#somewhat forced:( maybe i'm just forcing myself to feel like that because i'm tired of feeling naive and believing everything he says

[starryarles]

he said goodnight tonight but i didn't,,,,, i hate that this is affecting me this much:( do i not deserve to be happy

i'm gonna talk too much in the tagss

[xiki-pupper]

I can understand how Shuro may be a frustrating character to some folks - in fact that is kinda what he is there for, narratively speaking. But it really gives me ick when people just wanna shit on him for "being awful/the worst/an asshole"

The way I see it, the dude is his own different flavor of Autism- repressed, conditioned, awkward, and forced to participate in high society, not to mention the culture clash - and he sees laios just being his own weirdo self and he hates it --- no, thats not it. I honestly don't think he hates laios; i truly believe he hates that Laios gets to be TRUE to himself, and he (shuro) Doesn't get to be.

And it's a feeling I can understand and sympathize and empathize with, as I have been on my own personal journey to try and un-mask and deconstruct and heal myself in a world that has made me feel broken my entire life

People scream "hypocrisy" as shuro sees the same traits between the touden siblings, and is attracted to one whilst hating the other - and yes, I can agree that it's a bit hypocritical, but yall are taking it at face value and not understanding where his feelings are coming from. Shuro doesn't hate laios because he has a special interest, shuro hates that his whole life, he has had to squash himself into a form-fitting box, behave as his family commands, and now he sees laios being free of expectation, just out here being a weirdo, and shuro is possibly feeling that frustrated grief that comes with the late diagnosed autistic situation of "I could have been happy, too, but no, *I* had to be the responsible one"

... at least, that's how I view it. Coz I myself have had those thoughts. And I know, it's NOT a good look for me to be out here admitting that I have felt this way, like for example, maybe I see someone else's struggle with anxiety, whether it's online or in real life, and I have this bitter thought to myself of "yeah, I have anxiety too, but *I* was still forced to be a responsible adult anyway" which makes me momentarily frustrated.

And before anyone jumps my ass about it, NO, I definitely DO NOT think that "if I had to suffer thru it, so should everyone else" that's NOT what I'm saying. But I AM saying that, there is a bitterness, when u see someone who is able to avoid a struggle that you had to endure - that bitterness is NOT thinking that everyone should suffer as I did, but me being bitter that *I had to* at all.

Does that make sense? Coz I really feel like Shuro just gets shit on because people think he's there to interrupt the Yuri and be mean to Laois, and I really feel that he's a whole ass person. And a somewhat melancholic one, at that. He makes me think of how I had to grow up Christian whilst being queer and undiagnosed Audhd my entire life, and I would be very very surprised to hear that a large chunk of dunmeshi fans didn't ALSO grow up this way, feeling broken and stupid and tired, forced to do things the "normal people" way, and then NOT understand how Shuro feels when he sees someone who is in a position to be mostly free of that...

[redr0sewrites]

Hi Rose! I hope you're still writing for Hazbin because I have a Vox request! I enjoyed your Vox fluff/comfort hcs from a while ago and it made me need more soft!Vox if that's something you're comfortable with writing. Specifically I've been going through a pretty major depressive episode lately (not in a dangerous way, just in the sense that something happened where I feel like I've failed one too many times and it's past the point where I can just pick myself up and try something new), so maybe something with Vox comforting the reader through that? I feel like he might be able to relate given that he's such a perfectionist and clearly doesn't handle rejection well, so I can see him having practical advice and guiding me through concrete solutions, but also I just want him to hug me and let me cry on his shoulder for a long time😭 Thank you!!! I appreciate your writing so much!

🥀A/n: i've had this in my inbox for a WHILE (sorryyyy <\3) so i hope ur feeling better now nonnie!!! i totally get the feeling, and i loved writing this request <33

🥀Cw: fluff, angst w comfort, negative self views, mental health themes

🥀Character(s): Vox x reader

your breath came out in hiccuping gasps as you struggled to maintain any sense of control. you sat hunched over on your bed, shaking uncontrollably as tears stream down your face. it had been another long day, and god, you just felt like a screw up. it seemed no matter how hard you tried, every day always left you with that same feeling of emptiness, just as it had been every other day for the past few months. you were so, so tired of everything, of getting no satisfaction from things you usually enjoyed, and of having to fight just to remain somewhat sane. it was truly and utterly exhausting. you lean back against the headboard, a soft thump accompanying your heads' collision with the sturdy wood. as your tears continue.

the slam of your bedroom door causes you to pause, and you flinch from the sudden illumination of your hunched figure.

"where were you? i called you twice, what-" Vox storms in, hands waving about, only for him to pause at the sight of you. his harsh tone only makes you cry harder, pulling your knees up to your chest.

"i'm- sorry, i-i turned my phone off-" you force out your words, fighting to keep yourself from bursting into tears again, but its no use. your shoulders shake in silent sobs as you cover your face with your hands, embarrassment overcoming you.

"oh, oh its okay, its fine-" Vox struggles with his words. for all of his blustering confidence in public, when it came to genuinely comforting someone, he was clueless.

"i'll be right back, i promise!" he practically shouts, racing out of the door. in the few seconds he's gone, you can't help but spiral deeper. why couldn't you just try harder, be better than this? you're so fucking stupid, god, of course he was angry at you. you don't hear Vox when he returns, and you jump when the mattress dips and a clawed hand begins gently rubbing your back. you sniffle softly, and the only sound in the room is your heavy sobs.

"shh, i brought you some water," Vox murmurs, voice uncharacteristically low. "did someone hurt you? because i swear, if someone even laid a finger in you im going to fucking-"

"no one hurt me, Vox," you swallow hard. "m fine, really, i just- its fine."

Vox is silent for a few more moments, and even though you can't see him as your face is still buried in your hands, you can practically feel his gaze on you.

"was it.. me? did i do something?"

this startles you, and you raise your head to look at him.

"w-what? no, of course not, 'm just- i had a long day, is all. i just feel so... stuck."

you blink at his screen, tears settling on your lashes. he stares back, studying you with a concerned gaze. he doesn't offer any words of encouragement, you know that's not his strong suit anyway. instead, he gently takes both of your hands in his, handing you the glass of water and slowly guiding it to your mouth. he watches as you take a sip before placing it on your night stand, before opening his arms and motioning for you to come closer. you happily oblige, melting into his side and wrapping your arms around his waist. he leans back against the headboard and you stay like that for a while, softly crying into his shoulder as he rubs your back and holds you steady. as your sobs begin to subside, you pull away to look at him again.

"i'm just so.. tired. tired of this, tired of feeling weak and overwhelmed. fuck, i just wish..." you trail off, melting back into his embrace again. Vox is silent for a few moments, contemplating what to say.

"i think your great, y'know that?"

"what..?"

"i think your great, wonderful, and so talented. you're the best partner i could ever ask for, and im so lucky to have you. you know that, right?"

"mhm..?" you hum questioningly, unsure of his objective.

"now, i know i'm not good at this sort of thing, and i know its tough, but i want you to know that, i'm, i'm here, y'know? and if you're ever, like, having a moment like this, you don't need to hide. i'm here, and i understand." Vox waves his hands as he talks, and you reposition to lean against his chest.

"i know, and its okay. 'm lucky to have you too," you mumble, and he chuckles lowly.

"is that so? you're going to give me a complex if you keep this up, baby."

"good. 'cause your the best."

"only for you."

you giggle at that, knowing that its true, and Vox smiles. he'd do anything for that sound, for your happiness. and, as you slowly drift off to sleep, you know that you'll be okay for that exact reason. you may not feel okay now, but you will, because he'll be right there beside you, on both good and bad days.

erm. hello hazbin hotel community. im slinking back like a toxic ex rn...... ANYWAYS !!! HOPE U ENJOYED !!!! its been a hot minute since i wrote for HH in general, esp for vox, so apologies if the characterization is ehhhh. PSLPSLSPSLSPSL SEND IN REQUESTS IVE BEEN DYING RECENTLY MY INBOX IS BONE DRY IT COULD BE FOR THE 2K EVENT OR JUST SOMETHING RANDOMMM (also especially some vox, lucifer, adam, or lute requests plspslsps)

[farfromstrange]

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 16: Come Back To Me

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: You and Michael deal with the aftermath of your separation. At the end of the day though, something happens that instantly draws you back together. You can't say no when the man you love needs you, can you?

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of child death, self-hatred, hangover, gun violence, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 7.1k

A/n: And I am back! Sorry for being gone for so long. I took some time for myself and it was an amazing week. I’m exhausted, but also fulfilled. I don't regret a thing. Now I'm back though with all the time in the world to write, and of course, I had to work on another chapter for Chaos Theory! So, here you go to everyone hungry for more Michael content. (I also remixed canon a bit for this, fight me!)

Expecting to see you at work the next day was a foolish thought of him. When he steps into the café with no sleep on his account, he looks around the space just to find it void of you. 

Instead of you, Oliver is standing behind the counter with a member of staff he hasn’t met yet. 

With his hands in his pockets, he approaches the counter. Oliver smiles at him, but as soon as he sees the empty space next to him, he frowns. “Where did you leave yer better half?” he asks. 

Michael’s heart aches. He feels sick alone at the mention of you, and he gets even sicker when he thinks about you not being there. The fear that something might have happened to you nags him. Or maybe you hurt yourself. It’s something he doesn’t want to think about, but his mind tricks him into picturing the worst anyway.

Sarah told him you were in a dark place when you first got to Dublin, and now the same thing that drove you into this dark place seems to be back in your life and he’s scared you might get hurt in the process. He never wanted things to go so wrong. 

He feels as if he has already lost you. You slipped through his fingers the night before; you slipped into the endless abyss of the ocean and now you’re floating somewhere he isn’t, drowning in your despair because you just won’t talk to him. He knows what that feels like, and while he has walls of his own built up, yours seem to run deeper, and that’s what worries him.

Your words hurt. Watching you lock down like a high-security prison is something that will never leave his mind again, but no matter how hard you push him back, Michael knows you. He likes to believe he knows your soul better than you do. You’re doing this to protect yourself and maybe even him; you’re not a selfish person, you have your reasons, and that’s why he can’t be mad at you. He tried, but he understands all too well what you’re going through. 

He’s not willing to give up on you, that much he knows for certain. He wants you to be safe and okay and back in his arms. But that’s not where you want to be right now. You made it clear you needed space. He must have triggered something last night. He has his suspicions, but he doesn’t want to pretend as if he knows what’s going on. 

It’s a hard pill to swallow, even harder to stomach, but he has no choice. He would never force you to do something you don’t want to, and he has to accept that you need space. 

Still, the possibility of you being hurt and that’s why you’re not there bothers him and he can’t stop thinking what if. They are the worst kind of scenarios to think about, but they still have a constant vacancy in his mind, no matter who, what, or where. He’s always been somewhat of a pessimist. He can’t even disguise it as realism anymore; his mind is playing cruel tricks that he can’t get ahead of, and he’s getting so tired of it, he can barely breathe. 

“I don’t know,” Michael answers after snapping out of his thoughts, and he tries to sound as calm as possible when he continues, “She didn’t call ya?” 

“No,” Oliver says. “She hasn’t. She’s not that much of a talker. Are you guys okay? Did I miss somethin’?”

“No, we’re grand. Just haven’t talked much since last night, that’s all.”

He looks surprised, but he doesn’t question it. 

The truth is, you aren’t okay. Michael is pretty sure you broke up last night, and spending the night without you next to him was impossible. You weren’t there to stop the anxiety spiral because you are the reason he even feels this way now. It sucks. He doesn’t want to blame you, but part of him does. He feels guilty and angry, and he feels guilty for feeling angry. His mind consists of pure chaos.

Ava comes in around five minutes before his shift is supposed to start, and she doesn’t look pleased. Her eyebrows are furrowed and she’s running rather than walking through the door. 

She stops right in front of him and Michael almost cowers. “You better tell your girlfriend that she has to be careful what she eats next time,” she snaps. 

He frowns. “Sorry?”

“She called in sick at three in the morning and now I’m here because Sarah can only cover from two to six, so you’re stuck with me ‘til then.”

Sick? He knows you and you are the kind of person who would never call in sick except for maybe when you’re dying. You’re dependent on the money. You need to work to pay rent and make a living. You would never call in sick, not even with a broken neck. As long as you’re still breathing, you’d always show up to work, so he gets even more worried when the words leave her mouth. 

Thinking about it though, you might just be avoiding him. Not seeing him sounds like a valid motivation to call in sick after what happened. You might have died inside last night, and now you can’t come in, and he probably should have done the same because the memories tied to the café hurt him, even when you aren’t around.

And what little hope he had in reconciling with you fades away as he gets ready to spend a dreaded day in a strange workplace with the only person who truly supports him being Oliver. But he is not who Michael needs, you are. Without you there, this opportunity seems pointless, and the hours drag on as he grows wearier by the second. 

Ava compliments his coffee knowledge, and he tells her that it was you who taught him, and she’s still not happy that you called in sick, but she appreciates the effort you put in the day before. He defends you, he tells her you’re really just sick and that you will be up and at it the next day, and she leaves it at that. 

When Ava switches with Sarah, he expects her to punch him, but she seems just as confused as to why you’re not here. She approaches him and asks, “What happened?”

“She’s ill,” he lies again. “We ordered pizza last night and she woke up sick tonight. She won’t see a doctor so I told her to at least stay home today.”

He is a good liar when he needs to be. He wants to protect you the most, and if he told her the truth, Sarah would come knocking at your door soon enough and then you would hate him even more than you already do now. He can’t do that to you. 

She nods slowly, but from the looks of it, she’s not all too surprised that you might have gotten sick from pizza. “Tha girl and her stomach problems,” she says. “Ya know, the last time we went out to eat together, she ended up being sick the whole day after. Not because she was throwing up, oh no! She just felt nauseous all day for no reason. It’s like no matter what she eats, there is always somethin’ wrong.”

“Right,” Michael fakes a smile, “Stomach problems.”

Sarah sighs. “Well, I’ll text her and check on her. If she has ta call in sick, it’s gotta be serious. Better to be safe than sorry, right?” she says.

He is about to ask her if she can ask the same thing from him, too, but he drops his hand again and continues drying the mugs because if he tells her you both had a falling out, Sarah will certainly kill him. 

He took a step too far, but he apologized and he begged, and you still pushed him away. 

During a quiet moment, his phone vibrates in his back pocket. He pulls it out, eagerly hoping it’s you, but when he checks his messages, Jamie’s name is the only one that pops up. 

He takes a deep breath. His hopes are shattered, and he feels fresh tears welling up in his eyes. If only you told him the truth, Michael could help you, but you are drowning in despair and you force yourself to do it alone.

‘Dad asked if u want me to take u to the gym 2night. Said u needed to get rid of some stress. U up 4 it?’

If this is Jimmy’s way of trying to get him out a bit more or perhaps even genuine care, he can’t decide. Either way, he is unable to say no. 

He sends a thumbs-up back. His finger ghosts over the chat with you. He’s about to text you to call him or give at least any sign of life when Oliver appears behind him. 

“Michael,” he says, “I need you to grab some more milk. We’re all out.”

All thoughts about texting you dissipate and he puts his phone away, the frustration and anxiety wearing him thin, but he puts on a mask for the sake of this job, for the sake of Anna, and for the hope that you might come around eventually. With a last groan into his hands, he shakes it all off, puts on a smile, and then follows Oliver’s request to grab some milk from the basement, hoping that either he gets eaten by spiders or all of his problems will have disappeared by the time he comes back up. 

Of course, neither happens, although he notes that you weren’t all that wrong about the size of the spiders stuck to the ceiling. 

•–•–•–•–•–•–•–•–•–•–•–•–•–•–•–•–•–•

The sound of thunder breaks through the air outside, roughly waking you from your slumber. A sharp headache tears through your skull. You shoot up, the couch creaking under your sudden movement, and your vision starts to blur. The alcohol left in your system puts the water in your ear off balance.

The world around you begins to spin the second you open your eyes. Every muscle in your body aches, but it’s not the pain that bothers you; you only have to take a breath to feel the nausea settling into your stomach, and you can taste the tequila still burning through your esophagus. This time though, it is the other way around. 

You jump up. Your knees buckle, but you’re determined not to get any puke onto the carpet, so you pull it together enough to stumble into the bathroom. The toilet seat hits the wall and you bend over, the alcohol making its way back up your throat, and together with what little you ate, the contents of your stomach land in the toilet. You almost miss, but your mind is present enough to aim for the bowl.

The liquor in your stomach acid burns and you find yourself gagging even harder when the flesh of your esophagus seems to sizzle away with every wave of puke that leaves you. You can feel your pulse thudding in both of your temples. The pain gets worse, but you also don’t feel anything at all.

Inside your chest, your soul has been torn apart and shredded many times over, and it’s a continuous process that won’t stop. Your body feels the same way now, only with the difference that it’s not nearly enough to hurt as much.

You’ve always searched for an escape in agony, but this time, your soul hurts too much to be overshadowed by anything other than the voices in your head, and these little monsters are precisely the problem.

You got drunk, but you still remember everything from the night before. You remember work, you remember dinner with Michael and you remember the exact moment everything went to shit. You remember how your entire heart locked up the second he opened that drawer and held that file in his hand.

Your reaction was uncalled for. You know you should have explained or at least told him that you don’t want to talk because you weren’t mad at him. It wasn’t his fault. You were the one who chose to hide away your past and he was bound to find a sliver of the truth eventually. You should have told him. You should have taken a moment to collect yourself and then talked to him like an adult. You screwed up. The reason you pushed him away wasn’t because of his actions but because of yourself and your incompetence. You feel so incredibly guilty, heartbroken, and alone, but maybe this is exactly the way you’re supposed to be.

You promised Maya you would do anything to get your father behind bars and get her into your custody so she could have a normal life. You want her to get a chance to heal. You never got to properly heal, so you want her to get the opportunity you never got. She’s your sister, she’s family and you need to do something after failing to do so for years. 

You love Michael, but you would’ve had to push him away sooner or later because you weren’t made for relationships.

You suck at being completely open, your past exists and it will come to haunt you one day, and you can’t do that to him or yourself because one of you is going to get hurt, and then the other would never forgive themselves, and it’s just easier not to get attached any further than you already are. You need to fix your and your sister’s life and only then you can move on. You wasted too much time because you were scared; you refuse to let your fear keep you from doing the right thing any longer.

As someone who grew up a people pleaser, you were bound to reach your breaking point eventually, and now you are ready to burn bridges as necessary. 

You brush your teeth to get the taste of vomit out of your mouth. Your head is heavy and you still feel sick, but your stomach is empty now. 

Making your way back to the living room, you notice the state you left it in before you fell asleep. Legal documents, newspaper clippings, and pictures litter the floor. Some of them get stuck on your feet and you almost angrily collect them to put them back on the table. You don’t even know where to start. The notes you wrote along the way don’t make any sense at first glance, and you realize that you should have done this sober.

It’s frustrating to know that you’re getting nowhere even though you have been fighting for far too long. You don’t know what else to do, and yet you know you have to do something. It’s a primal instinct that drives you now.

So, you take the file and the pictures and you sit back down on the couch with your laptop, an iced caramel latte, and your phone right next to you, and you go over everything you read the night before all over again, including all the post-its you compiled in your drunken state.

Ava called you a few times, but you chose to ignore her. Around noon, a text from Sarah comes in, but you can’t be bothered to answer that one either. She tries to call you a few times. It’s easy to ignore your responsibility when you’re not thinking straight anyway.

Nothing matters but the file in front of you. You’re not a detective, you don’t even write mystery fiction; you go after common sense and instinct, and you l hope the crime shows you’ve watched on tv prepared you enough for this. But it’s confusing, and you’re starting to lose your mind. The memories come flooding back in and you find yourself craving another drink soon enough. 

You hate this.

Your fingers are shaky when you type in the number on the old card you found in the file from six years ago. It rings only once before an automatic voice tells you the number has been disconnected. But you’re not ready to stop there. You pull up the official website of Scotland Yard on your laptop and call the number there instead, hoping the front desk can provide you with answers and give you a number that isn’t outdated.

You hate phone calls, but you are sick and tired of doing nothing. Pretending to be confident is better than cowering from the truth. 

“You’ve reached Scotland Yard, how may I help you?” the voice on the other end answers. The woman sounds kind yet reserved, and you stutter for a moment to collect your thoughts. “Hello?” she asks. 

You snap out of it. “Hi!” you greet her, your voice slightly higher than usual. You introduce yourself, and you know it sounds stupid and desperate, but you can’t help it. “I’m looking for an Inspector called Richard Jones,” you say. “I have a number here, but it doesn’t seem to be active anymore. I was wondering if you could connect me to him?”

“Richard Jones?” the lady questions. 

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Is there a reason you want to speak to him directly?”

“I, uh, have questions on a case…”

“Current or old?”

“December 13, 2015,” you say. Your voice remains eerily calm and steady. “My– a three-year-old died in a car accident that was investigated as a wrongful death case by the police… and I remember Inspector Jones supervising that case and he said if I ever have any questions, I should call. And I know I did many times before, but I haven’t for a while now because I moved, and right now… I just need answers, so if you could patch me through or give me his contact information so I could ask him some questions personally, that would be highly appreciated. I’m not asking for details or anything, I just–”

She interrupts you in a soft voice and yet it infuriates you how careless she sounds on the other end. “I’ve got the case information right here,” she says, “And since it’s still open, you’re right, I can’t provide you with any details without clearance, but I can pass your call on to the lead investigator. It’s protocol.”

Protocol is the last thing you need. You know it’s her job and you’re just a strange voice on the phone to her, someone asking for questions on a case that hasn’t been closed in six years, and you could be just about anyone, but this is your only chance at getting information from the source and you would be damned if you let this opportunity pass by without doing anything. 

“I’m the sister,” you tell her. “Of that little girl.” Your voice cracks. “Please, I just need to talk to him. If you write my name down, he might remember me.”

“I can do that, but ultimately, it is up to him whether he wants to talk to you or not,” she says. It sounds like an automated response–you want to reach out and search her computer yourself, but you’re in another country, so you’re stuck where you are and you have to live with the way things go over there. This is life and you have to accept it, no matter how infuriating it is. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing, “I–I understand. Just tell him that it’s important and that I have a few questions for him. Nothing serious, I just… A lot has happened these past few days, a lot of which has been unpleasant and brought up some memories from six years ago, and I just need some closure. I can’t sleep, eat or breathe,” you say. “So if you could pass along my name and somehow convey that this is important so he’ll call me back, I’d appreciate that. Just please, don’t dismiss me.”

The silence on the other end stretches, and you imagine the woman typing your information into a database, your plea becoming just another entry in a long list of cases. The reality of your situation hits you, the limitations of distance and bureaucracy setting in. You're just a voice on the other end of the line, a stranger seeking answers to a case that has long been closed for others.

Her response finally comes after another second. “I will make sure to include your name and make sure to underline the urgency,” she says. “I'm truly sorry for your loss, and I hope you find the answers you need, but there is not much else I can do for you at this moment.”

“It’s…” You shake your head. “It’s okay,” you assure her. “I appreciate you doing this. Thank you, for whatever’s worth.”

She’s just doing her job. It’s not her fault you’re stuck and mad at the world, but especially mad at yourself. 

The keys of the woman’s computer clack a few more times on the other end. “Alright, I’ve passed your message along to his office and his work phone. Everything else is out of the realm of my control. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for you.”

Grief never gets easier. 

“Thank you,” you say again. 

“You’re welcome,” she answers. “You take care of yourself, Miss. Have a nice day!”

You nod weakly. “You too. Thanks.”

The line clicks and it dies, and with the silence, your heart drops even further into your stomach. 

You throw your phone across the couch, your lips parting in a silent groan before you bury your face in your hands. What little hope you had left slowly starts to die like a withering flower in your chest, and it makes you sick again. 

You spend the rest of your afternoon alternating between swallowing Ibuprofen, throwing up, drinking coffee, and sifting through new articles you can find online that don’t match with the documents you’ve gathered over the years. You went through them a billion times, and nothing has come up so far, so you decided to turn to the internet and go through what you haven’t read yet. It’s a lot and you struggle; your printer is slowly running out of ink, you can’t find a way to filter through all the information, and you’re so incredibly tired, but you can’t stop. Your eyes keep flicking to your phone, but it’s void of any calls from a number you don’t know. 

The next time your phone pings, Michael’s name pops up, and you freeze. 

‘Hey, I hope ur ok. I’ve been worried sick all day. Please, just let me know ur safe.’

You leave him on read, hoping it’s answer enough for him. You can’t confront him, and you can’t stand that he won’t hate you like he is supposed to after what you did. He’s supposed to stay away, protect his own fragile heart and move on. You can’t deal with his love right now; it’s too much and it is suffocating you.

His texts won’t stop once they started.

The sea of information and your emotions start to blur. You’re shaking. The next time you see his name pop up, you snap and you text him to just leave you alone. You’re not sure why you’re being so harsh, but you’re overwhelmed and you can’t stand it anymore. You’re tired. You need it to end. 

The next he sends you then though is worse than what he sent you before, and it sends you into a violent fit of sobs right on your kitchen floor. 

‘I know you said to leave you alone and I will, I just need to tell you how sorry I am again, even if it’s the last time I get to.

I care about you more than words can express. So maybe this sounds pathetic, but I don’t care. This whole thing is foreign to me. I'm sorry that I crossed a line and I broke your trust. I didn’t know, and maybe I should have, but despite everything, I didn't mean what I did. You have to believe me. I’m not cruel.

I'm so, so sorry for everything. I never wanted things to end this way between us. It hurts to know you might hate me for it now. But maybe you have every right to. I’m not sure anymore. All I know is that I’m sorry and I hate not being able to hold you through whatever you’re going through. 

I want you to know that my feelings for you haven't changed. I understand if you need space right now, but please remember that I'm here, always. I'm not going anywhere. I promised I'd always protect you, and I intend to keep that promise. 

I wish I could hold you, comfort you, and let you know that you're not alone. I don't want to lose you, so please don't throw this away, okay? Think about it and then come to me when you’re ready.

Please take care of yourself. Whenever you're ready to talk or if there's anything you need, I'll be here, waiting for you. I won't give up on us. You're worth fighting for. 

I love you.’

It is the last text he sends you, and it’s enough to take the broken shards of your heart and break it even further to the point it’s all blood and ashes, nothing more. 

You love him too, more than anything. You want to tell him that. You want to text back he has nothing to apologize for and that you’re sorry. You’re sorry for everything and that he deserves better, that he shouldn’t fight for you because it isn’t worth it, but your hand goes numb. Your entire body crumbles. You find yourself on the cold kitchen floor, silent tears streaming down your cheeks, and your agonizing sobs barely breach the sound barrier as they tumble from your lips. You succumb to the pain, and you allow yourself to marinate in the misery like the mess you know you are. 

You don’t deserve him, and he needs to realize you are not worth the fight. He needs to learn that lesson now. You have failed time and time again, and it’s time for him to see the bigger picture. You’re not who he thinks you are or who he thinks he loves. You’re nothing, and he deserves someone more than that, someone, who can love him unconditionally without hurting him further. You are not that person. 

You must have passed out. When your phone rings, it’s already dark out. You’re still on the kitchen floor. Your heart races when you hear the familiar tune of your ringtone and you jump up. 

Your hope crumbles though when you check your screen. Your eyes squint. It’s Michael. Out of all people, he had to be the one to call.

You consider pressing the red button and sending him to hell, but it keeps on ringing and you begin to worry something might be wrong. He wouldn’t cross that line if it weren’t completely necessary; he has always respected your boundaries before. 

So, you pick up the phone. 

“I told you to leave me alone,” you answer. You don’t sound rude, but there is a sense of reservation in your voice he knows all too well. 

Silence follows your words. And that’s when you realize picking up was the right thing to do. You knew something wasn’t right or he wouldn’t have called, and the silence you’re met with tells you that this isn’t just a drunk booty call or a desperate attempt to get you back. Something is off.

Your eyebrows furrow and you move to your kitchen window. “Michael?” you ask softly. “You there?”

You can hear him exhale on the other end. It’s shaky. He doesn’t sound good and he hasn’t even spoken yet. 

“Is everything alright?” Your heart is beating faster now.

He exhales again, but this time, he speaks. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice a hushed whisper through the phone line. 

You watch the cars pass by your street through the window. “Sorry? For what?” you ask him. 

“Somethin’–” He breaks off with a shuddering breath. You can hear him sniffle as he wipes his nose. “Uh, somethin’ happened,” he says.

You haven’t known each other for long, but you’ve seen and heard him vulnerable before. He cried in your arms. He confided in you. But even through all of that, he has never sounded as broken as he does now, and it alarms you. 

Your voice softens, “What happened?”

“There was a shootin’...”

His voice reminds you of a wild roller coaster and his words are equally as messy. When he mentions the shooting though, your ears pipe up. 

“You were shot at?” you ask. 

He nods, the sound of his skin brushing against the phone signaling the gesture to you. Your heart drops. 

“I, uh…” Michael sniffles again. “I know it’s… I shouldn’t have called, but–” He’s trying hard to get his words together. 

You anxiously bite your nail. You don’t know where he is or if he’s okay, you just know he’s alive and he can talk, and while that reassures you that he must be safe now, he was shot at, and it freaks you out. You knew the risks that came with his last name, but you never thought you would have to hear the words come out of his mouth. 

What if he had died?

His broken sigh causes your breath to get stuck in your throat. “I need ya,” he whispers. “I… I didn’t know who else to call.”

You move the phone away from your face enough to curse, “Fuck!” Then, you place it back against your ear. “Are you okay?” you ask him again. “Did you get shot?”

He shakes his head. Your name passes his lips. “No, I’m… I’m alright. You’re just… Yer all I have.”

A silent tear makes its way down your cheeks. Just a few hours earlier, you were sobbing on your kitchen floor because of him, but the second he calls, you answer. It’s messed up. But you’re all he has, the first person he thought about calling, and you know if you had been in his position, you would have done the same. You found each other because you were both lonely, and you are dragged toward each other like moths to a flame. 

You wipe your cheek, finding your words again. “Tell me where you are,” you say. 

“Garda Station,” he answers. He sounds relieved, but his voice is thick with unshed tears. He’s trying to keep it together because he’s surrounded by strangers and he doesn’t want to break, but you know him and it sounds as if he’s this close to breaking apart. 

The desperate urge to hold him takes over. Nothing else matters but him. He’s in pain and how can you stand idly by and watch while he burns to the ground? You can’t. You’re not a monster. He needs you. 

Michael adds during your moment of silence, “They took me in ‘cause I’m a witness, not–not a suspect. I didn’t–”

He must really take you for a monster if he thinks that’s what you think of him. You shake your head. “I know,” you cut him off. “I know you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry…”

You’re wearing sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt, but you’re not about to walk a fashion show. You find a coat to wear somewhere in the hallway. “Okay, stay where you are,” you say as you slip into your sneakers. “I’m on my way.”

“Thank you,” is all he manages to say. 

“Don’t thank me. You don’t… You have nothing to thank me or apologize for. It’s alright. Just… don’t move. I’ll be there in ten.”

Just as you’re about to hang up, he calls your name. You stop in the doorway.

His voice sounds breathy through the line. “I love ya,” he says. 

You shiver. Your emotions threaten to overflow, but the response is only natural when you say, “Yeah, I love you too.”

The world goes silent and you simply pull away and hang up. That was all you could give him. It’s the truth, but the truth seems tainted. You don’t know if it’s worth anything now. 

The facts speak for themselves; you were willing to drop everything for him and you did. If you didn’t see any point in your relationship anymore, you wouldn’t have picked up when you figured something was wrong, and now that he needs you, you can’t abandon him. He told you he loved you and you only said the truth back. You’re not sure what good it does now, but your mind is elsewhere. You can only hope he’s alright. 

It must be a bad dream and you’re still asleep, but when you step outside and the sky opens up to unleash its tears on you, the universe’s pain mixes with yours and you realize you’re painfully awake. 

You can break up all you want, it seems as if there is not a chance in the world you would be able to stay away from each other. You tried to run, but you didn’t get far, so you made your way back to where you belonged. It sounds so easy, but the situation is complex in itself, and only time will tell how things might end. 

When you pull up to the Garda Station downtown, the rain has calmed down a little, but it’s still pouring outside. You can make out Michael’s silhouette through the runny windshield. You turn off the lights. Your body acts before your mind can come up with a plan. 

You get out, slam the door shut, and sprint toward him. 

The rain soaks through your clothes. You can barely feel it. When Michael sees you, his eyes widen almost as if he can’t believe you’re there. You stop in front of him, your hair stuck to your face while he’s still completely dry under the roof that covers the station’s entrance. 

Your eyes meet. His brown meets with the sad color of your irises. He looks no better than you. On any other occasion, you would have used it as an argument to make you feel better, but not tonight. His hair is a mess, his eyes have sunken into his skull and he looks ghastly pale. It’s no wonder that he’d be shaken up after being shot at, but it’s even worse than you expected. And then your eyes fall on the red stains that start on his cheeks and travel to his neck. Even his hands are stained a faint crimson. 

Michael tried to scrub the blood off his skin, but he had no bleach to dissolve the copper and the blood. He can’t feel it. His skin tingles, but the distance between what he can see and what he feels is grave enough to form an abyss. 

You reach out. Your hands brush his cheeks. His eyes flutter shut. “Are you okay?” you ask. “Did you get hurt? What–” Your fingers trace his features, checking him for any obvious injuries, but he appears to be physically unharmed. “Jesus,” you shake your head when you feel the residue of blood on his skin, and your stomach twists. “Who’s blood is this?”

He can’t read you. He can’t even read himself. “Jamie,” Michael says. “Jimmy’s boy…”

Your eyes soften. If Jamie was Jimmy’s son, that would make him his nephew. “What happened?”

“I… I don’t…”

“I don’t need all the details, just a short version so I can understand.”

“Jamie asked me t’drive to the gym with him ‘cause his dad thought it’d be good fer me to let off some steam, and I said yes ‘cause I was angry and I–” he begins, but he quickly turns into a rambling mess. 

You shush him softly. “Slow down, baby. Take a deep breath,” you say. 

He inhales and exhales at your command.

“Good boy. Now, tell me what happened.”

His voice cracks. It reminds you of a needle breaking the silence as it falls to the floor in an empty room. “Jamie’s… he was seventeen, so he couldn’t drive on his own…I said yes ‘cause I needed a break. We talked about boxin’ on the drive there…”

You try to pick up as much of the information as he’s willing to give you.

“Eric had a flat tire. Jamie thought it was a prank and I realized too late tha… I couldn’t see ‘em, but someone drove by and they shot at us. They got Eric, too, but… Jamie’s dead. He’s gone. He didn’t… he was just a boy. Fuck!” He drops his head in his hands.

“Michael–“

“He was innocent,” Michael breathes your name and it sounds like a call for help all over again. “I was s’posed to protect him and he died ‘cause I realized too late tha the tires were fuckin’ slashed!”

The tears start welling up in his eyes, and you follow suit. The thoughts in your mind sound like gibberish–you can’t remember a single thing you could say to make him feel better. There’s a wall blocking your brain from functioning properly, and you feel the lump from your throat traveling to your chest, clogging every last life-sustaining artery. 

Reality settles in and hits him like a freight train all over again. “It’s my fault,” he whispers, and he repeats the same three words over and over again. 

You move your hands from his face to his shoulders. He’s shaking. In your head, you saw him as this invincible machine of a man, especially considering his history, but he’s just as human as you and the next person. He was just trying to forget and now he’s even worse off than before. 

“Hey,” you say, “No, don’t even…It wasn’t your fault! You did all you could. Jamie died at the hands of someone who had no shame in pulling a gun on you. That doesn’t make it your fault.”

“No, I–” 

“No, don’t even go there, okay? Don’t.”

You pull him into your arms without hesitation. Michael has been waiting for this ever since you got out of your car, and he loses himself in your touch completely. He doesn’t cry, not yet, but he shudders, and he melts into the hug like a hot candle. 

“Shh, I’m here,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of raindrops and pounding hearts. “You’re not alone. I’ve got you.” 

He buries his face in your neck, and something resembling a choked sob escapes his lips. 

“It wasn’t your fault, baby. I promise.” 

You try not to cry, but it’s hard. You’re scared and frustrated and oh-so-worried about the man in your arms. The tears pricking in the corner of your eyes are silent, and you look up at the sky to stop them. To no avail. 

As the rain continues to fall, you gently pull away. The rain hides the fact that you’ve been crying, which you’re thankful for. This isn’t about you, this is about him. 

He looks lost, almost disoriented, and something inside of him starts to slip. He’s fading, you can tell. It’s normal after witnessing something traumatic, you know, but you can’t help but feel the nagging curiosity bubble up in your chest that there might be something more than he is telling you. But who are you to judge? You have no right to even think about it after what you did. You’re a hypocrite.

Your voice is soft as you ask, “Do you want me to take you home?”

It’s the least you can do for him after he called you. He has no one else, he told you. Or he doesn't want to face his family after what happened, and after what you could find out about them, you can’t blame him for wanting to distance himself. He’s grieving too. 

Michael nods silently. 

“Okay, c’mon.” With a gentle touch, you guide him toward your car.

During the drive, you steal glances at him. His eyes are focused on the streets that pass you by. He's somewhere else. You reach out to hold his hand; he holds on tighter in return. 

You finally arrive at his house. He prepares to step out of the car, lost in his thoughts when he suddenly looks at you with a hint of confusion. “What’re you doin’?” he asks.

You undo your seatbelt and meet his gaze. “Staying,” you say. 

The realization dawns on him. “Why?” he asks.

“Because you need me.”

He looks between you and his house, then stares at his hands. 

“Am I wrong?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer. His eyes grow guiltier and he begins to fidget with his fingers. It’s a silent way of telling you that you’re not wrong, he just doesn’t want to admit it to you. 

You get out, the rain soaking through your clothes once again. Each raindrop reminds you that the events that now lie in the past are very much real and that they severely affect your future. But you’re here now, and you can’t leave. 

Michael takes a moment to collect himself before following you. Your car locks. Right in front of his front door, you stop. He stares at you, his eyebrows furrowed, and you don’t blame him for being weary.

He needs you, so you chose to stay, but that won’t make what happened between you go away. For tonight though, maybe you can put it aside and focus on him. He’s the one who needs support now, and you’re fully focused on that rather than the past. Shit will hit the fan soon enough.

You reach out to touch his hand. He takes it without hesitation. As the rain continues to come down on you, your eyes lock and a mutual understanding passes between you. It’s a silent agreement you come to terms with. 

Michael opens his mouth, but only a breath comes out. 

“It’s okay,” you murmur.

Closing his mouth again, he sighs and nods. Words are too exhausting to form in his current state, but his body language speaks loud enough for you to understand what he so desperately craves. 

For tonight, you would stay with him. But just for tonight. After that, you would go back to how things ended before, and then… Well, you’re both not sure what will happen then, but at least for tonight, he won’t be alone.

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be tagged, too!) @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @acharliecoxedfan @glowstick-lesbian @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella @schneeflocky

[patricide1885]

I'm starting to suspect that my guilt/shame might be fake/forced emotions.

So I have a big guilt and shame complex, right? And for a long time I had a vague sense that I felt those emotions because I'm "supposed to" feel those emotions and God or the secret entity behind the universe demands that of me, and it felt like if I didn't to some extent I wouldn't be metaphysically safe because I'd be a "bad" person/there is some other unknown reason I'm not smart enough to be aware of consciously. Or like I needed to feel bad in order to be forgiven. But it wasn't a fully formed thought and it felt overpoweringly irrational.

Today I snuck out of work early and usually I'd feel very guilty about that, and I did somewhat. But I'm also sleep deprived so I'm kind of tired, and wallowing in guilt, shame, and self hatred take mental energy to do. I still felt the impulse to feel guilty, but I was less inclined to give into it due to the sleepiness and the more recent unconscious realization that I don't actually have to ruminate and I can focus on the enternal world to shut down my default mode network through the activating of the central executive/dorsal attention network and that is becoming my go-to response.

It hit me that I do feel like I'm supposed to be guilty/feel shame. The reason being, that if I don't force myself to, I simply won't feel guilt or shame to begin with (or I can't trust myself to) due to my ADHD and the fact that I'll get distracted/I don't actually care in the first place.

You know those little ADHD kids where, say, they don't want to go to school, they have to go anyway, they unrelatedly have some kind of outburst that gets them suspended. That maybe wasn't intentional, but now, through their bad behavior, they only got what they wanted. So despite everyone wanting them to think their behavior was bad, they feel no guilt, in fact they are going to shamelessly do it again because it got them what they wanted and they don't value what people want them to value.

I started forcing myself to feel self hatred, shame, and guilt because I was terrified of being that kid. I knew it would lead to people not liking me and god not liking me, and that I'd go to hell. So even when I gave into my base impulses I would feel guilty and bad to remind myself that those things are bad and to seek forgiveness. Because I might just fall into not paying attention to the consequences, because in truth, the real life short/medium term consequences just didn't matter to me. And I'd be revealed to be an inherently bad person.

I could also harm others, because although I have empathy, if I didn't force myself to feel bad I would totally forget about it/the importance of the harm others are caused would be very transient/it wouldn't practically speaking matter the moment that person's lived experience was out of my mind.

And in general, I just couldn't trust myself to act like a human without these masochistic guard rails.

[dumbfinntales]

I'm finally done with Stellar Blade. It says I played it for about 25 hours, but honestly felt much longer. There's a lot of side content in this game. But it was a pretty fun experience and a great test for my reflexes. Maybe a bit too great. I dunno if my reflexes are getting worse, but damn this game was difficult. More below, with some spoilers!

Stellar Blade is a somewhat linear action game with slight RPG mechanics. The game is obviously inspired by Nier Automata and you can see it from the themes, the sexy protagonist and the music style. Honestly even though it was aping Nier I still enjoyed the music a lot. Especially in the first area and in the Plaza, something about the music felt atmospheric and otherworldly. I say the game is somewhat linear, because there are small open world segments where you can explore freely for cosmetics, sidequests and loot.

The combat was definitely the best part of the game. It combines a fast paced action game and something like a dark souls game to create an interesting hybrid. The game relies a lot on the parry, but the dodge as well. You can also unlock a lot of cool combat abilities and some of the later challenges really got me to use everything in my arsenal. The parry timing though was brutal. Even with an upgrade and an item that improves parry timing I still miss the parry, and what's annoying is that if you mess up one parry you get stunlocked with rest of the combo and that never felt nice.

The parrying honestly felt a lot more difficult than even Lies of P. There were a ton of moments when I felt like I should have reacted in time, but it wasn't enough. My jaw would drop on the floor and I'd utter out: "What do you mean that reaction wasn't fast enough?!" honestly I might just be getting old. I'm nearly 30 now after all.

The side content was nice, but I wasn't a big fan of it. By the Great Desert I was getting tired of the boring side quests and uninteresting locations. Some side quests were fun enough, like the one with Enya or the girl over at sisters junk. But most of it was like go see me friend, oh no friend is dead, fight monsters, report back death. Or go to a location and find an object. It doesn't help that the two open world areas look so similar. Wasteland and the Great Desert are pretty much the same. The Desert is just a big boring area that I got sick of real quick. The more linear story related areas were much better. I liked the Levoire areas where you're forced to use your gun only for combat, a fun change of pace.

But if there's one thing this game absolutely excels at it is the boss fights. They feel hectic, visceral and so good. Plus they're pretty difficult. Especially towards the end there are so many super difficult fights back to back. The final boss that I got in my story was so tough that it'd two to three shot me, and once more that parry timing was tough. Raven also nearly made me lose my sanity, her ridiculous combo chains would fuck you up if you'd miss even one parry. But the bosses feel and look great and offer a great challenge. Seriously the monster designs in this game are rad!

As for the story it was interesting, but I figured out the big "twist" right away. It was so damn obvious from the get go, but it was fun to watch play out. It was made obvious that you weren't a biological human, but some kind of a robot hybrid from the start, so I knew the Naytibas were the real humans. They kinda reveal that early on in the story and all the main characters just go "NUH UH! We can't know if this is real anyway haha, lets kill humanity :-) ". The only thing that caught me by surprise was Orcal being an alpha Naytiba who mended their ways. Interesting that some Naytiba can become more human and not become beasts.

So overall it was a damn tough, but fun experience. These developers are extremely talented. I don't see myself playing this game again any time soon, but maybe one day. Honestly I kinda wish this game didn't have as much "fluff" side content and was more of a linear action game. Or at least some areas that aren't just desert. We know earth is fucked, but the first linear level is set in an abandoned city so we know not everything is desolate.

[mimikusu]

AHH! I love this list and could happily (and greedily!) ask the lot of them, but I'll try to keep things under control at least a little. 2, 6 and 11 for both Simon and Niko, and 16 for yourself, please, would be fab, all that? 💕💕

Thank you!! It's my pleasure!! Sorry in advance for rambling, because this is for sure what I'm about to do now... 🥲

2) What do they look like when they don't feel well? Do they dress up to cover up? Do they tend to look sick when they are?

Simon: He's so obsessed with how he's perceived. You bet you will not notice even the slightest difference. Maybe, in case he's looking suspiciously well dressed, acting more irritable than usual, you might be able to tell. Since he's prone to chronically overwork himself, a tired face is nothing unusual. Only few people are actually able to tell when he's sick. Rather by his actions than by his look though.

Nikolai: This is no suprise, but he's an open book. Him dressing in more than just one layer, usually involving turtle necks, scarf and sometimes even joggpants is a telltale sign. As is his nose, which he keeps rubbing force- and unapologetically.

6) Are they shy? Are they outgoing? Do they make friends easily?

Simon: Although 'shy' gives a somewhat wrong impression, he's certainly very introvert. People do not respond that well to him and he decided not to care. He would never open himself up to anyone he does not know, which keeps conversations very flat and boring. For that reason, he's not the type of person to make friends easily. Rather the opposite. Giving away the impression that he does neither care nor want to interact with people, other than on a professional level, he's not the center of the party, so to speak.

Nikolai: You might have guessed, is the initiative type of guy. He's always looking for reassurance from people and therefore seeking for their attention. He can come off as shallow sometimes. Still, people enjoy having him around for easy chat. Niko's the kind of person that really florishes in crowds and he'll always find people to hang out with. It's difficult for him to make lasting bonds, though.

11) Do they have a favorite place to be? Is it rather in the city or in nature? Does that change when they are unwell?

Simon: He would say that he doesn't - that any place is as good as the other. But that's in fact not true. There's no certain place he likes to return to, but he very much enjoys being in the countryside, since it stirs a certain kind of longing for easy- and calmness that he's unable to find in the city. Especially since his daily life and work can be overwhelming at times. Much more so, when he's sick. People annoy him and the fact that he has to cover up and pretend he's okay is draining. When he's not well, he really longs for his appartment, though: a place where he know every spot on the wall and where he doesn't have to expect any surprises other than his neighboor being noisy.

Nikolai: He's very easy to please and it's rather whom he's with than where. However, he really enjoys being in the Bar where he plays the Piano. It's being out in public and able to do something he really loves. He would even go to play when he's under the weather, only to avoid being alone. When he's really sick, though, he very much longs for his parents' home. He misses his mother's hearty soup and being pampered. Also, there's a certain smell and look to the place, the noise of a clock in the living room and his father turning a page of the book he's reading from time to time, that's really makes him feel safe and comforted.

16) Do you have a comfort OC? And if so why? What do you like best about them? Do you relate to them in ways?

Since I don't have too many OCs (Those two basically, the three 19th century students aside, I almost forgot myself), I can positively say that both of them are my comfort OCs. They both have qualities I really like. And especially because they both represent parts of myself that I can not get to terms with, so to speak. I feel much closer to Simon's awfull mediocreness and the horrible urge to be something more than just 'normal'. Still, I really relate to Niko's inability to focus on things longer than a few moments. The urge to shift talk with every word spoken - further away from the question asked (see? I'm doing it again...)

What I love about Simon is the stoic grumpiness with which he decided not to care for how he comes off to people socially. Not that he doesn't care what people think, just not if they like him or not. And I really do love Nikolai for being so careless and his ability to be easily fascinated by the smallest and most stupid little things.

Thank you so much for asking! I really love them both and it always makes me happy if they're loved by other's as well!

[dustvoid]

01.10.24

new month. feeling like I've somewhat got a routine going. feeling better about myself physically and mentally from trying to improve my diet and fitness. noticing slight changes! definitely takes time but there is more I could be doing. but at least im trying. went to a girls house on the weekend and just felt uncomfortable. felt as though I could have just not been there. it is hard being in a big group and not wanting to just insert yourself into conversations. that just isn't me. the one girl I knew didn't even speak to me so I figured there was just no point hanging around and left. I'll never be someone who is boisterous and loud with strangers. I wish I was but I also don't think there's a problem with that. I think it is relatively normal to be a bit guarded. I wouldn't say im shy because I'll always make the effort with anyone who speaks to me. I'm just reserved. I don't like feeling like I need to try really hard because that makes me extremely uncomfortable. I felt partly bad about leaving and upset, but realised that maybe they just aren't my people and that's okay.

I don't know why I still can't seem to get a second date with anyone. I saw this post from a guy that I went out with a few time over a month ago and I cannot tell if it is about me or not. something about once again being love bombed for a couple weeks and then being tossed away, which is odd because we went out at least 5-6 weeks ago, and I do not remember love bombing him. It could have been about someone else, and I kind of hope that it is. I don't want to think that everything is about me, but it also is strange to post that when I could see it. I have never been one to chase unless I really like someone, but even then it needs to be a two way street. I'm not going to go out of my way and force a connection with anyone, platonically or romantically. it is just an awkward feeling and it isn't worth my time or energy. so maybe I'm not getting any dates because im not chasing, but it isn't like they are doing the same to me? so I assume they are just not interested and move on, which is the same as what happened with this guy. I feel bad if that is how he sees it and im not going to invalidate his feelings, but I definitely didn't love bomb him and if he felt like I was tossing him aside he could've said something. it was silent on his end too. I'm officially tired of the apps and dating though. I feel too exhausted. I haven't even been checking up with Pat because he is seriously shocking at replying to the point where I probably won't bother at all next time he messages. he strikes up a conversation with me and just never responds. at this point he is actively ignoring my messages and it fucking sucks. I don't even know why he bothers either. so it's 4 months in and im feeling somewhat settled but also not really at all. I just wish I had more of a circle and winter is really going to suck without one. until next time.

-H.

[phantaemon]

rodea LORE RAMBLE LET'S GOOOO

gonna spoil the end of the game, obviously. Also this is gonna be long, I apologize!

yesterday night, I laid in bed, and thought to myself "Wow, the wii ending is much more interesting than the wiiu/3ds one"

Because I loved how for once in that type of game you just. Don't save the princess. Rodea fails to save Cecilia, although, he kept his promise: that was the main goal, right? She even has a grave and all.

To me, the wiiu/3ds' addition that, Rodea eventually rescued her and that she took the throne, and that (according to the wiki, didn't play the wiiu version so I didn't see the text) Rodea believes Ion and Cecilia are related and all... Felt extremely random and forced. Yet another reason to dislike the wiiu/3ds version right?

But then I asked myself. Why is this line here? How does it fit into the story?

I thought that the Wii ending made sense, and that the other version was messy, but in fact, they are perfectly fitting as separate, alternate stories.

In the Wii version: Cecilia dies of the fall > Gets a grave in Garuda > Naga empire is gone and Ion is either a reincarnation of Cecilia or just looks a lot like her. I'm leaning towards reincarnation, as unlikely as it seems, due to her really liking machines, and the idea is funny. Ion finds Rodea again and fixes him up.

Theory on how she did that: venturing into what is left of Naga, remembering where he was when she was forced to go back to her time. She also happens to have good memory and went on a trip to find the other R-Units before that. This would also explain how she found Valghis because he too shut down in Naga (Past)

In the Wii U/3DS version it's more complicated. We're entering theory territory, though feel free to correct me as again I do not have access to the exact dialogues.

It would mean that, after fainting during the cutscene, Rodea woke up off screen and found Cecilia somewhere (He either went back in time a little to actually save her from the fall this time, or she somehow survived said fall, don't ask me how). Cecilia claims the throne of Naga and Rodea goes god knows where, probably making sure he ends up at the same place he was in the chapter 25 cutscene before shutting down so that Ion knows where to find him??? That or Cecilia actually prompts him to use the key of time again to go back to Garuda 1000 years later but he's so tired/broken he shuts down on arrival, and there Ion will find him, with the others already repaired because she again remembered where they shut down. In that case she wouldn't have found Rodea immediately while looking for Valghis as Rodea had already left. (must have felt terrible if that's indeed what happened, imagine finding everyone BUT your friend even though you got out of your way to visit an extinct empire and somehow remember how to navigate there.)

The only issue I have with Rodea using the key of time here is that he clearly stated he had to stay 1000 years in the past to close the time portal. THOUGh I guess this can be somewhat countered by saying that since Valghis had made him open the portal in the present, he had to close it in the past, and vice versa- so if he opens it in the past, he can close it in the present. But, again, speculation.

Finally, to explain how Ion is related to Cecilia, and this is once again my brain going full theory mode.

Cecilia now leads Naga: it is safe to assume she will use her power for the good of everyone, and maybe try to save the people she has left. What if Cecilia found a way to peacefully migrate the empire to Garuda? Since the people of Naga have a safe place to go now, Cecilia's lineage can be secured in Garuda. Plus, she had managed to flee to Garuda before, so it is possible to travel there. Sure, that counters the fact that "Naga is extinct" but I'd say the empire is no more, though the people survive. They may as well have just fully been accepted as apart of Garuda now. Now idk if Cecilia's grave in Garuda is made before or after the events of the game, but she's well respected either way. If Cecilia's grave existed before Rodea was found by ion for the first time, it basically confirms the inhabitants of Garuda at the time got to know her, and Ion being her descendant becomes more likely.

I think all of the gaps have been filled here: the wiiu/3ds version goes like this:

Rodea fails to save Cecilia at first > Chapter 25 moment > Rodea finds a way to save Cecilia either way > Naga migrates to Garuda > Ion finds every R-Unit and repairs them. Cecilia is long gone since, but has a lineage and probably died of old age instead of a fall > Ion is her descendant

And it's actually a very sweet ending, a "true good" ending if I might say, because in the end even the surviving inhabitants of naga got a good ending. (that is unless Cecilia was the sole survivor, but why claim a throne if there is no one to command?)

So we got an ending for slight angst (Wii) and an ending to make everyone happy (Wiiu/3DS)

And as long as you don't mix and match their elements too much, they both make sense with the little we know. That's pretty smart if you ask me.

Again feel free to correct me if you happen to know any better than me, though if you happen to completely break my theories I'd appreciate if you could fix them up afterwards haha

[veebs-hates-video-games]

Ok well. I finally went back to FF13-2 after not touching it for a couple years, and I regret it. I was about halfway through when I took a break to do something else for some reason, and after finishing (most of) the rest this past week I can say it was a terrible use of my time.

It's a shame because for the first half I kept saying it was better in most ways than the original FF13, which I overall liked more than I disliked but had some major issues with the pacing of in particular. By the end though I was getting really tired of it and didn't care enough about what was going on.

I might have less negative feelings if the final area of it weren't by far the worst and least fun part of the game and if the final boss didn't have like 17 phases. I am so tired of the combat system after like 65 hours of it in the original game and another 30+ in this one, and I think they somehow made it less fun in this one despite not changing much. If I'm going to spend most of my time sitting there let the game win fights on its own at least give me more control over the setup of it like 12 did. Everything feels like it takes forever and is way too slow when it's something I can win without much input on my end (99% of fights, like most non-boss trash), but then when it actually does require me to do stuff and it's a close fight (half of boss fights, maybe less) it feels like it goes too fast to react to some things consistently with how fiddly menuing is.

In the original the main interesting decision making was in how you set your party up, and then the fights kind of took care of themselves. In this the interesting parts of the decision making are kind of lacking because the crystarium is just straight up worse, and the way stat gains are explained is...well, they aren't, so I hope you looked it up online before making some bad choices. And then your pokemon are just straight up worse than having a third proper party member, which is unfortunate.

I was enjoying the story progression and structure of the narrative for a while. Not the best thing ever (I have Issues with FF writing and always have), but it was interesting enough to keep me going for a while. The closer I got to the end the less it was doing it for me though. Like the way the time travel is set up and the story is pieced together through that is basically what if Radiant Historia but worse, and some of the character motivations are like what if Xenoblade but worse, and then on top of that it has all the baggage of being a sequel to FF13, which was also kind of a mess itself. As usual for FF games it had a ton of interesting ideas and potential for things they could've done with them, which they then proceeded to squander 60% of like FF always seems to.

I wish I cared enough about the characters to have more to say about them, but I don't really. They're fine, I guess? Weird to have Hope playing such a big role when he was probably the party member I was least interested in in the first game, and I don't love what they did with Snow. It's kind of funny in a sad way that all of the party members of the first game show up or get mentioned somewhat regularly, except Sazh, who mostly just gets the occasional "oh right and Sazh was there too" (with a handful of minor exceptions). That fits perfectly with how the first game mistreated him too though. The big confrontation between him and Vanille is still one of my favorite character moments in a FF game, but from then on he was mostly neglected or used for comic relief, which is a shame.

Also at this point I could be happy never seeing another moogle or hearing one say kupo ever again. I was never nearly as into them as some people, and by now they've just gotten annoying to me. Squenix, you can do better cute mascot characters. Rabites are great, so why do you keep subjecting me to this instead?

Anyway, one of these days I'll learn my lesson and just not force myself to play Final Fantasy games anymore, because I feel like every time I play another one I like the entire series even less, even the ones I mostly liked. FF7R will probably be the decider for me when it goes on sale cheap enough and I finally get around to it. If it's not one of the best games I've ever played I need to set a "no Final Fantasy" policy going forward because they just aren't sparking joy. Things I do for fun shouldn't be making me this grumpy.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention that I got so tired of the final boss fight that I gave up and uninstalled it halfway through the final phase. My party setup was able to keep it in an infinite stalemate but probably couldn't actually win without a few tweaks, and I had zero interest in redoing any of that fight at all by then when it had already dragged on for so long. And I don't even care about the story enough anymore to watch the final cutscenes online or anything.

[all-of-your-mercy]

i wonder if i feel so inept bc of like. idk. exhaustion? not feeling fulfilled or doing anything fulfilling? feels like the world ended in 2022, and i died in early 2023. even now it feels like im kind of a phantom of what i was supposed to be im not exactly dreading this feeling but its more like. feeling a little lost and just uncertain. 20s are the period where that feeling is normal, but at the same time ... im at a point where im (somewhat) content with doing nothing at the moment because im not sure if there's anything i want to do specifically. do i wan to even want to interact with these people, do i even want to do these errands... etc. could be some type of existentialist pondering but also idk. I feel like i kind of worn myself out because i spent half of 2023 on survivor's mode / just disconnected with myself (dissociated) that now everything feels a little funny. time passage, my current situation, etc... i know mentally i'm still also thinking of ways to brute force myself out of this "funny" feeling. but at the same time i have moments where im really tired and i wonder how previously i had so much energy. but then again... "previous me" had different matters to worry about and they didn't pile up so much overtime. and me, current me is dealing with everything leftover from said past -- so a lot probably adds into one and just. feels funny like that. currently im playing some low poly horror game called the shopping list. debating on sleeping early because of this said exhaustion. winter is around so it probably feels like ... a lot weighs me down as a result, maybe? not sure. tomorrow's friday and i'm getting my t shot at least. i'll have to work tomorrow again and catch up with some stuff maybe again from work but also... hrm.

i think i'll just sleep a little earlier today, anticipate the tomorrow's massage session and just enjoy that. i haven't had a proper massage before (aside from an experimental one) so putting away that constant tension from my back might be really good for me. it's known that trauma ... stressors pile up in the body. and i'm a chronic jaw clencher/back stiffer (funny way to word it) when it comes to that. so hopefully vicky will manage to shed out a lot of that tension and i can kinda feel better from it.

[torifuckingspring]

Thanksgiving is coming tomorrow!

Do you celebrate it? Sometimes gratitude or giving thanks to things may come off as a big and somewhat unpleasant word. It may feel as if you are forced to acknowledge something that you already love, and that kills all the joy in this type of self-care, isn’t it?

That’s why instead of asking myself “what am I most grateful for?” I instead say “what makes me the most happy?” it’s definitely okay to not come up with things that makes you happy at first, it happens to me too! But maybe you can start with something easy…like cats?

So, would you want to make a list (even one thing is enough) of stuff that makes you happy? And you can even explain why if you want to!

—Self-care anon

well i don't celebrate thanksgiving and i don't get the point of that holiday cuz we don't even have it in my country but ah

cats yeah

i'm way too tired to think about stuff that make me happy because idk if there are any but i just watched bottoms and it was really good so ah

good pieces of media i'd say

thank you self care anon

[minnasankyuu]

Everyone, thank you!

Welcome everyone!

I'm making this blog in an attempt to discuss a lot of things I thought I'd actually be creating and making to share with the world. My ultimate dream of creation, if you will. I'd be making videos on YouTube or already have my art posted honestly if I had the energy to do so.

Which is why I'm here. I haven't had the energy to really create in the medium I'm used to. At a time in my life where I should feel the most energized, I'm not working a soul sucking job, and I'm at the most peace I've ever been... my health is what's turned on me. So, I have to discuss that first unfortunately before I dive into what I want to be a wonderful world of creativity and better discussion.

The TL;DR: I'm not sure what it is, but it's been debilitating. I'm worried it may be something serious.

The long story: Sometime back in September 2022, I felt rib pain at work. A few days later, I'm still not sure what happened but it felt either a heart attack, panic attack, or stroke. I could see fine, limbs were still working, I could talk, I just felt like I really needed to throw up with a general sense of I need help. Urgent care said I should go to emergency. Emergency showed I was normal.

I lived. But my body felt really weak and fatigued over the next few days. I felt constant shocks and tingling sensations in my right face, right arm, right ribs, pelvis, and left leg. I could see out of each eye just fine, but at certain times, I could feel it kinda' going in and out. You know, like that feeling you get when you're just not really focused on any particular thing or you're spacing out? That feeling. I went to urgent care to see if they could do something, then I went to a doctor for blood tests... all normal. So, I didn't think much of it. I was still able to go and work, but it was a chore. I had drank so much water and my body still felt drained. I couldn't even eat. I had dropped like 5 pounds not by choice, but because eating felt like I had to force it. I was light-headed and just in pain.

Then, one day, trying to do a push up, I felt so frustrated at how tired my body was that I started to cry on the floor. It felt like I messed up something bad. But then, I grabbed a Gatorade out of the fridge and felt like I had energy again that I hadn't felt in days. I could eat normal. I thought maybe I was overhydrating to compensate for what happened.

Still feel the weird nerve pain for a few months, I went to the ER before I finally started my new job. I had to know if I messed something up. How bad was it. And... my tests came back normal. I was worried about gallstones, liver, kidney, kidney stones... and nothing. CT scan came back normal. It was a relief. So, I thought maybe it's just something that happened that day that would just get better over time.

As I adjusted to not constantly being on my feet and forcing myself to push through on my foot I had broken years ago, the nerve pain started to... get better/change. I also noticed that as I started sitting more, the nerve pain moved. Almost as if I was pinching something or maybe a disc slipped. It would make sense, my gait worsened over the years and I have gotten to a point where my right shoulder is slumped bad and forward (even before the incident). My right hip sits very high in comparison to my left. When I plant both feet on the ground, my left sits comfortably where at times, my right foot is either tight or my heel is raised.

One day, I realized that where I slept on my bed wasn't great: I actually had my right side somewhat off the edge and close to the wall. Tired of all the pain, I adjusted my body started focusing on my posture. I slept in the middle of my bed. And boy... what an experience that was. My rib cage felt like it inflated and swole up and for the next few days just a wave of pain moved from there, to my shoulder, to my face and felt like it was going to take over my brain. It was very creepy and frightening. I had tension headaches and weird nerve shocks crawling in my lip and neck. But, my doctor told me once I told him I adjusted how I slept maybe this was all just musculoskeletal.

Well, that might be right, I'm not sure. Suddenly however, I remember feeling really chipper and good about work. I went to go plop down in my seat and as I did, it felt like a bolt or shock ran down my left arm. Suddenly, my work felt clumsy. I was typing things that used to feel automatic incorrectly. And all I could think about was my left arm now getting this pain.

I went to ER that day and talked about the pain I had been feeling because I was in fear of this being something serious. The triage guy was in a mood that day and was really rude to the lady before me who had broken her ankle and to me when I explained the pain. I spent 6 hours waiting (most likely because the triage guy classified my pain low) and all I got was an anxiety/panic attack diagnosis. They saw my previous CT and based it off that. I asked if they could at least examine my spine and got a no. So, I went home, out $300, disappointed.

I stopped by CVS and got one of those electrolyte mixer things, chugged one before I went to sleep, and just passed out. I actually slept nearly on my stomach, I was that frustrated. And suddenly, four hours later even without food, I felt like nothing in my body was wrong and I could run a whole marathon. It was surreal. So, I bought packs of them thinking maybe there's just an electrolyte imbalance. But... that would wear off. What I found was that actually, sometimes depending on how I slept, my body would react differently.

So, things were well enough that I fought through it. Then, May... things got weird. I started feeling more queasy at work. Sleeping posture stopped mattering. I started therapy (which I wanted to do to talk about my life issues anyway, but this ended up being a bigger thing that my doctor sent me to because of his anxiety conclusion). But the therapy person scared me off so hard from going there ever again (I think she had the idea that my depression was from a mental thing, not that I'm in literal physical pain and it's been affecting me). She suggested Desvenlafaxine to start (she did explain the side effects, which scared me even more) and then said the worst thing she could have: the possibility of going to ketamine. Fuck no.

I never found more will power in my life, but I still felt ill. I just powered through a lot of it. Until we went to a fun little golf thing where you just tee off and hit a ball as far as you could. It was a lot of fun. Except, I realized something: my peripheral vision in my right eye was weird. Like, I could see the field just find but I was really looking hard to the right to look at anything that way. Not only that, but after all the swinging, I felt super queasy. We all sat down to eat (and let me say it now, I could throw down. You could put a 1/2 pound burger in front of me and I'll still probably eat even more after) and I grabbed a small, small plate of food and I started to eat and thought I couldn't fit anymore. Thankfully we were all talking so I used that as an excuse to not really eat as much. But it took me 30+ minutes to get through it.

I called out of work and told them I was going to the doctor the next day because I felt like hell when I came home from it. Just felt like a bunch of gastrointestinal stuff just made me feel like crap and my nerves were acting up again. I begged for a neurologist during my visit (which hopefully I can see next month) and I also scheduled a visit with an ophthalmologist about the vision.

Welp, go figure that out of all the doctors I've seen, the ophthalmologist was somehow the most helpful and caring. They did initial testing and he heard out the incident in September. He looked puzzled at first, but I know what that look is because I do it sometimes: he's trying to understand why something is off. He did some testing based on what I said and finally, he found something and I didn't feel insane. All the Simmons that I brought up concerned him unlike the other doctors who just said I'm normal. I have convergence insufficiency, which made a lot of sense with how I felt my vision felt like fine yet off. But he noticed how off it was and genuinely asked did I have any difficulties learning growing up. I laughed and told him it was such a non-issue I nearly got skipped from first grade to fourth grade. He said I should be seeing a neurologist ASAP and how I hadn't been to one yet. I had to explain my PCP never referred me and instead suggested therapy for the nerve pain because he thought it was depression/anxiety.

Which leaves me here now where my sleep has been very off. It's difficult to rest, I feel like I can hear everything in my body, and I'm kind of waiting to see doctors who can diagnose what's wrong. My fear is it's serious and man, I don't want to never get out thoughts and creations I've thought about out without actually sharing them. Even if writing is the only way I can do so.

So, that's why we're here. I know this is a rough introduction for what I promise will be way more constructive and fun, but it's the reason why I'm here. Enjoy my musings and writings. It's what I have the energy for. And I hope someday I can actually create some of these and make them reality. And also that some thoughts I have are provoking and help open up a better world.

Thank you for reading!

[crazy-random-bookworm-17]

I wanted to talk to somebody. I don't have a therapist.

(I am a mutual of yours but I hope you understand that I don't want you to know who I am. I already feel ashamed enough. I really don't want anybody's pity. Just someone to talk to honestly and from my heart.)

We're in a place that's very religious. My family is super religious but me, not so much. See, the religion itself and what it represents simply doesn't resonate with me.

I'm going away to college very soon (in a month). My father wanted to sow that religious seed in me. He doesn't realise that the more he tries the more I'm gonna get tired of it and hate it.

When you try to force something on a person which they don't necessarily like, it's gonna make them dislike it more.

And see, its very very hot (40 degrees) and my skin doens't do well in the sun. I don't burn in the sun, but I've got eczema and sweat is not good for it and UV rays? Very very bad. I feel itchy all over and it so goddamn hard for me to even sit in one place.

In this condition they make me walk 3-4 miles a day to visit temples that I'm so not interested in and oh my god the photos.

It's a 7 day trip and I feel like dying. To make things worse, my father criticizes everything I wear saying it just doesn't make sense. Example: today I wore a wrap dress that ties around the waist. He looked me from head to toe and said that the tie should be lower and that the way its tied it makes me look not good.

I said that it's the way the dress comes and the tie stays in place. I can't lower it. I may have gotten annoyed and talked harshly but you can blame that on my sour mood this whole week.

He said that whoever designed the dress didn't know what they were doing and ended the convo. And I ofc, felt very insecure and kept pulling on my dress that I'd thought looked so good on me. I know that he doesn't know shit about fashion but still. It really really bothers me.

All this aside, I'm having somewhat of a crisis. The people here are so very pretty and wear simple clothing and I feel overdressed and like everybody is staring at me like I'm some abomination. I feel ugly. The sun's ruining my hair and God to make all this even worse, I forgot my sunscreen at home and idk what's gonna happen to my sensitive skin. I hate my face. Why does my hair get frizzy like that. I've got dark circles because of little to no sleep (we're travelling at night, spend the day at the particular place and then travel again, next place and so on.)

I feel worthy of nothing. I hate the looks my mother gives me literally drenched in pity. Yes I feel very bad and I'm not happy but pity makes it all worse.

I've never been that insecure about the way I look except for the occasional bad days where you hate everything that is you for no reason. No reason at all. You just. Hate yourself. Idk how to explain it.

I am short and people think my mother starves me. I can pass as a 12 year old when in reality I'm 17. Why am I the way I am. Why was I born in this family where body shaming is an everyday thing. My brother constantly calls me a mouse and maybe he means it affectionately but it still.. affects me yk. My mother forcing food until I feel like I'm gonna puke. She asks me to do skipping so I can grow an inch. See, me doing it on my own for my own health is different. But other people (yes even my own mother) making me do it is just.. not good yk.

Honestly, I understand part of what you're going through, especially the last paragraph, but sort of inversed. I'm sort of chubby, so I also understand that sort of thing, with my brother calling me nicknames (I don't know if they're affectionate or not) my parents (mostly my mom) making contsant comments and trying to make me exercise... I sort of appreciate it cause I can't motivate myself very well, but I also understand what you mean by it just not being good or effective. I really understand all of that; we're in opposite ends, sure, but we're in the same boat.

As for the rest, such as the religious aspect, I can't really relate to, but I'm going to try to give you some sort of advice and confort you anyways, even if you don't need it (bear with me though). I understand the part of you wanting to dislike something even more when someone tries to force you to like it.

I would suggest having a serious converstion with both your parents about...everything. But I feel like you can suggest that yourself; there's probably something that's preventing you from doing it (the fact that they're your parents, the fact that you already tried, etc).

For the frizzyness of the hair, if no one's restricting you, I would suggest a sort of binding hairstyle? A bun, or if that's too heavy for your head, a braid. If your parents forbid it, maybe try saying that your hair will look better this way, that it accentuates curls, and that you'll take it out when you get there?

Try maybe to wear very thin (heat) but skin-covering (excema) clothing. Buy a new sunscreen asap! Maybe some sort of cream for the excema? I can't quite suggest anything because I don't use those sort of products, but I think you should.

About the feeling ugly part, at times we just can't help it. We have a shit day, and we feel like crap in every and all aspects; we can't help this. But, it's so, so important to (at least try to) not compare yourself to others. There was this one video I saw that I feel would sort of accentuate what I'm trying to say, but I can't find it. The idea was that one girl was eating chips and felt like she should be more healthy and fit like another girl she saw. Cut to that other girl and her thoughts, and she felt weak from the diet she was on, and just wanted to regain her energy like a very loud and energetic person she saw across the street. Cut to this person, who is chiding themself for being so loud, and wanted to be calm and reserved like one of their friends. And this cycle continued. The idea is that maybe you feel inferior to them, while they may be feeling the same thing about you. Try your best to think of that. This is gonna be really cheesy but I also speak a quote to you (I don't know who wrote it, and I'm paraphrasing): "A bottle of water is 50 cents in the grocery store, $1.50 in a vending machine, $4 at the gym, and $9.50 on an airplane. The next time you feel as if you're worthless, maybe you're in the wrong place." The same thing can apply here. Maybe you're just not in the right place. I bet you're in a supermarket. Hopefully college will be the airplane.

And I totally understand that you might not want me to know who you are, no pressure! I hope you feel better. Look at the bright side: at least college is coming soon (ish) so this won't go on forever. Try your best to pay attention to the nicer things in life as well, even though I understand this is really difficult for you. Just don't lose sight of them.

I apologize if that's not what you wanted to hear. To be honest I'm pretty shit at comforting people, but I tried realy hard. I really don't mean to insult you to offend you in any way, if that's how it comes across. A lot of my advice is probably useless and you've probably thoughts of it anyway. If any of that is true, I hope at least the thought counts. If you want to say something else my ask box is always open (and feel free to drop criticism about my response or ask me to say something specifically).

I hope the trip isn't too bad. I wish you the best of luck, confidence, the Vibes, and everything else. Manifesting that it isn't too terrible and that it's over soon. Whoever you are, I love you <33 and I'm sending you support.

If you want to boost your mood I'm gonna drop a meme, probably a terrible one haha. If not, just scroll past really fast. I tried to cut it off but the "expand" feature disabled my cut. Sorry about that.

[mahpaiam]

march 28, 2023

I feel like I am the problem.

It's spring break. I finished my linear algebra midterm. Yesterday, I attended a Beabadoobe concert. i met this guy there who was pre-med at UC Davis. He likes the same music I do, specifically also Pheobe Bridgers. He looks like a dream. But it's just another silly crush, he's going back to his school anyway and has a ton of pretty girl friends. I can't compete.

I've been thinking about that lately, I really cannot compete with all of these pretty girls. This is bad to say but I get envious when somewhat cute guys outwardly hit on my friends, like Emily and Kelly. They're so much prettier than me and I know guys don't like me the same way. I'm just not like that.

I also think my friends hate me. No one has reached out to me to hangout which I'm not upset over, just usually when we have breaks we hangout. I just didn't contact them myself because I wanted to see if they liked me outside of being forced to hang out context. Tri didn't even reply to my text when I asked him for advice.

Maybe I'm just sensitive but I get so sad when friends don't reply to texts. I know it's too much to ask for constant replies but when it's almost every time I text, it makes me feel bad.

Today has been hard. I slept immediately when I got home from work and was so tired I didn't manage to get out of bed til 9. I felt so physically tired. I always feel so tired all the time. I think I'm becoming sad again. I know I should be more optimistic. I'm scared God won't be happy with me if I'm not. But this level of misconstrued religious beliefs is crazy. God loves me, I know that. But I put so much immense pressure on myself to keep my thoughts in align and don't let myself feel anything. It's crazy and not at all what I should be doing.

This sadness is getting worse and I don't know how to fix it. I try not to feel sad and do what I like. But i never have time anymore for anyone or anything. Not even things that I like. I just feel like I'm not smart. But I know I shouldn't fear because God loves me.

I wish it was summer. Then I could read books and lie in bed and watch movies and do things I like. I'm so scared about all this. I feel so overworked and tired sometimes. Mornings are hard and I'm late to almost everything. I can barely get myself out of bed and a mere second glance or snide comment from someone sends me into extreme anxiety.

I really want a partner. I feel so alone sometimes and I just want someone who loves and appreciates me. I know I should work on myself first because it's not really a partner that I want, just someone who loves and appreciates me. And is cool. There's been a lot of times this week where I've sat down and been thinking about my past love experiences and feel even worse.

He really abused me. He really did. I can't even type out his name out of pure embarassment and horror. He was truly evil. The "nice guy" who just abused and broke me. After much rumination, I can't hid from the truth anymore. He really really tore me down. He took everything from me and ruined all my boundaries. He told me all the time how no one else could love me or handle me, that he was practically my savior. I feel so gross and disgusted with myself for running into his arms. I traded my home life for another horror. And now I'm scared in the most unrecognisable way possible and I'll never be the same. He took all I had and crushed it up. I feel like a bone that's never been healed, just still worked on. Everytime now when I see an unhappy girl in a relationship who's lost herself, I empathise. I feel so bad for her.

And I feel so alone. I've asked God for the past few years for a partner to help with this but I just feel alone sometimes. I know it means I'm not ready but I just feel like this wound hasn't stopped leaking blood. The past few years have just been a journey on seas. The occasional calm waters admist a storm but never solid group. Islands pass me by as I read for them but the waves just pull me farther and farther away. It's a bit cruel.

But I know it's for the better.

I'm trying hard to keep my head up. I'm trusting in God's hand

Tomorrow is my CSUF Raise interview. From what I've heard, if you've got the interview, you're already in. This is just for mentor match up. That's good and I feel a lot better that I've got summer plans secured. I've been thanking God for it. I know with His hand I will also get the Berkeley internship.

Anyway, I'm gonna try and sleep. Here are some good things in my life: Cassidy, Emily, meeting people, miffy bunnies, the office, and my room. See you next time

[timeoverload]

It really hurts when someone says they care about you but then they aren't there when you need them the most. I just wanted to talk alone or get some sort of explanation but I'm afraid that's never going to happen. I feel like I'm getting lead on and dismissed but maybe I'm being delusional again and getting lost in my head too much. I want people to be genuine with me because I'm tired of getting lied to. Maybe I'm weak for wanting a hug or some support sometimes, especially right now. There are some things I can't do on my own at this point in time and I just wanted love and help and feel ignored. I'm not trying to be needy. I know I can't force anyone to do anything and that's not my intention. I guess I go looking for help in the wrong places and I feel stupid for continuing to try to do so. I feel like my problems seem trivial to a lot of people and it's very discouraging. I just get told I need to keep being tough. How long do I need to struggle alone before I'm "ready"? I've just been working so hard and I feel like it's never enough and everyone always tells me how shit my self-esteem is. It sucks being told that I seem incapable of believing in myself enough to achieve my goals but I've done everything pretty much on my own for most of my life and I'm still somewhat successful despite the circumstances I'm in. I know I'm in control of my own life. I feel like I've accomplished a lot so to hear that is disappointing because I know I'm not a total failure. I'm so frustrated with how everything is going and I'm channeling that frustration in the wrong ways and projecting. I feel like I've been throwing a tantrum and crying for the last week straight because I didn't get what I wanted and I'm trying to calm down. I've been acting like a child. I need to learn to manage my anger better. I realize that I shouldn't be rude and disrespectful just because someone upsets me. I should stop taking everything so personally. Sometimes I do mean things when I'm trying to get someone's attention and I shouldn't do that either because I know it never has a good outcome. I wish I wasn't so bad at communicating my feelings in a normal way but I've been working on it.

I'm also getting tired of posting personal shit on the internet so I wish that person would just talk to me instead of having to send cryptic messages back and forth all the time because they often get misconstrued. I guess no one is forcing me to post shit but I keep getting urges to and I want a real conversation. I know you're reading this I'm sorry I was such a bitch to you, you didn't deserve that, and I still think your art is beautiful despite the way I acted last week. I feel really bad about the whole situation and never want it to happen again. I'm very happy with my new ink and proud to show it off. I definitely feel like I owe you a lot. I just was really hoping to actually spend time with you and get some answers and I'm sad and craving affection from you. I just didn't know how to show it appropriately and I'm ashamed of myself. That was very immature and selfish of me and I wasn't trying to be malicious. I understand why you would want to avoid me for a while after that. I know you are always busy and probably don't have time for my bullshit. I guess I don't really deserve kindness right now anyway and I feel like I need to earn that. Just know that I still love you and you are very special to me. I hope that you will forgive me and that you aren't still angry with me when I see you again.

I haven't been on here as much lately because I'm still in a lot of pain and I don't want to burden the world with my complaints anymore after this because it doesn't do any good and it won't make chronic issues go away. I don't want to bring people down with negativity. I'm still doing my best to cope with things in every way I possibly can on my own. I did finally find out what is wrong with my back today. I have lumbar spondylosis, spinal stenosis, bulging and protruding discs, mild facet joint hypertrophy, degenerative changes/ osteoarthritis of the spine, and an annular tear. I'm relieved to finally have a diagnosis but not sure what the next course of action is yet. I know I will figure things out like I always do but sometimes I wish there was someone there to at least hold my hand.

I really need to take some time away from tumblr because I need to focus on taking care of myself and try to get through this. I'm striving to be a better person. 2022 has been an emotional rollercoaster and one of the worst years of my life but I suppose I have learned a lot. I truly hope things improve next year.