#the amount of people I've spoken to who have never played the game but can't help loving Kim

[lylahammar]

My favorite thing about Kim Kitsuragi is how contagious he is as a blorbo. like everyone loves Kim even if they have never played the game or watched a playthrough. Just by looking at pictures of him everyone's like "now that's an old man I can get into"

[rageprufrock]

Hi Pru, this is a career question... I am in my mid-twenties, female, not quite the most junior employee at my organization but treated often as one. The workplace is highly male-dominated, competitive, the older supervisors sometimes hilariously old-boys'-club, and the younger men (my age) mean well (feminist, etc.) but have their own territories to defend. For complicated reasons I cannot leave. I knew some of this coming in but am ashamed to say that

You’ll love this: my response is so late because I too girlbossed too close to the sun and have accidentally reached mid-senior leadership status at my organization and the past month has been the most hilarious cluster of fucks. Insert clown emoji herey.

ANYWAY.

I have a few thoughts on this one, and hopefully one, or some, of these are helpful as you're navigating your early career.

To address your most immediate question: is it meant to be this hard? I think "is it meant" or "is it always" are two different questions, and each with branching answers completely dependent on your field and profession. Some are notorious for early career hazing--banking, medicine, etc--and then the answers are that the suffering is a feature, not a bug, for these industries (this can be debated ad nauseum but you know what I mean), and then for many, many other professions, the answer is that while it's not meant to be this difficult, it still is, and that it's all we can do to survive it.

But setting aside the macro issues, of whether the role itself is objectively hard or if the environment you're in is objectively sub-optimal, the more nebulous and inescapable thing is that each one of us, individually, in our early career are undergoing one of many puberties and all its attendant implied indignities. I find it weird that culturally we don't talk about this much--at least not in Western or the Eastern cultures with which I'm most conversational--but think about it: in the first five to ten years of your working life, you're often simultaneously navigating a staggering number of life-changing systemic shifts that have a tectonic impact on your lived experience. I

For a lot of us, beginning your life as a working adult means you're likely moving out of your parents' home, which adds a huge amount to your mental load and financial burden.

For a lot of us, these early professional jobs are also the first time we're operating in a performance-reward system for which there is no clear rubric or understandable progression monitoring--there aren't any grades, and I can't tell you the number of people who I've spoken to in my career who have been shocked when they're told they're being put on performance improvement plans even though they thought they were doing fine.

It's like being sent to college with no class list, textbooks hidden in eight different departments run by varyingly helpful people, while trapped in an inescapable group project run by someone who seems just as frazzled as you are, and told "okay well you should need to bring me your completed degree by EOD Thursday." This doesn't even take into account your genetic assignment to play this entire game on hard mode by failing to be a cisgendered man in the dominant cultural demographic.

People who've had multiple jobs and career changes can attest, every new job, no matter how seasoned you are, is fucking exhausting. It's almost a joke among my friends at this point how often I change jobs, and every single time I do, there's at least a six month run where at the end of every day, I'm fucking spent. I couldn't calculate 1+3 if my life depended on it, because I've spent my working day so furiously trying to read the professional tea leaves and figuring out what the actual fuck I'm supposed to be doing--which, funnily enough, is never as clear as you would think! Even if you are at increasingly senior levels of responsibility! It's really fun and good! Your boss's boss's leadership team meetings? Surprisingly similar to when I used go get coffee during my break working at an ice cream shop to complain about our customers and equipment and boss! It's amazing how no matter how much changes, everything stays the same!

So I think in the end, my answer to your question is this:

Is it meant to be this hard? Depending on what you do, maybe.

But should it be this hard? Of course not. Life is short and lush and wonderful, but already so filled with challenges, and it's a shame that being rooted in capitalism, we're all forced to participate in a system that's so unbending and unforgiving.

But does that mean it's going to be forever? Or that you can't survive and thrive and have fun in the process? Absolutely not.

However awful you feel, however bad the job is, it doesn't have to be forever. This role you're in now may be just what you need to find your next, better, better paid opportunity. And maybe that one won't be the ideal for more than a year, maybe two, but that's why you keep an eye out and a keen focus on what you want, and what's most important, and like a shark, you continue to move and grow as you get clearer on where you want to move and how you want to grow. The person I was at 24 could not have imagined the person I am at 38, and I'm guessing that the woman I am today can't fathom who I'll be in another 10 years. Whoever she is, I hope she's still choosing to do hard things and--to the very best of her ability--having a good time in the process.

It's okay to cry about work. It's okay to cry at work, even though I strongly recommend that you do this huddled in a restroom in privacy because otherwise it gets messy--fairly or otherwise. It's okay and normal to do these things. It's okay and normal to feel like a fucking disaster, to feel--or to in actuality!--be categorically failing. It is okay and normal to hate and love your job, and to love money and hate the work. There is no right way to do this, and the only wrong way is to give up on yourself, or to create a situation where you cannot have the freedom of your choices or your future.

It's also going to get easier with time. Even if you don't feel it, every day you're getting more experienced, more confident, more discerning. Those microscopic, atomic changes in you accrue, and I'm sure if you're honest with yourself you can already identify how even today, you are a stronger, more capable person in your professional context than you may have been just a year or two ago. Even if you don't mean to do it, just the experience, the bruises, the callouses from throwing yourself at the brick wall over time will rewrite the person you are--if you do this with your eyes open and intentionally, all the better.

Five years from now, ten years from now, you might still find yourself crying about work. But hopefully you'll share the good fortune I have been privileged enough to have, and find yourself the type of good friends who say, "don't care during work hours, it's beneath you to give them the satisfaction--cry later," and actually have the wherewithal to follow that extremely correct guidance.

So anyway, it shouldn't be this hard, but it is. The good thing is, you're better and stronger than it is, and you can look forward to the day you get to look over the shoulder at all the worlds you've conquered as you get ready to do it all over again.

💖

[poguestvff]

Used To The Cold — S. Cameron

In which Sarah Cameron comes to a realization after her girlfriend moves across the country.

taglist | main masterlist | 2.0k words

warning(s): none, fluff, i heart sarah <33

Have you ever lost something that held either so many memories or brought a sort of happiness that just warmed you immediately even at the sight of it? Most people have something like that. Such as for children when it comes to losing stuffed animals or action figures that were a source of comfort, they missed it like hell. Said children grow up and look for a new source of comfort. Some teenagers found it in weed and alchohol, others in sports. For Sarah Cameron, she grew out of the beautiful pink blanket her father had gotten her as a toddler. As she grew into a teenager, she found a new solace.

Her girlfriend.

Sarah made it very apparent to show her love to her girlfriend who, at one point, was just her best friend who she could hardly even bare to be away from. Sarah had known she'd loved Y/n before they even got together by the way Sarah had never felt claustrophobic in the friendship that she held with the other girl. She said the three words within the first six months of being with her, words she had never spoken to another being other than her family. It was a word she, personally, took seriously. For her to say it to Y/n showed the amount of trust she held within her. Trust to not feel so closed off with Y/n.

At the beginning of the relationship, Sarah was glad that not much had changed between the two of them. That Y/n let her have her space whenever she needed it without the dependent need to be together all day though it quickly became backwards. Sarah grew even more clingy to Y/n, hardly able to deal without her hands being stuck to her girlfriend like glue. Whenever they went out to lunch, Sarah played a one sided game of footsies that only brought a smile upon Y/n’s features, one of Sarah’s favorite traits about her. Sarah loved the idea of always having a person to call her own, Y/n seeming to be the one person who could bring out her newfound touchiness. Though, sometimes she pondered on whether Y/n herself was even handling it or if she just ‘put up’ with it. If she did have an indifference towards Sarah’s actions, she surely never showed her disinterest in it.

Though the last time Sarah had held on to her girlfriend felt soul crushing and gut wrenching. As the two of them stood on the creaky, wooden dock just before the ferry, Sarah felt drained. Between the amount of crying she’d done in just the past few days had been enough to make her want to sleep forever and the comfort of her girlfriends arms around her hadn’t helped that feeling. Tears held a steady stream down both of their faces though Sarah was the one who was unable to contain her sobs. People passed around them, solemn looks given to the two of them as they listened in on the sniffles and soft wails.

Y/n didn’t need to be a genius to understand that this was twice as hard for Sarah as it would be for her. Y/n was leaving, miles away that Sarah couldn’t even pin on when the next time she’d being able to hold on to her would be. All she knew was that this embrace that Y/n held on her would be the last one for months and there wasn’t a thing that would be able to make up for it between now and then.

It evoked an indescribable sort of fear within Sarah but she knew it was immutable. If Sarah could, she'd even drop her whole life within Outer Banks to follow her girlfriend across the world. There wasn't much Sarah wouldn't do and there wasn't much Y/n wouldn't do for Sarah either, including the moving date having already been pushed back a month because of Y/n's several arguments with her parents.

"I don't want you to go." sarah whispered as y/n kissed her neck. She could hear the blonde's pained and wavering voice, how affected she already was even as Y/n hadn't even stood on the boat yet.

"I know, lover." the y/h/c girl spoke in a low tone, only sarah able to hear her words of affirmation. Y/n was first to pull back, placing her hands on Sarah's cheeks. The sight of Sarah with puffy eyes and a quivering lip made y/n's heart throb and a guilty feeling blanket over her like a raising tide. "i'll visit. Every chance I get, you know I will."

"It won't be the same." she lamented. Y/n placed her lips against Sarah’s, delicately as if the blonde were made of porcelain. When Y/n's parents had called for her and Ward and Rose had called Sarah away from the dock, Sarah only seemed to want to cling further, fingers pressing further into the thin jacket Y/n worse, but their time had finally run out. Even after weeks of pretending that they had all the time in the world, like nothing could pull the two of them apart, it had happened.

The first few weeks, the whole Cameron house had known Sarah spent most of her nights crying herself to sleep and the entire Y/l/n house knew Y/n was not going to be speaking to them for a little while due to their newest decision. Both groups of parents hadn't known that pulling the duo away from one another would become such a quagmire for each of them.

When Y/n did finally decide to talk to her parents, it was usually to say she was leaving to explore the area in which she refused to get to know the first few days. With a driver license, it gave her just a bit of freedom from her parents who's impromptu decisions had still caused for a tearing in their familial relationship.

Y/n sat in her parked car, a hot beverage in hand to adjust to the cold in which she'd just stood in for five minutes. All of it for a drink that wasn't even that good in her opinion but she dealt with it. With the hand not holding the steaming drink, she opened her phone, smiling immediately at the photo of her and sarah as her background. She unlocked it, scrolling around to find Sarah's contact and setting her phone up against the dashboard. While it began to ring, Y/n situated herself to begin to drive. "Hi, Y/n/n!" Sarah shouted excitedly the second she'd answered.

At her tone of voice did Y/n laugh. The enthusiasm was no surprise but it was funny to Y/n every time. "Hi, baby." She replied, fhe smile remaining on her face as she looked towards the screen. Sarah sat at her desk, her hands under her jaw though a pencil between her fingers. She had focused all of her attention from the papers in front of her to the driver on the other end of the phone. "What are you doing?"

The sound of whizzing paper had made Y/n glance to the phone seeing a math sheet now replacing Sarah's face before she placed it back down, a frown appearing on her features. "Math."

"Didn't you just start like two days ago?" Y/n asked, taking a sip from her drink.

"Yes and this teacher is an absolute bitch. You're just lucky you don't start for another week. You would hate Mr. Henley."

Y/n let out an awfully dramatic gasp. "Um, hello, Mr. Henley was literally my home room teacher last year, I'll have you know. Show some respect." She said, almost missing Sarah's chagrined look as she smiled.

"You're supposed to be on my side here."

"Sorry, i don't believe in biases, Sar." She joked for sarah to let out a small snicker.

"So tell me, how's minnesota?" Sarah asked, trying to spark up a conversation even if the distance was the same thing she wanted to keep her mind off of.

"Oh, it's so great. So many hot people." she remarked.

"You're not funny, no one has ever found you funny." Sarah replied though unable to hold in her laugh along with her girlfriend. "I'm serious. we haven't talked much about it and i don't want to like... avoid your new life now."

Y/n sighed, looking towards the phone to see Sarah looking back down at her work in front of her. "Fine. Well, it doesn't particularly suck. The no surfing part definitely does, though, but what can you do. And the coffee here... no, its just so bad, babe. granted, i only had one, and it's in my cup holder right now but it's gross."

"My coffee making is better, right?" Sarah asked as Y/n gave a hefty nod.

"So much better, even if it is the only thing you're good at making." Y/n laughed and Sarah attempted to refuse a smile, her cheeks quivering from trying to keep it down. "But the weather dropped today, randomly. It was seventy yesterday, fifty today but i think i'm getting used to the cold."

Sarah lifted her head back to the phone, watching Y/n focus on driving, her eyes diverting on places away from the screen. Sarah but at her inner cheek, drumming her fingers against the white wood that rested under her forearms. "Used to it?" Sarah asked. She knew Y/n's move was permanent at least until she was eighteen but something about those words made it seem more realistic. She was getting used to a place that wasn't home.

Y/n hummed. "Yeah, i'm probably being dramatic. I saw a guy walking around in a tank top and shorts while i'm wearing double pair of socks right now." she grinned at her own comment though picking up on Sarah's sudden discomfort when she replied with a small 'wow'. "Lover?"

"Yeah?"

"What's going on?" Y/n asked, the car slowing to a stop at a red light.

Sarah quickly shook her head. "No, it's nothing. Just... the work. Keep your eye on the road."

"Sarah." The blond recognized the tone of voice quickly.

"Just... I just fully realized how permanent this is. I won't see you until, what? December? That's a long time, Y/n! And, i get it, it's your home now and i can't do anything about it but—"

Y/n was quick to cut her off. "I never said this is home. Sure I live here but it's just a couple walls and a roof. It's not home, Sarah." Y/n began. "Home is you. And trust me, i've been missing home the second i got on that ferry."

Despite them having to look at one another through a glass screen the feeling—the connection between the two of them was still felt. Sarah could feel the normal warm feeling she would've gotten whenever Y/n would simply hold her hand or brush her hair over her ear. she held that much of an effect on Sarah in person and somehow even thousands of miles away.

Sarah hadn't even realized she had been staring for a total of twenty seconds until a singular tear fell down her blushing cheeks. she quickly sniffled, recomposing herself as she wiped it away. "Are you seriously making me cry right now?" She muttered with the way the atmosphere had become though relishing in the way Y/n laughed in response.

"Yes, thank you for ignoring everything i just said, lover." Y/n put the car back in drive as the light went green. Due to the steets being relatively empty in her new small town, she took the time to look back over at the phone to Sarah. "I love you."

Sarah's smile widened in thag very moment, pursing her lips before pushing them out. "I love you more."

"And don't worry. I won't get to used to it. I'll be back home, to you, before you even know it." Y/n took a small glance to the phone, enjoying Sarah's gaze that showed even with the distance put between the two of them, they'd be fine.

[fancybehaviour]

Daddy Woes

Summary:

Harry is a good husband; so he sends his wife out on a much needed girls day. James Sirius is a naughty boy; so he sends his father down an anxiety spiral.

Notes:

Written for @harryandginuary BINGO!

Prompt I 23: “Why are there zucchini all over our kitchen?” “Do you not like zucchini?”

The sun had sunk low on the horizon, and in a few minutes would dissapear for the night. About dinner time, thought Ginny, as she made her way home after a long enjoyable day, her heels clicking rhythmically against the cobble. As she walked, she rewinded the highlights of her girls day out with Hermione and Luna in her head. Ginny had had an absolute hoot meeting her friends.She was sure she would continue to reminisce until the next time she could have such a day; after all being the mother of a seven month old meant that such trips were a rarity and she cherished them a lot.

Her legs ached from all the walking around she did while she helped Luna shop for her trip and she was looking forward to taking the nice long bath her husband had promised to draw her. She let out a sigh as she thought of sinking her aching legs in a hot bath, her husband perched at the edge of her bathtub as she gave him an exaggerated recount of the day's events peppered with silly nonsensical jokes, him guffawing at them all even though he had already heard them all. He did that a lot these days, laughing. Especially since the birth of their beautiful boy.

She felt a swell of love rise in her as she thought of her family; her seven month old baby son who could scream the house down and her loving husband who tried his best to give her respite from the said infant. 

"Harry?" she called, pushing the front door to close and locking it. "James darling? I'm back home. Did you boys have fun?". She continued heading towards the kitchen where she could hear noises, taking care not to trip over the many toys that were strewn about their living room. Courtesy of their many relatives and friends, James seemed to have an amount of toys that seemed absolutely ridiculous to Ginny who couldn't remember seeing so many toys even at the Burrow, that had been the residence of seven children. Making the matter even more ridiculous was the fact that James's favourite toys were actually the copper pots and pans that he liked to bang about making noise.

It was only when she reached the kitchen and took in the desecration that it was  that she realised that perhaps today, she might be the only one in the Potter household who might have had any semblance of fun.

Eyes darting from her slightly whimpering son in his high chair, to the trail of food spills surrounding him to the multicoloured stains adorning her husband's apron and his miserable face, she decided to address a whole other issue: “Why are there zucchini all over our kitchen?” 

“Do you not like zucchini?”, asked Harry, in a tone that might have been wry if it weren't for the long suffering expression on his face.

"Absolutely not. Can't believe you thought I did, the honor of questionable taste will forever be Hermione's ."

He gave a laugh that seemed more for her benefit (making Ginny wonder if parenthood had done a number on her humour too) and set about cleaning up. Ginny walked into the kitchen and lifted the whimpering toddler into her arms. She pressed a loud smacking kiss on both of his chubby, chubby cheeks, and rocked him gently, seemingly this was all that was needed for his whimpers seemed to slowly subside. She could feel Harry's eyes on them as he continued to clean up the mess; she remained silent, waiting for him to tell her what was weighing on his mind.

Instead he said, "He missed you," so she turns around to see him, looking at them softly with a look on his face that Ginny could only describe as melancholy. It reminded Ginny of her fifth year, when he looked at her like that, like she was everything he wanted but was unattainable.

It seems she was going to have to demand answers after all. Very well.

"Alright Potter, spill. Whatever happened today that has got you relapsing into your teenage angst?"

He laughed, and this time it was a genuine one; BINGO!

Pulling a chair at their kitchen table and settling himself down he said " James kept crying after you left. A lot." 

"Uh-huh. Nothing he hasn't done before. "

"Yeah. Sure. But today I just realised.."

"Yeah?" She asked, settling down into the chair opposite him, shifting James into her lap who seemed very fascinated with playing with her hair.

Harry watched him for a moment and then continued, "I know James crying is nothing new. Yet for some reason, it just bothered me today, you know."

"Uh-huh."

"It made me feel like a bad parent." he confesses, looking a bit surprised himself, perhaps at that he had spoken it out loud, yet continued with "I have been feeling like it a lot these days."

There.The dam had finally broken. Ginny had long since suspected that Harry was having troubles with parenting. She had caught him brooding about with a tea mug in his hands instead of going back to bed after whatever ungodly hour James Sirius had decided to wake them up. 

She tried many times,to get him to talk, but between her own exhaustion, an infant with a strong pair of lungs and Harry's stubborn refusal to burden Ginny with anymore than she was already dealing with nothing had come out of it. But now that he seemed to want to talk, Ginny did not stop him.

"I just… "he paused, and swallowed, something he did when he was overcome with emotion but wanted to bite it down.

"I want to do this right. I have never wanted so badly to do something right in my whole life. Family..it means everything to me and I want to be a good father but I'm afraid I am failing."

"You are an amazing father, Harry."

He shook his head. 

"Am I?"

"Yes" Ginny agreed furiously.

Harry looked into her eyes at that and she hoped he could read her, that he could see himself from her eyes, how she fell in love with him more and more everyday as she saw more and more of dad Harry.

Looking away he continued, "I sure don't feel like it. Today, while you were away, all Jamie wanted was his Mum. I tried everything, feeding him your milk, his favourite toys - yes the pans and pots, we are lucky we have no neighbours- feeding him all sorts of baby food and yet nothing seemed to work for long before he started wailing again. "

Ginny replied, "I don't want to sound like I'm being condescending, but this is the only way I can seem to put it- he's a toddler Harry. No one knows why toddlers do what they do. If he was fussy with you today and missed me I doubt it's because he has decided you were a bad parent."

"I know that - rationally.But the part of me - the same part of me that gets jealous of blokes trying to chat you up or worries that Ron is going to make a new best friend  - that part of me makes me think I have been a bad father."

"Today when Jamie kept crying for you, and I wasn't able to calm him down or feed him any of the amalgamation of baby foods I made- it just felt like I was in over my head, without a clue about what was doing. I might as well have been one of those dads who say they are 'babysitting' their kids and leave them up to their mothers and that's not- I never want to be that."

"I don't just want to do this right, I want be good at this. Like I am at Quidditch or catching dark wizards. I know I can catch a snitch, I know how to find a criminal on the run from law. Just like that, I want to be good at taking care of my son...but today, everything I did kept failing and that made me think.."

"James dented your confidence, didn't he," she said softly.

"He did," Harry agrees looking over at the boy who was happily sucking on his toes, completely ignorant of the spiral he had sent his father through.

Lacing her fingers with his, she said,"My mum told me, with parenting, there's bad days and good days, but you've got to understand that having bad days is not equivalent to being a bad parent."

"I imagine she had a lot of those, with seven of you," replied Harry wryly.

"Two of them Fred and George", Ginny reminded him.

They sat for a moment in silence both lost in thought.

"Gin-"

 "Harry" ,they both started at the same time, and Harry motioned for her to go on.

"I was just thinking - I had help with this. My mum, Fleur, Angelina, my teammates - I had people to talk this with. To reassure me that I wasn't doing things wrong. But you don't have that."

"No. But I've got you."

"You do," she agrees. "But also, maybe you should talk to people too. Maybe my dad or Bill or George"

He snorts at that. "If anyone had told me ten years ago that I'd be talking parenting with George.." he trails off as Ginny gives a light chuckle.

"Seriously though," she says again,       "Give it a try. I'm always here though. To listen. Or if you wanna get competitive over who is the worse parent".

Grinning, he says "I fed him courgettes Gin. He hated it. I'm winning this game." and she smiles at him, simply happy to see him happy.

"Oh and what is it?", she asks, and at his quizzical raise of eyebrows she elaborates, "that you wanted to say? You wanted to say something but you let me go first."

At that he gives her a wide smile and says, 

"Just that I love you."

[theynevercalledmejennifer-blog]

Your strong is my weak

I found my way back to writing but it seems I can't really control the outcome. It is pouring out of me uncontrollably, especially in combination with alcohol so it happened what had to happen.

I texted my ex. Drunk, lonely, upset. I did not see it coming, I have not even thought about him on that boozy Sunday which escalated quickly. I danced, I laughed, I ate, I hugged, I played, I sang. But then, you have probably been there too... when you left the stage and the audience is gone, all on your own in the empty but really nice super king size bed, memories hit harder than most of us can handle. They are just there. From zero to 100. Hello darkness my old friend, I've come to talk with you again.

And I nearly started my next sentence with "and you think..." but no, you don't think. You don't think and you don't estimate the outcome and you don't manipulate and you don't wonder what the reply would be, you just feel. You feel so intensely as if you have been some kind of Snow White chick sleeping in that coffin of glass and suppressed emotions for way too long so that you need to tell that person of desire right now in exact detail how you feel.

(Portentous break)

I was beating myself up the whole next day for it. I couldn't even look at my phone because every time I did it reminded me of what I have done. In my head I was naked ringing the bell walking along the village of my emotions and all the people screamed 'shame' like when that Queen in Game of Thrones got her head shaved for drunk texting her ex too. Infinite looping thoughts: Why have you done this? Why have you texted him when you managed for weeks to stay away, to do your thing, and live your life. Why do you not have the strength to sail through this gracefully? Where is your God damn pride?

But is holding in emotions a sign of pride? Is it really strength? I talked about this with my precious friend Annelie, who is a well know German spiritual blogger and kind of a specialist in relationships and she changed my way to look at this.

It is not a sign of weakness to text someone. Someone you clearly have feelings for. Someone you care about and someone who played a part in your life at one point. It is not a sign of weakness to care. Quite the opposite. It is strong and brave to decide to share your emotions with someone, especially knowing that there won't be a sugar coated, ever so sweet reply that let you fall asleep with a smile. No, you sent the text and there is a massive hole of nothing that is about to swallow you and all you can think is 'I can no longer bear the violence of your silences' but thankfully you are so drunk that you are passing out. Blessed be the booze.

The next morning you wake up and you are full of regrets and above mentioned doubts. But doubt no more, fear no more... the problem is not you, or me, or anyone who speaks from the heart. The problem is society and the fact that in our heads we are still separating 'strong' and 'weak'. What we define as weak is actually strong. And what we define as strong, is the actual weakness within us - if you need to differentiate the way of strong and weak at all.

If I turn this around and remember all the lovely men in my life I could not love back. Have I ever thought 'What a weak man!' When one of them texted me because they missed me? Not once. It made me sad, because I knew someone else was sad because of me. Sometimes it even made me happy because I missed them too and was utterly relieved that he was the brave one opening the door again so I could come back for another ride. Never have I ignored them or made them feel ashamed for their text.

So what to do if you spoke your mind and now feel ashamed or are made to feel ashamed? Try to send love. Try to send love to yourself and also send love their way and you will be surprised what is going to happen within you. After I did exactly that, sending huge amounts of love left, right and centre, I started asking myself what it would be like if we all would start telling each other how we really feel? And I don't mean particularly from lover to lover, or lover to ex lover, I mean all of us, universally spoken.

Why are we beating ourselves up so much when it happens to us? When we spoke our true mind, showed our true self?

Because we have a wrong-headed picture of expressing emotions in general and our personal, romantic emotions in particular. We are forcing ourselves constantly to contain and withhold feelings, pretending that we 'actually do not really care'and I believe that this is the biggest weakness of our society.

In my opinion, all the people who show their emotions openly, no matter what kind of emotion, no matter where and when, are the true strong ones. The brave ones. These are my heroes and not the ones who believe and make others believe that they have to play a role, that being aloof is achieving anything and decide to treat people with anything other than kindness and empathy.

So whatever you did this weekend or whenever in your life, if you drunk texted, if you called, if you've written a letter or sent roses, if you sang a song in front of someone's window or if you simply knocked on their door to check if they still love you too, don't blame yourself, don't blame others. Just take everything as it is. If you feel love, be grateful that you are able to feel love. If you feel sadness, understand where it is coming from. If you feel anger, go ahead and punch them in the face. Okay that was a joke, don't do that.

The trouble with love is, that fear and coldness look the same on the outside but are completely different emotions on the inside. So if one partner is scared shitless because of all the emotions that are suddenly bursting out of their little heart and they think 'Shit, this is getting a bit intense, where is the emergency exit? I am never the lucky one, he or she will leave me anyway so I better play it cool.' So you start being a bit aloof, take some time to text back, be busier than before and although you want to say something stupid like I love you because you just really felt like you actually love that person, you turn your back around and ask for a back stroke. And say nothing. And this is when it happens, this is when the dynamics change. This is how you change them. Because fear is one of the most powerful emotions and unfortunately, contagious. So your fear finds its way straight from your heart into their heart. And this is the downfall. Both of them confused, Black Eyed Peas playing in the back of relationship-head 'where is the love', yes man where is the bloody love? It was just here and now it is not anymore... And it all gets heavy and very very flat like an IPA or one of these weird ciders. If you don't start holding each other there and then, and talk about this odd gut feeling developing in possibly both of your insides, then I guarantee this and put a tenner on it, you both won't last long. You'll be back in single world subito and find yourself online dating.

And yes, Friday night dates are so easy to find, but secretly we are all looking for the cosy morning spoon. The messy hair, morning breath, sleepy eyes and rough voice Sunday morning closeness that covers you like a safety blanket and shuts out the outside world. Someone who wants to share the day. Someone who wants to share you. With you. And all of you, not just the amazing parts that even the people who do not like you at all do like, no I mean the uncomfortable, unpredictable part of you that no one really understands.

I tried to portion myself to make it easier for them to love me. But it did not work. All it does is bringing confusion. To the person by my side, but most importantly to myself. If you are losing yourself in the process of trying to be someone else, it is very hard to row back from this. The current is strong, the tide is high and if you are not reflective and conscious of your surroundings, you end up paddling around until you drown. Drowned in the pool of your lost authenticy. Sad. This sounds so sad because it is so sad.

My friend Rachel said to me the other day, I want you to write about something happy, write about the last time you were crazy happy and it did not have anything to do with a man or a relationship. I have of course several happy moments in my life, many of them in no relation to a member of the male population, but right now, in this state of my life, I can't. I can't write about happiness I felt before because right now I am not feeling it. I feel confusion, love, heartbreak, fear, anger and hope. A weird mix. I need to wait until this phase is over, until I stopped lashing out on instagram for attention as if the 174th selfie would change his mind and make him see me how I wanted him to see me. It is not real anyway. He saw me many times in bed in the morning so that ship has sailed a long time ago... Also, not everything I do is about him. A lot of it is, but not this.

When I started writing, I thought that I was writing for his attention. That I somehow hoped he would find his way to my blog, my written word and take the time to understand me in a way I was not able to show during our relationship. But that is also not true. I am writing for myself. I am writing because of the feeling I have afterwards.

Everything is structured. Everything is a bit more understandable, less painful, less heart wrenching. It creates hope and some sort of happiness within myself. Sad happiness, but happiness. It feels like after a heavy night out where you had too much to drink and you feel shit until this moment where you hug the loo to vomit your soul out, you cry and you swear and call for your mum (who hopefully does not live with you anymore because you are a grown up) and you hate every minute of it but when it is eventually done and all the toxic shit left your body, you are exhausted but relieved. You know it is over, you get yourself up from the floor with that disgusting mix of mascara and tears smeared all over your red face and shower it all off and start fresh. And this is how writing makes me feel.

And this is exactly what I am going to do. Start fresh. With all my emotions ready to burst out of my heart and mouth.

Fasten your seat belts, lovers.

[funny-relatable]

Basically, This is Basically What Every Dr. Phil Episode is Basically Like Basically

Dr. Phil: Hello, I am Doctor Philip, and today we'll be tackling an issue that is very widespread, but rarely spoken about. Gaming addiction. Now, I know many of you know at least one person in your life who plays video games, whether that be a child or, in some cases, a spouse.

Audience: *laughs*

Dr. Phil: But, when unregulated, gaming can lead to serious addiction. Today I have with me a mother who's home life has been torn apart as her very own son descended into gaming addiction.

Mother: *sniffing and wiping tears away* Hello, doctor. Will you cure my son?

Dr. Phil: Well, dear, that's... uhh. Let's just bring the boy out already.

*dramatic music plays*

Gamer: My name is Gregg, I'm 19 years old, I'm a gaming addict, and I don't give a f*ck.

Audience: *gasps*

Gamer: Yeah, I game for 19 to 20 hours a day and the other four hours I use for looking up sick gaming strats or beating it to anime porn. I once sucked off a dude because he offered me minecraft diamonds. I don't give a sh*t, I would've sucked him off even if he didn't have the diamonds.

Audience: *gasps louder*

Gamer: Do I hate women? Yes, I hate women. I've emailed Anita Sarkeesian my address. She knows where I am if she wants to fight me. Feminists, square the fuck up. People always ask why I don't do anything other than gaming. I ask them why don't they mind their own f*cking business. I don't think I have a problem. Dr. Phil can honestly eat my whole an*s.

Gamer: *walks out onto the stage*

Audience: *boos*

Gamer: F*ck all y'all! I don't give a f*ck! *flips off the audience*

Dr. Phil: Please take a seat, son.

Gamer: *sits very disrespectfully*

Mother: *starts bawling*

Dr. Phil: Son, do you think that was acceptable behavior?

Gamer: The only behavior I care about is the behavioral patterns for enemies in the S.T.A.L.K.E.R. series. I love video games: Master chief, Mario, uhm, Blinx the Cat... Blasto. Love those guys!

Audience: *boos*

Gamer: I don't care! You think I care! F*ck all y'all!

Dr. Phil: All these people are booing you, doesn't that make you feel bad?

Gamer: Are you deaf? Have I not articulated the fact that I absolutely 100% do not care about anything except for video games? I. DON'T. GIVE. A. F*CK.

Mother: He's always like this, there's no changing him. It didn't used to be this way... just *starts bawling harder*

Dr. Phil: I think there is a way to change him, and we'll find out more about that after these messages.

*Dr. Phil theme plays*

*The lights dim and every goes empty eyed and slack-jawed*

Gamer: Heh, this is weird. *nudges mom and whispers to her* Hey, we're getting paid for this, right. Hey, mom? ...Mom?

Mother: *completely unresponsive*

Dr. Phil: *completely unresponsive*

Audience: *completely unresponsive*

Gamer: Heh... this is REALLY weird. *looks around nervously*

Audience member: Hey!

Gamer: Huh?

Audience Member: I'm in the audience! Over here! My arms are strapped to the chair! You have to help me!

Gamer: *runs to the audience member*

Audience Member: Thank god, I thought I was the only one here left with any brains.

Gamer: *hastily undoing the straps* What the fuck is going on?

Audience Member: I don't know, but this definitely isn't Dr. Phil's show.

Gamer: Then what is it?

Audience Member: No clue, but we have to get out of here before the commercial breaks ends.

Gamer: *successfully undoes the straps*

Audience Member: C'mon! Let's go. *grabs the gamer by the arm*

Gamer: *resists* Wait a fucking minute. Why am I supposed to trust you?

Audience Member: Because I'm normal and everyone else is braindead if you haven't noticed.

Gamer: Yeah, but I'm not going anywhere until I know what's going on. Being on Dr. Phil is a huge opportunity for me to, y'know, advertise my brand. I'm a gamer if you haven't noticed.

Audience Member: Are you insane? Have you had a look around you? Does this anything happening right now seem normal to you? Who cares about your "brand". Do you even remember how you got here?

Gamer: Well... now that you mention, I can't really remember exactly.

Audience Member: Yeah, now let's get the fuck out of here.

*the gamer and audience member run through the back exit into the hallways*

*the Dr. Phil theme blares as the show returns from commercial break*

Gamer: My ears!

Audience Member: Move it! *jerks gamer's arm*

Gamer: Okay, calm down.

*the entire audience screams in unison*

Gamer: What the fuck is that!?

Audience Member: It's the reason we're running! Quick, in here!

*the duo duck into a cramped broom closest*

Gamer: Listen, you have to tell me what the fuck is going on right now!

Audience Member: Shh.

Gamer: Don't shush me!

Audience Member: *covers the gamer's mouth*

*agonized screaming and violently rumbling passes by the broom closest*

Gamer: Holy shit!

Audience Member: Stop yelling.

Gamer: How can I not yell when it sounds the gates of hell just passed by us!

Audience Member: You want it to turn back around and find us?

Gamer: Alright. I'll calm down... I'll. *start sobbing*

Audience Member: Please, please stop crying. You're too loud.

Gamer: I can't! I'm under a lot of stress!

Audience Member: You'll be dead if you don't shut the fuck.

Gamer: I never wanted any of this, I just wanted to go on Dr. Phil so people would recognize me on YouTube and I could become a popular Let's Player!

Audience Member: If you don't shut up right now, I'll-

*a snake bites the audience member's neck*

Audience Member: *eyes roll up*

Gamer: *screams like a baby*

*snakes slither under the closet door*

Gamer: *stumbles out of the closet and falls into hallway covered with snakes* Fuck me! Fuck me!

Gamer: *attempts to run away but falls beneath the snakes and into and empty void*

*agonized screaming echoes from all around*

Gamer: Am I in hell? I have to be in hell. You don't fall through a pool of snakes and wind up anywhere else but hell.

Dr. Phil: THERE IS NO HELL.

Gamer: Doc, is that you? If this isn't hell then where am I?

Dr. Phil: YOU'RE IN MY REALM SON. *Dr. Phil's face appears glowing in the distance, his eyes are empty sockets and his mouth hangs open*

Gamer: What the fuck are you?

Dr. Phil: I'M DOCTOR PHILIP.

Gamer: You're not Dr. Phil!

Dr. Phil: I NEVER SAID I WAS, SON. *a wall of gray human bodies lights up surrounding Dr. Phil's massive head, dr. phil's giant snake body slithers towards the gamer and opens its third eye* I'M DOCTOR PHILIP.

*the wall of bodies screams in unison as Dr. Phil devours the gamer*

*Dr. Phil theme plays loudly*

Dr. Phil: THE NEXT EPISODE IS STARTING. I'M LATE. *slithers into the wall of bodies and his snake body slowly transforms into a normal Dr. Phil's body*

Dr. Phil: *crawls onto the stage*

Dr. Phil: *dusts himself off* Woo, I went on quite an adventure.

Audience: *laughs*

Dr. Phil: I'm glad we can all find some time in our lives to laugh, but today's episode is covering something that is most certainly not a laughing matter. It's one of the most serious addictions striking America today and it's rarely talked about. I'm talking about people who love to pee on their mattresses and then pay people exorbitant amounts of money to suck their disgusting mattresses clean.

Audience: ... *someone clears their throat*

Dr. Phil: What's the matter?

Cameraguy: Spsss, Doc. That's not what the episode is about. It's about people with terrible gambling issues.

Dr. Phil: Oh, ah, fuck! Cut to commercial!