was silver at the temples, and he kept running his hand through it and looked annoyed. He walked with a cane, but there was no air of weakness about him.

Ives assumed the woman was his wife. She looked young enough to be his daughter, but the way she put her hand on his thigh to stop his leg from bouncing with impatience was not at all daughterly. And even from a distance, he could see love and concern radiating from striking blue eyes that he'd not soon forget.

The little girl fidgeted and looked as though she'd rather be anywhere than here. Ives couldn't blame her, he felt the same way. She winked when she caught him looking, and he smiled.

After the service, he went straight to the family and introduced himself. “Francis Ives,” he said, extending his hand.

“Mr. Gold,“ the older man answered, returning the handshake.

Gold? Ives's mind reeled at the surname, and the resemblance he now noticed. He heard nothing else of the introductions, and he realized he must look odd, standing there frozen in shock with his hand still out.

“Please forgive me, I didn't catch the names of your wife and daughter; yours distracted me. Your name is Gold, as in a relation of Malcolm Gold?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, that bastard was my father.”

“Mine too!” he blurted out before he could think of a more delicate way to say it.

The family stared at Ives, speechless.

The little girl recovered first. “Does this mean you're my uncle? Papa, do you have any other brothers and sisters? My name is Tilly, can I call you Uncle Ives?”

When she paused to take a breath, her mother pulled her a short distance away to give the men a moment to process the revelation. Her hands fluttered about, making signs, and Tilly responded in kind. Mute, he thought.

Mr. Gold asked, “Malcolm was your father? But you said your name was Ives?”

“I took my mother's name. I wanted nothing that would connect me to that man.”

“Ah. I didn't have that luxury. Didn't even know my mother.”

The solicitor interrupted. “Good, I see you've met each other. If you'd be so kind as to follow me, the minister has allowed us to use his back office for the reading of the will. You can continue the family reunion there.”

“Whatever gets this over with the fastest.” Gold waved his hand for his family to follow him. Tilly, a bit more subdued but still grinning, skipped ahead. Gold's wife gave him a quick hug and then they continued on.

The reading was brief. Malcolm had made a few big gambling winnings shortly before his death, and his sudden demise prevented him from squandering it all. It was to be divided equally between his two known children, Francis and Labhrainn.

“Thank God there aren't more of us running around,” muttered Gold, who received an elbow to the ribs from his wife for the comment.

Finding the idea of a brother intriguing, Ives hoped to continue the conversation with Mr. Gold. But as soon as the information on the distribution of Malcolm's assets was finished, Mr. Gold stood up, said a curt goodbye, and headed for the door.

His wife stopped him. Her gloved hands flew as she signed, although one did not seem to move quite like the other. Ives watched Gold's face change from hard and impatient to soft and indulgent during her 'discourse.' Tilly chimed in with “Please, Papa?” and an imploring look. Gold sighed.

“Belle insists that you accompany us home for a meal so she can get to know you better.”

Belle poked her husband, and he amended, “We would both like you to come, you are my half-brother, after all.”

She beamed at Ives, and he wondered how his brother had gotten such a beauty. At his hesitation, Tilly said, “Please come. You can meet my cat. I brought her all the way from New Zealand.”

“How can I turn down such an invitation? I would be honored to meet your cat.”

Belle was a wonderful hostess, and Tilly's smile lit up the room. Her endless chatter at the dinner table made him laugh more that night than he had in months. Gold (who asked him to please not call him Labhrainn) was not as surly as he first appeared and warmed up to him over the course of the meal.

After they sent Tilly to bed, Ives and Gold spent a pleasant evening comparing stories of their upbringing and tales of their youth over glasses of whiskey. Ives told him of his plan to travel to America in hope of a cure for his tuberculosis.

Gold's tales of his time in New Zealand were fascinating, but his mood darkened when he spoke of Gaston Legume and the cause of his return to Scotland. When Belle removed her glove to show him the wooden finger Gold had crafted for her, Ives shook his head with disbelief. What kind of man would hurt a woman like that?

Sensing her husband's distress over the memories the conversation had brought up, she kissed him. The tender moment embarrassed Ives, and he looked away.

They talked until the early morning. After saying their goodbyes, and offering their best wishes for his health and recovery, Gold surprised him by asking him to keep in touch. “I'm learning to write,” he explained. “The letters will be good practice.”

The half-brothers struck up an enjoyable correspondence. Ives looked forward to Gold's letters, which included notes from Belle and Tilly. He would not have believed you could come to love someone through the mail, but he did. He loved his newfound family. They were the only bright spots in his life as he got sicker and weaker, and the illness turned him bitter and desperate.

The doctors in America were no better than the ones in Scotland. Depressed and discouraged, his thoughts turned dark. Every breath was a struggle, resulting in him coughing up a pint of blood. There was nothing left to be done. He decided to check himself into a sanatorium to convalesce, more than likely to die.

He took his time on the journey, telling himself he was traveling at such a slow pace because he was enjoying the scenery, not because he was too weak to press onward. Then one afternoon, he met an Indian scout.

The scout insisted on building a campfire for them both, and Ives shared his meal with him. The campfire danced, flickering patterns of light and dark across their faces.

He watched the robust, healthy man just sit there, taking his good health for granted. The Indian enjoyed smoking his pipe, drawing breath without pain, not coughing and choking on his own blood. He observed this with such jealousy that it made his soul ache. Ives wanted to live.

It wasn't fair that his disgusting reprobate of a father got to have a long life. It wasn't fair that he was here, dying, thousands of miles away from a family he had gotten to know so late in life. The night was clear, and he leaned back, looking at the cold stars that cared not for his suffering.

The scout told stories to pass the time, and one in particular caught his attention: The Wendigo. A man eats the flesh of another, absorbing his strength, his spirit. As the man spoke, Ives felt a cold darkness fill him. Could the tale be true? He had to try; it was his last chance. Perhaps it was a manifestation of Malcolm's selfishness, the trait showing up in his nature here at the end. He would do anything to keep from dying.

He killed the man as he slept and roasted him over the campfire he'd built. The smell was mouthwatering, and the taste, divine. The Indian scout was absolutely right. He grew stronger and had no regrets.

A stolen uniform completed his reinvention of himself. “Colonel Ives” sounded impressive and powerful, matching the strength he now felt inside. But what to do next? He was hungry. The meat he'd saved from the Indian did not last long, no matter how hard he'd tried to ration it.

An answer came in the form of a wagon train headed West. The small group welcomed having a Colonel join them as a guide. A few small manipulations of their circumstances allowed him to eat them that winter, and come spring he was a new man, happy and healthy. Tuberculosis? Vanished. As did the black thoughts.

His only regret was that the meat hadn't lasted longer. But the more he ate, the more he wanted. So he continued on.

Ives wanted to share his good fortune, build his own small family. Alas, Boyd and Colonel Hart were a disappointment. He left Fort Spencer, deciding it was better to keep moving and see the world.

He never wrote to Gold again. He missed the connection to his family, and he’d compose letters to them in his mind. But they remained unwritten. A voice inside told him he was not who he had been; that he never would be again. The voice sometimes begged him to reconsider his course. Whenever it spoke up, he squashed it down firmly. It was too late. The hunger was insatiable.

One day, he was talking to some sailors who mentioned their ship was bound for New Zealand. An idea formed in his mind, a way to thank Gold and his family for their encouragement and kindness during his difficult time. He booked passage on the spot.

And now here he was, in New Zealand, sitting in a tavern, watching Gaston Legume from across the room.

He must be cautious. Ives no longer cared about collateral damage as a general rule. Disposing of witnesses just meant more provisions for him. However, some of these people were Gold and Belle's friends. Punishing Gaston should not come at their expense.

Calqhoun is the name he gives in case Belle or Gold kept in touch with anyone. He slides into character with ease. People found the mild-mannered man of god forgettable, which is his intention.

As he enjoys David Nolan's company, he thinks that he'd like to find a place for himself. Sometimes it was lonely being a cannibal. Tough making friends.

So he sat, nondescript, and made conversation with David. The man was friendly and not overly bright, which was exactly the combination he was looking for. In the space of an evening, he learned all he needed to know about Gaston: where he lived, his habits, and his associates.

The next day Ives set up camp in a remote part of the jungle. Gaston's disappearance must not coincide with his passing through. His stores depleted, he hunts, and finds the locals to his taste. He bides his time.

He considered grabbing Gaston from his bed, but it seemed rather anticlimactic. This man had hurt his family, the only people he loved in this world. And for that, he deserved to suffer.

First, he moved things around to set Gaston off balance. His shoes while he slept. His tools. He left the barn doors open and stole his axe.

Gaston ranted to his aunt that someone was playing tricks on him. The scowl never left his face, and he accused everyone he met of being the culprit.

Ives escalated his campaign. He left sheet music in the barn, a book on the bedside table. He hung one of Tilly's drawings in the kitchen and left a woman's dress on the clothesline. A piano key was placed in his saddlebag. Now Gaston crossed from being angry to afraid.

The axe, covered in blood, was the perfect sight to greet him for his last morning on earth. It was lodged in the kitchen table and covered with gore. Ives watched from the shadows as Gaston staggered toward it, pale and shaken. He came up behind him and struck him in the head.

As Ives dragged Gaston through the jungle underbrush, he considered if he wanted to eat such a vile man. When they reached his camp, he told Gaston who he was. He describes exactly what he is going to do to him. Big, strong Gaston cries and begs. Ives starts by removing one finger and enjoying it as an appetizer.

He doesn't taste so bad after all.

“Calqhoun” drops by the little village before he leaves New Zealand. He talks to David Nolan again, who, with a bit of maneuvering, tells him all about the disappearance of Gaston. A bloody axe in the kitchen table was the only clue, and the entire village was stumped by the mystery. Cora is the only one who cares that he is missing.

His only regret is that he can't write to Gold and tell him all about the favor he has done for him. Papua New Guinea is the next stop. Perhaps he'll find some companions there.

[gayspock]

dont rb, dont rply

fr fr i dont kno im just sad again xoxo.. ive just spent weeks at this point with my sleep all fuckd up, and my head all fuckd up and i cant manage to do anythin at all. i just sit up and fuckn stare at the wall until i pass out again .   feel lonely feel like shit. jst wish i could fuckn manage anythin but i genuinely fuckin cant i cant even try at anyhting any more im just so fuckn broken down  . and i know , i know its not worth it bc even when i do manage to d literally anyhtign its jsut... so, so pathetically insignificant and its just drowned out instantly..... and i wish the world would just stop  turning but it fuckn wont . im just getting further away from ebverything, spending my fuckn time crying and tryin not to fucking off myself and for WHAT for WHAT man bc its not foing to spent doin anything worthwhile.... just reduced to fuckn shell and im wasting more of it away and fucking everything up bc i cant do anything!! no matter how hard i try its jsut all so fucking worthless, and im so alone, and i cant fight for any of it man i jsut want to die. i just want to fuckin die!  and i just wish it mattered do u kno wht i mean. i wish it mattered tht it all sucked, at least, but it doesnt it never does .... i fuckn cry like this every night for years and  never fuckn changes andi jsut think man. i jsut think. abt wht its paid off to try staying alive. i think abt killing myself as a miserable 12 y.o , and i think abt killing myself now as a 20 y.o old and there isnt a single lick of difference. those 8 years burnt away and meant nothing man.  nothing at all. it wouldnt have mattered if i disappeared then and it wont matter now . it really fuckn wont . i could wlk in front of a train and it wont mean anythin and it wont mean anythin tht i bothered to live .it was just as worthless as i felt it all was  and i dot know man. i dont kno. everyone alwyas says theyre sad like this and depressed btu i just feel so fucking hollow bc it just feels like ... even then they at least have friends or at they least have soemhing and im just . not anything . at all . and i just sit here. and stare at walls and cry and hit myself  . there is ntohing to comfort urself with... theres no reason to wnt to be alive bc there genuinely just is nothing there for me and i dotn know. i dotn kno. i cant do anyhting man. i cant  and whtn i say tht i cant i really mean i cant. i cant read i cant watch shit i cant do anyhing i can barely manage it without breaking down any more i cant even do the most bare basic fucking shite without fucking collapsing in on myself an di dont know wht the point is. why fight for tht. why man . and i jsut. again i feel so fucking lonely and m just fucking mad as fucking hell right now  and (cry scream noise) i dnt kno wht to do with myself . i dont kno wht to do . u kno when u sit there and try to think abt other times u’ve been sad. try to think of it and think of it getting better . but then you realise it never did. nothing ever changed. ur the same lonely and isolated as u were back then as you are now. u still feel all the same horrible feelings. you try but it doesnt change. doesnt go away. u wish u werent still bitter, but u cant move past anyhting bc ever since its just. h, and it doesnt seem to matter wht u do. it just fucking stays like tht. i  dotn know i jsut wnt to feel like im alive in some capacity but i jsut fuckn sit alone and talk to myself and cry for days  and its so pathetic and  i have to go for antoehr appointment next week bt i jsut want to skip it man. its so pointless  its jst so fuckn pointless i just fckn wnt to die i cant face any of it i cant take any of it and its so , so barren. it really is just all so fucking barren. i dont kn this is so stupid do u ever jsut sit there and stare at eveyrne else and theyre so colourful and thy have things tht mean stuff to threm and ur just sat there sobbing bc everythin just fuckn . gggod i dont know. when ppl ask wht u do. wht u like. and theres just ntohing there. i think abt all the shit and its just to distract myself and id otn care do u kno wht i mean. and i jsut.. i dont know i just. E

[itsgonnabeokaybro]

Im gonna be okay!

Not forever cause that would be impossible, but for now, i am okay!

Ive been through shit, ive seen stuff that i wouldnt wish upon anyone, and after all of that, after all of those nights i spent crying, after after just flat out being miserable, and relapsing again and again. I can finally say that i want to live, i want to experience everything, every early morning sunrise, every buggy summer night, every stranger with secrets and tales to tell, every tough day at work, every smile, every heartbreak, i want to experience it all. I want to live and that makes me so happy. Its so hard learning the beauty of life when all you have known are its horrors, but i am so happy i hung on. I am so happy that i have made it. I am so thankful for who i am today.

Being diagnosed with depression as a nine year old felt like a death sentence. Being miserable was all i knew growing up and its really hard to believe that there is a light at the end of the tunnel when all you have known is darkness, i get it.

I can't convince you that you are going to be okay, but I do know for a fact, that if you try your best to be okay, to be happy, one day you will be. Its a long and tough journey.

Healing is not linear, it take TIME, but i believe that you can do it.

So ask for help, tell someone who can change something for you. There is nothing wrong with admitting you need help, because we all do and i fuckin WISH i had asked for help back when i was at my low point because it would have saved me so much time and pain.

One day you can think life is beautiful, dont give up hope, and don't stop striving for happiness and health because its what you deserve.

[spreadyourwingsc]

So i need to vent.

I feel like I have never talked about this enough but a thought came to me while washing the dishes and since im a little more tired than usual made me remember something.

So i have a cousin whos like a year younger than me. and once last year we were working on the same place and her best friend too. they were working full time while I was only working part time. 

One day I am particulary really tired and I voice this to them and she goes like “How tired can you be you’re only working part time..and we all go to school too so whats your excuse”. 

And i said nothing because at that point i realized its true what they say that you really dont know what goes on a persons life. not that i felt like I have to justify myself to her. but in my mind the only thing that was going through was how miserable I was at the time that. my allergies were fucked up. I spent the worst nights because I couldnt sleep because I was sick. and when I took medication they only made me more sleepy and tired. all this while working, going to school, preparing to go abroad to work to another country in the summer. and being miserable overall.

because life gets tiring when you have depression or you’re not happy with your situation you know...and I dont know why this particular moment stayed with me because its been a while and I dont even work there anymore. 

But my point is...I think this is a trauma I have with her because Ive always felt lesser than her. like we grew up together but shes always been like “the smartest” one and she went to better schools. she graduated college before me. and is already working a “real job”. she learned to drive first than me...she always have friends to hang with and she goes on adventure with them and stuff. Shes skinnny...

And while I have now all of that too and I KNOW i shouldnt be comparing myself to her...it’s always that feeling of competition or that I’m far behind her while being older. and just you know...I KNOW Im my own person and I have had my accomplishments as well and stuff but still theres always something at the back of my mind when I see her. when she stops by my house before going out with her friends and stuff.

Its like shes so carefree to do stuff while i have to think things over and over and over...and again I dont know what really goes in her life that maybe its not as perfect as it seems. but I think i’ve always lived in that shadow and have never realized it until now. or maybe I did and now im acknowledging it.

But I guess Im always going to be my own person and like Im doing my own thing you know and again I only  have these feelings when I see her and Im not jealous because I dont wish bad upon her or anything actually Im happy that shes like that and she is always having fun and being happy because truly i love her. shes like a sister even if we dont talk everyday or dont hang out together. 

But I guess i need to convince myself that whatever Im doing is important too..and that my life is as exciting and I will also figure it out eventually. 

anyways yeah I think thats all I wnted to say. i didnt feel like talking to anybody in particular about it...i just wanted to write and let it all out...

[foxyotomelady]

Another love, Chapter XI (JuminxReader)

Author’s notes:

Be aware of: strong language, angst, violence. Yes, this is another rather dark chapter.

Grab some handkerchiefs and be ready for:

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V | Chapter VI | Chapter VII | Chapter VIII | Chapter IX | Chapter X | Chapter XI (You are here) | Chapter XII | Chapter XIII | Chapter XIV | Buy Me A Ko-Fi Have a nice reading!

Zen's POV 

Several days have passed since the Y/N's abduction. Everyone was losing their minds, her parents also knew what had happened, the police and security guards were looking for her days and nights. There was no trace of Yuwoon either.

It was early morning when Zen and Jumin were searching around the city. There were no bodyguards with them because Jumin insisted that they should separate in small groups to increase their effectiveness.

Zen was angry at himself that he didn't immediately recognize the woman in his dream - but when she appeared in it, he saw her for the first time. He found out who she is just after all that kidnapping. 

Zen didn't think it would ever happen - but he was worried about that jerk. The guy looked bad, he was pale, he had circles under his eyes, and well... he smelled like alcohol.

They were checking every suspicious alley, asking people... everything for nothing. Finally, as they walked through one of the narrow alleys, Jumin stumbled and would have fallen if Zen had not caught his arm in time, "Dude, be careful!"  Jumin jerked away from his hand and adjusted his shirt, which was still in disarray, "I'm fine." "You're not fine! Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?" "Even in this situation, all you can think about is a good look." "Not what I meant!" Zen got mad. "When was the last time you slept?" "Sleep? How could I sleep in such a situation? You’re illogical as usual." "And you're a jerk as usual! Don't you understand that you don't help her that way? You have to get yourself together if you want to help find her!" Jumin leaned his back against the wall and slowly slid down to sit below it on the ground. He buried his face in his hands. Zen didn't know what to do. He saw this guy in such a state for the first time in his life. "Zen... What if we won't find her?" "Don't even think so! We'll find her! Safe and sound!" "I just can't... I keep thinking of what this bastard could have done to her so far. I'm losing my mind..." Zen felt his throat clench, "We're all worried about her-" "You won't understand this," Jumin interrupted. "I've already lost V, if I lose her now... I will be completely alone." "Dude! What is this absurdity? You must be forgetting something! You have us! The RFA!" Zen couldn't believe he really said those words. To this jerk! But he couldn't look at his depression anymore.

Jumin rubbed his eyelids and sighed, "God... That it came to that I must hear such words from you." "Believe me, I didn't feel like telling them at all," Zen explained angrily. "But you have to get a grip on yourself, dude!" "It's not like I don't appreciate your friendship," Jumin began, rising slowly, propping up from the wall. "But no one can replace her…"

"Of course-"  "I made so many mistakes with her... I won't forgive myself if I don't have the opportunity to fix them."  Did Jumin Han just admit his mistake? In front of him?! It was that moment when Zen understood: this jerk really loved Y/N. In a twisted way, but still...  "We will find her, man..." Suddenly Jumin's cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket so hurriedly and in such panic that he almost dropped it to the ground, "Speak. What? Where?! Send me the exact location immediately. And send coordinates to Assistant Kang. She will know what to do with it next." Zen felt his heart beating hard, "What? Why? What did you find out?!"  "Saeran got the bastard's IP and discovered where he was constantly going."  "What?! Where?!"  "He'll send me- I have it! We'll go there! I'll call Driver Kim along the way."  "Wait! Shouldn't we notify the police?!"  "Jaehee will take care of it. There is no time!"

YOUR POV 

You didn't know how many days had passed. It was almost constantly dark in the building. You were thirsty and hungry. Yuwoon occasionally fed you and gave you something to drink, but it wasn't much. At first, he tended to untie your hands, and you tried to use these moments to somehow oppose him and run away - it always ended in him beating you brutally until you gave up. Then he even stopped untying your hands, you ate and drank from bowls like an animal. When you needed to take care of your physiological needs, he just sat you on a bucket and waited. You had to do it in his presence - which you failed at first - you couldn't force your body to do it. As a result of this, you got wet in your pants a few times when Yuwoon left and took the bucket with him. At first, you felt very humiliated. But after a few days, you didn't care. You were just terribly tired, your body was weak and in bruises.

It was morning when Yuwoon came to you again. He smiled at you in greeting, "How is my princess today? What is that indifferent expression on your face? You should be happy to see me! I brought you something to eat." 

He came to you. This time he reached his hand to you, he kept dry bread in it and put it under your mouth, "Come on, eat it obediently from my hand." 

You were too hungry to refuse. Yuwoon laughed as you chewed bite after bite.

While you were eating like that, you noticed a figure at the entrance. After a while, you realized that it was Yoon. He put a finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet. You didn't have the strength to react anyway.

Yoon approached Yuwoon silently and suddenly grabbed him by the neck from behind. Yuwoon groaned and cursed. The men wrestled with each other for a while but finally, Yoon hit your kidnapper in the back of the head and he fell to the ground. Unconscious? Dead? You didn't care.

Yoon came up to you quickly, you saw worry and fear on his face, "It's all right, Miss Y/N! It's all right..." The poor man almost cried over you as he untied the ropes from your arms and legs, "Miss Y/N, say something please! Where does it hurt? What did that bastard do to you?"

You didn't feel like answering. You just looked at him. Your wrists and ankles were bloody, blue and mercilessly burning you.

"The coordinates of this place have already been handed over to the police and everyone else, they should be here soon," He continued, looking at your wounds and bruises. "God, it's a miracle I was around!"

"Yoon..." You managed to make a weak voice. A thought suddenly crept into your numb mind. You didn't feel like it was absurd at the moment, "Jumin doesn't want to fire you, right? I'll convince him not to." 

Yoon stared at you completely lost and moved. He could barely hold back the urge to cry now, "I deserve to be fired... It's my fault that you were kidnapped, Miss..."

You shook your head and then two more figures appeared at the entrance. Your heart jumped at the sight of Jumin and Zen. They both looked at you in shock, pale. Then Jumin hurried over to you, pushed Yoon away and fell to his knees in front of you. 

"Y/N... Y/N..." His voice broke, his hands trembled and he was afraid to touch you. "God... You're all bruised... God, your hands..." He took your hand in fear and stared at your blood-ragged wrist.

All your indifference and emptiness began to disappear. Jumin's presence awakened such a wave of emotion that you shuddered all over your body. All the trauma you went through came back to you.

"Jumin..." You looked into his eyes - they were red and had dark circles around, you could see the beginning of insanity in them. That was the last straw for you. "Jumin!" You cried and, despite your aching body, hugged him. In return, he embraced you so hard that you thought he would crush you. But you didn't care, you just wanted to be close to him. You couldn't stop crying and after a while... you both were crying.

"I thought I lost you ..." Jumin stammered through his tears, pressing your head against his shoulder. You wanted to answer, a storm of thoughts reigned in your head, but you choked with tears to the point that you were hiccuping and unable to speak.

"Shhh..." He tried to calm you down, though he didn't stop shedding tears as well. "It's alright, I'm here."

You suddenly heard someone's groan. You looked out of the corner of your eye and saw Yuwoon regain consciousness. The memories of everything he did to you came back to your head. Panic and fear overwhelmed you, you screamed and backed away, pressing your back to the wall. Jumin looked at Yuwoon who was massaging his neck and jumped to his feet, "You...! I'll kill you!" 

You've never heard Jumin so incredibly angry. You didn't want to know what he would do if Zen didn't grab his shoulders and stop him when Jumin threw himself in the Yuwoon's direction.

"Calm down, dude!" Zen shouted. "The police will be here soon and will take care of him!"

Yoon didn't let Yuwoon escape, he stopped him until the police arrived. An ambulance also arrived and you went to the hospital with the company of Jumin, who was holding you by the hand all the way.

You spent two weeks in the hospital. It turned out that in addition to bruises and bloody abrasions, you also had a sprained ankle. Moreover, you were starved, dehydrated and your head was heavily battered, now bandaged.

Jumin almost sued the hospital for refusing to let him stay with you all this time. In the end, he simply bought the whole room, making sure that only you could stay in it, and he slept on the bed next to you - although he did not sleep peacefully and not once when you woke up at night you saw him napping in the chair next to your bed.

During the day he just sat next to you, read to you, gave you water and talked to you. The first dinner you got was so miserable that... Jumin almost sued the hospital again. Anything he considered insufficient had to be rectified immediately. You almost felt unfair toward other patients, because Jumin's influence led to that all the staff was running around you like you were a queen. 

Other RFA members often visited you. When Yoosung saw you in the hospital bed for the first time, he cried like a child and you had to comfort him, patting his head in embarrassment. Seven smuggled you unhealthy food, including his favorite Honey Buddha Chips, but Jumin didn't let you eat it anyway. Jaehee brought you tasty fruits and at each visit, she also complained about the enormity of work and asked Jumin to return to the company. You also tried to convince him - thanks to him you already had excellent care here - but he was too stubborn.

When Zen visited you for the first time, he brought you a bouquet of red flowers, which of course caused a small argument. Jumin was just reading, sitting on the chair next to your bed when Zen entered the room with a wide smile and shouting "Baby~!" in his sweet voice.

Jumin, with a stoic expression, only raised his eyebrows without taking his eyes off a book, "What are these flowers for?" 

"What? Are you serious?" Zen came up to you and gave you a bouquet, for which you thanked with a smile. 

"Flowers won't help her recover," Jumin said professionally.

"Dude, I just want her to feel better!" 

"She needs neither you nor your flowers to feel better." 

This quarrel would probably continue for several minutes if you didn't start laughing.

Even Saeran visited you. You thanked him for what he did because without his work, searching for you could take longer or... no, you didn't want to think about it. 

"Now I am worthy of becoming your dog?" Saeran asked sarcastically. 

"You are worthy of soooo much more," You answered honestly. 

"I will make sure you get a proper reward for your work," Jumin added. 

Saeran blushed! "Stop with this stupid kindness. You're making me cringe..."

Yoon also appeared. He apologized to you and Jumin, and although he was the one who freed you from Yuwoon, Jumin continued to look at him sharply. You stood up for him and only because of your request Jumin did not fire him. But without blinking an eye he fired all the bodyguards Sarah had bribed.

And the day came when your parents visited you. You were sorry when you saw their condition - your mom didn't have any makeup, her wrinkles seemed to got worse, your father also seemed to age a few years, when you last saw him, he wasn't so gray on his head... Your mother obviously started to cry - much worse than Yoosung. Your father was like an iceberg, and he didn't take his eyes off Jumin. "Why didn't you tell us what was going on?" Mother asked you. "Why didn't you say you had problems with Yuwoon? That you moved out of your apartment?" "I'm sorry, mom... I didn't want to worry you...I didn't want to involve you in my love problems. I'm not a child anymore." Jumin handed your mother a handkerchief, without a word, stoic as always. "Oh, thank you..." Your mother blinked, picked up a handkerchief, and began to wipe her face and eyes. "Well, we're involved now, you want it or not," Your father said, then turned directly to Jumin, in a tone that made you feel cold and uncomfortable, "Don't get me wrong, young man, but I don't like your relationship with my daughter. I think you are partly responsible for what happened to her. You are a known person, you have your enemies. Now, when there are so many rumors about you two, my daughter will be constantly threatened." "Dad..." You started, squinting and pouting. "I understand you, Mr. L/N," Jumin replied calmly. "I am aware of what I am responsible for and why I have been at fault. Still, I would like to continue this relationship with your daughter, with your consent. I promise her kidnapper will be punished with the greatest punishment. My lawyers will take care of it."

Your father didn't look convinced. Ultimately, however, he took a deep breath under the pressure of your irritated look, "Well... Y/N is an adult, I can't stop her from anything. But if she ever gets hurt because of you again..."

"I understand, Mr. L/N," Jumin still had a stony expression on his face.

Your four talked for some time - Or rather... it was mostly you and your mother who was talking. Your father and Jumin... not so much. The tension between them was huge.

When your parents were about to leave, your mother, much to your embarrassment, grabbed Jumin's hand with both of her hands and said, "Unlike my grumpy husband, I am grateful to you for looking after my daughter. You are a very nice man."

You had to bite your lower lip to avoid laughing. You have never seen Jumin so embarrassed before. You knew that the compliments from other women never impressed him, but apparently praise directly from your mother confused him completely.

"I... Uh... Thank you, Mrs. L/N," He answered. "I will try not to disappoint you."

When your parents left, Jumin cleared his throat and looked at you, "What? Why are you smiling like that?"

[honeyfreckled]

we have talked a few times and im sorry for this but you are the most accepting and easiest person to talk to honestly i dont have many people in my life i can tell anything real to. but the thing is ive been thinging about relapsing a lot more since i broke up with my boyfriend and i work with him so it makes work depressing and impossible to get through a day without crying sorry this is anon but i am scared ily dont hate me i am not trying to stress you out

ok wow first lemme just say: I DO NOT HATE U. EVER. 

and don’t be srry i don’t have a lotta ppl irl i can tell my shit to so i get it. pls know u can always ALWAYS ALWAYS come to me, and u dont gotta be scared to come off anon. i get it and it’s ok if u prefer it that way- but pls know i dont keep it on alot bc i get hate and then i turn it off bc i gotta look out for myself and dont post all the hate bc i dont wanna bring yall down or give them the satisfaction of knowing i have given it a read and response. so u can message me or make a sideblog or idk im just saying this so if it’s off later u dont blame yrself or feel scared to come off anon. ok sorelapse is a real thing and it’s fucked and hard and addiction is fucked up and a real life struggle and we dont treat addicts w the real tenderness, respect, kindness, and acceptance they deserve. but u DO deserve it. and there are hotlines, apps, churches, groups, chatrooms/boards, and sites that are more versed in what are the appropriate things to say to u- i say this bc while i’ve been thru it w loved ones i have not myself struggled w addiction w substances. my addictions were to self harm and victimhood so those are the things i searched for help on. but if it’s alright i’d like to give u some tips or things i used and have heard work for addicts of substances

places like i said like churches, groups, chatrooms, sites, apps, hotlines the apps and hotlines are good if u cant travel or want to talk to ppl who wont share their story bc maybe u cant hear it like its not the kinda help ur looking for. hotlines are sometimes tricky bc some of those folks are not educated they are volunteers so judgment leaks thru and in that case u ask to be redirected and report that volunteer so hopefully they dont repeat that kinda mess to other vulnerable folks looking for help

make a list of things, anything. list of foods u like to order, list of things that make u clench yr teeth, what were yr fave gifts you’ve ever got, style icons of urs, hobbies u tried that annoyed u, movies u can always watch, places on yr skin u hate being touched, any list of anything it doesnt have to be the usual thing of “what to live for” bc when yr depressed those kinds of things arent easy to think of. but if u get a list going of like “best things ive ever touched” “sounds that make me laugh” “trends that were stupid af” “popular things that i didnt like n couldnt figure out why they were popular” “weirdest ppl ive met” well those things might get u on a roll of good memories or laughing or seeing that theres more to yr life than what has been occupying yr thoughts

dancing. dance in yr room in the dark. clear some space. put on some headphones. lock yr door. do it in the shower. just dance. i had to start w closing my eyes and picking songs that i was taken by emotionally. songs that made me jump and slamdance tbh and then it’s just gotten more and more something im not as ashamed w. i spent a date night w james just dancing and then we ya know ya know bc the dancing got so wild. now i make playlists of songs that set moods for diff kinds of dancing

watch shows w ppl who arent doing better than u. they dont live in fancy places, they dont do much w their lives, they dont dress better than u, they struggle, they arent eating good food u dont have access to. iasip. freaks and geeks. letterkenny. undeclared. jake and amir. tpb. the state. youtube. tiktok/vine comps. lots of these kinds of vibes on youtube

podcasts. improv comedy podcasts tbh saved my life. comedy bang! bang! has best of’s those are good ones to start w. improv4humans bc matt besser has great guests of some of the best improvisers out there and he has musical guests and they’ll play a song and the improvisers will use it as inspo for a scene

make things. moodboards. pinterest. playlists. fill a shopping cart and tell yrself “i’ll get it when i win the lotto and move away from anyone who knows me so i can be the me i wanna be w/out judgement” make tea. make a meal if u can. make yr bed. clean one thing. clean the sink. hang some clothes or go thru yr drawers and clean them out. throwing things out feels hard at first but then it’s nice bc u feel less bogged down

find something to throw yr obsession at for a bit. something that wont hurt u as bad, being obsessed in general isnt good. everything in moderation irl. too much of something is bad just as much as too less of it can be bad. but yr looking for something lower risk here and if u gotta be obsessed w a celeb or a song or a food that’s ok. yr focusing the energy on something that isnt a substance so be proud of it

give yrself a break. give yrself some credit. everyday isnt gonna be on the “best of your name here’s days” but sometimes u just live to live bc that’s what u do. u wait it out and get thru it and wait for the sun to come back out. and if u cant get outta bed. or if you hate yr job and wanna scream- that’s normal it’s more normal than always being happy ppl just dont like talking abt bc society kinda trains us to hide our fucked upness idk why but thats how it is. they dont wanna tell us to do preventative care until we’re in the pits

all in all- it comes down to (at least for me) not planning w an endgoal in mind. it’s not over til it’s over and rlly we dont know. it’s all fluctuating and not meant to be a finish line we cross and then suddenly we’re done and we dont suffer anymore and the feeling of shit is gone or the risk of relapse is gone and the depression is cleared away never to be seen again. it’s not realistic. bc it isnt real. on the real- risk is always there and the downs and ups mix and run together and depression is not curable (this isnt something to be miserable over tho) depression isnt curable, yeah ok, but it is manageable. it can be quieted down from time to time and if u keep up w yr healthy routines and coping mechanisms- depression will still find its way to u bc the real world is not something u can manage. death in the family, loss of money or job, car breaking down, sickness outta nowhere, depression grows wild when these very real life stressors come into our lives. but all that too eventually gets easier and easier at least from a “ok i have some distance now” standpoint. and then as those days get more and more btwn it u can then be like “oh wow, ive made it thru X amount of days! ive put up w it this long! whats one more day, whats one more week, hell might as well see how much prouder i can feel once ive got a year under my belt!” plus u will be more capable of handling the bullshit if u know u can still find some safe places in yr coping skills or friends or resources.

ok so this is prob a mess but bottomline know this:

I love  you and i will be here the best i can should u ever wanna come spill or if u need me to just send u pics of my dog or boring pics of knickknacks or selfies or memes or links or anything just tell me what u need and i will try my best to show u my love. i hope u can see that u reaching out is just already a HUGE major step in the right direction, give yrself credit! thats amazing! yr already doing it pumpkin look at u! it’s hard ik. but i also know if u are capable of saying u have this problem going on, u are capable of getting thru this. u are a light in the world. u offer goodness and u offer yrself and that’s enough. even if yr fucked up right now- u are contributing to the world by simply being u. there is literally NO ONE ELSE WHO IS YOU. so u are unique by definition. i hope u get something from this post and if not i hope it strikes an idea or thing u can do that will help. i hope u know im here and i hope u see this.

i am sending u all my light and love and good vibes and i can’t wait to see or hear from u again. u are never bothering me, a burden, or stressing me out. tbh it stresses me more that u might be struggling and not telling me or anyone. i dont ever want u to suffer in silence bc u feel guilt or scared or anything. u deserve to have a place to voice yr shit. im here to listen if u do wanna tell me anymore.

everyone else-if this helped or if u can think of anything that might help anon or anyone else- feel free to reblog and get some good NONJUDGMENTAL advice or tips and tricks going, but please please please remember to not come off as judgey or flood it with your drama. keep ur drama out of this post so anon or anyone else doesn’t get triggered by it. 

and dont ignore my rule and do it anyway and then say some shit like “ik u said not to but i think this will help lol sorry” like we need this post to stay on this vibe that i set in motion and not a struggle contest or dick measuring or all sad personal reminiscing. go make yr own post for that this is NOT the space.

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 25)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 

Part 26: here

“Welcome to MacDonalds Sir. Can I take your order?”

The van stops at a drive through, halfway to the hospital and his Uncle. Doom hangs over Arthur like a dense grey fog. A clock slowly counting down.

“Hey. You want anything?” The demon asks, nonchalantly rifling around in the glovebox for spare change.

Arthur’s never swum in the ocean, but he’s watched enough media to estimate and guess that this is what drowning feels like. Memories crash over him, pulling him about in waves. It’s had to keep a grip on what is current and what is past. It’s hitting him all at once. Images of Lewis falling are now mixing in with frames on Darrel’s motionless body left out in the middle of nowhere, carelessly kicked to the side of a narrow dirt road. Alone. Just like Lewis. Left behind to rot. Who knows if anyone would find him. Did Darrel have a family? Arthur can’t remember. What he does know is that it’s all his fault…and he can’t stop. Arthur needs help. He desperately needs help, but there’s no one. The only people who care are miles away and completely ignorant.

‘Why?’

The question is out before he gets the chance to clarify, his thoughts not coherent enough to manage a full sentence. There must be a reason. A point to everything. Because, if there isn’t, then there is no way that Arthur can convince this creature to stop. To leave his Uncle alone.

“Cause we’re hungry. Duh. Try not to ask dumb questions.” Arthur is dismissed, the demon turning back to order. So far, it has been quiet, exuding a calm satisfaction which is only marginally better than manic joy, ignoring Arthur’s thrashing with practised ease. This is the first time Arthur’s had the presence of mind to communicate since leaving Darrel.

At the order collection window, as the serving-girl hands over a brown and red paper bag, she points to her cheek, commenting, “Um. Sir. You have a little dirt on your face. Just there.”

“Do I?” The demon laughs good-naturedly, adjusting the rear-view mirror to reveal their reflection. Arthur looks out, unable to help himself, meeting his own gaze. Bright green eyes stare right at him. The pleasant smile shifts to become mocking. The ‘dirt’ referred to is the small flecks of Darrel’s blood, which have dried a dark brown.

“I do indeed. How embarrassing,” It chuckles, taking the bag, “Thank you for pointing that out.”

The girl smiles back, “Hey no problem. Have a good afternoon sir.”

If only she would lean further out and see the prominent blood splatter across Arthur’s front. She doesn’t. He watches powerlessly, feeling his body wave a goodbye.  

“Have to say. I love these new food options. You humans have certainly been busy this last century.”

Now. This is Arthur's opportunity to talk. He needs to use it and convince this creature to stop. It probably won’t work, if anything it’ll make everything worse, but he must try.

‘Why,’ Arthur asks a second time, pulling his focus forward.

“Why what,” The demon is deliberately obtuse, taking a bite with its free hand, steering back onto the highway with the other. Arthur would be grimacing at the taste. The last thing he wants to do is to eat greasy food. Luckily, nausea is primary a physical phenomenon, so his need to throw up is entirely associative.

‘Why are you doing this. What’s the point?’  How does he get it to stop?

The demon chews and slurps down a soda methodically like it is buying time to consider a response. More likely, it knows how anxious waiting makes Arthur.

“Because it’s fun. You know...Spread a little pain and misery. Cause trouble. Mess with the cosmic balance. You do know what fun is right?"

‘I can be plenty miserable without Uncle Lance dying.’ Arthur jumps on the connection despite how tenuous it is, ‘You’ve seen my memories! I can make anything good depressing if I want to.’

“Ha. Yeah. You do know how to screw yourself over. But, regrettably, I never leave a host alive. Personal policy. Less hassle down the line and all.”

‘He’ll be no hassle.’ Arthur lies blatantly because there was no way Lance wouldn’t try to hunt them down if given a chance, ‘Nope. No hassle at all. No one would care if I vanished right now. Especially not Lance.’

“I’m in your head, I can see you lying,” An eye roll, followed by unpleasant chuckling, “Besides, nothing beats the rush of cutting one of your pathetic lives short. All that potential. Poof. Gone.” The discordant sensation of happiness is back again, and Arthur quickly withdraws, mentally flinching away, doing his best to distance himself.

‘Someone will stop you.’  

“Who will? The dog? It’s miles away. Won’t be here till tomorrow and by then we’ll be done and dusted. I was thinking of going after Lewis’s family next. Sneak on in, in the dead of night, get em all in their sleep…”

Any further attempts at reasoning fall on deft ears. Begging is just as ineffective. All it does is inflate the awful feeling of calm satisfaction. Apprehensively, Arthur watches the demon wipe the blood off their shared face, energy well and truly spent. A grin is flashed towards the rear-view mirror which has yet to be re-adjusted. Not like this thing cares about road safety. It makes Arthur want to laugh hysterically. But he can’t. He can’t do anything.

Half an hour later, after getting waylaid by some traffic, they’re back at the hospital. All up, it’s hardly been two hours since their departure. They even park in the same spot.

Before heading inside, the demon pulls on one of Arthur’s old work shirts, which he keeps in the van for spur of the moment mechanical work. It’s got a few oil stains down the side and hasn’t seen a good wash in a while, but is inconspicuous when compared to coffee and blood splatters. Now, apart from the eyes, there is no other noticeable difference between the two of them. Nothing that screams ‘I’m a demon on a murder spree, please stop me.’ The sickly green skin Arthur had noted in his memories has faded to a natural colour.

St Peter’s Emergency Ward is as cold and sterile as he remembers. The smell of disinfectant and the return to chilled air-conditioning are equally unwelcome. Nurses, doctors and members of the public mill around, murmuring and talking in low tones. ‘Someone notice! Please,’ Arthur thinks desperately while the demon obtains directions from the reception desk. Despite Arthur’s less than clean appearance no one spares a second glance. Everyone is too busy, caught up in their work and lives, to notice his one falling apart.  

An older, matronly woman, sporting a messy bun and tired eyes, ends up leading Arthur to his Uncle’s recovery room. It’s not too far from the main entrance and is, to his dismay, empty of other patents. Space, meant for a second bed, is vacant.

Arthur, the demon- he’s having trouble separating the two -both watch the nurse check his Uncle’s IV, lowering the dosage of whatever is going into Lance’s arm. Probably a mix of pain medication and anti-inflammatories going off Arthur’s previous experience. Curiosity and interest flash between their shared mind. It is taking notes, intently watching the nurse work. Please. Turn around. Turn around and notice what a creepy monster he’s being.

When she does turn, Arthur has already stepped away, acting to part of the worried relative.

“Is he okay. Everything’s okay, right?”

“Your Uncle is recovering as per normal. He’s on a low dose of Dilaudid, to reduce pain and swelling.  It’ll make him drowsy when he regains consciousness so don’t be alarmed if he has trouble forming sentences,”

“He’ll regain consciousness? That’s good. When will that happen?” Its barely contained eagerness makes Arthur want to cry in dismay.  

“Another hour or two,” The woman gives him a perplexed sideward glance. If she does notice anything strange, it isn’t mentioned. “I’ll have a doctor come by and give you a proper run down and better details shortly.”

“Good. Good. That’s very good. Thank you for letting me know,”

A nod. A kind expression. She moves to away, passing by, leaving Arthur alone. She leaves the demon alone with his Uncle unconscious, helpless in the bed. Eagerly, the demon piolets his body forward, scanning the empty room, eyes landing briefly on the solitary clock decorating the otherwise sparse walls. 4: 59. Tick. Tick. Tick. An audible reminder that Arthur is running out of time. A hand reaches into his pocket to fiddle with Arthur’s keys and the small knife attached. Both are crusted with dry blood which crumbles when touched. They clink together threateningly.

‘What do I have to do to get you to stop. You have to want something. Anything.’

“Sure, I do. It’s just nothing you can give .” Nonchalantly, it approaches the bed, finally acknowledging Arthur's presence.

‘Don’t demons collect souls?’ He asks with increasing desperation. Can he give this thing his soul? Was that something he could do?

“Some. I don’t. I think you’ll find that ‘demon’ is a very broad term, covering a wide range of individuals. Besides, your soul is super screwy. Whatever’s shoved it back in here has bound it in tight, so I’d probably have to rip it up to get it free, rendering the activity pointless. So, no deal…But thanks for the offer. I’m flattered.”

‘Please. Stop. I’ll do anything!’

Does he really have nothing? No way to save his Uncle. The only member of his whole freakin family who gave a damn and he can’t even save him. Useless. Why does he fail in all the ways that matter most?

“Oh, don’t mope. Just think, once we finish up here, you’ll never have to worry about failing anybody ever again. No lying. No stress. Doesn’t that sound nice.”

It doesn’t sound nice. It’s the opposite of nice!

The demon drags over the one visitor's chair, which squeaks along the lino flooring, slumping down to stare at his uncle, waiting. It fingers the IV tubing, tracing the piping up to the control dial and back again. Deliberately, it pinches the thin tube shut, attention jumping back to Lance, scanning for any changes.

Waiting.

The waiting is terrible. Especially, when Arthur can feel its attention, partially giddy, laser-focused onto his Uncle. Arthur’s never seen the man look so pale or sickly. Apart from the odd work-related accident, which is impossible to avoid even with strict safety standards, his Uncle has always been healthy. Even the rare times he has seen the man sick it was still ‘no big deal,’ ‘just a scratch,’ or ‘the bodies way of forcing me ta rest.’ While Arthur flip-flopped from one emotional extreme to the next, his Uncle had been a steady, seemingly indestructible, pillar of support. Arthur had never said thank you for any of that. Worse, he’d repaid all that kindness with lies and evasion. Lance should have never taken him in. He had been more trouble than it was worth in his original timeline and he’s definitely not worth it now.

“Hey. HEY!” The demon grows tired of the waiting and gives his Uncle a light slap on the cheek with its free hand, “Wake up.”

“Arthur?” The word is half muttered, barely audible. Lance is phasing into consciousness slowly.  

‘Just say asleep. Stay asleep a little longer. Someone has to come in and stop him. Please.’

“In a manner of speaking. Yeah. I’m Arthur.”

That gets his Uncle’s attention. Lance violently twitches, forcing an eye open. It locks onto him, hazy but critical. Despite being in obvious pain a hand flashes out, snapping onto to Arthur’s wrist, pulling the hand away from his face. The grip is firm abet weaker than Arthur’s expecting.

“Whoa, you might want to take it easily Uncle Lance. Wouldn’t want to pull any stitches. You were stabbed five times you know.”

“You,” His Uncle growls hatefully, eyes narrowing, “Get out of Arthur ya fuckin, slimy piece of shit, bastard.”

“That’s some strong language. And in front of your nephew. He’s watching you know,”

A loose flick and the demon frees its wrist, efficiently shoving his Uncle back down when he attempts to lunge outwards. The hash action causes Lance to grunt in obvious pain. A move towards the emergency call remote has the demon snatching it up and placing it on the small table just out of reach, tutting in disappointment.

“I’ll get ya. Mark my words…You’ll regret this,” His Uncle spits, his attempts at sitting foiled.  His face is pure revulsion and fury. That determination and fire is something Arthur’s never seen directed his way before. It’s all in vain. Nothing matters. Not anymore.

A teasing, “How? You can’t even move. Soon you’ll never move again.” The demon releases its hold on the IV and turns the control dial up to its max setting. Dismayed, Arthur watches the drug take quick effect, rapidly dulling his Uncle’s movements. Eventually, Lance just lies still and glares, even while his eyes are dropping shut.

“Don’t worry about your nephew. He’ll be safe with me. Since you care so much and all.” The glare faulters much to the demon’s renewed glee. The predatory buzz is back, coiled alongside a sensation of anticipation and pleasure.

“Arthur.” His Uncle’s voice loses its heat, softening. He’s struggling to stay conscience, drowsy, eyes shutting.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please. Stop. Please. PLEASE.’

A knife is produced after a small struggle. The hinge, which usually allowed it to flip cleanly open, is stiff, jammed with blood. The key ring makes a clinking sound, hitting the side of the metal bed frame. Tap. Tap. Tap. It echoes through the room in time with the ticking clock.

“Now. How do we go about this in a way that won’t immediately alert the plebs?”

‘NONONONO!’

“Kindy slow bleed? Good choice.”

“Nighty night,” It stands upright. The chair squeaks. Blankets and paper thin robe are pulled aside in an energetic flourish, revealing the assortment of bandages covering his Uncle’s chest and side. A second is spent in meticulous calculation. The knife is carefully positioned and thrust in. The demon waits for a beat before pushing forward against any resistance, twisting, then drawing out. Cold satisfaction. His Uncle’s fingers catch on Arthur’s retreating arm. This time, there is no strength behind the grasp, and it’s easily shrugged off.

“Not….You…r… Fa..ul…t...” The words are mumbled and slurred, swallowed up by the silent room. The clock on the wall ticks.

“Eh. Suppose we’ll look a bit suspicious if we stick around.”  

The blanket is tossed back into place, covering the reopened wound. They turn, strolling towards the door, practically skipping back down to the reception. Arthur can feel himself splitting, joy mixing in with panic and grief.

Just like his life, he’s falling to pieces. 

NOTE: re-writes, re-writes for days. But finally got a version I’m mostly happy with. I’m hoping to have the next section out within a shorter time frame so people aren't stuck on the cliff hanger but no promises.

Part 26: here

[fangoverfang]

ive pretty much been keeping personal stuff to myself recently but i did want to open up about something

tomorrow im getting my gallbladder removed bc an ultrasound revealed i have gallstones. it's a very common procedure nowadays but theres something worth mentioning in how i got them. after talking to my doctors (the surgeon and my primary care), theyre convinced it was due to my mental health.

disordered eating really isnt a joke. i dont think ive had a full blown eating disorder but with my severe depression i have experienced disordered eating. there were 2 big times in my life where i ate nothing for 2 weeks and then just slammed fast food into my mouth. this was a form of punishment for myself at the time.

i dont want to go into it too much but i was in a very long and very damaging relationship and when it got to it's worse points thats when these things occurred. i know for a fact ive had more than 2 instances in my life but those were certainly the worst.

i went a whole year suffering through these gallbladder episodes. not know what was causing them or why it was happening, and i didnt have insurance at the time so i couldnt get checked out right away. ive been through mental torment but the "attacks" are the worst pain i have ever experienced. ive spent entire nights up vomiting to no relief, i have nearly lost consciousness, ive collapsed in pain--it's miserable.

im not really sure what point i want to make but mental health and physical health go hand in hand. i know it's hard. ive been so so low. i didnt care if anything happened to me back then. but somehow i made it here. i made it to the point where im excited to be alive again but i didnt make it out unscathed. just...try to take care of yourselves. this shit sucks

[ifightmywarswithfingerguns]

People say life teaches you the hardest lessons of all and you shoudl learn from those lessons. (insert qupte herer) However, I feel that it isn't life teaching you it is you, you tech yourself these things because they're your experiences and only you can decide how you feel and how you want to live your life. Yes, these are always outside influences. Up the unlimited decisions are always made.by you and you're the one who has to live with said decisions. No one else I the world knows what you want and no one else but you knows how you feel. So why shouldn't the person who is with yo the most by the one who lobes you the most? Life is full of old but I feel the most important love one should feel is the love for themselves. How much you love yourself depends on how you perceive yourself and who you think you are. If you base your self perception on the feelings of others you'll always be unsure of who you are because you are differ t and hold different meanings for different people. Your mother sees a different person than your best friend and you teacher may know more about you than the. Other combined but only you know who you all. Who you are is. On prized of all these things, it is the whole picture not just the pieces taken by different people.

A lot of this perception takes place in our own minds because how we see ourselves is reflected in all of our actions, someone who feels poorly about themselves may nto stand as straight or walk with a certain swager as soemone else who is confident in themselves. And in today's world with the ever constant attack on your girls in the media I find it more difficult to find girls who can honestly say they lvoe themselves and take pride in how intelligent, beautiful, and witty they are. If you ask a woman if they are aware of their beauty they shy away and find 50 things ":wrong" with themselves within twenty seconds because they have a list in their heads of their flaws. It is alwyas there when we're out buying clothes or watching a movie there is a pressure to look, act, and dress adn certian way to be considered attractive. Go to the store and pick up a tabloid and i gaurentee you'll see it plastered everywhere of "how to loose weiht, makeup tips to look better, and hwo to get/please a man." We are tarught that it is our goal to confomr to what the male gaze desrires fom us adn become that no matter how unrealistic. I vividly rememebr thinking if i read all the magazines and dress like them and looked like them aht boys owuld like me and i would be completley happy with every aspect of my life. Thankfully that never happened because I am a different person nwo and how I fel about myself is how every girl/woman shold feel about herself and that is loved. Every woman should love herself for all that shee is because all the media we see isn't real and none of it will ever make you happy with yourself. The media is made that way to make you spend money trying to look like these women who are photoshopped or diet and starve themelves in order to look the wway they do. It is a vicious cycle but it is on ethat can be broken. So that little girls don't grow up and skip meals because it'll make tem prettier. So they grow up to be women who own thier bodies prudly and aren't afraid to say "yes, i am beautiful.". I love body positivity and sein women lvoe thier bodesi no matter how much hair, fat, or stretch marks they have on them. I also love seing women complimenting each other instead of competing to be the prettiest in the room to gain male attention. There is so much propoganda tearing women down that it is empowring and heatwarming to see them wake up and shun the idea that they should be anythin other than what they are. That they should o to extremes to "fit in". Quit frankyl if you don't love yourself of rall that you are you will never be happy ith how you look there will alwyas be somethin ot be fixed. As soon as oyu stop lookin on the ouside for balidatio your life will imporve and your confidence wil improve because if you build youself up with the compliments from men thier criticisms will tear you down. So you become your own bricks abd rebuild yourself and your self image to one taht you like. So you take a look inside yourself and hwo you are to amke taht person better and make thsat person one who loves themelf. 

I am so adament about htis because I was trapped in the world of pandering to the male gze and constnaly fhanign my appreacne to get them to like me which  nveer worked or bsing my self confience on how others saw me and i was miserable. I was depressed, suicidial, and quite frankly i ahted myself and my body image. I still  struggle with my body image because it has been engraved into my brain dn way of thiking of hwo i hsould look adn i have to stop myself form thinmkin gthat way. I am admaent about his becaue i wasted years of my life and destroyed my body for a peive of mind i never got. I am a recovering annorexic and although it has been four years since i "quit" it has never left me. It is an ever looming shadow on my life because it is a constant thing when you have it. I was always counting calories and doing anything not to eat to avoid gaining weight. I exercised excessivly and i remember almost passing out at every workout session i would go to because i hadn't eaten htat day. I had a system of going three days without eating and on the third day maintaing a one-thousand calorie limit. It was toture but i was losing weiht and i gauged the weight by how easily you could see my bones. I pradiesd myself everytime i could see them a little bit more. I cursed myself whenever I did eat on the third day calling myself names like fat, worthless, and weak. Not only di di curse myself i punished myself for eating so much with mroe exercise or waiting an extra day to eat. I thin that was the biggest struglle of all, eating. Every bite felt like i was getting fatter and it was as trule ot force myself to eat a single bite. Every swallow felt like it was stuck in my throat and like i should go vomit ot keep it from getting ot my stomach. it was an awful feeling in multiple asy but mainly becase i love food i love eating and tastin things but i oculdn't llow myself the one htin i lvoed. An incidnet i had where i felt the weakest were When my mother made my favorite mamwhich which i love to death but i couldn't brin myself to eat it even though th esmell was intoxicating. So i went o bed with no dinner that night to get up in the morning and get ready for shcool. I wasso desperate for it i got a spoon adn just tastd it. It was loruious they savyory and salty i even chewed it a little bit but i could not le tmyself swallow it. So i we tot eh sink and spat it out and even went as far as to wsh ti task out my mouth because i couldn't even swallow that it woud be cheating. It was constant and thw rost part was i ot compliments on ym weiht loss. The compliments pushed me to continue even further because i knew it was working. I thrived off of the compliment sbecause it meant my heard work was paying off. Adn you don't get that kind ofprasie from reovery you get digusted looks like " you really let youserlf go". Or irls would be nasty in school like the usually are and i heard comment on haw faat i've gotten and horrible giggles from these gaggles of girls. Recovery is one of ht e toughtest things I ever had to go through and i had to go through it alone because no one knew about it. I coudn't let anyone know about my anorexica and peopel to this day don't know abut it because i kpeti tso well hidden. Although my eatin habits are back and i'm at a normal weigh tnow i still feel the thoughts creep up on me. i still ahe htoughts of "wow you're fat" and i have to tell myelf "yes, i have fat but i'm happy and fat is not a negative thing ot be. Fat is not a person or a noun it is an adjective to describe something and shoudn't define my entie person and how i fel abiout myself. i have fat and taht is kay and the more i accept that the happier i am with myself and the tiem i spent worryign about hwo i looked turned into learnign about why i felt that way and learnig more about myself and the wordl aroudn em. In the years since my recovery I have become mroe eduacted and acepting and aware of the world around me and I feel better for it. I feel mroe empathethic adn it gives me hope fora brihter future where i can be even better than the prson taht i am nw. I always want to learnadn grow ad I hope to ive that experince to someon eelse via my time in college and far after. I want ot encourage women to love themselves and every part of them becaue they desreve to. Because no one should have to go through what i went thorugh and because these girls are worth much mre than thier measurments. They are doctors htey are mothers they are terachers and daughters firefighers senators and presidnets. Women are amazing and capable creatures who deserve to feel some self love  and that is not soomething life will teach you. that is something you ahve to teaf. to love yousrelf deeply and with no bounds. The love the should feel for thiemselves should equal the ones they read about in reomance novels  unconditional.  It took some a long time to get where I am in loving self and who I am and I even falter sometimes when I overheard mean comments and I start to think badly of myself. I have to physically and mentally stop myself and dispute whatever it is that was said about me because I can't let myself jnternalize it. If I internalize it Nd take their opinion a truth I begin to be,I e it and become self deprecating. And now that I am in a better place i still see. Y peers whose still I the negative space that I was in and I even hear my mother and sister picking at their bodies and h Ow they wish they were different or skinnier. And I want to explain how it is a via thing to search for and to try to be. Skinny and healthy do no correlate nor does skinny and happy. It is a long process to love yourself. It is a daily regime of stopping negTive behaviors and correcting them. Small comments like oh I'm so fat or I couldnstandtk lose weight wear your self sped teem. It's about stopping yourself from those thoughts and placing them with I'm amazing and wonderful. Another thing is a denoting compliments 9/10 women will deny any compliments as if they aren't true but accepting them is accepting yourself and agreeing that ueah I am cute or adorable or whatever it is. I never wit any girls to go through the struggle that I went through especially. Yniece. These little things these Mir agrees ions add up over time and really affect how you see yourself and it starts at a young age. Children can be cruel especially she it comes to weight and Eve. Adults are cruel. I remember as a child it was a joke in the family how fat I was but it really stuck with me as I grew up that this I show people see me and bow people see me matters. And I've learned that it doesn't that it is how I see myself and how I h