#the ketamine is working but i feel like shit and i am not happy... yet

[nikkigrand]

There’s no easy way to say this, but I’m abandoning all of my works. Everything.

This post is going to be long, honest, triggering and deeply personal. So for those who don’t want to read through all of my bullshit, the gist is that I’m not emotionally or mentally capable of writing anymore.

TW ARE IN PLACE.

If you’ve followed me for a while, then you know that my boyfriend was killed in Afghanistan last year. Since then, my life has been a breathless decline into self destruction. I didn’t know—I still don’t know—how to recover from happily waiting for his return to painfully knowing he never will. I swear that some days I feel like he’s still out there and some day he’ll come home and this will all be just a bad dream. I want to wake up to a reality where he steps off that plane and into my arms, where I don’t keep a crumpled old t shirt that smells more of me than him under my pillow, where the shock of hearing certain songs doesn’t make me throw up. A reality where I don’t have to sit in front of his ashes every time I visit his mother and look at his singed necklace around her neck.

I wanted nothing more than to wake up. Just wake the fuck up and feel alive again because for so long I had felt this choking pain and grief and misery and then nothing.

Everything became an escape, something to fill that void in me. I tried all the healthy things. I ate, I worked out, I ran. I talked to people about how I felt and reached out, but nothing helped. I volunteered, i planted trees and flowers, I channeled my grief into kindness. I tried to take all this pain and turn it into something beautiful, and still I felt nothing. I was falling falling falling into this black pit and was reaching for anything to keep me from hitting the bottom.

So I started chasing highs. The standard shit at first. I drank so much alcohol that I’d wake up in bushes with my friends, limbs tangled in ways that left me sore and stinging for days because who the hell passes out in a Rose bush?

At first, drinking was fucking hell, because no matter how much I drank I’d always end up with my head cradled in the palms of my hands, fingers digging into my scalp as I screamed and wailed and asked why why why why when he was so close to coming home and why was life so goddamn mean??? I’d be in bar bathrooms, just curled in the corner and sobbing like a dramatic princess until my friends carried me out. This happened about a dozen times before it just stopped, because I figured I wasn’t drinking enough if I could remember everything.

So I drank more and more and more and then I realized that it wasn’t making me feel better, it wasn’t doing anything for me.

So I started smoking. Just weed, you know. Nothing too crazy at the time. But all that did was make me hyper-fixate on all of my failures and short comings. It made me hate myself so viscerally, so deeply that I wondered if this is who I truly am at my core. A mean bitch who drinks, smokes, parties. A maneater who fucks these poor kind hearted men to fill that hole her dead man left inside her and still finds herself cold and numb after because it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

I’m sure you know where this is going. But I hated myself. I’m a beautiful girl, I’m not blind, and yet I found myself to be so fucking ugly. So fucking ugly and grey and all I wanted—all I needed—was something to breathe life into me the way life itself did before.

I just wanted to feel happy and normal. Only for a little while. That need was so encompassing it would grip my insides and I’d cry from how much I wanted it, how much I had convinced myself I needed it. It was all I fucking wanted.

So the bumps came. And then the lines. And then whole baggies to myself. And it felt amazing, it was wonderful. The world was alive, things were different. I had more energy, more life in me than I had in months. Then the other type of lines came and it made me feel like I was floating away. There was no pain, no misery, no death hanging over my shoulder to remind me that the strength of your love can’t make people stay.

But soon, that too wasn’t enough. Like every other thing, I felt there was something better, something that could make me feel more. So here is where I tell you about all the pills I popped, all the different colored presses and how each one pulled me out of that hole I was falling into and deposited me above the ground —much higher than I could have ever dreamed of—and filled my grey world with beautiful gorgeous colors.

Then I can tell you about all the tabs I let dissolve on my tongue, or fully swallowed out of impatience, all of the lines of ketamine I combined with ecstasy and acid in one night. The things I saw, the way I felt—it took me far from this dismal life and was addicting. I was chasing something every weekend until it became every other day, chasing some feeling I still can’t name, and I knew that it was ruining me.

My grief and my drugs were killing me, and I knew it. With every cotton mouth, every clenched jaw, every pounding headache, I fucking knew and didn’t care. I’d look at my friends faces and I knew, I knew they loved me and would be devastated if they knew what I was doing, and I still didn’t care. What was life if it felt this empty?

My grades dropped, i turned down a contracting job I wanted for years, I spent all my money on psychedelics and stimulants, and it had gotten to a point where I’d pop a pill while sitting at home just because I didn’t want to be sober and didn’t want to think about how fucked up my life was becoming.

Then one day I was at a concert, high in the clouds with a joint settled comfortably between my lips and frizzy hair piled messily atop my head, when I saw a girl get carried out the venue by medics. She was probably a few years younger than I am, and i remember looking at her face impassively as they pushed through the crowd with her body thrown over this bear of a man’s shoulder as if in slow motion. She was pale and foaming at the mouth, with her arms dangling limply down his back, and she looked dead—she was dead. I knew in that same way you know that the sky is blue when the sun is up, I just knew.

And in that moment—those few seconds it took me to acknowledge that she had most likely overdosed and died—this intense yearning shot through me, so strong that I felt it in the crooks of my fucking elbows, like I wanted to embrace whatever the fuck it was that I desired to live inside me, and this voice cried out, “I wish that were me.”

And you know what, I didn’t even know I had spoken until the guy next to me shoved me in the shoulder and said, “no you don’t.”

And that terrified me. I remember dropping the joint, fumbling it in my shaking fingers, burning myself on the lit end, before handing it off to that same random guy and running off to get some air.

I’m not stupid and I’m not blind. I know I’m depressed, I know I’ve got issues, but I had never said something so suicidal out loud up until that point. I’ve never vocally wished for death and even as I sat there, as I looked out at the people outside the venue huddled together doing whip it’s and killing brain cells, I still wanted to be that poor dead girl on that man’s shoulders.

That was it for me. I remember calling an Uber home on the spot and taking everything I had and flushing it. Im not going to sit here and lie to you and tell you that it was easy. I had convinced myself that I needed these things to make me happy, and i don’t know if I can ever see life the same way after them. The feelings you get off these things are otherworldly, it’s so damn good, but they come at a price. You dont feel the same way you did before you took them, and you never will. You’ll never be who you were before that high, but you can almost convince yourself that it’s worth it. So it was pretty damn hard to take my neon presses, my rocks. my capsules, my bud and my tabs, and flush them down the toilet.

Almost immediately after I did it, I cried. Mostly because i had flushed hundreds of dollars down the fucking toilet, but also because I had become that girl in those cheesy college movies. You know the one, the one where the party girl gets addicted to drugs and goes on a bender and her whole life is just one big goddamn tragedy that won’t end. I hate those fucking movies and I, for the life of me, could not believe I was that girl.

I had been military, straight laced with a good head on my shoulders and a hard worker. I was smart, respected, the girl everyone wanted to bring home to mom. And now I was a hot mess crying in my bathroom because I had just flushed my addiction down the shitter.

Now I’m just home, trying to gather the pieces of myself in a way that doesn’t cause long term damage when I’ve yet to hit my 27th birthday.

I still go out with my friends. They know nothing about what I’ve done because I’ve always gone out and done things alone. This is the first time I’ve ever spilled my guts.

So where does FanFiction come into play in all this. Well, it’s simple, really, if you’ve gotten to this point and picked out all the mistakes in grammar. My brain is so fucked up that I can barely write a passable 3 page essay. I can’t remember words, much less how to string them together to form something beautiful in the way I used to. Trust me, it kills me and I’ve agonized over it for hours. I once tried to take this amazing idea I had and put it to paper but it would just not flow. Nothing made sense. Where before writing was effortless and focused, now my brain could barely concentrate on forming a sentence that didn’t sound like gibberish.

My attention span is so short that I literally have to isolate myself with no internet and my textbooks to get work done. It’s so bad that I have anxiety and panic attacks about the fact that I feel like a whole dumbass with one brain cell, where before I was proud of my intelligence and could hold decent conversation.

I’m still pretty, as if that fucking matters, but now I’ve got a stutter and can’t hold eye contact because my paranoia makes me think they’re judging me. And let me tell you, I’m so fucking pissed about that because I know it’s just my fried brain thinking these things, and there’s no one to blame but myself.

And I still feel empty and numb. How can I write about love and human emotions when I don’t feel anything? How can I write about looking at someone and loving them when the memory of love faded like my lover’s ashes in the wind? I just can’t.

I know love as it whispers against my skin with each interaction between me, friends, even other men, and yet I look at them and feel absolutely nothing.

So Yeah, I can’t write my stories if I can’t get my brain or my heart to work.

I’m really sorry to all my loyal readers. I really am. I wish I had been stronger. Thank you for all of your support throughout the years.

Don’t do drugs.

[cannabisrefugee-esq]

 A Note to the Turmeric and Yoga Crowd. TL;DR. You Aren't That Sick.

Cannabis Refugee, Esq.

December 9, 2019

Let me preface this note by saying that I was able to somewhat control my Crohn’s symptoms for 30 fucking years before I got sick.  And when I say “sick” I mean sick-sick.  The kind that is undeniably disabling, mostly doesn’t respond to treatment and never goes away.

Because I have explored and/or experienced these things firsthand, I know all about prescription and over the counter medication including oral, topical and other traditional medications, as well as Chinese medicine; homeopathy; reflexology; chiropractic; Ayurveda; herbal remedies and tonics; restrictive diets; probiotics and fermented foods; vitamins, minerals and other supplements; trendy exercise programs and basic ones too; every form of detox, cleanse, fast and purge imaginable (and then some); acupuncture/acupressure/cupping/spooning; aromatherapy; crystal therapy; therapeutic massage; meditation and relaxation practices; binaural beats and sound therapy; infrared therapy; Reiki and other energy work; atheist-prayer; talk therapy and otherwise working out your issues; knock-you-down-to-build-you-back-up emotional bootcamps; cutting “toxic people” and things out of your life; letting go and letting God; and thinking about something else for awhile.  Did I miss anything?  Jesus.

I’ve done it all and I’ve been doing it all for a very long time.  This is not my first day, or year, or decade with alternative therapies: I was avoiding nightshades while some of you were still eating French fries with your Happy Meals.  Think about that shit a minute.  I’ve been doing every alternative therapy imaginable since before many of you were even born.  And certainly before any of this shit became cool, or easily accessible, or at all normalized and/or mainstream.  

Potatoes (and therefore French fries) are a nightshade BTW, for anyone who doesn’t know.  And nightshades are known to be inflammatory.  I recently had an old family friend clue me into the harm nightshades can cause.  I recall trying to clue people into that in 1992 when I first learned about it but whatever right?  He figured it out 30 years later, after being in pain for decades and after having both knees replaced.  Good job dude.  Seriously, well fucking done.  These are the people, and the kinds of people, who are giving me advice.  It is, in a word, maddening.

I’ve also been keeping up with the research.  I research Crohn’s and other medical conditions weekly if not daily because I am interested in it and interested in the social commentary around it.  Where there is none, or nothing interesting, I create social commentary about it on this blog.  I know about fecal transplants and have written about it here, I know about so-called “Functional Medicine” and have written about that here, I know about stem-cell therapy (shudder) and Ketamine therapy.  I know that there is a potential gene therapy in the pipeline which I will probably never get to try.  Because these things cost money and are gatekept and are otherwise inaccessible and/or unsustainable over time.  We have been over this.  Even if these things work, there are reasons besides not knowing about it that prevent people from accessing them long term or at all.  Have you heard of?  Have you tried?  Yes.  Probably.  Seriously, stop wasting my fucking time.*

And don’t get me wrong.  Some of these alternative remedies “worked” or worked well enough that I was able to mostly do what I needed to do for a reasonably long time.  I was able to finish school, and have something of a career, and maintain some semblance of a life through my thirties with the crutch these various pain relievers and anti-inflammatories provided me and they worked.   Kind of.  Until they stopped.  When I finally gave in and saw a doctor for what had finally become unmanageable gut pain and symptoms — what turned out to be severe Crohn’s disease — I was 38 years old and absolutely everything I ate was making me sick.  The supplements, diets and practices I had relied on for decades, and on which I spent all my discretionary resources for decades, no longer worked.  Get it?  They worked once, to some degree, but they didn’t work forever.

Please.  Please hear and understand.  Regarding alternative therapies, I have tried them all, or a goodly portion of them, and I know a lot of them work.  They do!  Kind of.  Unfortunately, I also know that the relief they provide is temporary only.  It’s temporary guys.  And if these things are currently working for you, and if you are still functional and able to mostly do what you want and need to do because turmeric and yoga or whatever, it can only be because either your illness isn’t that serious, or it’s not progressive, or it’s both serious and progressive but you aren’t that sick yet. If you yourself are sick and you say you feel like hell and that this stuff helps you, I believe you, but you likely ain’t seen nothing yet: if you have an incurable, progressive chronic disease, things are going to get much, much worse for you, and eventually there won’t be a fucking thing you can do about it.  And I am so, so sorry about that.

Here is how my 30 years’ journey with various alternative treatments turned out: eventually, my meager and last-ditch anti-inflammatory diet of unseasoned chicken, cauliflower, water and a bevy of supplements and practices no longer worked and I could no longer eat no matter what I did or didn’t do.  I had reached the end of that road — what I am calling the yoga and turmeric road — and I was extremely, extremely ill.  And it wasn’t because I was cheating on my diet(s), or being surreptitiously glutened, or that I hadn’t tried long or hard enough.

I can only conclude that these practices stopped working because turmeric and yoga and things of that caliber might work in the beginning, but they do not work long term, and they will not, because they cannot, work forever on serious, incurable and progressive disease.  Crohn’s disease is a serious, incurable and progressive disease and the whole time I was doing absolutely everything I could to treat my pain and symptoms, my Crohn’s was doing exactly what it was supposed to: getting worse over time.  What a shock, a disease that’s known to be progressive, progressed.  It’s in the name innit.

*This might’ve been my favorite suggestion though.

Q: Have you tried therapeutic fasting???

A: Well, I almost starved to death a couple of times.  Because Crohn’s.  

Comments Open on Blog

[thewayshefeels1]

Letters to my Ex

Day 2

Dear N***,

Hi. I’m writing to you and you’ll never read these but I was listening to a podcast today that said you should write letters to your ex and then burn them. Since this is online I can’t do that but I guess I’ll never send these to you. Can’t be too sure though with my rapid mood swings and impulsive tendencies however. One minute I miss you the next I hate you. Well not hate you, but highly despise you. I’m angry and sad all at once and it’s very confusing. I’m usually one or the other but I guess the stages of grief begin to kick in the minute I wake up and realize it’s not just a dream. I feel like I’m experiencing a death which I guess I am. My body is going through withdrawals I suppose because my mind is on overdrive and I can’t keep thinking of how fucking rejected I feel. I had a dream about you, but I can’t remember what it was. All I know is that I woke up PISSED. And my mind was racing at like 4 in the morning, God knows about what. Tonight I will try trazodone which belongs to Sasha but I’m stealing in hopes that I finally feel better or nothing at all. I wish I could smoke ketamine or some shit and just be in another world until I feel better. I don’t think I’ve felt this way in a really long time. It reminds me why I don’t get into relationships in the first place. I fucking hate this shit. It makes love not feel worth it to me or just a waste of time. I am supposing you’ve read my last article about you somehow since you tripled messaged me like I said in the letter. I blocked you and then unblocked you and then I blocked you again. Heartbreak is not something I cope with lightly and I wish I had something to numb out the pain. If I could go into a coma and wake up 6 months from now I wonder if I would feel better. Or completely erasing your memory might be nice… But I don’t think that’s how healing works. Do I miss you or just feel lost without you because I’m so used to having you around? I feel empty inside, like I don’t know what to do with myself. And as happy as I was to see your text/dm/email, (will get to this in my next letter) I shook my head and laughed when I opened it. How pathetic I am for receiving so much validation with the idea of you just thinking of me. I wonder if I’ve been on your mind as much as you’ve been on mine. Part of me wants you to suffer. Part of me is rejoicing in the idea that you might regret what you’ve done. The other part of me wishes you’d come to my house, show up at my door and…. But no. Because I can’t do this anymore. That is what I need to keep reminding myself of. IT”S DONE, over, officially for good. Yet I feel I need to convince myself that’s true. I want to get back at you, make you feel bad for hurting me so deeply. And I want to get back with you so this agony would go away. I know, like you said in your message, that it wouldn’t solve anything. So I just have to keep remembering we are better off this way, not in each other's lives. It’s like… weird. Calling you my “ex”. It’s not something that rolls off the tongue and I don’t want to get used to it. It just sounds bad and I refuse to do it. Now you’ve become the “ex” I can’t stop talking about. What sucks is that you knew what you were doing but I guess you just assumed I was so weak and desperate that I would be at your beck and call. If I’m being honest, I’ve lost so much respect for myself over the course of our relationship that I doubt my ability to be strong and not give in to you. Because I’d so much rather just keep pushing off the inevitable fact that we’re not meant to end up together. I thought we were but clearly we aren’t. I’m not meant to be with someone who makes me feel so fucking small and not good enough in any way shape or form. You say that you love me and yet you treat me as if you don’t even like me sometimes. That’s why I asked you on the phone that night what you liked about me. Not so I could boost my ego but because I felt in that moment that you couldn’t stand me. And the sad part is, it's made me not like myself. Being with you has made me lose complete trust in myself and has affirmed that nobody could ever really love me unconditionally. I guess I can’t blame it all on you now, that wouldn’t be enlightening and I need to take responsibility for knowing I MANIFESTED THIS and you are simply just a mirror of what’s going on inside of me. Maybe that’s why we get on each other's nerves so much… because we just share similar wounds but in very different ways. My friend Tiffany told me that when you feel as if your voice doesn’t matter you will just attract people who confirm that and take it away from you. It’s like, frustrating because I thought I did all this healing and yet, here I am again in this shitty situation. I don’t know what I was expecting? Happily ever after? That obviously doesn’t exist and I was stupid for thinking so. I keep thinking about what your next girlfriend will be like, and can’t help but perseverating on the fact that the women you marry and eventually live with, have kids with, etc. won’t be me. What will she look like? Will she be shorter than you, lean, waxed with perfect nails and blown out hair and everything that I couldn’t be for you? I ruminate on the idea that you will call her your queen and treat her like a princess and give her everything you couldn’t give me. And I cry (literally, am crying) because why am I never worthy of being that person for someone? You think someone is your everything and then next thing you know, they are with someone else, treating them the way you wish they should've treated you. And you ask yourself “what was so wrong and bad about me that they couldn’t love me that way?” What makes this new girl SO much more valuable than I was that they chose HER and not me. & part of me then again knows that since you dislike yourself so much (you say you don’t but I know you do, deep down) that NOBODY will ever live up to your standards. That’s why you never had a girlfriend in the past, right? Because you said you didn’t believe anybody was good enough for you. Well, that’s a lot of pressure to put on me, buddy. I’ve never felt good enough for anything, like… ever. I can recognize though that not only were you so dissatisfied in our relationship because I wouldn’t give you what you should’ve been giving yourself (likewise) but because you projected all of your insecurities onto me (guilty also) that you probably didn’t believe you were really making me happy. Well guess what N*** you WERE good enough for me, you were more than good enough, you were the best guy I’ve ever dated. And so I thought because you were actually nice to me that you must be the one because no dude that I’ve ever been in a relationship with has treated me as kindly as you did. So now I fear that I’ll never get that again… that I’ll just end up settling in some abusive relationship again because that’s the best I can do and deserve. Because I lose everything good that happens to me and it’s typically my fault. Okay, this definitely wasn’t all my fault but there were for sure a lot of things I could’ve done better, I’ll admit. So I’ll end this by saying you DID make me happy (or else I wouldn’t have written an entire book about you). You were the second guy I’ve ever loved and I hoped for you to be the last. Maybe you will be, or maybe you won’t. But this feeling is killing me and I can’t stand how mean to me you were at the end. I’ll never forget the words you said to me and the way you made me feel crazy over and over again. All it comes down to is that we are incompatible. Yes, I’ve known this but didn’t want to admit it to myself and now here we are hating our lives because we fucked up, collectively. I want to just let you go and move on but I know it’s not that easy. And when I say move on, I don’t mean find someone else. The thought of dating makes me want to vomit. So I won’t… I’ll stick to my promise and hate men (again) for at least another year. Maybe I should just stop dating men altogether like you said because I don’t think I’ll ever fully trust them. The only men I trust are my guy friends but you couldn’t trust me around them so fuck me. You said you did, you just didn’t trust them and that’s something people say when they actually don’t trust you. I used to trust you but I lost that trust after you decided to command me to stop pursuing my dreams and one of the only things I’ve ever wanted in life to be truly happy. You said I shouldn’t prioritize my career over our relationship but yet it was OK for you to prioritize Nft’s over our relationship because you said you HAD to do it since I decided to go back to school. I don’t know about you but I want to be with someone who supports my dreams and is my biggest cheerleader, not someone who gets to control what I can/can’t do because it doesn’t fit into their desired lifestyle. That is one thing I couldn’t stand about you… is how vain you were. But I guess that’s what you get when you are given everything you’ve ever wanted in life. Oh how jealous of you I was (and still am to an extent). What a happy, healthy family you had with a perfect house and nice car and ridiculously good looks… Fuck, you are so sexy. And so I failed to live up to your expectations, no surprise. I’m not shiny and polished like your entire life is. I’m messy, neurotic, delusional and broken. And any time I try to be unbroken, it’s like I get shattered all over again. My pieces become more jagged and people get too flustered that they can’t put me back together so they just throw me back on the ground. I know you didn’t mean to… I know you’re just doing your best with the knowledge you have like we all are. And maybe one day I’ll eventually forgive you and perhaps myself. But I’m so angry at you right now, babe; if you couldn’t tell. Why do I keep calling you that? Will you forever just be babe? How do we go from saying always and forever to never speaking again? I can’t even fathom the thought of never speaking to you again, never touching you again, never… :-( Fuck… well I need to end this and go be productive with my life and stop thinking about you. LOL good luck to me on that… There’s not enough distractions in the world to lessen the despair I’m feeling. I miss you so much. I wish I could take all of this love I feel for you and just give it to myself. That’s what I need to do is “focus on myself” like they say during a break up. So why then can’t I stop thinking about the next time I’ll see you again? Sigh…

Sadly,

Lauren

[itsallavengers]

Please write a short fic about tony catching peter drinking i would die omg

“Hey, Peter,” 

He froze, eyes widening as he heard the all-too-familiar sound of expensive leather brogues scuffing along the floor a few meters from him, and he turned quickly, brow furrowed into a deep V as he watched Tony wander up to him, all smiles and casual posture, hands buried in the pockets of his grease-stained jeans. He looked like he’d come straight from the workshop, stopping only to throw on a leather jacket along the way.

Why he was here at all, however, made no sense at all.

“T- Mr Stark,” Peter said, trying to communicate with him through eyebrow movements alone. If it turned out that he had to suit up and help out somewhere, he was pretty fucked, considering the fact he’d had a bit to drink at the party he’d been invited to.

Well. He said ‘a bit’. It was possibly more accurate to say ‘a fucking shit-ton’, but whatever.

Tony looked at him blankly, before shooting another smile toward the circle of people who were stood around Peter and staring quite blatantly at the both of them. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid I have to take Mr Parker away. He’s an intern at Stark Industries, you know how it is. Lots of work, yadda yadda, okay bye,”

And before Peter could even open his mouth, Tony had grabbed him by the arm and snatched the solo cup out of his hand almost angrily, pulling him away from the group of people and through the crowds of rowdy teenagers that littered the huge house.

“Uh, Mr Stark, wha’dd’ya want me for, exactly?” Peter asked, speaking loudly above the blaring music and wincing at how slurred his voice came out.

It had been a weird month, okay. He was just trying it out. 

Tony paused, and Peter saw him purse his lips even tighter before beginning to walk again, guiding Peter through the crowds and holding him tight as he stumbled a little.

“Hey, Parker, leaving so soon?” Flash called out from somewhere to his left, and Peter stopped turning to face him as the other boy wandered toward them. “We haven’t even begun yet, Jesus, are you a pussy or what-”

“Kid,” and suddenly Tony had let go, spinning around and walking up to Flash, who seemed to suddenly recognise who exactly Tony was, because his eyes went hilariously wide and he stumbled backward a few steps. Peter snorted involuntarily, and he saw Tony turn briefly, before shaking his head and looking back to Flash, “it seems like you’re having an absolute ball here, but I’m gonna say something and I’m only going to say it once.”

Tony looked down at Flash, eyes harsh as he drew a little closer. “Leave. Peter. Out of it. Do you understand? He is not here for you to manipulate, not here for you to bully into trying out crazy shit for your amusement-”

“Tony, what the fuck,” Peter blurted, frowning and stepping forward, more than a little put out. He’d only just managed to get accepted by Flash and all the other popular kids, and Tony was just going in, ruining it all, “you’re not my dad- don’t tell me or my friends what I can and can’t do.”

Tony turned, eyebrows raised. “Friends?” He snorted, shaking his head and walking over to Peter once more, taking him by the arm. “You haven’t called in with Aunt May for two days now,” he hissed into Peter’s ear, “she’s worried sick. You are coming with me, right now.”

“No ‘m not,” Peter pushed his hand off, looking over at Tony in anger. “You are fucking….embarrassing me…. in fron’ of my friends-”

“They are not your friends!” Tony snarled, pulling his arm again, “your friends are all currently at home, worrying their asses off because this is not like you, Peter, and they didn’t know what to fucking do, so they ended up calling me. Now you will fucking follow me out of this goddamn place right now, or I am hauling you out.”

(Read more, mobile users!)

Tony looked absolutely furious, and Peter opened his mouth to snap back, but Tony shook his head. “Do not test me, Peter,” he warned. There was something about his tone that made Peter, even in his halfway-to-wasted state, know that Tony was not fucking around.

He got the sense he was going to be in deep shit with everyone when he left this building.

“I hate you,” he mumbled, keeping his head down and trying to ignore all the whispering teenagers as Tony walked through them all, firmly holding on to Peter’s arm as he went.

He felt humiliated. He’d just been at a party. What the fuck was wrong with that? And Tony had just barged in there and dragged him out like…like he was Peter’s fucking dad or something. 

And now everyone was whispering.

Tony ignored them all, Peter included as he pulled them outside into the drive where about ten different people were ogling his Audi. 

“Hey, Parker, I thought you were staying ‘til Aaron could fetch the-”

“I strongly advise- unless you want me to call the cops down here- that you do not finish that sentence,” Tony told the girl speaking, looking grim as he opened the passenger door and took Peter by the back of his collar, pushing him inside when he failed to do so on his own.

“Get the fuck off me!” Peter snapped, batting Tony’s hand away angrily and folding his arms, trying to stave off the sudden wave of nauseousness that had overcome him.

“If you’re going to hurl, do it out of the window,” was all Tony said in response, before slamming the door and walking over to the driver’s side.

Peter muttered various curses under his breath, refusing to open the windows. He didn’t want everyone to see him. They’d just laugh.

Tony slid in a moment later, refusing to look at Peter as he switched on the engine and reversed out. His face was like thunder.

They were silent for all of ten seconds, before Peter burst out “okay, what the fuck is your problem.”

“Don’t swear at me, kid,” Tony replied quietly, hands gripping tightly to the wheel as he still refused to turn and shoot Peter even a sidelong glance.

“No, no, I feel like I’m allowed t’ swear in a… in a situation such as this,” Peter gestured around him, eyes narrowed as he shuffled on his ass until he was head-on with Tony’s profile. “You had absolutely no right to do what you just did- you don’t fuckin’ control my life, and you can’t jus’… jus’ track me whenever you feel like being an asshole! Will you just LOOK AT ME!” Peter yelled angrily, suddenly wishing he wasn’t quite so drunk, because he could barely see Tony in front of him and the world was spinning to fast for him to keep up with-

Suddenly, Peter was yanked forward as Tony braked harshly, pulling over and stopping the car with a jarring halt. He turned, and finally looked Peter in the eye

“I didn’t track you.” Tony said, voice beginning to shake a little as he lost whatever semblance of calm he’d been holding on to before. “You wanna know what happened? Ned called me,” 

Fuck, Peter hadn’t seen him this furious since the Ferry Accident- Tony was practically vibrating in the car, fingers gripping the steering wheel like it was a damn lifeline. “I got a fucking call from your friend Ned at 2 in the God Damn morning, worried sick because your stupid ass had drunk-dialled him and said a bunch of crazy shit to him about parties and alcohol and ‘finally having a shot at being one of the cool kids, Ned, it’s insane, Ned, they got all this weird stuff for me to do but I think it’s gonna be fun, Ned’.” Tony spat the last part like is was a curse, teeth gritted as he spoke through them.

Peter stopped, stomach slowly sinking. He… he couldn’t remember that one. Maybe he’d drank more than he thought.

“It was just a party,” Peter mumbled, “it’s not like you can talk. Everyone knows what you were like. So why the fuck are y-”

“Because you’re supposed to be better than me!” Tony whispered, and it was quieter now, Tony seemed… like the fight had just drained out of him, anger replaced with something that just looked like hopelessness. “You’re not supposed to…. you don’t need to do this…. people fucking care about you, you’ve got a reason not to….” he trailed off, shaking his head again before slamming his hands down on the wheel, anger returning almost as fast as it had dissipated. “I don’t know what the damn hell has gotten into you this past month, but it ends here. Now. And you do not go back down this road ever again, you understand?”

“You don’t get to tell me who I should and shouldn’t be,” Peter yelled right back, “I’m finally making some fucking friends, and you won’t stop m-”

“STOP CALLING THEM FRIENDS!”

Tony paused, shutting his eyes and rubbing a hand across his face. “You want to know what your ‘friends’ were chatting about when I stepped through the door? They were going to slip a nice little fucking K tablet into your next drink, just to see what you’d fucking do. They were aware of your crazy good athletics skills, and they thought it would be fucking funny to see you bouncing off the damn walls, high off your head.”

Peter froze. That…that couldn’t have been true.

Tony shook his head, smirking. It wasn’t a happy smirk, though. “Ketamine is garbage anyway. It just makes you see crazy shit and then you need to piss ten times in half an hour. They don’t even know their drugs well enough to pick the right one out, but they were more than willing to test them on you,” Tony shoved a finger into Peter’s chest.

There was silence; Tony staring grimly at Peter whilst he simply stared back, a little vacant. The words weren’t quite sinking in, and it seemed Tony was aware of that, because he just sighed again and pulled away. “I’m taking you home. You need to sleep whatever you have in your system off. Obviously you have a faster metabolism than most, so you should be fine, but I’ll-”

“Please don’t take me to Aunt May,” Peter blurted, suddenly aware of how upset it would make her if she saw him drunk off his ass on a Thursday morning. “Please, she… she’ll cry, and I don’… I don’ wanna upset her. please.”

Tony glared again, muttering something under his breath before starting the engine once more. “I said I’m taking you home, Peter, and I mean it. You brought this on. You deal with the fucking consequences.”

Peter felt a little like crying himself, to be honest. He’d been rather on edge the whole night, and really, this whole bust-up was just the icing on the fucking cake-

“I hate you,” he mumbled again, folding his arms and turning away so he was facing the window.

Lucky, really, because a second later, he threw up right out of it,

“This isn’ home,” Peter said, looking curiously out of the window as Tony pulled up into a massive garage full of cars, all costing more than Peter’s entire house.

“Nope,” Tony bit out, rolling to a stop in the nearest space and then pulling out the keys, slipping out of the door before Peter could even ask where they’d ended up.

The door Peter was leaning on suddenly gave way a moment later, and a hand shot out to catch him before he fell completely sideways. “Careful, kid- your reflexes have probably been muted by the alcohol. You’re gonna have to tread lightly, unless you plan on braining yourself on the tiles.”

“Urghhh,” Peter groaned, shutting his eyes and trying to ignore the steadily growing headache and desire to vomit again. “How’d’you ever do this, Christ.”

He felt Tony tense a little beside him as he helped Peter up. “Practise, mixed with no one else around to help me up,” he said, voice hard as he stared straight ahead of him once more, a hand around Peter’s waist as he pulled Peter’s arm over his shoulder.

Thankful of the rest, Peter let Tony take his full weight, shutting his eyes against Tony’s shoulder. He was still mad, but… he was tired, too, and Tony was wearing a nice warm sweater which felt nice against his cheek. “So where are we?”

“Tower,” Tony replied curtly.

Peter frowned. “Didn’t you sell this place ages ago?”

“I put it on the market ages ago,” Tony corrected, as he hauled them both toward the elevator, “but I’ve yet to tie down any serious bidders. For now, it’s still mine.”

Peter grunted, opening his eyes. 

Fuck. Mistake.

“Hurrgh, f’ck, ‘m gonna-”

Tony barely managed to hold on to him as Peter’s legs gave out and he vomited again, retching up bile and the contents of his stomach once more.

It was gross and painful and Peter was really really tired, the whole night had gone sort of horribly and he was just so fucking frustrated-

“Hey, hey, deep breaths. Get it all up, come on,” Tony spoke gently to his left, a hand rubbing soothingly against his back as he blinked back tears and threw up.

“Fuck,” he whispered again, once his stomach had quietened down. His arms were locked straight, but he felt the vague sensation as they began to buckle, and all he could think about was the mortifying concept of landing in a pile of his own vomit-

Something caught him by the back of his jacket, and he heard a grunt of exertion to his left again as Tony once more held tight and pulled him back up. It was softer than the last couple of times; more gentle and less angry, and when he was on his feet again, he felt the dizzy whirr as his head was pulled into a shoulder. Tony’s shoulder.

“Y’changed your tune,” Peter mumbled, as Tony brought his arms up and hugged Peter tightly.

“Oh, boy, if you think I’m not still furious, you got another thing coming,” Tony replied, “I’m just guessing you’ve been having a rough few weeks, that’s all.”

Peter bit his lip, letting weak arms clutch tight to the material of Tony’s sweater. “I’ve fucked up, haven’t I?”

Tony sighed, and squeezed a little tighter before letting go. “Yep. But we’re gonna fix it, okay? In the morning, though. For now- think you can walk?”

Peter nodded, but changed it to a shake as he looked at the route to the elevator. He could barely even see it; everything was spinning.

Tony huffed again. “Typical,” he said mutinously, before a sharp “if you vomit on me, I’m dropping you, capiche?”

Peter was just about to ask what he was talking about when suddenly Tony swept his legs out from underneath him, pulling him into an effortless bridal carry that would have been utterly mortifying in any other situation.

As it was, Peter was just glad he no longer had to face the challenge of having to make his legs agree with him anymore.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, head lolling back against Tony’s shoulder once more. “I didn’ mean what I said…before.”

Tony opened his mouth to speak, but deflated a second later, shaking his head once more. It seemed his damn neck hadn’t stopped moving since he’d laid eyes on Peter. “Yeah, kid, I know,” was all he replied with.

Peter didn’t remember anything else after that.

When he woke up, he was lying on the couch in what had been the Avenger’s communal living room, and Tony was curled up on the opposite armchair, watching daytime TV.

He tried to say something, but it only came out as an incoherent moan.

Tony’s head snapped over to him instantly, with what could almost be described as a battle-ready look in his eyes. “Peter? You okay, buddy?”

Unable to physically form the words without possibly projectile vomiting, he just nodded his head, curling a little further in on himself and shutting his eyes against the horribly blinding light of midday-

“Fuck!” Peter jerked, sitting up to the best of his abilities despite the horrific way his head complained. “I…school! Aunt May! I-”

“Called school, told them you needed a sick day. Called May, told her you’re with me,” Tony assured him, uncrossing his legs and getting to his feet. Wandering toward the coffee table, he bent down and picked up a glass of water, before twisting and offering it out to Peter. “Drink up” he ordered.

Peter eyed it a little dubiously. Tony just huffed in exasperation. “Believe me, kiddo, water is the best thing to take in this situation. Well- water and Advil, but you’d have to have more than the recommended dosage for it to work on you, and I don’t feel keen on putting anything else in that stomach of yours, so for now you’re just gonna have to tough it out. And drink up.”

Taking the glass in his hands, Peter took a tentative sip. His hands were still a little wobbly, but he felt better than he had last night, at least.

Tony was sat back on the armchair, staring at him. His eyes were dark and tired again- he didn’t look as if he’d slept at all last night.

Guilt sat heavy in Peter’s gut.

“You and me need to have a talk, buddy,” Tony said eventually, locking his fingers together and leaning forward, elbows resting on thighs. 

“It was just a party,” Peter said again; the same thing he’d told May the first time, the same thing he’d assured MJ the second time, the same thing he’d been yelling at Tony last night-

“Peter,” was all Tony said, voice quiet and eyes horribly understanding as he watched Peter’s ashen face from the couch.

There was silence for a few seconds, as Peter took another sip. 

“They’d been mean to me for so long, Tony. When they started inviting me places, I just… I just wanted to fit in. For once. Is that so bad?” He said, his voice all stupid and wobbly as he looked stubbornly at the coffee table.

There wasn’t a reply, but he heard another quiet sigh.

Of course Tony would be disappointed. They were so fucking different, Tony had never had this problem, he’d always been invited to the places, he’d always known the right people and talked the right talk and done the right thing, all the way through school.  Tony had never been laughed at, and even if he had, he would have just hit back ten times harder, taught them a lesson, not just stumbled over his words and blushed like a fucking idiot-

“I’m gonna tell you a story, Kid,” Tony said, and Peter jerked when he realised Tony had moved, and was now sliding down to the floor, his back up against the side of the couch. “And this is a real fitting story, full of good life lessons and morals, so listen up.”

Tony bit his lip, visibly appearing to steel himself as he took a harsh breath and stared ahead of him.

“There was a kid, once- shockingly similar to yourself in a lot of ways- who went through a pretty similar experience as you’re going through now, except maybe a year or two earlier,” he began, fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against the carpet as he spoke.

“He was too smart for everyone else, really. Not even in an egotistical sort of way- he just worked on a different level to everyone else. Too smart, too much stuff going on in his head, and just as much shit happening out of it. He was never normal. He never…got that part of life.” 

Tony’s nose wrinkled a little, and he pulled a face, “ugh, that sounds so fucking cringey, but just- just bear with me a second here, okay, I’m working on it-”

Peter, despite himself, giggled. “Take your time, I’m not exactly going anywhere.”

 Tony shot him a look, but it wasn’t one of disapproval, exactly- probably one sublevel down from that.

“Anyway,” he said, a little too loudly to be casual, “yeah. This kid, right. Really smart, but damn, did he make some fucked up choices. Choices that still stick with him today. Choices that are gonna stick with him for the rest of his life, because that’s the kind of fucked-up we’re talking here.”

Tony’s head leaned back against the side of the arm rest, and he stared at the ceiling. “He didn’t get on well at school, in the beginning. Graduated into college way too young, and no one took him seriously. If he wasn’t getting spat on by the older kids, he was just getting ignored. It sucked. And… and then, it seemed like things changed.”

Tony looked directly at him, and in that moment, Peter saw more of himself in Tony Stark than he’d ever seen in anyone else. “They invited me to a stupid party down at some girl’s house, Peter, and they told me I’d make loads of new friends if I made enough people laugh.”

“Come on, Parker- there’s a party downtown tonight, and people have been wondering if you wanna go. Might be a new chance for you to make some cool friends.”

“If you act like them, maybe they won’t be dicks to you.”

“Come on, it’s just one drink. Don’t be a loser.”

“So I went,” Tony continued, “I went down there and I made damn sure everyone knew my name by the end of the night. I did everything they asked me to- i drank everything they shoved in my face, smoked whatever blunt they passed ‘round, fucked whoever wanted to be fucked, because I was so damn desperate to be like them. To be accepted.” 

Tony stopped, shaking his head and then looking over to Peter. 

“Once you’re in that cycle, Peter, you don’t leave it. Ever. The drink? Drugs? It stops being something you do for fun. You realise it’s the only thing that can make you into the person you want to be, can make your brain just fucking shut up for a second and let you enjoy yourself. It becomes a necessity. I know more geniuses who have some sort of addiction than I know supervillains. And believe me, there are a lot of supervillains.”

Peter opened his mouth, unsure of what exactly to say, but wanting to try anyway. Tony, however, put up a finger to silence him, obviously not finished with his speech.

“Now here’s where our paths diverge,” he said, making a fork shape with his hands and looking up at Peter seriously. “You have only just touched upon this world. And you already know it’s not what it’s cracked up to be, right? So what you are going to do is step the fuck back. Re-evaluate. Learn from my mistakes, and stick with people who really care. Because you have that,” he said, almost like a plead, his face pained as he looked up at Peter from the floor. “You have people who are really there, for you. And Jesus, Peter, you gotta hold on to that with everything you got. That doesn’t come around often.”

“I know,” Peter said quietly, thinking fondly of Ned’s soft smile, or MJ’s persistently un-amused left eyebrow, always raised in judgement. “I know.”

Tony stopped- everything except his fingers, anyway- and stared at Peter for a long time before saying “If you continue, I’ll kill you. Seriously, I won’t watch you do that to yourself. Ever. You’re so much more than that.”

“You managed okay, in the end,” Peter said, mostly to himself. “Just, out of curiosity, what exactly would you do?”

Tony pointed a finger immediately to the window. “Well, for starts, there’d be no more swinging around New York in your fancy suit. I wouldn’t trust teenage me with an Ironman Suit if you paid me, and that applies to you, too. Also, you quite clearly can’t handle your drink, if last night was anything to go by, so it’s not like you’d be fit to go fighting villains whilst in that state.”

“Hey, in all fairness, I did have a hell of a lot yesterday,” Peter defended himself.

 although from the glare Tony sent him, he guessed it would have been better to keep his mouth shut. 

“Not something to be proud of, Pete,” he warned, getting to his feet and stretching. “God, I’m tired. You know how stressful it is, staying up all night to make sure your idiot kid doesn’t choke on his own vomit,”

Peter froze. So did Tony.

“You know what I meant,” Tony stammered, waving a hand across his face and acting nonchalant as he stepped off in the direction of the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Peter smiled, unable to stop the warm feeling that was spreading through his heart. “I know what you mean.”

Tony made a few more indignant-sounding noises from the kitchen, and there were a few bangs of cupboards before Tony finally declared; “we officially have no food. Although, that’s not a surprise. No one lives here, after all.”

At the mention of food, his stomach gave a betraying growl which felt almost as painful as the headache. Peter was pretty sure Tony heard it from all the way in the kitchen, because there was yet another sigh of exasperation.

“Because I am a brilliant person, I will go and grab us some breakfast. Or lunch. Whatever,” Tony said, stepping back out into the living room and grabbing his wallet from the table. “Remote’s on the table. Phone in my jacket pocket. Apology phone-calls strongly suggested. Thanks to my quite frankly stunning persuasion skills, Aunt May isn’t expecting you back until later tonight, so you have time to relax and pull through the hangover before your ultimate demise when she does finally get hold of you.”

Tony stopped by his side, and looked down at him, squeezing his shoulder tight. “Don’t do that to me again, Peter. Please.”

Peter nodded. “I promise.” 

He meant it.

[datingdummies-blog]

Debbie Down the Rabbit Hole in “Companion Land”

Our story starts in a far away land known only to the lucky few that have found their life partner as “Relationship Land.”  Debbie grew further and further from her partner here in “Relationship Land” so she ventured out to find a new world. Others have talked about it, but she herself knew nothing about it.  When people would speak of this new land some would share beautiful stories and adventures and others would tell stories of soul ripping, gut wrenching pain. Regardless she longed to find out for herself what might find her when she arrived. 

Debbie is an adventure seeking, curious, independent, loving and hard working woman. She loves a good challenge and nearly detests anything that is just given to her as she has worked hard in her life for everything she has.  She forgives easily and almost certainly gives way to many chances to those that didn't even deserve a first chance.  She is kind, funny and has qualities most men find very attractive.  Any man finding this woman is quite aware they are fortunate to have had her or have her in his life.  Debbie does however come with some negatives as well.  She needs and wants confirmation on a regular basis, she's very aware that this is a insecurity within herself.  She just requires it.  She is attention seeking, and often times looked at by the same sex (prior to getting to know her of course) as something outside of who she actually is.  Debbie turns her nose up to any kind of help from the outside, unless she is asking for it (which isn't often).  She has massive trust issues some would need a ladder to get over the gigantic wall she has seemingly built around her heart.  Also you must get past the gnome named “jiffy” who will undoubtedly have a few riddles a song and dance for you to preform prior to having access to her heart.  Needless to say you will have to put forth some effort to get this girl. Many have tried and very few have successfully succeeded or will succeed. 

Our newfound adventure starts when leaving the world of “Relationship Land” and finally getting out on her own.  While walking down the steep narrow red brick road path she finds an off beaten, and tattered dirt road trail she finds curiously familiar, but different. While walking down this beaten path she is greeted by a White Rabbit for fun we will call him “Roger.”  He greets her with a smile but is on a time crunch and has to run.  Typically Roger the “White Rabbit” is always a little too busy, and usually blind to the needs of Debbie. Roger is the type that when a woman walks away from them or I guess more so when he runs from her, she finds herself still yearning for more.  Still feeling drawn to him.  This is the guy, the girl will write massive texts to begging for some form of an answer as to why she wasn't good enough, why he never gave her more time.  However the most basic answer ladies I can tell you about this type, is you in his mind, were never his, and he was never yours.  He never took you seriously.  He never saw himself being long term with you.  So while drawing you in, keeping you guessing and making you feel more curious about him.  He is not thinking of you at all.  In fact you are just a mere side bitch in his world currently.  I’m sorry, but I'm not sorry.  You will forever be stuck in this zone with him because you are saying it’s ok by allowing it to continue.  

Debbie goes on to feel his distance, but unfortunately for her is still curious and still feeling that magnetic pull to him. So Debbie proceeds to push him away further and by now he is running, sprinting and hurdling to get away from you. While doing so Debbie sees Roger jump into a very dark, deep hole.  All of a sudden he disappears, he's gone.  She looks inside the hole and just as she is peeking her head inside she loses her footing and falls in.  

Deeper and Deeper she falls, feeling dizzy and near vomiting at the sheer terror she is sure to be facing.  Completely unaware of what will become of her at the bottom of this hole.  She finally comes to a stop, and is safe but a little damaged from the fall.  She picks herself up, reads the sign and realizes she's exactly where she wanted and chose to be.  This beautiful but dark land has a large green sign at the entrance that states “Welcome to Companion Land, where we don't promise that any of your dreams will ever come true.  Population:124.6 million.” (Of course thats a real number of how many single people there are in America alone. ) So the adventure begins as she proceeds to take her very first steps into companion land.  Nervous, scared, bruised, but excited as she begins her journey.   

While walking she is talking to herself, she looks like a crazy person to people who could be passing or watching her from afar, but to her she is processing.  Processing that pain that is left within her heart.  Just as she is finishing up her therapy session with herself she is taken aback when a caterpillar larger than the other ones approaches her.  “This shit is starting to get weird” she thinks to herself.  Were off to a smashing start, one so good that would only be best compared to the shit show that would be two hulk sized men combined, most certainly high on ketamine.  Either way it was what it was and Debbie needed to face this one head on as well.  

“Whooooo are you?”  He asks in a very condescending manner.  Debbie responds “I hardly even know anymore sir, because I’ve changed so many times just this morning and I know I am not the person I was before.”  She goes on to tell him a little of her adventure thus far and the tale of Roger, whom is so far off in the distance now that she is merely calling him a tale and not her current present situational hurt.  The caterpillar or for the pure excitement of this story we’ll call him “Caleb” goes on to share his side of things as well.  Except when he explains his situation he is defensive and already waiting for her to judge him for who he once was.  Caleb doesn’t even realize she comes from a place of pain as well and is far from judging him for his past trials and tribulations.  

Caleb is quick witted, has a sharp tongue that gets used in terrible ways at times, he is better than most everyone at anything he puts his mind to, and he financially does very well for himself.  He is smart to a point where he is awkwardly suave with women. He flashes tales of how he spends his earnings and how he makes his earnings turning only the shallow, fleeting women onto him.  A girl of substance is not impressed by this.  She finds him impressive for the other things he possesses. Also his tale of his trails in “Companion Land” Debbie finds equally appealing and intriguing.  She yearns to learn more about him.  He lets her in for a mere second only to take it back from her as quickly as it was given.  Caleb is a guarded man. He is not a bad man for being so guarded, he just might have a much larger wall built around his heart including, but not limited to the leprechaun that guards his heart that will make you leap over a rainbow and guess the a number between one and a million unfortunately Debbie didn't see all that until it was much too late. Realizing this journey will not be complete here, she decides to press forward.  Again, still a little damaged, however this time a bit more understanding.  

She continues her trails on the off beaten path, still talking to herself.  Finding herself more curious where the road is to end, and what will be there when she completes it.  The hurt was surface level only this time, as she didn't quite let the walls down completely with Caleb.  The thing with guarded people is the only true thing they face when being rejected in such a way after not fully letting their wall down is a broken ego.  Which fortunately for her is a lot easier to get over than a broken heart.  So she moves on, this time feeling hopeful and ready to meet someone new.

Alice is a wanderer, she wanders with no care in the world and begins to space out entirely.  When walking she is surprised when an image appears in the clouds.  The clouds start to come down in a fog like motion, this time it feels dangerous and scary, but exciting.  She is enjoying herself far too much for what is actually happening.  Finally out of the fog, comes what looks to be a cat.  A Cheshire Cat. One that looks alarmingly familiar to that of a Disney movie character.  However this one has a name.  “Hi I saw you from afar and thought it would be a good time to introduce myself, I’m Chester.”  She was so thrilled to be meeting someone so new, and he seemed so exciting she goes on to give away her position of excitement far too quickly. “Hey Chester, I’m so happy to meet you, you have no idea.  I have just been walking this path wondering if I’d meet anyone else.  I have to say I’m glad its you.”  Chester backs up a little bit just to give her a non-verbal warning sign to take it down a notch, however sadly for him she has not taken notice and she takes another step further into his personal bubble.  This dance she is playing with him is dangerous as he is one that will spook very easy.  His history actually suggests not to ever get too close as he fades away a lot. 

 Chester is unpredictable, cunning, mysterious, sneaky and typically a bit of a comical relief which is why people get hooked to his personality.  You will never see Chester when you’d like to see him.  You will only see him when he feels he would like to utilize his time to see you. You often times are lost in thought when speaking to him but only because you consistently on a regular basis  wondering what could possibly be on his mind today.  He refuses to tell you his day to day and the way he comes in and out of your life is downright intolerable.  However Debbie is weak and allows this behavior to continue because she is lonely.  She has not found herself yet in this newfound land and is seeking that self inside of the men she has met thus far.  She is sad but puts on a face for Chester each time in her journey he has come to see her.  She doesn't want to lead on that he has disappointed her.  Instead she tends to give him more of herself to the point of being completely emotionally drained. To which in turn he uses this newfound attachment against her and finds a way to use her for his own personal punching bag.  With each blow she grows weaker and weaker.  Her ego is completely tossed away at this point as she is begging for an inch of her old life back.  

She asks why and how is a man capable of making a someone feel so terrible about themselves.  (fully knowing it is more than likely a fault that could only be found within herself)  He goes on to tell her its only because “she is mad and everyone in this world is mad”.. Debbie frantically replies “But, Chester I don't want to get myself back out there among mad people.”  “Oh but you can't help that Debbie, were all mad, you're mad, I'm mad, everyone.”  Chester replies.  “How could you possibly know I'm mad” Debbie defensively remarks “You must be” said Chester “or you wouldn't have come here.”  See Relationship land was comfortable, inviting, familiar.  This land was so far full of ache, and pain mixed with a few good times that were less memorable.  She was near ready to go back, but she knew at this point she was too deep to turn back now.  Chester is gone again, which was no surprise.  Debbie knew he would be and eventually he would fade away for good.  But for now, while still weak she would patiently wait for his return until she got strong enough to say no more.  She is still waiting on this moment.  Thankfully before leaving again the last time Chester pointed Debbie to a direction that seemed to be a little less rocky and a provide a much smoother path much more meant for walking on.  

Along this path is when she sees the sun start to shine down on her and for the first time in a very long time and for the first time on this journey she is feeling the warmth that is the sun.  She is smiling again and feeling whole.  Along this cheery disposition that is her new life she begins to think about Chester again. Wondering what he's up to, and when he will reappear again.  Its in this moment while lost in thought and stuck inside her head daydreaming she runs right into two men who are oddly standing in the dead center of the road in her direct path.  She stops as she is not able to get past them and is confused.  She looks at them with big doe eyes and begins to glare at them.  She loudly wails “excuse me!”  They both continue to stare blankly at her blinded by her beauty.  Almost as if they have never seen a girl so captivating, intriguing and when she talked they could tell she was educated and a true diamond in the rough.  Both men were eager to know her. 

 This is your Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum however again for the stories sake they introduced themselves as “Tad and Tim.”   “Oh hi”, she awkwardly replied “I am Debbie, however I am walking this long journey and I have plans so I must be going now.”  She proceeds to walk the path as they follow her.  “Listen boys, I am not really looking for anyone right now to walk this journey with me so I’m going to continue on.  Its nothing against you I just have people to meet.”  They appear hurt and withdrawn, but still waiting and watching her every move.  Tim asks Debbie “but why can't we join that journey and maybe even walk a little together?” Debbie is taken back, this is the first man who has actually pursued her, wanted her love, longed to be around her instead of the other way around.  They were content with just her.  It was an insane thought but she thought just maybe this could be my end game, the end of my long journey.  Still feeling from the loss of Chester in her life and his absence becoming longer and longer she said to herself “what the hell, how do you know unless you try?”   

She decides to walk this smooth more frequently traveled path with Tim and even Tad.  See, these men are the road most traveled because they are your man who tries to fricken hard.  They are the guy you are not challenged enough by.  See some will settle for this man because he is easy, willing to bend in ways most men shouldn't and he is sweet.  However this kind of girl just sees him as boring.  Her life, and world is treated as an adventure.  How could she possibly settle for an easy road kind of guy?  She needs a man who banters with her, makes her work for it (not in a mean, vicious way)  in a way that teaches her he is a prize to be won as well.  She finds Tim and Tad annoying the more he puts himself in her path, blocking her way rather than walking beside her as he promised he would initially.  He longs to lock her down, and quickly because he sees her for the prize she is.  However she's not looking for this type and she can already see things in him that will not work long term.  She knows she has to move on despite the kind, honest and caring men they are.  Again this is a fault she sees and accepts within herself and someday the man along her journey is going to find her, and be all of these things she just hasn't found yet.  She explains these things to Tim and Tad and walks away with her head hung low knowing she broke his heart but her heart did not belong to him.  

Our less than faithful, comical favorite Cheshire Cat, Chester has yet to reappear back into our lives, so while that hope has been dashed Debbie continues her journey.  There is no other way to go now, except forward and we've gone far too far to go back.  So continue on, we must go.  Just as all hope was lost, and most of all her ego is gone she spots a white tale.  Her heart sinks to the floor and she forces herself through the rosed thorny bush to see beyond the tall grass where she spotted the tale.  She is filled with an ample amount of emotions as she watches him still off in the distance eating what looks to be a carrot.  She approaches, this time slowly.  She doesn’t want to spook him as she did before.  He spots her just as she is approaching him.  He goes to make a run for it but at this point she is far to close and near facing him.  It would not only be awkward to walk away but also there wasn't very many places he could run.  He was now facing her head on.  The only words she could leak from her mouth were questions of why.  She knew she was coming on strong but she had no better way to approach the pain that filled her with so much doubt to her decision to even come to this land.  After all this whole thing started chasing him into the mysterious black hole.  She said “Roger, I saw my future beginning and ending with you, Why?”  “Debbie” Roger exclaimed with his head hung lower than normal “I have no words as to why, just you weren't right for me and while you weren't right for me you will find your happily ever after, I am sorry.” While she knew it was the end of this happily ever after she felt closure.  It was enough for her to continue on, leaving him behind not looking back to even see if he watched her walk away.  She didn’t care.  He didn't hold her future.  He wouldn't be the ticket back to “Relationship land” and she made peace with that.  

She walks away ego bruised but still upright and proud from the last and final interaction with the man that made her chase him through “Companionship Land.”  

While walking still talking and reminiscing on her previous adventures she is dropped to her knees again and quickly when seeing a beautiful, hilarious, whimsical but oddly perplexing kind of man.  He intrigues her, and draws her in with his sheer beauty, the way. he moves, when he laughs how his whole face crinkles.  She smiles at the mere vision of his laughter.  He looks damaged, but beautifully damaged.  Not the kind of guy who needs saving, just the kind that might need a friend. He clearly has a crowd around him as he always does, but she knows she has to make her way to the center of that crowd if she wants him to notice her.  She at first blends herself in, but keeps herself in straight line of view.  She wants to be noticed, not seem desperate.  She continues to draw herself in closer and closer to him.  She goes in so close she now blends in with the crowd and begins to create friendships.  He notices her laughing with a friend and feels curious about her as he is drawn to her as well.  He gets closer to her but not enough to actually have to talk to her, but enough for her to realize he has now noticed her as well.  

This man is non other than your classic “Mad Hatter.”  However in this case his name is Mark.  Mark is everything as earlier described.  In fact he is probably everything her dream man could possibly be and look like.  He offers just enough challenge to keep her entertained, enough love to fulfill her every need and he is just as funny if not more funny than her.  He's amazing in every way, but thats only scratching the surface of Mark.  Mark approaches Debbie with a smile and continues to wow her with his charm, wit and pure entertainer status that mirrors hers completely.  They start this journey knowing each other are capable of fulfilling the other however as we know no life is a fairy tale and this is no exception to that rule.  

Scratching only the surface of this man who enjoys celebrating very merry unbirthdays and classically going out of his mind on occasion he fits in perfectly into companion land.  I’m not sure he is ready for Relationship land so they decide to walk a little slower.  Debbie is feeling emotionally attached at this point to this man.  She had no idea once again the heartbreak that might be finding her at the end of this tunnel.  See Mark moves at a much slower pace, however she is in love and could care less about his pace, even though its been best compared to that of a slug.  Women are unbelievable when it comes to being ok with things we’d never be ok with if we didn't have the emotional attachment.  Sadly we get emotionally attached before fully knowing all the things there are to know about this human, most because your heart is eager and your mind is a thinker. I say this because there are things that are unknown about the lovable Mad Hatter Mark.  He is a bad boy.  The absolute worst kind even, because someday when you call him out and when you tell this tale of this relationship no one will believe he is capable of the things you underwent.  

Unfortunately due to your attachment you will undergo an unnecessary amount of verbal and possible physical abuse prior to getting yourself out of this situation.  He uses drugs, usually uppers like Cocaine and Meth, sometimes appears positively mad. Some looking at the dysfunction might even say he is an undiagnosed man with bi-polar disorder.  So because Debbie found this out after her heart decided to foolishly jump in with both feet she's attached.  Despite her mind screaming at her “get the fuck out bitch!”  Unfortunately the heart wins these battles far more often because a broken heart feels much worse than a foolish mind.  Debbie spent many lonely sad days trying to make sense of him and often times told him he was positively mad to which he would always reply.  “Yes Debbie, I’ve gone mad, completely bonkers..but let me let you in on a secret, all the best people are!”  He tried to bring her down multiple times to the level he felt so comfortable on. It made him uncomfortable to have a woman that openly did not approve his actions he longed for approval for the things they both knew he would never receive from a pearl like Alice.  This road they were walking took a major halt and with two roads in front of them they knew they had to choose.  Walk this road together, or go separate ways.  They both decided they would go separate ways, both broken and hurting and foolishly hearing and feeling the pain that is a heart breaking.  

So here we are at the end of the journey.  There is still so much walking to be done for Debbie because her journey is far from over in Companion land however this is just one of the many problems in this world.  There are many times in the time of making my stories I have asked men and women to tell me their greatest love story.  The realness of the situation is every time these people have gone on to tell me this beautiful story filled with so much emotion and passion until they get to the end where they almost always end with the split road decision.  Leaving them choosing the separate paths that might someday lead back to one another but most of the time it ends grim and were left with another heart break under our belts.  Just remember when walking your path in Companion land... Your brain has no heart. You heart has no brain.  So when you speak  and make decisions with your mind you’ll seem heartless.  When you speak and make decisions with your heart you’ll seem thoughtless.  They don't work together and often times choosing one to trust is where and how you get yourself out of the land of pain and beauty.  

[nikolettaoliver]

1.) Describe your routine of a normal day/how do you feel when this routine is disrupted?

A normal day is sleeping until Will has to go to the gym or after making/retrieving breakfast. When he leaves, a normal day is centered around my child whom is currently teething and working on his walking. He can stand on his own and move his legs forward, but steps have yet to be taken. We run errands together and around lunchtime or early morning, visit Will at the gym. It makes him happy to see his sun crawling around in the ring. When done, we return home or go grocery shopping. Around the evening, we walk the dogs and then return home where he gets fed and put to bed. This time is spent reading books in his room until he falls asleep or laying in bed with me until we both go to sleep. My days are not typically disrupted if Will takes him to the gym for the day because it leaves my days wide open to clean or nap as much as I would like. 

2.) Greatest strength?

I do not typically think I have many strengths, but I think my willingness to forgive and forget is my number one strength.

3.) Greatest weakness?

How easily others can get to me and effect my days and alter my mood so quickly. 

4.) What one thing would you change about yourself?

I would change my insecurities to be a more confident person.

5.) Introverted or extroverted and why?

A mix of both. Most days I don’t want to talk to anyone except my husband and just spend days on end in bed with our child and nothing but greasy burgers and chicken and rice. On the other hand, do to my profession, it requires a lot of networking and talking to different people, promoting and mingling at parties. I enjoy it sometimes, but not always.

6.) Organized or messy and why?

Organized in recent years. I’ve come a stupid rich family and my brothers and I had always been looked after by six nannies and house keepers. We had no choice but to always be clean and have tidy rooms because it was always done for us. When I lived on my own, my condo was constantly a mess. Now I am the one who picks clothes up off the floors and likes to tidy everything up and enjoy doing such.

7.) What three things do you consider yourself to be good/bad at?

Good: stay at home mom, supportive wife, great collector of delivery menus

Bad: cook, multitasking, resisting the urge to adopt more pets

8.) Do you like yourself?

It took many years to finally love myself after being in an abusive relationship and feeling like it was what I deserved to constantly feel. I honestly enjoy who I am.

9.) What are the reasons for your profession? Are the REAL reasons different from what you tell others?

I got into acting when I was 17 and it was just because my family had the money and I showed interest in it. It wasn’t something I got really into until I turned 21 and started getting bigger roles than just staring in a kids television show. With the acting came modeling and that is something else I enjoyed very much. Even if it involves little to no clothing most of the time.

10.) Where do you see yourself in five years?

Living in a big house with all my dogs, my five year old son and still annoying the shit out of my husband.

11.) How do you want to die?

Jesus. Uhm.. The Notebook style.

12.) What would you want to be remembered for?

I don’t care how anyone else besides my family remembers me and I want them to always remember me for having a big heart.

13.) What three words would you use to describe your personality?

Sarcastic, loving, sleepy.

14.) What three words would your significant other use to describe you?

Annoying, caring, bratty

15.) What advice would you give your past self?

Don’t stress the little stuff.

16.) What is your biggest fear?

Clowns and being alone.

17.) What would your ideal lover be like?

He’d bring me home Burger King tonight if he values our marriage. Extra onion rings. (:

18.) What is something your useless at?

Driving. I’m fucking awful.

19.) Which event in your life shaped you the most?

I was in this really bad car accident that made me want to turn my life around. Also, as corny as it sounds, meeting Will. He helped me become who I am today and has given me everything I never though I would have or deserved. 

20.) Favorite song at the moment?

Electric Love - Borns. I sing it to Liam and we dance around the living room.

21.) What nickname(s) do you have?

I have a few that different people call me and Nikoletta is only used when I am in trouble or someone is mad at me. Nik, Nikki, Nikol. Letta, Niko.

22.) What languages can you speak?

English and Spanish some French

23.) What is your spirit animal?

Elephants

24.) In one word, what kind of childhood did you have?

Spoiled

25.) How do you deal with conflict?

I either handle myself really well or I flip out and then go cry and drink wine.

26.) What is one of your regrets? 

My ex’s.

27.) What is your favorite time of day? 

Late nights/early mornings

28.) What is one thing that makes you feel safe and why?

I sound so clingy. Jesus. But.. my husband. He’s my safe place.

29.) What is one thing you can not stand in a person?

Their constant need to tear others down.

30.) If you had any children what would their names be?

Like future children? I already have a son? How do I answer this one? Liam. Idk.

31.) Favorite television show?

Sex and the City

32.) You can only keep one memory from your entire life. What is it?

What the fuck I can’t pick. I’d probably have to go with when Liam was born.

33.) Have you ever had a bad experience on an airplane?

I had snorted a shit ton of ketamine and laid down on the aisle floor and tried to move around like a snake until someone physically picked me up and strapped me back in. I then proceeded to speak in Latin in the ear of the person next to me until he was convinced I was possessed. 

34.) When do you think that violence is justified?

This is a little rough considering my husband does it for a living BUT whenever a man puts his hands on a woman. I’m not a violent person so it is hard for me to every justify. It actually scares me for anything to be happening around me to the point where I will freeze up. 

35.) What are your religious views? How seriously do you take them? 

I don’t have any views on religion but respect anyone who believes in something higher. I, myself, do not believe in God or a heaven or hell. There was a brief moment in time where I more so leaned towards Buddhism and their beliefs. I no longer do and take it seriously enough that I have not had my son baptized or had a religious wedding. 

36.) Do you have siblings? How many? How do you get along with them.

Yes, I have six brothers. One passed away almost a year ago and it was one of the hardest things I had ever had to deal with. We all get along very well and there isn’t anything we don’t tell each other. I am the baby of the family, but we are all only ten months apart which makes it easier to get along and see eye to eye.

37.) Where would you love to travel?

Thailand

38.) Do you think you could survive in the wilderness?

Absolutely not, no. I’d be walking around asking animals where the closest McDonalds is.

39.) Do you like your job? Why or why not?

I love acting and modeling. I’m not sure others like that my nipples show most of the time, though.

40.) Do you have many friends?

LMFAO. People suck.