#so like is it my anxiety? something else entirely??

[kathlare]

slim pickins

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: In a late-night haze, Amelie confronts the emptiness of her fleeting connections and her own unresolved emotions. Through music, she channels her heartache, exposing her longing for something genuine.

Wordcount: 1.2 k

Warnings: angst, mention of anxiety, use of alcohol.

full masterlist // request over here!

September 18th, 2023 - New York City, NY

Amelie stood by the door, her fingers gently brushing Jack’s shoulder as he pulled his jacket on, preparing to leave. His eyes were still heavy with the afterglow of their latest encounter, but the expression on his face was entirely indifferent—exactly the way they both liked it.

—Goodnight,— Amelie said softly, leaning in to give him a quick, perfunctory kiss on the lips. He kissed her back lazily, as though he didn’t even care that they’d just slept together. He had already mentally checked out.

—Yeah, good night,— Jack muttered, giving her a once-over, but his eyes weren’t really seeing her. He turned on his heel, stepping out of her apartment without another word.

Amelie didn’t feel anything as she watched him walk away. No regret. No longing. No bitterness. Just a heavy emptiness that had become too familiar. She closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment, her eyes closed.

She needed something else. Something that didn’t make her feel like she was existing in a void. But everything she wanted seemed out of reach, like a dream fading in the morning light.

The soft click of the door locking broke her trance. She glanced down at the mess scattered around the floor—clothes strewn about like they had no purpose, like they weren’t even hers. She bent down, collecting the remnants of the night: a discarded heel here, a wrinkled shirt there. The room was a mirror to her mind—chaotic, fleeting, and empty.

Once she was dressed, Amelie sat down at the piano, her fingers tapping against the ivory keys. She didn’t even think about it; the melody came naturally, rising from the quiet ache inside her chest. The need to write. To scream her frustration into the only medium that ever made sense.

She closed her eyes, letting her fingers find the keys, the notes growing more urgent as her thoughts took shape. The words tumbled out before she could stop them, raw and desperate, slipping from her lips as the piano supported her.

—"Guess I'll end this life alone,"— she hummed under her breath, her fingers gliding over the keys in a gentle rhythm. The melancholy of the music seemed to match the weight on her heart, the feeling that no matter what she did, she'd always end up right back where she started. Alone. Empty.

—"I am not dramatic, these are just the thoughts that pass right through me,"— she sang softly, her voice low and almost breathless, catching on the sadness that lingered in every note. The song was forming itself, pouring out of her like an untold story, one she'd been too afraid to admit to herself for a long time.

Amelie’s fingers danced across the piano keys, a slow, deliberate pace matching the heaviness in her chest. The melody had taken on a life of its own, tugging at the rawness she could never quite bury, no matter how much she tried to keep it hidden beneath the distractions. She couldn’t escape the feeling—the ache, the longing—for something real, something that wasn’t tainted by shallow encounters or fleeting moments of distraction.

Her mind kept drifting back to Lando. She couldn’t help it. It was like a magnetic pull, drawing her thoughts back to him even though she’d tried so hard to push him out of her life. But no matter how many men like Jack she kissed or how many times she distracted herself with someone who didn’t matter, the truth was inescapable: she couldn’t have him.

—"A boy who's jacked and kind, can't find his ass to save my life,"— she sang softly, the words flowing naturally. The line made her snicker under her breath, the bitterness mingling with her grief. The men she met, like Jack, were just placeholders, people to pass the time when what she truly wanted was out of reach. And Lando… well, Lando was still out of reach. Always out of reach.

Her fingers faltered on the keys for a moment, a flash of something too painful sweeping through her. She blinked away the sting in her eyes and continued, pushing herself forward,

but she couldn't finish the line. Not yet. The weight of it all—the unspoken words, the unresolved feelings—had gathered too quickly, drowning her in a wave of emotion she wasn’t ready to confront. Her throat tightened, and her fingers came to an abrupt halt on the keys.

Amelie took a deep breath, pushing the chair back from the piano, feeling the sting of her own inadequacy. She wasn’t ready. The song was too raw, too honest. And she wasn’t sure she could expose that part of herself to the world, especially not in a song that so perfectly captured the messy, tangled emotions she couldn’t make sense of.

Her eyes flickered over to the window, the lights of New York shimmering against the dark night sky. There was something beautiful about the city in moments like this. She felt small here—insignificant even—but in the best way possible. It was like everything she wanted to forget was swallowed by the vastness of it all.

But the pain didn’t go away. It never did.

She grabbed her phone, checking the time. 2:43 a.m. Another night wasted, another evening spent in someone else’s arms to drown out the memories of Lando. She tried to push the thought away, but it lingered, like a shadow she couldn’t outrun.

Amelie tossed her phone aside, frustrated by the constant loop of her thoughts. She stood, pacing around the apartment, feeling the tension knotting her shoulders. It had been months since she’d seen Lando. And not just seen him, but spoken to him.

He was gone. He had moved on, and yet, she couldn’t seem to let go.

—Fucking idiot,— she muttered under her breath, sitting down on the couch. Her head lolled back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. What was it that made him so hard to forget?

The truth was simple, and it hurt like hell: she loved him. And that was why it hurt. That’s why she kept falling back into this cycle of numbing herself with other distractions—other people like Jack, who were easy, uncomplicated, and most of all, fleeting. None of it was real. Not like what she had wanted with Lando.

She stood and walked to the window, pulling back the blinds. The city was alive with the hum of late-night traffic, the occasional honk of a car horn carrying in the distance. But there was no sense of peace in the view, not for her.

She rubbed her temples and walked back to the piano. It was time to finish the song. She didn’t have much left in her, but she knew the ending was there—just a few more lines to get out.

She sat down and placed her fingers on the keys once more, letting the sorrow in her heart guide her hands. The words started to pour out again, but this time, they were heavier. More honest.

—"Jesus, what's a girl to do?"— she sang softly, her voice trembling with the weight of it all.

The line caught in her throat, and she paused. It had been too much, too damn much. She wasn’t just singing about the lack of good men or the endless cycle of disappointment. She was singing about herself. About how tired she was of playing these games. Of pretending she didn’t care.

She pressed her lips together and tried again.

—"This boy doesn't even know the difference between there, their, and they are."— The line was sharp, biting. But it was true. She wasn’t talking about Jack anymore. She was talking about all of them. All the men who didn’t understand, who couldn’t see her for what she was. All the ones who couldn’t measure up to the one she wanted.

Her fingers hovered over the keys, a sudden heaviness gripping her chest. She had spent so long pretending she didn’t care. Pretending that her feelings for Lando were something she could ignore. But the truth was—God, the truth was that Lando had always been it for her. And she couldn’t have him.

Not now. Not after everything that had happened. After he’d moved on to someone else, and after she had pushed him away when he needed her the most. She was the one who had shut him out, and now, it was too late.

—"A boy who's nice that breathes..."— her voice faltered as she reached the next line, but this time, it didn’t come out. The ache in her chest rose, unbearable, and she slammed her hand down onto the keys in frustration, the discordant sound filling the empty apartment.

Her eyes stung with the beginnings of tears. She wiped them away angrily, trying to push through the overwhelming emotions. But it wasn’t working. The song, the words, the music—it was too much. It was all too much.

Amelie stood abruptly, shaking her head as if she could physically shake off the weight of it all. Her legs carried her into the kitchen, and she opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine. She didn’t even bother with a glass, just drank straight from the bottle. The alcohol burned down her throat, but it didn’t numb the ache inside her. Nothing did.

She leaned against the counter, staring at her reflection in the window, the city lights flickering behind her.

—Why do I keep doing this to myself?— she asked aloud, her voice low. She hated the fact that she had so many questions with no answers, and the most infuriating one of all was why she couldn't stop thinking about Lando. Why she couldn’t stop wanting him.

She wasn’t going to let herself break down. Not now. Not again.

She tossed the wine bottle into the recycling bin and wiped her face, forcing herself to focus. She couldn’t keep wallowing in this. She had to keep going. There was no other option. The world didn’t stop for her sadness.

But as she walked back into the living room, the song still hanging in the air like an unfinished thought, the answer to her internal question lingered.

Because she loved him.

No matter what she did, Lando was always going to be the one she couldn’t forget. The one she couldn’t walk away from.

And that’s when she realized—there was no fixing her. Not anymore.

Not when her heart still beat for the boy who didn’t fight for her.

[astriiformes]

Surely being this sad is enough, why does it have to come with other Symptoms

[toddtakefive]

thinking about todd and his resolve toward… not quite isolation, but being alone in a room full of people again. he goes along to the study room to sit on his own and do his homework, he sits at the poets table and follows along with what’s being said while keeping quiet, he goes to the meetings at all but doesn’t necessarily contribute (in fact, if you watch him when cameron is telling the story ‘from camp in sixth grade’, you can see that he recognizes it before any of the other poets but doesn’t voice it until they all have). he’s not alone, necessarily, if you want to get technical about it, he’s just lonely, and he’s generally okay with that. he doesn’t have friends and that’s fine, he doesn’t participate in class and that’s fine, he doesn’t have a relationship with his family and that’s fine—he could live without any real connection and he’d have been, more or less, fine.

the thing about when he says “i can take care of myself just fine!” is that he isn’t really wrong, you can infer that he’s been doing it his entire life anyway, it’s that ‘taking care of yourself’ isn’t the same thing as really living or being happy. todd’s an introvert, certainly, and even as he gets closer to the group he defaults to sitting quietly in the background, but he’s also denying himself community out of fear not introversion. todd isn’t friendless because he’s an introvert, although that definitely plays a part, he’s friendless because he pushes anyone that might want his company away. if anyone has every wanted for his attention in the first place. (neil’s unwavering interest in him is unique (even when it comes to the rest of the poets, who are fine with todd coming along and joining the group, but aren’t really hellbent on him being there in the beginning) and his refusal to accept it is a direct result of being so lonely growing up.)

there’s obviously something to be said about the implications of his parents neglect, and the more than likely fact that he grew up friendless, and how those both play a part in in him being so skilled at dodging social interaction/being so avoidant of it, but by the time we see him in the movie he’s all but accepted his fate as being alone his entire life. he’s already accepted being the family disappointment, and he’s already accepted he’ll never amount to anything, and he obviously doesn’t like it, but he’d have managed living with that knowledge without the confirmation that it was all wrong. would he have been miserable? almost certainly. but he’d have managed. he’d done it for that long already, anyhow.

[whyoneartheven]

suddenly I have realized my bad habit of procrastinating has become a nearly debilitating fear

[pa-pa-plasma]

i don't think i'll ever get over how people treat kids that aren't good in school as worthless no matter what. "oh it can't be that bad" my guy idk how to tell you this but the last time i went to a normal high school the principal called me into his office to brag about how he failed me in all of my classes before the semester was even finished & i should quit while i'm ahead cuz i'm too stupid ("officially" diagnosed as such by a school counselor & a psychiatrist!!) to succeed. & this is considered normal

[brittlebutch]

it's actually so fascinating to me that Brennan has created a character that maintains a pretty relaxed and mild-mannered demeanor and has said multiple times that the absolute Core of her is "FEAR" and how often we see this Fear manifest specifically in Avoidance; it really nails a relationship to that mentality where your brain fully Stops recognizing the emotion properly out of like, sheer self-defense from the stress of having to carry it all the time

I think this is also perfectly showcased in the way we tend to see Tula swing so suddenly from 'level and steady' to 'snarling Panic' and then back again - Just because your brain has detached itself from the Conscious Recognition of the emotion doesn't mean it can Actually stop itself from experiencing it. So the Fear is always there and always acting as a stressor, but because of that inability to Identify it there's no way to recognize or address it before that final straw hits and your bodymind jumps Straight into Full Meltdown Mode; but then once again, once you drop even a Little bit below that Peak Terror your brain ceases to process the emotion; it's like the most exhausting form of Poor Object Permanence in the world

And even if Tula is aware of this happening to her, that doesn't really make it any easier to deal with / address. Even if you're able to spot the symptoms Around the emotion -- chest pain, irritation, nausea, whatever -- because the Emotion Itself is basically impossible to find, you can't really Successfully Pin Down what the problem is OR a way to cope with it. If you can't figure out That You Are Anxious, then figuring out What Is Making You Anxious is impossible, which makes Find A Way To Make Peace With That incomprehensible. That's where the Avoidance comes in: you can no longer identify what might be a Dangerous Situation, which means that Anything New has a big potential to be Really Bad in a variety of ways (ranging "I don't Feel Good" to "Fully Lashing Out bc you've entered Fight/Flight and can't get out of it" to "Actual Outside Danger This Time") and that means the Only Way you know how to be Safe is to just Avoid Doing Anything New and Only stick to Familiar Situations, because anything unfamiliar is a monster of a gamble you don't know how to prepare for or cope with

[deoidesign]

please take as much time as you need to rest and recover. burn out is so hard and takes so much to heal from. your art and your supporters will still be here when you get back :) take care <3

Thank you very much

Unfortunately, my situation doesn't really allow me to take the time I need. I've got a ~two month hiatus scheduled for my midseason, but much like my first hiatus I'll most likely be working double time during it...

It's unfortunate because I could really really use a bigger break!

Having the time and flexibility to work on other projects really fires me up and keeps me going, and being able to take a guilt free day off for family and friends is necessary to my mental health, and I've been having to turn people down lately...

This is a very kind message, and I'm sorry to vent in response! But I just feel transparency about the pressure I'm under is necessary and important. I'd love to take the time I really need, but due to deadlines and that pesky "needing money to live" I can't.

But, once the series is over I intend to take a pretty big break before I start whatever I'm doing next! I've got so many short stories and projects planned that I want so badly to get to, I can't wait to really get to truly dive in to them!

[rosesradio]

🧍

[passerinesoncaffeine]

GOD. I AM OBSESSED WITH HIM.

[leng-m]

I was really hoping I'd start to feel better by this time and be more active with art/stories, but I'm still very sick. I don't remember ever being as sick in my life as I've been the last three months. That little incident back in February turned out to be only the first domino. Unfortunately the medication I was given for it gave me side-effects that have continued until today, months after I've stopped taking the medicine. And it might continue for the forseeable future, sadly. I really really don't want to admit it, but hoping I'd get better soon had only made me more frustrated with my current state. And I think I'll be a tad better off if I just let go of expectations. I'm still around, still lurking and liking posts, but I don't have much energy to really engage in things right now.

[jacklesraised]

see the reality is i post on my rps usually when nobodys been there a bit and nobody is probably online, but the mental illness in me keeps saying its bc everyone secretly hates me and i dont deserve love, and when i tell a gov doctor that, they basically just say ‘take your antidepressant’s and shut up’ which is also funny when said gov doctor wont refill my fucking antidepressants in the first place

[petewentzssilkpress]

#

[ilkkawhat]

9.16 Turn, Turn, Turn

[dracimexidae]

Poets of the Fall - Children of the sun

[mxgyver]

.

[sweetlovingfictionals]

Fucks sake I can’t even do something as simple as drawing rn what is wrong with me.