#sure it's fine losing weight because of illness and depression is fucking wonderful

[thatblondeperson]

TimSteph, taking care of chronic injuries!

Hey look, another ask that got buried! Sorry friend!!!! 

This is all preboot, RR/Batgirl era.

Ok so Tim is super extra imo when it comes to treating any kind of sickness, injury, ANYTHING. He’s the type of guy who will go to CVS and buy out the entire “cold + flu” aisle as soon a Steph gets a runny nose. He absolutely drowns her in cough drops and tissues. I can see him being extremely attentive as well. Like bringing blankets and pillows around the clock, happy to carry her from point A to point B, almost insisting to do so on occasion, and just sitting with her for as long as she desires/needs company. He absolutely pays no mind to germs. Steph can cuddle all she wants.

Steph is similar but less extra. She’s got some more classic home remedies that Tim doesn’t have. She absolutely would baby the hell out of him if he got sick though, and probably more often than not she has to put her foot down on him trying to patrol even if he’s completely out of it and burning up. Tim has a hard time relaxing, but eventually the time is used for him to catch up on sleep. Tim getting sick is like a mini-hibernation. I can see Alfred stepping in occasionally if they were both sick because Tim’s an absolute mess, and Steph can only do so much before she gets wiped out. They’re hopeless and completely out of service if they’re both ill at the same time. Error 404: Dorks not found. 

Chronic injuries are a constant process. Steph obviously has a ton just from Black Mask alone. I’m sure she gets aches and pains on the regular due to the severity of the torture she experience. Power drills would leave some lasting abdominal pain for sure. Hell, I wonder if it makes cramps worse for her? It could in all honestly. She may need serious pain meds during that time of the month which are of course always kept on hand. On top of that, the physical trauma definitely left endless mental trauma. No question about it. Not to mention that time she got lightly shot in the head. I say lightly because I forgot this was a thing because they don’t really address it again. I imagine that would cause occasional headaches/migraines, and I’m sure Tim likes to run a scan every now and again to make sure there isn’t any lasting damage. And of course, we return to the medicine cabinet for more pain pills. (Thank you @incoherentbabblings for reminding me of the gunshot.)

I headcanon that both of them get nightmares on almost the regular. They’ve both got it set that if one of them is in the middle of a bad nightmare, the other just holds them close, doing whatever they can to soothe them until the calmness sets back in. The nightmares get more spaced out some time after they move in together because I think the constant safeness of having someone beside them every night would eventually help them both sleep through the night better. It is hard to get back to sleep though. Both of them have been put through the ringer, they’ve both seen death of loved ones up close and personal, and I imagine a lot of what they’ve experienced is still very vivid and intense for them.

Tim’s got his own fair share of recurring pain. The boy doesn’t have a spleen and tbh I don’t know how he’s not getting sick more frequently. But extra precautions need to be taken to keep him from getting infections when he gets any kid of open wound, thank GOD Steph is a nurse. Tim has to be kept pretty healthy though if at all possible, which brings us back to my previous headcanon about him not caring about germs when Steph is sick? Yeah, not his smartest move, but Tim’s an idiot and forgets that he’s fragile. 

Both of them have regular joint issues. They’ve dislocated enough things for just about everything to make awful clicking sounds now and again. Steph doesn’t have as much regular muscle pain, she’s far more flexible than Tim is so she stays pretty loose and limber, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have to work at it every day. Steph does yoga as a part of her routine. She gets Tim to join sometimes but he’s not very good at keeping up with it. He’s flexible too but not to her level, and he locks up easier if he’s had an especially tough night. They both try to put the time in to exercise when they can, spotting each other, keeping a routine going, because given how much they both get beaten and battered on the daily, if they don’t keep up with muscle pain, it���ll just get worse. On bad days when the pain makes any mobility difficult, massages ensue. They’ve got at least 15 ice packs in the freezer at all times, and a stack of heating pads in the medicine cabinet. And if all else fails, a nice hot bubble bath never hurts. With Epsom salts and everything. Steph likes to add a touch of lavender oil.

Immediate injuries they’re both very good at treating. Steph obviously has more technical knowhow, and she is the most medically trained of all the Batfam members, but Tim is detail oriented and good at focusing when he needs to so he can keep up just fine. They’re both good at stitches and general wound treatment, but Steph is better at consistent treatment. Tim will absolutely forget to switch out his bandages or clean things because his brain is soup and he cannot be bothered to think about injuries when he’s too busy with 50 other things on the constant. He needs to slow down. We get right back into “more prone to infections” again. Alas. Idiot. 

They both have their fair share of mental health issues, though Tim’s tend to be more intense. Steph has her ways of managing her own mental state but Tim gets stuck often. He falls into some pretty deep depression spells, and his anxiety acts up fairly frequently. Steph has started teaching him how to meditate, but also has a list of distractions and special remedies that she can utilize if need be. Movies and tea are a good base line, though Tim’s mind gets very far away sometimes and it’s hard to pull him back out. Like he almost wants to wallow in his sadness. Often she just tries to ground him as best she can so he doesn’t get so lost that he can’t come back. Steph likes to make sure that he isn’t always using patrol as a crutch for when he’s feeling upset or tense. It’s hard to sway him away from more pain when he lets himself get so close to the edge. It breaks her heart, sometimes she feels helpless.

Steph has anxiety as well, and some psychosomatic tics from her past abuse. She needs a lot of reassurance and gentleness when her mind starts racing. She’s still prone to trust issues, even now when she’s surrounded herself with stable people. She’s been let down and she fears losing her steady ground sometimes. Tim, let’s face it, hasn’t been the most reliable in the past, but I firmly believe that with some growing up he’d step up to the plate and try to be a solid home base for her to the best of his abilities. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon. He’s very good at being gentle. That’s canon as fuck. I will die on the hill that Tim is as delicate with Steph as one would be with a priceless porcelain heirloom. Fight me, the boy would never intentionally try to physically or mentally hurt her. He tries so hard to reassure her but I thinks he feels a little helpless sometimes too. Some of her trust issues are his fault, and he can’t just snap his fingers and reverse his mistakes. He tries his best, but there will always be scars. 

All in all, I think they’re both very tender and caring with one another. They’re both beyond broken sometimes, and they are a mess and a half. But they know each other, they know each others pain and sadness and I think once they got back together they’d settle very easily into a care routine. Both of them are carrying the weight of countless consequences and mistakes and hardship on their shoulders. Pain is just a side affect that comes with carrying so much baggage, but it’s a little easier to manage when they have each other for support. I do think some of it would get easier over time, and my wish for them is that they can move somewhere just outside the city, maybe by a lake. Far enough away that things are quiet, but not so far that they would completely leave the hero gig behind. I agree with the consensus that neither of them could fully quit. Tim would just sink into the background, but Steph would be out there in the field for many years. Justas long as they have somewhere safe and comfortable to return to, I think they’ll both be just fine. Plus smooches are the best fallback medicine for all ailments and we all know that they never run out of those. 😘💋

THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK! More than half of this was not anything to do with chronic injuries but fuck it. We’ve tapped into the hurt/comfort section of my brain and there is a lot of material there to work with. Idk when you sent this in but I hope it wasn’t too long ago. I hope this answered more questions than you ever intended to ask. 💜❤

[lachlann-macnab]

Task #16 Jukebox Musical/TV or Movie Soundtrack: come up with a playlist of at least 10 songs, write a scene summary to go with each one. Disclaimer under the cut.

Disclaimer: I, once again, decided to abuse the system. Nowhere on the prompt does it say that the scenes have to be related to a character I have, that's why I present to you: "The prompt, but short stories done with characters Jean would love to write but doesn't have the time to actually have".

Also, weeb rights.

*King  (English cover) -Will Stetson John Kingsbury 

Watch your back no warning warning Taking all my stress there's only just one thing to do Brace yourself for all my love's attack now Left side right side Bear your fangs it's time to fight Pa - pa - pa parade in shame tonight Left side. Right side. Bear your fangs and come alive Pa- pa - pa, Hah! You are king!

Mother always did like Richard best. 

Screw that, everyone always did like Richard best, even John liked his brother more than he liked himself. Even so, when he had been declared MIA during a mission with The Order, John quickly became the first option (the only option) for everyone -he was on cloud nine.

His new comrades didn't quite like him, but John didn't quite mind since he'd make sure that by the end of that year they'd be kneeling to him. Just  like he'd make sure that Richard never, ever came back, even if that meant making allies with a certain policeman and some Magicks whose information he'd make sure to erase from The Order's databases.

Pa, pa- pa Hah! He was (finally) King!

*La mer - Julio Iglesias cover  Basil Rathbone 

Mrs. Judson would have never expected to hear Julio Iglesias, of all things, coming from the flat. It was a strangely cheerful song for someone like Basil to hear, being the snob (not only musical, but general snob) he'd always been.

She was unsure about whether she really wanted to open the door, suddenly afraid of what she might find on the other side. Sometimes Basil would be immersed reading files upon files upon files, sometimes he would be languishing on the sofa while staring blankly at the roof, sometimes he would be walking around while talking to himself in a very obvious bout of mania -he was a wild card, that Basil, and the fact that she simply couldn't guess what he'd do next always worried her.

Worried as she was, she opened the door.

She found Basil staring at the portrait that hung just above the chimney, just...watching it. 

"I have always quite admired Le Carré's works" Basil merely said, without even looking at Mrs. Judson and instead keeping his attention on his own personal Karla while the song went on and on, silently hurting in all of the right places.

*Everybody loves me - OneRepublic  Kuzco Apaza

Get down, Swaying to my own sound Flashes in my face now All I know is everybody loves me Everybody loves me

Kuzco was on a roll. 

He felt the stares as he made the street his personal catwalk and kept (very loudly) chatting with his lawyers on the other side of the phone. The sun was shining surprisingly strongly that day (surprisingly for that side of the world, that is), it's rays hit his jewelry and clothes and made him shine almost as strongly as the star itself.

There was no way anyone could ignore him. And he couldn't blame them -he was fabulous! A gift of the gods themselves, almost as brilliant as the sun and twice (no, thrice) as charming!

...and he was shouting his plans to build a waterpark on Atlantis Lake. And, sure, people didn't seem to love the idea quite yet, but...?

At least they were staring. And they'd eventually learn to love him.

*Dramaturgy (English cover) - Will Stetson Hans Westergård 

All alone now no one’s looking, act out in greed deceiving all their eyes But there’s no real me that You’ll find if you believe and I can’t find a single role that showed what’s really there to see

He caught the eyes of his reflection by accident.

Hans had tilted his head and his eyes had almost immediately found his own reflection against the showcases, making him forget about his date (what was her name again? He couldn't, for the life of him, remember that but he certainly did remember how much her net-worth was and which medicines she needed to take at what hours of the day, just like her previous beau had needed to do before the "accident" had happened) and focus instead on his own eyes.

The thing is...he couldn't find anything in there; The baby blue went on and on but there was nothing beyond- behind it-

-when he moved his gaze, however, he found that he was smiling even if he didn't felt like it. And that his carefully selected clothes looked as they had been designed just for him to wear (and they had), and that his globed hands were still holding his date's recent purchases inside the yellow bag even if he found every item utterly tacky and a ridiculous expense.

He was smiling and looking good and doing perfectly. So why did finding his own gaze him the same effect as placing a mirror in front of another, creating a ever going loop of emptiness?

Was he not playing his part correctly? What could possibly fill that void?

*My Neighbor Totoro/Azumi Inoue Music Box ver - R3 Music Box Totoro Seishin 

Totoro decided to take a nap under the sun while Chu and Chibi were busy playing with some squirrels. It was a sunny day and there was no place he'd rather be but outside, basking and feeling the grass under him.

At one point, however, he felt some extra weight on him. He didn't feel like moving or particularly offended by something deciding to lay on him, it was just amusing.

He couldn't be bothered to open both eyes, so he only opened one, finding a sleeping girl against his chest as if that was the most normal thing to do.

He smiled, closed his eye and decided that was quite fine by him.

*Delusion Girl - Oktavia Cover (TW Suicide and Mental Illness) Bernard Newhart

Every hero knows when they’re needed, so, that’s just what he’s born to be A man who manages throwing out his hand, Who doesn’t care if his own life is spared Such a feat like that, it’s a selfless act only completed in dreams And it stays like that for me With a crash I’m trapped back in reality

Bernard wanted to help, he really did. He just...didn't always know how. Nor did he know if it really matter.

His partner always seemed to be five steps ahead and the Australian she'd taken a fancy to was just like her, if not a couple of steps ahead of even her. And it made Bernard feel like a third wheel, to question if he was really doing something worthy, if he had done something, anything sufficiently good ever and-

-he caught the girl's cellphone before she ever noticed it had slid out of her hands. And soon enough he was getting hugged and receiving many 'thank you's and- and maybe that was enough?

*The Lost One's Weeping (English Cover) - Will Stetson (TW   Depression) Martin Ambrosius (Merlin)

And no matter how much time passes us by, We’re drunk on sweet and hypnotic lies. With all our sources of hardened pride We try to erase and hide now

Martin would always act indignant at the question, and would always reply with a 'I am under no obligation to use my magic to explain or prove anything to the likes of you'.

He was Merlin's blood, for fuck's sake! He didn't have anyone to prove anything to save for maybe the Once and Future King himself!

Oh how he hoped, deep, deep inside, that he would never wake, that he would never ask any questions, that he would never do anything but keep dreaming his mythical dream and let him live his unmagic life.

He was a showman, he loved smoke and light and mirrors, he could fool anyone, anytime -but he knew that wouldn't be enough if (when) the time came, that the Once and Future King would need an actual advisor, an actual wizard.

He prayed that day never came to pass.

*When you're evil - Aurelio Voltaire Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz

It gets so lonely being evil What I'd do to see a smile Even for a little while And no one loves you when you're evil I'm lying through my teeth! Your tears are all the company I need

"Ah, Perry the Platypus! Don't shake too much or you'll make the laser sharks angry and- no, hey! the insurance doesn't cover laser damage to the roo- yeah, that's better thank you. You might be wondering what this is all about- you see, noone has decided to play ME so far so- BEHOLD, THE HEINZ DOOFEN-INATOR! (patent pending) WITH THIS DEVICE I SHALL HIJACK ONE UNLUCKY ROLEPLAYER'S DRAFTS AND SLOWLY BUT SURELY CONSUME THE WHOLE THING THEN THE OTHER POSTS ON THE DASH, THEN THE WHOLE BEING DISNEY PAGE, THEN- HEY! HEY, DON'T DO THA- I'M NOT DONE WITH MY EVIL MONOLOGUE!"

*DEAD HAND - anakin ft. IA English (Ferry Cover)  (TW  Nuclear Warfare mention) Major Francis Monogram

Oh this is overwhelming, time for the iron curtain call The panic is seeping through the fractured border wall My livid heart powers this reactor core “Oh this is all wrong” but I don’t mind at all Turn up the volume, execute the protocol You know it’s M.A.D. and it’s all about to blow What an unfortunate way to end this show I shed a tear as you vanish in the snow

Francis had zero interest in dealing with anyone's shit (save for his own or his son's, that is) ever again; He'd done his time and the whole thing during the fucking Cold War had done a number on his nerves.

He still could remember how all seemed lost, an adequately mad situation (of Mutually Assured Destruction, that is) had come to pass and everyone in the HQ was losing his mind and running around like a bunch of headless chickens-

-until he very calmly pressed a couple of buttons and the thing was ok once more. Some people cried, some people laughed, some people shouted.

(Dramatic bitches, all of them. They didn't have to cause a scene just because of the fucking coffee machine)

That was one of many situations that made him love his retirement and not want to let go of it.

*Gasoline - Halsey (Captain) John Silver

You're part of a machine, you are not a human being With your face all made up, living on a screen Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline

'Phantom limb pain' sounded way cooler than it actually was. Silver would rather call it 'a pain in the ass' any day, but that'd be a misnomer since what hurt was his stupid (lack of) arm and not his ass and he was not risking some smartass trying to make a joke about his butt, thank you very fucking much.

Like, fuck, 'phantom pain' could be a sick name for a metal (heh) band. And hiding things inside his prosthetic was one of the few perks the whole thing offered, just like the fact that he could smack people with the thing without having to bother about hurting himself or dealing with that pain.

However, during that cold night he couldn't think of any possitives about the damned thing and cursed his rotten luck, his (lack of) arm and the thoughts that came along with them.

[freddiefcknmercury]

Fits.

Pairing: Wade Wilson x Reader Word count: 1500+ Warnings/disclaimer: platonic Wade; heavy anxiety; suggested depression; mental health/illness. A/N: I’ve been sorta writing this off and on at work for the last few months. Every time I get overwhelmed or angry. I'm hoping this translates well I apologise ahead of time for any confusion. Summary: Reader is going through a tough bit of anxiety Wade comes to the rescue. As always, be nice to me I'm delicate • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

What you've discovered over time is: no matter how bad you don't want to and how strong you think you've gotten, when a breakdown is inevitable it's best to just get that shit out and out of the way. Sometimes pacing works. The anxiety normally builds until you're a mess walking in a circle in the middle of the room. Even finding a place in the woods or in a broom closet far from everyone else and just screaming until your throat hurts. Tonight none of that worked.

It used to be a punching bag. Now it's covered in crayon dicks and other suggestive artwork. As well as duct tape or stickers to patch holes and a stain from what you're hoping was chocolate. You've beat the shit out of this thing for the last hour until it popped and started leaking sand. Which prompted he-who-must-not-hear-his-own-name to Waltz in.

"Woah there Batsy. Who killed your parents?"

You don't get his reference. He's just poking fun at you, but there's nothing lighthearted about your mood today. You keep your eyes focused frontwards and try not to acknowledge him. 

"What's wrong with you today?"

Now you can feel your chest heaving, tears tugging at the edges because you really would like to talk. You want to say you don't know or everything but decide to stick with silence. As soon as you do get talking the sobbing is inevitable and you can't deal with that right now. You sigh heavily and walk to sit on a weight bench nearby and pray to whichever deity wants to listen that Wade just goes away. 

He puts his hands on his knees and bends down lining his face up with yours.

“Hi, I'm still here." You shake your head at him.

"I'm fine."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong." "Well something's not right."

No shit Sherlock. He straightens himself and folds his arms across his chest, waiting for your explanation. You're bright and warm, even in the face of adversity- or in this case Wade. This isn't you and he knows it. You run it through your mind for a second, debating being this open. But if anybody would understand...

"Everything."

He furrows his brow a twinge and gives you a brief once over.

"Everything hurts. I feel like my heart is on fire. Normally it's over quick but I don't know how to deal with it today. I can't be funny..."

You wave an arm in his general direction.

"...so I'm hitting things."

It's in that moment you found the 8th wonder of the world: Wade Wilson's face with actual selflessness behind it. He gives your words some solid contemplation. "Fight me."

You look back up at him, eyebrow cocked.

“You could literally kill me if you want to."

He was being serious but your eye roll was almost audible.

"I'm not angry Wade, I'm... sad. Frustrated."

"I know. I'm telling you how to take that frustration out." 

He bounced around poking and taking light slaps at you trying to get a rise. It was working. "Wade, please." "There's no way I'm just gonna let you mope around holding all that in. C'mon- up up up up!" You threw a couple weak jabs at each other. It was actually nice to have some interaction. If the two of you kept this up for a bit longer you might even consider saying it was fun. It was just as you let yourself embrace that thought when he grabbed you by the wrist on your last swing, jerking you past him. You landed on your knees.

"Get angry. Let it out." He wasn't asking and all the playfulness in his voice was gone. You turn back to watch him lose his shirt then continuing to bounce in wait. You get up slowly, unsure if you want to do this anymore. Wade isnt one to force anything on anybody but you've never seen him this serious before."You're scaring me." He stops, offering his palms up to you, face soften a bit by concern but still quite serious.

“You gotta get it out."

You nod reluctantly and shake out your limbs as you saunter towards each other. Carefully blocking punch after punch. It was nice and easy again, until he pushed you. Square in each shoulder; Once then twice then a third time. 

"What the fuck, Wade?!"

"C'mon!"

He blocks your jab and smacks you across the face. You barely gave yourself time to be shocked before you've twisted his arm back and punched him in the jaw. Intent and pace keeping flew right out the window after that and you just throw everything you had at him. One swing after another none of them ridiculously impactful for lack of concentration, and he honestly had stopped blocking them a while ago. 

Your subconscious realised what was going on but it's never been enough to make your body stop. You didn't really want to hurt him but this was better than ending up hurting anybody else... or yourself. You hate feeling like this and not knowing where these feelings come from. Day after day just piling up on top of each other until the weight breaks you. There's no telling how long he let you go off on him like this and you'd probably still be at it if it weren't for a low snapping sound that cracked through the air. You had punched your way through his sternum and he let you. 

"JesusfuckingChrist!"

It took a few seconds for it to sink in that you'd hit him enough times and with enough force to actually break something. The world stopped. You feel like running away. You take a step back to try and execute on that plan. "No wait. Just give me a minute... okay two."

He slowly sets himself down on the floor letting out a wheeze. "No. I'm not- it's fine Wade."

You sit on the floor next to him. "Yeah? Well good. I was pushing it with the two minutes thing there."

He star-fishes on his back and makes a few more laboured coughs. You stay quiet and try to make yourself small as he recovers. He takes a deep sigh.

“I'm gonna be alright."

"I know."

"You didn't do anything wrong."

That part you're not so sure about.

"I definitely asked for this."

He laughs a little, pushing himself onto his side to try and get a look at you.

“But we're the lone wolves. The leaders! And not the ones to talk about our feelings. So that means somebody has to bleed.”

You shake your head at him gently. Idiot. 

Flopping over on his belly, face in the floor, he gives your ankle a squeeze. You raise an eyebrow.

"And I'm alright with it being me."

You think about holding his hand but no sooner do you complete that thought does he spring back into action.

"Okay! One more, let's go." "Wade I-"

"No. Just one more." You pick yourself up off the ground and you only have time to get your body ready before he's after you. You dodge a few swings and he's lands a few. Nothing ridiculous but this is much more aggressive than before. Scared to hurt him again you keep pulling punches, but nothing gets by Wade. He lets you get away with this for a long few minutes before you slip up too much again. He grabs your wrist but this time pulling you into him, arms stuck at your sides.

"Are you done?"

You're shocked. You don't know what you expected him to say but certainly nothing this stern. He never breaks eye contact, seriously waiting for you to give him an answer. He's not mad, he's concerned. You stand there body numb until your eyes sting forcing you to blink out the strings of tears. 

You nod shakily. He uses a hand to press your head into his shoulder and you shuffle together into the back locker room. You realise after hearing a couple voices it was to keep your tears out of sight from everyone else. You're sat down on a wooden bench wiping the water from your face. He's across the room at a sink splashing water on his.

“Just didn't want you to keep all that in."

You hold your hands in your lap and try to keep your gaze stuck to the floor. You're grateful, really, but both of you want this awkward moment to end. He turns to face you and you give a heavy sigh.

"Thanks."

He takes two steps and pauses. There's something else he wants to say but now must not have been the right time because he just keeps walking. You look up at him at the last second to watch him straighten back into someone more familiar than the guy who almost carried you in here. He bounds back into the main equipment room and you hear him callout to someone making what you think sounds like a dick joke. Good save Wade.

[peachesplumsstakesfangs]

Past Meet Future

Lucas confronts Eliott about his past.

WARNING ************Contains some discussion of suicide**********************

Lucas looked over at Eliott who was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” Lucas tried to soften his tone, but the words poured out, sharp and accusatory.

He couldn't help it, he felt so betrayed, by Imane and by Eliott. All those moments when Imane and Eliott had downplayed their prior relationship, all the half-truths and conversational gymnastics. He knew they had been trying to protect him, but it still stung. So much shit had happened in the last year that could have been avoided if he and his friends learned to trust each other a little more. Even if that meant their words would be misunderstood or misconstrued. They had to trust they cared enough about each other to figure it out.

Lucas knew he was terrible at catching his friends’ nonverbal cues. He had grown in the last year by leaps and bounds, and he could admit that he had missed so much last year because he had been wrapped up in his own personal problems. He had missed clues that were right in front of his eyes. Like the time he had unknowingly put his foot in his mouth when explaining to Eliott that he no longer had a relationship with his mother because of her mental illness. That miscommunication, taken out of context and without the complex history that would have added color to his statement, had caused a ripple effect that had nearly destroyed him and all of his relationships.

The pain he felt now was not as crippling as that had been, but it was similar. Again, the love of his life hadn’t trusted him enough to just come to him, directly, so they could talk without misunderstanding.

He suddenly recalled the discussion he and Yann had a few months earlier. Yann had been hurt that he had been one of the last to know about Lucas’s sexual identity and the pain and confusion his friend had been experiencing on his own. When they had finally cleared the air, Yann had admitted that part of it may have been his fault. That it might have been Yann’s irresponsible jokes that had made it difficult for Lucas to confide in him. Lucas wondered how much of it was his fault that Eliott hadn’t felt comfortable enough to share his history with him.

“I thought we said no more secrets.” This time Lucas’s tone was gentler, an olive branch of sorts, but his voice caught as he realized that they had each failed the other in the most important way.

Eliott must have heard the change because he quickly uncurled his lanky, tall frame from the couch and walked over to Lucas, grabbing his face in his long, warm fingers. He stared into Lucas’s eyes, as only he could, his long lashes framing blue eyes that seemed to change from deepest to lightest blue and then sometimes to gray depending on his mood.

It was one of the things Lucas loved about Eliott, the way he gave people his complete attention when they talked to him, his eyes so expressive that you could lose yourself in their depths. Lucas would often feel a slight pang of jealousy because he only wanted those looks for himself. Sometimes Eliott would perch in front of the person, an origami-like figure, feet planted on desk or table, knees bent, eyes fixated on the person.  It would’ve looked so awkward and ridiculous if anyone else other than Eliott did it.  To Lucas he looked like some fallen, dark angel, anxious to give up all of heaven and hell to be with the person in front of him. No wonder then that when they were out, Eliott had both boys and girls fawning over him like he was some long, lost rock god.

“Focus!” Lucas thought to himself.  But how could he when those eyes, those beautiful eyes, were looking at him...and now in a way that he knew was only reserved for him. It melted him like butter in the sun. It made him want to kiss Eliott until his lips and mouth were raw and chapped from the ferocity of their love. He mentally slapped himself. They needed to talk; he would not be distracted.

It had started with a little get-together hosted by Imane and her brother, Idriss. The vibe had started off great.  Imane had wanted her friends from school to get to know her friends from her neighborhood. She had mentioned that her school friends rarely came around, and she wanted to rectify that so that her family could feel more comfortable about her life and choices when she wasn’t around them. The food had been amazing, and everyone had been warm and welcoming.  He and Eliott had had a rough couple of weeks. Eliott had seemed quieter and more withdrawn. He hadn’t had a recent manic episode, and this low wasn’t as bad as his prior depression, but still, Lucas had been worried. He was still learning about bipolar disorder and specifically Eliott’s triggers and specific needs.

The party had offered a blast of levity, and he noticed the comfortable way Eliott interacted with Imane’s friends and family, including Idriss and their childhood friend, Sofiane, who Lucas was convinced Imane had a crush on, and vice versa.  Some time into the party, however, something must have been said that shifted the mood. He began to notice awkward looks between Eliott and Imane or Imane and her brother when they thought Lucas wasn’t looking.

Imane was an expert at redirection, but now that they were much closer friends, (and he, admittedly, didn’t have his head so far up his own ass), Lucas could pick up on these cues rather easily.  He soon realized in the quick, sliding glances and too loud laughs that whatever the tension was about had something to do with Eliott, and it was something bad that put a weird, metallic taste at the back of his throat.  As the conversations wore on, he learned that it had probably been the reason Eliott had failed his last year and changed schools so late in the term. Something so bad that he hadn’t wanted to share it with Lucas even though they had shared so much with each other already.

Lucas knew he had been a fucking mess last year, but he wished his friends and boyfriend would stop treating him like he was so fragile. He just wore his emotions on his sleeve.  That didn’t make him weak; in fact, in his experience, it seemed the opposite was true.

Eliott titled his head to the side still not letting Lucas pull away from his gaze. “I wanted to tell you,” Eliott said softly. “I was just trying to figure out how to do it in a way that wouldn’t overly worry you.” He paused, now looking down as if the weight of what he was about to say was too heavy to allow him to maintain eye contact. “How do I tell you that things had gotten so bad that I wanted to just make it all stop...any way that I could?” Eliott’s voice trailed off as he met Lucas’s eyes again. 

Lucas felt his own eyes well with tears, but he willed them not to fall.  Any anger that he still held was quickly washed away with Eliott’s confession and the pained look on his lover’s face. That look made a traitorous tear fall from his eye.

“See that’s why I didn’t want to tell you,” Eliott said as he gently wiped the tear away.

“Bullshit,” Lucas said, but there wasn’t much force behind the word.  Minute by minute, that’s what they had promised each other, but Lucas knew he wanted those minutes to stretch into a lifetime with this beautiful, complicated boy standing in front of him. “I can handle my shit, I can handle the truth,” he said, a little more forcefully this time.  “I can help you bear the weight of your past, just like you’ve helped me. Yes, it fucking kills me to think that you were in that much pain,” he admitted, breathing in deeply as Eliott placed his forehead against his own. “But trust me to be strong enough for you.”

“I don’t feel that way anymore,” Eliott said quietly.  “And it’s not just because of you...but you are a big part of that.”

Lucas had been working on his anger and his drinking. He had been trying to be the perfect boyfriend for Eliott, trying to walk a fine tightrope between being too needy or too overbearing.  Trying to make sure Eliott took his medicine on schedule and didn’t do anything that would jeopardize his mental health balance.

Lucas paused, a little metaphorical lightbulb dinging in his head. He admitted to himself that he hadn’t been so open with Eliott about his own feelings.  How sometimes he couldn’t breathe with the thought that Eliott would fall madly, obsessively in love with someone else. Eliott’s ex-girlfriend Lucille’s words on the boat months ago still haunted him. She told him that he was a whim, a new obsession that would quickly fade once Eliott stabilized. She later admitted that she had been wrong. She told him that what he and Eliott had was special, that Eliott hadn’t talked about anyone else the way he talked about Lucas.  He didn’t doubt Eliott’s love for him now, but he couldn’t stop worrying about the future at times.

Sometimes his thoughts grew darker, more troubled. These thoughts kept him up at night when he worried that Eliott would find it easier to give up on life than deal with all the pain that his sometimes troubled mind caused. Lucas worried that their golden love would not be enough to keep him safe.

And yet, even when he woke up after only a few hours of rest, purple bruises under his eyes from stress and lack of sleep, he knew he wouldn't change a thing about their relationship. Even the bad times were ten times better than his best days before he met Eliott because this beautiful boy had given his heart to him. He knew he would always think of his life like that, “Before Eliott ” and “After Eliott .” His life was real now.  His life finally made sense. His thoughts made him give up the fight. Maybe Eliott had been worried in the same ways Lucas had, knowing that if he tried to explain his past that everything would get lost in translation and that it would cause unnecessary worry and pain.

Eliott’s head was still pressed against his own, and they rocked together as if slow dancing to music only they could hear. “We need to trust each other more,” Lucas whispered into Eliott’s mouth.

“I promise I will let you in more,” Eliott whispered back. He pulled his head away, a small smile on the corner of his mouth. “We can talk tonight. I’ll tell you everything.” He pulled Lucas close to him again, their hips touching. “I can cook something nice and light that we can have with a glass of wine...and we can talk.”

“Sounds good...except we will definitely be ordering the food,” Lucas teased. Eliott laughed out loud as he rubbed his nose against Lucas’s nose. “I hope I’m not being too pushy. If you’re not ready to talk about it, yet, I can wait,” Lucas said.

“After all of that,” Eliott laughed, waving his hands in the air as if their intense discussion had filled the room with something large but unseen.

“I know, I know,” Lucas said sheepishly. “I was just caught off guard at the party, but I’ve had some time to think about it,” he kissed Eliott softly, no longer able to resist the magnetic pull that always existed between them. “I thought you not telling me was about you not trusting me enough to be able to deal with the truth, but that’s kind of selfish of me. I didn’t think that maybe it was just too difficult for you to rehash and relive.”

“It’s a little of both...but it’s time,” Eliott admitted. “I don’t want you to ever feel that other people know more about me than you do.”

Lucas softened even more and held his head back. Eliott gently brushed aside a shock of hair that had fallen in Lucas’s face and pulled him up and into him for a long, deep kiss. Warmth spread from Lucas’s lips to his chest and then much lower. He grabbed Eliott’s hand and pulled him to his room, shutting the door behind them just in case his flatmates returned.  He pulled Eliott towards the bed, and they tumbled down, grabbing, pulling, kissing, neither able to temper the rising tide of emotion overpowering them.  They had been in the flat for hours, but now he had finally returned home.  

Hours later, after they were both sated with kissing and lovemaking, Eliott lay facing Lucas as they dozed in and out of sleep.

“I bet Eliott 3651 immediately told Lucas 1282 about his past.” Lucas teased.

“Is that the buff, surfboarding Lucas? Because I might have been more inclined to tell buff Lucas any and everything he wanted to know,” Eliott chided as he playfully wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh, you asshole,” Lucas laughed, and before he could say anything else, Eliott was kissing him, and the world fell away again.

************************************************************************

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[memories-of-a-sleever]

Let's ramble for starters...

I had thought about making a tumblr for a while now, mainly to use as a personal diary. Something I can look back on as my journey progresses and remember where I came from. Because that's important. You never appreciate where are if you can't look back on where you've been. I don't know who said that, someone much more inspirational than me. I suppose since I took this long to start my Tumblr, I'd better start from the beginning.

Let's start with the basics. My name is redacted. I am an Australian gay guy in his mid to late 30s. I have a wonderful partner of many years, a steady job and own my own house. I love Nintendo, Pokémon Go, comics and Marvel (Both the movies and the comics). 

Oh, one more tiny thing. I also love food. I love food more than I probably should, and let's be real. I've always loved food. I can remember loving food from a very early age. I love the taste of food, I love trying new food, I love socialising with people over food. I obviously love food too much, and this shows through my habits, my weekly food spend and most importantly my body.

My body has been ravaged by food all my life. I don't think there was ever a time that I was skinny or a regular weight. I was a chubby kid, who turned into a fat teenager, who turned into a morbidly obese adult. There's a fucking awful thing to be called. Morbidly Obese. It makes you feel like you are so disgustingly fat that you belong in a freakshow. Whoever coined that term, you are a cunt. Unfortunately, facts are facts America; I am morbidly obese. I currently weight 196kg (432 pounds for those not on the Metric system). I am currently the heaviest I have EVER weighed and I have myself to blame.

I don't think I remember a time as a kid or teenager when my mum (who is also a larger lady) wasn't on a diet or forcing me to be on a diet. They never lasted long, and some of my most prominent memories are my mum and I sneaking treats when we should be dieting. I remember hating the diets though. We would eat diet food that always had that artificial sweetener taste that I fucking hate and we would have super restrictive food intake. Although, it probably wasn't as restrictive as I remember it to be, but I just remember being REALLY hungry a lot of the time. 

I would cheat a lot on my diets. Sometimes, I would have a spoonful of milo to get that sugar hit I was craving, or a spoonful of peanut butter. Always spoonfuls of things, because you can't get caught for that. No-one keeps track of EXACTLY how much of something is in a jar, so if the spoonfuls are small enough you can absolutely get away with it. I remember that my mum used to pack me diet yoghurt in my school lunches, which of course I hated. So I used to trade them for nicer food with a kid at my school. I don't think we were even friends, so looking back I don't know if she had a body image issue and wanted diet food (Cause she wasn't big by any stretch) or maybe she just liked me. I guess I'll never know. The point is, I cheated. A lot. 

I remember always feeling like I was in a constant state of misery or shame. I'm sure I remember things way more intensely than they actually happened, but I guess they're the only memories I have. So I hate dieting. Always have, probably always will. When I became an independent adult, i.e - living out of home and earning my own money, I decided I didn't want to diet anymore. I wanted to enjoy my life. And I did. I spent over 10 years, basically eating what I wanted and doing what I wanted.

I remember when I was at home by myself one night, I cooked an Enchilada kit and then ate the whole thing. Those kits have 8 servings in them. So I ate 8 servings of Enchilada in one sitting. On eating the 6th or 7th enchilada I started to feel overfull, but I kept going. I've learned to hide any evidence of eating poorly by ingesting the evidence and that's what I did. When I finished the 8th enchilada, I felt so ill. My stomach was bloated like I've never felt before and was physically hurting. I actually thought I was going to burst my stomach and I was panicked and embarassed and sore. Turns out, your stomach can put up with a lot of torture from you. After a few hours, it righted itself. Needless to say, this is a moment that I remember with pure horror. I was so embarassed and I knew it was wrong, but I kept going. I kept eating whatever I wanted.

Now, anyone who isn't fat or has never been fat probably wont understand this, but I was a fairly healthy fat person. I could run if I wanted to (Though rarely did), my breathing was fine, I didn't have diabetes and my blood sugar and pressure were always normal measurements. All those things that they tell you will happen to you if you are a fatty. They didn't happen to me. My doctor would always say to me that I should lose weight, and that he wished he could tell me that I was unhealthy because of it to motivate me, but it just wasn't the case. I was able to live a fairly normal life. I mean, I still got the stares in public, the children whispering about me to their parents, I still felt uncomfortable on a plane (I'll come back to that another time >_>) and had trouble finding nice clothes that fit me, but more or less I lived a happy life.

When I was about 24 I think, I had my first real relationship. I had wanted a relationship for a while, but never had the guts to talk to anyone or ask them out. Truth be told, I probably didn't understand why they would want to go out with me. I was the exact opposite of what the world tells us we should want to be or be with. Just to be clear, because for some reason I need it stated I was not unfamiliar with the more carnal desires of life, just the relationship part, as a teenager I experimented with every person who was willing on the down low. Probably partly because of my shame with being gay at that age and partly with my shame of being fat. It doesn't really lend itself to self worth. Anyway, my first relationship. 

I was with a guy who I suspected at the time, but confirmed towards the end, was a chubby chaser. He liked bigger guys, and that worked for me at the time. He was attractive and we made it work for a good few years. We did the normal things; dated, moved in together, bought each other promise rings. I started to get REALLY comfortable and happy. And when I'm happy, I like to increase the happiness with my old friend food. I was in charge of cooking most nights, so we would usually have food that I liked; burgers, nachos, stir frys. We would go out for dinner at least 2-3 times a week. Couple that with the fact that I would buy lunch at work and lived a fairly sedentary lifestyle playing video games and understandably, my weight started to increase. 

This is when I started to become sneaky in my relationship too. I would come home from work early and cook myself a burger before dinner, or if I worked from home I would get a bunch of junk food and eat it all before my partner came home. If you are trying to figure out how much junk food that is, an example could be: A pack of donuts, a 2L coke, a bag of chips, a family packet of M&Ms and a packet of shapes. I don't remember when I got to this weight, but I think I was around the 150-160kg mark at this stage.

Looking back, I suspect that I had become too big, even for my chubby chaser boyfriend because he started to flirt with a guy at work, he told me it was harmless and meant nothing, but when I came home from work one day and they were in our apartment building's hot tub together I knew it wasn't nothing. Those were some of the hardest days of my life. I broke up with him on my birthday, when I could tell he just didn't care less about me anymore. He cried and made me feel bad about my decision, but by the next week he had started dating the guy he was flirting with. I was pretty heartbroken. Looking back, it's a sad memory but at the same time it worked out for the best, and also those two didn't last long so they can go fuck themselves XD.

The months after the breakup brought on a level of depression I had never felt before and I learned I have a VERY different reaction to depression than I expected, but I will add to this later.

[chatoyantquill]

Hey bumblebees! So there is a collab in the works for Fibromyalgia Awareness month, but I wanted to make my own separate post for this really quick, because I feel like I need to. Awarness month for Fibro and every Chronic Illness is so incredibly important because many people don’t realize how badly our illnesses effect us. I think that most people think that just because we look fine on the outside, we are not really sick. That could be further from the truth. I am tired. Always. I have a hard time sleeping at night-sometimes I can go several days in a row without even getting one ounce of sleep- I have IBS, my weight can go up and down with the slightest thing, I’m bloated, I have chronic headaches, my feet and hands go numb, I have terrible bouts of depression and anxiety, my feet swell up, I have sensory sensitivities, I have to Pee all the time, I have chronic muscle pain, I have a hard time remembering details and concentrating on even the simplest of tasks. Some days even my scalp is incredibly tender. My back and neck are always stiff and it hurts me to make even the slightest movements. I get irritated easily and I almost always feel uncomfortable in my own body. I want people who don’t think those of us who have Chronic Illness are actually sick, to listen to me. If you had any or all of those symptoms-just even for a day or an hour- wouldn’t you call out of work sick? Wouldn’t you stay in bed with a heating pad and cry? Wouldn’t you want someone to try and help you find a way to stop it? Now just imagine that you had those symptoms every day for the rest of your life! Imagine that no medicine can cure it! Imagine that no matter what medicine or remedy you try, it will never give you permanent relief! Sure, a certain med or a specific remedy or diet may help-for a while. You will always be stuck with pain and the feeling that you are losing a battle. How can you fight your own body? This is what it feels like to be chronically Ill. This is what it feels like to know that there is no cure. This is what it feels like when we are told that we will be fighting a illness that is invisible. This is what it feels like when society has a stigma against us. Yes, it drives us crazy too. Now, I want to address those who are fighting with Chronic Illness, and those who have Fibro like I do. I want you to know that I think you are the strongest person on earth. You are a warrior, and I applaud you for all the things that you do every single day, even if you have to stay in bed. It takes courage do fight like we do, and you are being so brave. I know that it feels like you’re drowning and you feel like you’ve gone insane- you are allowed to feel this way. I think that you are wonderful, and I want you to never stop fighting. Never. Breathe from your gut and know that you are a force of nature. You are allowed to take a rest, to take a break, and to sit and do nothing. Your body needs it. We can do all the things every one else does, we just have to do it in smaller steps. We will get there. You can achieve all of your dreams because that fighter spirit is in you, and you do anything you fucking want. Be a badass; because you are. I love every single one of you, Ash

NOTE: If you have something negative to say, or have a spiteful or ignorant comment, take that shit somewhere else. If you don’t heed my warning, and comment something that is ugly, I will have you blocked. Please be respectful. Mind your manners.

[mysweetband]

The Root of it All (Lyrics)

Track 1 - The Root of it All

Our minds had slowly wandered So we took off all our clothes My bated breath failed to remind My confidence to stay composed And so now I've been losing sleep And etching days into my door Obsessing over nonsense To forget that I want more She felt the sorrow In my discontent I wrote the message, but never hit send Forming an ocean was not my intent I'm getting better But it never really mattered in the first place I'm no longer caught up in a world Where I lose my mind When I hear your first name It only made me sick Wide awake and wondering again Disenfranchising your sins Hung up on the thought That this might be As good as it gets The hole that I dug Seemed to quickly fill up Constant weight I felt stuck Always disembodied I saw in her face She felt home She felt safe Seeking peace in a past I was compromising I felt my smile slowly fade to a blister I tried to scream but it came out as a whisper The root of it all Depressed and inside our heads Sleeping in separate beds Just like our parents did Because we're our parents kids The half of blood state of mind Growing up left behind Half a man, undefined Lie awake every night The kind of person I don't strive to be I tried to shake it, but it married me It's a constant reminder Nothing in life comes free Breaking is masochistic mending Self inflicted healing Seeking the root of it all As we looked up at the sky I told her every star she saw Was a plane with its engine burning out I'm just a plane with its engine burning out

Track 2 - Restitution

I fell back with a sense of urgency The same lows, on a different frequency I lost touch, and felt the room scatter Subside, and opt for the latter I tried to get by balancing on fences But even indecision bears consequences I'm sorry for the way that things ended The lines get blurry when youre medicated I'm sleepless, and jaded It's my fault, I hate it Always longing for something more (It's all coming back to me now) I was tangled in her hair She was my cross to bear Pharmaceutical absolution But you can't pass the burden Blaming another person Hyper-delusional restitution I hit the gas It pulled me back The beasts of my burdens were fading fast I'll be the cul-de-sac Insomniac I'll die as a martyr, and maniac The conversation started bearing its teeth Lock, stock, and stuck to her guns She had them pointed at me She said You're not a poet, or a prophecy Just a kid in your head With those hypothesis It's easier to be hopeless Pessimistic, and broken When you've gone too far But if you stand by the path you have chosen Confident and devoted You could learn to live with the scars I'm learning to live with the scars Forever longing for something more

Track 3 - Lucid

The pain was implanted by your parents On the day that you were born You found it hard just to admit that By yourself your bones felt worn Tried to elope with peoples passion Just to soothe your heavy head But consistently lost comfort So you hid away instead You gain a little bit of something From each moment that you live But it's hard to keep a motive/emotive When your brain is double edged She said: "You're so neurotic How did it come to this? You waste your whole goddamn life Wishing that you didn't exist." We were screaming our lungs out Nervous that our past would come back And try to ruin what we have Maybe this year I'll find myself Without pushing my brain to the point Where I tear my hair out She said: "Deep down, I think you're bitter. Past that smile, you've configured A world you won't let anyone see" Take off your mask kid Who are you kidding You'll never meet the right people When you're pretending Struggle through the days That make you grind your teeth And cherish every moment That falls in between I had to draw the line I get so sick of wasting time And going through the motions With the weight that's on my mind No sweat, Its fine Sure, my wires intertwined But since my brain hasn't Short circuited just yet I'll be alright I was trying to sleep When you made me speak You never let me think You never let me sink In my head Where my brain keeps me fed On the thoughts of depression I'm feeling instead of... You I never spoke, because I knew You wouldn't listen I filled your void But all I wanted was some distance Oh! You had to know How could you miss it From head to toe I drowned in my own self affliction Oh! It's getting ludicrous I only speak when I'm lucid And falling asleep

Track 4 - Half of Blood

I hardly noticed the moments That you weren't around I'm learning the meaning of breathing When I'd rather drown Were you grinding your teeth Often thinking of me In your lows As the weakening pace of your heart rate Continued to slow? What kind of father Tells his son and daughter He doesn't care What kind of man Leaves a wife and his family So unprepared Drunk, and fallacious Said you didn't love us And closed the call You traded a life with your children For prison and alcohol Half of blood Dragged through the mud I hardly noticed the hole That they put in the ground My mother has raised me to Be who I am and I'm proud That you weren't around

Track 5 - Midwest Blues

I never felt at home inside my head The sinking feeling in my stomach Took its place instead She was wrapped up in a blanket Voicing muffled sleepless doubts While I was face down on the floorboards Trying to make sense Of myself My confidence Is wearing thin It's not enough to save me, when Every problem that I'm facing Comes from somewhere deep within It was causing the bend in my back To burden my heart The edges that frayed Were ripping apart We pieced it back together But it never felt the same She says: "It's 4pm, you're always sleeping in Why the fuck are you so selfish!?" You made this bed You've got to fix your self You'll have to beg for your pity In someone else I can't keep Indulging you It was causing the bend in my back To burden my heart The edges that frayed Were ripping apart We pieced it back together But it never felt the same So we reminisce the salad days With malice and a sense of praise Admiring the sour taste We found in broken homes I wanted what's best for you So I did what what I had to Sympathetically I terminated timelines I learned to live with demons When I put them in the limelight Cater to the countless wounds With land locked loathing Midwest blues Use your words not just your voice You have always had a choice RIP out your heart You waste of youth Hide from the sun Howl at the moon But I can't keep Indulging you

Track 6 - The Brightest Stars

Cold, dark lighting You made your smile seem so inviting But it was all bark, no biting Strictly bearing teeth when you felt slighted You never felt at home Because you were sick But you mustered up the strength from deep within I could never understand it as a kid But I wish that I had something to say back then I feel selfish to think I could save you So unbelievably naive to the depth of the grief That destroyed your brains perspective Depression darkened your perception And now I'm burdened with November again You are heavy in my head All the things I would have said If I could comprehend what you were going through I started Sneaking glances through windows Hoping I could find you hiding out somewhere I was so young and unprepared To lose someone I loved so much It's still hard to accept it I feel selfish to think I could save you So unbelievably naive to the depth of the grief That destroyed your brains perspective Depression darkened your perception If I knew you couldn't handle the weight I would've carried your torch I still remember you laughing on your front porch Listening to crickets chatter We knew you could've flattered the world The brightest stars burn out the quickest I feel selfish to think I could save you So unbelievably naive to the depth of the grief That destroyed your brains perspective Depression darkened your perception If I knew you couldn't handle the weight I would've carried your torch I still remember you laughing on your front porch Listening to crickets chatter I wish you would've flattered the world You found it Easier to pretend Cut away at your skin Put on a smile Throw away your prescription You got sick of keeping it in You saw a means to an end Your mental illness made it hard to decline it I never held that against you I still wish I could've saved you But I never held that against you I'll never hold it against you The brightest stars burn out the quickest

[writeliving]

Further Thoughts on Mental Illness

I’ve lived with my mother, who suffers from chronic depression and possibly anxiety, for twenty years. It bugged me when she yelled or said awfully problematic things and refused to take responsibility for what she said. She often apologised when she realised she’d gone too far, but I hardly believed her because I knew she’d repeat her behaviour again and this wasn’t the end of it. So I stopped talking to her. I told her clearly I’d leave the house again if she did something like dig her nails into my skin one more time. And it worked. She treats me fine now. But I’m not sure this was the best thing to do.

She’s angry because she’s depressed. Sitting at home, day in and day out, with no solid work to do must of course affect her. The trouble is she’s fifty-five and she feels it’s too late to change. She can work, of course, but that work will be part-time and will not lead anywhere. My mother feels the need to assert how clever she is a lot, as though she fundamentally doubts it. And she has no purpose in life to work towards. I don’t know how to help her. I feel as though I myself am lost and unmoored and cannot do the heavy emotional labour of helping someone else, especially someone who is my mother and not my equal—she would never talk to me as a friend. Plus, what can I say? I’ve asked her to get a job a hundred times, but no one’s hiring.

She seems better now though. She seems happier. She’s going out with friends a lot more. Her new sister-in-law comes to visit. And she doesn’t have to do the housework she so loathes because there are fewer people at home.

I don’t know how to interact with my mother. Sometimes she makes me so angry. She says things like “I will disown you if you marry a Muslim” or “I will never accept you if you’re gay.” Or if I have a live-in relationship. Or engage in premarital sex. I feel as though I will always have to hide a part of me from her and that takes a toll on me. I still can’t have sex guilt-free. And I know I should be able to get over it but I’m not able to. 

But that’s not the main thing. I’m angry that she raised me to be quiet and never say no. I find it hard to speak up and be assertive. I find it difficult to not tiptoe around family and spout things I know they’ll want to hear instead of being honest. Sometimes I loathe them.

But my mother’s my mother, after all. I will always forgive her, no matter what. But I won’t put up with anything she does. I can’t blame her for all the yelling because I do that too when I feel trapped and frustrated. But I also do feel that it’s not a burden I can take. I’m not the one causing these problems, for god’s sake. I’m not confining her here. She chose to stay at home. She can choose now to break out if she so wishes. And I’ll support her if she does. I wish she’d get a divorce. She isn’t happy with my father at all. I’m sure she loves him and all but she’s not happy with him entirely. She needs someone with a more outgoing personality to match her own. But of course she’d never get a divorce because it’s against our culture. I wonder why she doesn’t realise that her rigidity about culture is what’s causing half the problems in everyone’s lives. I get that she was raised that way but you can always change, dammit! 

I am never getting married. For one, I think most Indian guys are jerks in some form or the other. I’ll have to adjust for his family at some point, I’m sure of it. A friend told me that he’s be fine with his wife doing whatever but when in front of his family she’d have to not scandalise them. Fuck that. I’m already tiptoeing enough in front of my extended family. I refuse to do it for someone else’s. I can’t wear shorts in front of his parents and he’ll probably expect me to wear a thali when with his grandparents. Marriage is awful. Why would anyone subject themselves to that?

I shall live alone or with a bunch of girlfriends. That sounds perfect. Or I’ll stay at home. I like this house. I like how big it is and how I have my own space. I like the memories here. I like how I have no responsibility here. I don’t feel ready to handle the adult world. I need to be thrown out into it to do it I think.

But to go back to my mother, I must convince her to get help somehow. I can’t help resenting her awfully for everything she has subjected me to all these years. For using me to feel better about herself, for never truly loving me. I know she doesn’t. I have put up with her subtle barbs for years, and I know that when she claims to love me and my sister above everything, it’s what she thinks she ought to say, but she doesn’t really mean it. 

I grew up being praised by my mother for being thin and not fat, while my sister was always pushed to lose weight. Both of us are struggling with the consequences of that now. I worry about putting on weight, about being fat. I worry about whether or not I am beautiful far more than I should.

I’ve been yelled at by my mother time and time again for the randomest things. I still get anxious all the time when talking to people because I’m constantly afraid of fucking up and inviting retaliation. I overthink every single interaction.

I’ve been told that my choice of clothes is bad / too short / whatever and that only my mother can choose the best outfits for me. This is the sort of thing she does all the time, making me doubt my own judgement and convincing me that I am nothing without her presence and support. It is an expression of power and control.

In short, I want to leave this dysfunctional household and go far away where I won’t have to talk to my family at all unless I wish it. But there’s another part of me that urges pity on my mother because she’s definitely suffering. She has had suicidal thoughts, she has low self-esteem, she is unable to break out of her negative spiral. While I keep reminding myself that this does not excuse her awful behaviour, and that I do not need to take up a burden I am not equipped to handle, especially since it has affected me badly, I cannot help feeling that I must help her in whatever way I can. Hopefully I will stay with and connect more with friends and partners and not be sucked into her negativity from now on, but I can’t abandon her.

I cannot summon up love for her. I wish I could, because that’s what she needs right now, unconditional love. But there’s too much water under the bridge, too much unresolved resentment and anger. But at least I can care for her. I feel alienated from all members of my family at the moment. My sister and I have gotten into bitter fights and the wounds haven’t healed. I cannot forgive her completely for some of the things she said.

As for the rest of my family, I know that they will not accept me as I am. I know that my aunts and uncles are shocked by some of the things I do, and if they knew the whole of it they might very well disown me, as they have done to a few other cousins who have dared marry outside the religion / have not married at all and have had a live-in relationship. I was extremely close to my cousins and aunts growing up and so knowing that I’m likely to be an outcast makes me feel lost and sad. Already I feel stifled, having to pretend to be someone else when with these relatives. I don’t want to put up with it any longer.

I’m glad I have people to retreat to. I’m glad I know more about mental illness and toxic behaviour and so on and don’t have to go through the same cycles my mother did. I’m glad I have a safe space in this university, and hopefully I will continue to have one even when I graduate and leave. 

And I need to remind myself that I can get over past experiences and overcome mental illness. I’ve done it before.

[insecurities-ofthe-secure]

Alright fuckers here we are again.

You know, you’d think I’d eventually get tired of this blog, of shouting things into the endless void but no, apparently I’m still here. 

I’m still here...

You know, several years back if you told me I was still here, I wouldn’t have believed you. Not here, here, but just... Living. Both in general and back with my parents. If you had told me that I would be able to actually be open and talk to them about things, including them actually respecting my gender and pronouns and trying to do what they can to help with my mental illness? If you told me that this blog post actually isn’t about them? I would have called you crazy. But here we are. Here I am.

And I don’t even really know what this is about. That’s a lie. I’m here because I’m a self destructive moron who will do anything it takes to escape the slog of the mundane as life churns endlessly on in this existential nightmare. 

...... Alright it’s not actually that bad.

It feels bad though. In a different way than I’m used to which makes it hard. I can’t bock this out. I can’t just suppress it and hope it goes away, this isn’t a feel it for a night and scream at the void until I feel better this... It doesn’t end. I know it will, one day, but... It still sucks. And I know I’ve felt that hope in the past while going through this but still... As the famous (I think) phrase goes, hope is fleeting. And it’s hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel when it’s 3am and I’ve spend 5 hours on a device I shouldn’t have used for more than 45 minutes much less this long. It’s also hard when I’m facing the fact that... That maybe I do cause myself harm. No, there’s no maybe about that sentence.

I cause myself harm.

It may not be the self harm everyone is used to seeing and my thoughts of physical self harm and suicide are things that I hate and try to push away and they scare me but. I am still self destructive in different ways. And I hurt myself in different ways. Like actively not doing what would help me most (i.e. turning of the laptop). And not taking care of myself. And... and just letting things fester under the surface to the point where my therapist will suggest a healing treatment that could do a lot of good for me but involves going digging in my brain and I can only respond with fear. Because as much as I told her I don’t know what’s in there, I do. And they are locked away for a very good reason, thank you. 

..... I miss sleeping. I miss wanting to fall asleep. I’d say I miss not having to wait till I was completely exhausted in order to fall into unconsciousness but to be honest, I don’t remember what that felt like. I don’t remember times when I could just curl up in bed satisfied with the day and close my eyes and... and not care if I was asleep or not or if I was going to sleep or anything like that. I wish I could know what it’s like to close your eyes at the end of a long day and be content to the point where you can shut your brain off so you can fall asleep peacefully and without exhaustion. I wonder what that’s like. 

I’m also self destructive in other ways. I know I need to lose weight for example yet I keep sabotaging myself on that front in every way that I possibly could. And it’s not like I don’t want to lose weight either, I do, I hate the way I look in a mirror and it will never stop blowing my mind that there is a person in this world willing to have sex with me and this body and also actively enjoy doing so and love me for all of it not just my brain.... But it’s just yet another way that I get in my own way and I harm myself. I harm my intentions. I harm my perception. I harm my habits and my ideas of what is “healthy” because I don’t think I’ve ever lived a healthy day one damn day of my life and that is on me for getting so caught up in my own rhetoric that I wouldn’t be able to tell the cave I’m in apart from my own ass my head is shoved so far up in.

..... Is it too much to ask for a day without pain? That’s all I want. I have to carry so much every day. Physical pain, mental pain, emotional exhaustion, shock, trauma, physical exhaustion, lies, facades, fake smiles and shallow platitudes I am just. So... tired. I was tired before all of this. And I’m sure I’ll be tired after this. But I just want to stop being in pain. I do. It hurts. It hurts so much. And my parents keep praising me for how strong I am and how high my pain tolerance is but holy shit that does not stop the pain. It doesn’t lighten my load. It adds to it. Because now, there feels like there’s an expectation. I am now expected to be strong, to not show pain, to just keep trucking and pushing through because I’ve done it for 3 weeks now and I’m “so strong” and I’m doing “so well” and I’m NOT. But this shit is hard enough without adding your disappointment to the mix, your worry and frustration and genuine fear I know is coming if I finally snapped. You keep saying that you will be there when I am ready and that you are always there to support me but I still know you. And I know what you would do once I told you. And I can’t live with that. I can’t.

So I guess I’ll stay awake at 3am. Just so I can put it all down for a second. Even if I also have to add a couple of things to my load in the process. But it’s fine. I got it. No need to worry. Always smiling, right? Always have to be the bubbly, energetic person you’ve come to consider me to be.

It’s amazing how much a grimace can look like a smile.

[As badass as that last line is, I know future me (and any potential reader) might need context so here we go! I was in a car accident July 17th and have suffered a concussion as well as whiplash and I’m pretty certain I fucked up the muscles in my shoulder. I am in pain. I also have pre-existing anxiety and depression and concussion symptoms have a surprisingly large overlap with those two things. It’s also within COVID 19 which has been a whole host of other issues that you are welcome to read about below because I think they’re there but over all, I am not okay but at least I’m in therapy now. While I recover from the concussion, I am physically incapable of going home so I’m at my parent’s house where everyone is trying their best but their best never feels like enough and if I told my parents how much I’m going through and the fact that I’ve wanted to kill myself while I’ve been here means that they would have me locked up in a hospital :) And wouldn’t that just be so fun right now. 

So a lot is happening and a lot is going on and did I mention it’s 3am? This all isn’t exactly coherent or the best time of the day for coherency so just take this as it is. At least there’s background now. I knew this would be too much to put in the tags.]

[poisonspivey]

Self aware

When you're aware of things you dont always vocalize it right away.. you pick it apart analyze it or situation..get to know it so intimately it begins to drive you mad.. the lyrics to that song stuck on repeat for weeks.. the chord changes in the song.. what the lyircs mean to you.. the daydreaming you continue like a biography you're watching...scenarios youd love to be in while listening to it... the personality types character flaws and moods of everyone in your life.. the smiles they get when you make them laugh... the uncomfortable body language when they go from sad to mad to hurt... the way their eyes look when you spend time together and you begin to suspect it growing to something other than friendship or when it begins to die.. you appreciate beautiful things... the purple roses because red pink and black are overrated.. the beautiful sky painted over the mountains covered in snow...like a devine creator painted the horizon in one swift brush movement.. the colors of a sunset over the ocean.. the sound of the waves.. the smell of salty air...the goosebumps you get taking it all in... and the way your heart aches because completion in that moment would be taking what you feel admiring the handiwork that is mother nature and putting into someoe special wraping your arms around them.. holding their hands and kissing their skin describing heaven to them while feeling like that moment could last forever or I could die and be happy because in minutes this moment will be over and ill be cold again...but with that sort of gift comes the curse.. you're alone with throughts and senerios that are limitless... you fixate on yourself to the point you wonder if you are even real...you know meaningless information about diseases.. disorders... weather patterns.. natural disasters any thing that keeps you up at night because the fear of what if is so strong endless panic fills your soul...the black hole of void.. hopelessness.. silent screaming that bedrids you .. you wanna get up.. you wanna go out... you wanna feel connected to humanity.. but how can you when your connections are all onesided as soon as your eccentric light fades they disappear into the shadows until your light comes back on... the internal dialogue gets louder screaming back and forth WHY CANT ANY OF YOU HEAR WHAT IM SAYING WHY CANT YOU JUST SIT WITH ME IN SILNCE WHILE I WASTE AWAY.. I WOULDNT BE THIS WAY IF YOU WOULD'VE FIXED SHIT MONTHS OR YEARS AGO ALSO THANKS FOR DOING EXACTLY WHAT I BEGGED YOU NOT TO DO.. AND YES I DO BLAME YOU FOR RUINING THE ONE GOOD THING I HAD FOR ME BECAUSE THAT WAS REAL SINCE I DIDNT BURN THE CITY DOWN.. YOU GAVE ME HOPE SOMEONE IN THIS DARK COLD WORLD WAS FALLING IN LOVE WITH THE VILE HUMAN I AM JUST TO TURN IT INTO A MEANS OF CONTROL WITH JEALOUSY AND PICKING IT APART TO WHERE I ENDED UP DOING WHAT I ALWAYS DO.. THROWING MYSELF INTO THE FIRE WITH INAPPROPRIATE SHIT WHEN REALLY THOSE STUPID MOMENTS WERE SUPPOSED TO BE SPECIAL. IT WAS ALL UNWANTED ANYWAYS CUZ IT WAS IT WAS A DELUSION..AND I NEVER LOSE CONTROL TO THE DEGREE I PERCEIVE SOMETHING IS THERE WHEN ITS NOT.. the other part of me... YOU STUPID BITCH I TOLD YOU KARMA WAS COMING FOR BEING SHAMELESS AND COLD WITH PEOPLES EMOTIONS HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY THINK THIS TIME WOULD BE DIFFERENT BECAUSE THEY WERENT EATING OUT OF YOUR HAND RIGHT AWAY? YOURE NASTY.. YOURE VILE.. YOURE NOTHING.. YOURE ATTENTION SEEKING.. LOOK WHAT YOURE DOING NOW BLOGGING ALL THIS FOR THE WORLD TO SEE AND LAUGH.... LETS FOCUS ON THE MOST PAINFUL MOMENTS IN YOUR LIFE YOU CAUSED OR COULDNT FIX.. BURN.. DESTROY.. FIRE.... TELL ME IM NOT GOOD ENOUGH.. TELL ME IM JUST ANOTHER WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT.. A JUNKIE... TELL ME WALK IT OFF OR LEAVE.. TELL ME YOURE TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD WHILE YOU FUCK MY FRIENDS AND LAUGH... TELL ME I DONT KNOW WHAT IM DOING OR HOW I FEEL YOU CANT HELP ME AND DONT LOVE ME... TELL ME I WAS BORN WRONG...TELL ME I WASN'T REALLY A PARENT... LEAVE ME ALONE.... ITS SO DARK... I CANT FEEL ANY OF YOU...YOU DONT EXSIST.. I DONT EXSIST... I hear you all talking and laughing.. I cant move... im fine.... ill get up at some point... I can make sure everyones doing alright by watching their timelines... this will pass at some point.. it was nice you made time for me even though I blew you off... I didn't want you to worry.. but I really wanted you to just show up or call me... but really just show up and hold me while I sleep because im not sleeping... I love you all even though im breaking bonds because I dont know if I can keep doing this anymore.. and I don't wanna hurt anyone... im hoping maybe after all this ill find peace within myself since im now convinced ill never know true love or experience it even though the few times ive been in love it was real... im shattered... im nothing... im a statistic... I dont deserve to be touched... I dont deserve to live.. you all mean absolutely nothing to me please just fucking die already make it easier for me since you love making me feel like I don't belong in this world... thank god my family won't see this because I have 3 social media platforms and this is the only one they arent on... I hate people that do this but it seems to be huge weight lifting to vent it.... I can hear my heartbeat... I can hear your voices in my head...ive kept all this to myself for years which is WHY everyone thinks it's only depression anxiety and a massive temper... im scared... I wanna go to a home that doesnt exist.. I want someone to just sit in silence with me all day that feels this way too because its exhausting even just being around one person since im already high strung with a mind that never shuts up trying to not make things awkward by having constant morbid conversations along with inappropriate hypersexual moments that you crave and need to indulge ontop of the shameless person that is me also doesnt help because when IM done dont touch me either leave or stay silent until I want it again or my mood changes and youll be worth my words because right now your voice is like a dying cat and I dont wanna be rude because I know none of this is your fault but you dont understand this and I don't have the desire to explain it 500 times to you until you do...... do I jump into the void? Do I throw on my impulsive shamless manic mask for my final stretch.. or leave before I can do more damage since I'm poison

[w-rennie]

Getting Started

Hi Tumblr!

I’ve had an account on here for years and I thought.. Well, maybe I can have an account that’s actually for real blogging, like how blogging used to be. For writing, and all of that.

What I wanted to post about is bipolar disorder. I know the internet hates self-diagnosed people, but I’m only self diagnosed because I couldn’t get in to see my psychiatrist for six fucking months.

ANYWAYS.

I’ve been diagnosed with depression since I was roughly 14-ish? That’s when I started going to my pdoc, anyways. It seemed like that was the answer and I had a really hard time with medicine until 2014 when I started Wellbutrin, Wellbutrin was my miracle drug. I lost about half of the weight depression had made me gain in high school. Everything was sunny again. I wanted to go out and do things and while, of course, I had struggles, but things were still so much better.

The last year though.. It’s been rough. My pdoc visits are really just check-ins so I can keep getting my prescription. I’d fibbed some and said things were fine and normal because everyone has highs and lows.. Right? That’s part of life. Some days you hate yourself and some days you think you’re the fucking shit and no one can handle how great you are. .... Right?

I had an appointment with my pdoc in January and had to schedule the next appointment for six months away because I was in trouble for missing so many days of work, EVEN when I had doctor notes. I knew after my one year anniversary, I’d get two more days I could miss and then 5 vacation days. So, even though I really didn’t want to, I thought I was making the right decision. I was wrong.

I have a crazy coworker problem (that’s a whole different story for a different day) and coupling that with moving and stresses and other things.. I felt like I kinda just snapped. I felt like it had been building since February when we moved, but once April hit.. Oh man. I had toyed with the idea of bipolar a year before but had let it go because I wasn’t like my bipolar I friend.. I mean, I spent money I didn’t have (see: credit cards) extremely quick when I was feeling good and happy and I thought that was just normal. I didn’t have the insane mood swings or promiscuous behavior or the drug abuse issues she had, so I didn’t have bipolar, right?

I saw an article about how this woman’s depression sort of morphed into bipolar. In particular, how she had been misdiagnosed with depression when she really had bipolar II. That piqued my interest and I spent probably 5+ hours a day for a straight month finding EVERYTHING I could possibly do to learn more about bipolar. I know those who self diagnose are extremely shunned (or where I’ve seen on the internet, at least) so I’m not trying to walk in like I own the place.. But the puzzle pieces fit bipolar II perfectly. I checked into other things like borderline personality disorder and I’ve already known almost everything there is to know about depression, and those don’t fit like bipolar II do. The more I think on it, the more I realized I’ve been this way for years and just thought it was normal.

I started paying closer attention to my moods and habits and feelings. I have streaks of “ups”, as I like to call them, where I don’t need sleep. I feel super pumped about life and myself. Nothing can stop me. I clean the house nonstop as soon as I finish getting ready for work in the morning until I have to leave for work, then come home, eat dinner, and clean. Sure, I have gym visits and allergy shots between work and coming home.. But I have literally left work early to come home and power clean the entire fucking townhouse. I HAVE LEFT WORK EARLY JUST TO COME HOME TO CLEAN. My anxiety gets high and it’s like a frenzy. I feel like a tornado going everywhere and into everything, all at once. I get hyper. I talk so fast I forget to breathe and can’t stop talking. I budget the fuck out of my finances. And then blow money I don’t have sometimes (???). I get inspired. I take on new tasks and ideas and projects. My diet (I’m trying to lose weight) is impeccable. I am productive in just about every possible way. And sometimes I get insanely hateful out of nowhere. I seriously considered purposefully hitting someone with my car once (and that’s not like me at all. My car is like my own child.) I snap at my fiance. I get irritable and yell and snap at people when I don’t even mean to. I can’t stop going and going and going. My head is racing and I can’t stop my thoughts and I feel like I’m vibrating. I want to be lazy and sit on the couch and sleep in until noon on Sunday but I just CAN’T. I’m wasting my time if I’m not doing anything! There are so many things that can/should be/need to be done! I can’t just waste away my life here sitting in front of a TV! Bills need to be sorted and papers need to be shredded and floors need to be swept and mirrors need to be cleaned and toilets need to be scrubbed and trash needs to be taken out and plastics need to be recycled and laundry needs to be washed and the beds need to be cleaned and the bills need to be paid and and and and and and and!

And then.. There’s the down swings. I’m in bed by 6:30pm. I just go up stairs and lay in bed because watching youtube/Supernatural/Arrow/playing video games just seems pointless. Life has no purpose. The chores don’t get done. I cry.. and I cry.. and I cry. I hate myself. I loathe myself. I despise myself. What would the world be like if I wasn’t here? No one loves me, do they? Whatever my illness is, it’s just a burden on everyone else and I make everyone’s life hard. I consider overdosing on sleeping pills. But I think of my mom and my fiance and my cat and I feel guilty. I couldn’t hurt them like that. But what if I just disappear for awhile? What if I just fold into myself and don’t exist for awhile, so I can give them a rest? A breather? So that they can relax? Wouldn’t that be nice for them, and for me, because I wouldn’t have to exist? But how do I do that? Hint: I can’t. I go to work and I cry in my car. I have to hold a teddy bear in my lap while I drive to feel some kind of comfort. I hide in my cubical and wipe my tears as soon as they fall. It’s allergy season, so they think I’m sniffling because allergies. There is my crazy coworker factor that has made this worse and it’s a big part of some of my issues, too. I cry because I can’t find a new job and I can’t. Fucking. Get. Away. From. HERE!

Good things, though: I found a new job and I start it Monday. I have finally found a counselor with an opening that I see on Monday, too. My visit with my pdoc is about two weeks away (6/26).

I’m in an upswing right now so I cleaned the entire house this morning and reorganized things. I’m trying to tell myself no to cleaning some objects and just leaving things messy, so you’d really never know I was a compulsive cleaner right now. 

I felt normal from 5/26 until about 6/1. I was able to take my time.. I didn’t clean all the time.. My fiance and I have binge watched Supernatural.. We went camping with no cell service and just enjoyed the lake. Nature helped me slow down, I really do think. I’d camp every damn weekend if I could.

Anyways, I just wanted to start this blog so I could get all of this stuff in my head out. My fiance is a wonderful being and listens and tries to understand the best he can but.. He’s never had any kind of mental illness. I’ve been dealing with this for over half of my life now. He tries to understand, but the way he was raised, mental illness is just a cop-out and you need to be a man and get over it. And I get it, I really do. He is truly trying hard to understand it. But I just need people who really get what I’m saying and can fully sympathize.

If you actually read this far, thank you so much. I do appreciate it. 

[burn-afterwriting]

I found a reason to be an asshole again. I think it’s so lame and don’t really want to admit it but I think a lot of the reason I have social anxiety is because I hate being a dick to people. There’s so much I’ve said to people and so many things I’ve done that in hindsight were disgusting to me and so to compensate I bury myself in the polar opposite behaviour where I exhibit the least of my instinct as possible because of that one time I looked like a dick with little defence but a percentage label. 

The last three years have been such an ugly mistake. I knew it at the time and drank my way through it and now I’m lost and sober. I had a girlfriend for nearly a year and I don’t remember a thing about it. I can tell you basic facts and a general timeline of events but I feel absolutely nothing. I think I’m living in a post university depression brought on by the prospect of the rest of my looming life and some kind of karma hangover where I repent for my misguided youth and pray for a meagre redemption. I can’t help but think that the suicidal teenage me had already figured this out and tried to avert this situation numerous times, but I can’t think like that anymore. It’s generally frowned upon to identify with past emotions because I’m mature and sociopathic now and I can compartmentalise my issues with handy labels like Do Not Open Before Christmas. If I was to buy into mental illness in all its newly socially accepted forms, I think I’d come out as a middle brother. I’d identify as a middle brother who got just enough male influence from his older brother to get by, but not enough that he didn’t also have to learn these things himself. Basic human things that I seem incapable of like approaching someone without seeming like a perpetrator. Small, personal things I achieve so I can tell my older brother hoping to see a brief flash of pride on his face. 

I don’t like shit, I don’t go outside. It’s pretty chill here listening to beats in my comfy king size I bought for a girl with my smart money. After a while though, it ain’t so chill and I wonder how to keep myself entertained when I have an aversion to everything. How do I meet a new girl when I have to tell her I hate going out, I can’t drive and I’m basically just a high functioning scrub? I’m one step up from a junkie on housing benefit; I can occasionally function just not for any reasonable length of time. I listen to motivation tapes with this philosophical shit about not wallowing in self pity, and everything strikes, everything is correct, I know the problem and I know the answer. There’s no right moment to do anything, you need to do something constantly and if you stop for a second you’re sinking. 

I think back to wanting to be a journalist and how I stopped writing when I got too self aware about my own trash. There’s times I’ll read a story in the news and wonder what the real story is. I’ll wonder why they didn’t interview this person or why they wrote it in a certain tone and what they’re really trying to convey. With all the bullshit of mainstream media and their agendas I think there’s a huge gap for real journalism, but supposedly that doesn’t sell anymore. Is that a meme too? If commit to playing a character in the real world I could be that guy phoning one of these people behind the story and asking for a follow up for my upstart news blog. Maybe things will slowly unfold. Maybe I will have the most bland life imaginable, no more cutie drama girls, just morbid mid 30 hook ups, a few DIY jobs I need to finish up, and posting alternative news on my facebook feed, alienating any social prospects I might’ve had. 

I search for a meaning to define my life but the world is so morally defunct nihilism is nature and following my set path like a passenger is fine, as long as you’re content. Happiness seems like the biggest meme of all. I’m not going to find it in this reality so I should concede to this fact and not search for it. Happiness would come in the little moments, once you’ve accepted the bigger picture of stress and burden. Maybe people resent me because I don’t take anything seriously and so am immune to the basic struggle they feel trying to carry their own weight. But I’m not immune. That’s my big pretence that I hide behind a paywall on my social-political networking blog. I just don’t have an answer. I feel like that any time there’s some kind of situation in public and people look around for some higher power to guide them, but what guidance can you offer them? We’re dying animals. I saw a bird one time that had its neck chewed off, it was so fucked up. It just stood there with a dead look in its eyes, waiting for something to happen and for it all to end. Anytime I see some shit go down in public I know I have no place to act. Who am I to lecture anybody? Especially when they wouldn’t listen. So what do I stand for then? What basic human parameters am I denying myself by defining myself as the guy that walks on by?   

The hardest thing to deal with since I’ve crossed over to the real world is having to build character. If you don’t have character, you’re an animal. If you operate on nothing but instinct, are you even human? But in a meaningless world what characteristics do I give myself? Who is my personal self, my working self or my familial self? There’s no way to transition into any of these people without losing a huge part of myself, and in a way that’s exciting. I’m not sure how long I’m supposed to give significance to things that happened in the past, although they often relay the most intense emotional response in their specific categories. Do normal people give so much of their current self to events that happened in the past? Is it normal for a thirty year old to smile and think back to that 19 year old he used to be with and how he defined certain aspects of his personality to some of those moments? Even though she’s older now and neither person exists. Is it melodramatic and self aggrandising to attach significance to the mundane? Is it another form of mediocre self content? If I refused to validate these emotions in the pursuit of fresh ones, would that solve my problems and throw me back in the right direction? 

I’m nobody. I’m nothing. I’m a basic human being with integration issues trying to take life as it comes. It’s not coming right now, but it did, it was there and it’s gone. My thanks to the girl that ate away at me, as I ate away at her, as we used our issues as shields and weapons and in the end realised we’d cut each other one too many times. I think in happier moments I may choose to remember her for more than what she was, because that is the true essence of love. I feel like we knew too much about each other for the veil of emotion to completely blind us, and we’re surely better as friends although I don’t want to be. I have to adjust to being alone again and life closing in on me. Its diminishing returns and the realisation that I need to get real and realise, because when you really realise, that’s when you realise.