#these ramblings might not be completely accurate but i digress

[terriblewomanyuri]

to elaborate: they are a pair who both want to help people, dorothy wants to help EVERYONE, while elena just wants to help dorothy. she does care about other people, but dorothy definitely holds a special place in her heart, whether or not its just because theyve needed to spend so much time together in the name of science.

so i could imagine elena feeling like she's not doing enough for dorothy if they ever enter a relationship, simply because they're lovers, but their life is barely changed from how it was before. so elena asks dorothy if she wants to have sex and dorothy takes this as a request. and, because she wants to do everything in her power to help other people, dorothy obliges. she might not feel personally aroused, but she knows she wants to help elena and she knows having sex would do that.

so, at some point, they begin to have sex and dorothy tries to take the lead. but elena is the one who's constantly providing for dorothy in her life, so she tells dorothy that she'll be taking the lead. dorothy lets her, because again she wants elena to feel good.

side note: i realize that i seem to be hcing dorothy as a sex neutral asexual. that just feels right to me. maybe she gets turned on by some stuff, but her kinks would be so arcane they wouldnt come up in anything elena is thinking of, at least at this point.

so anyways, elena is trying to have sex with dorothy but shes so focused on fulfilling the giving role that she ends up more worried about whether or not shes making dorothy feel good that she forgets to actually enjoy herself during sex. she's playing the role of the lover, not elena. eventually, dorothy says shes satisfied and they stop. of course, elena hadnt been enjoying herself and dorothy wasn't particularly excited by anything elena had been doing either, so they're both sweaty and aching (due to lack of exercise) and elena might even feel a bit hollow, because she didnt get reactions from dorothy that sex was supposed to elicit.

of course, dorothy would comfort her aftewards, shed be amazing at aftercare, but elena would just feel like its consolation. because dorothy is offering her completely unconditional love, when everything elena has known is conditional. approval from her parents is obviously conditional. approval from ferdinand was always conditional. astesia might be a source of unconditional approval and appreciation, but she is the measure against which their parents deemed elena failing.

so now elena is with a woman who she's providing for, who she's helping in her daily life because that woman couldn't seem to survive without her, who is offering her unconditional love. but she can't believe it's unconditional, because elena is offering her something, which she may believe is in return.

now, being with dorothy would probably help elena a LOT in the long term, but in the short term she'd have to unlearn a lot of stuff she'd taken for granted. i do hope she'd have a moment similar to the astrolabe where she realizes that she can take a much kinder path with dorothy, one they both want as dorothy and elena, not merely as lovers.

also elena's whole story is so incredibly transgender.

i love dorogenne a lot as a ship which is why i think it would have to be at least a little bit unhealthy for elena at the beginning.

[loiswasadevil]

Hi Lois, I wanted to share extra information regarding the co-creators of South Park. I have a very grey but not neutral opinion on the show, so I won't try to tell you what to think about this. Also this is quite long and rambly, so if you'd rather not read it, that's okay!

Matt Stone is Jewish, but his parents didn't really "raise him Jewish" (for lack of a better term) if i remember corrrectly, as they are both atheists (Stone is as well). He is still ethnically Jewish of course, and someone can correct me but he didn't know this until he was 16. He said he did read an awful lot about Judaism and Jewish people, and I don't think their portrayal of the Broflovski family is completely negative. In some respects the firmness by which Kyle defends his identity and family can be nice to see on TV. I digress.

Matt Stone has written a few episodes (or co-written), and he voice acts in almost every episode, but his role overall is largely ideation and helping his co-creator stay on task and see the episode through. He does the important business side of things, and often the ideas that go into the shows are taken from him or are whatever made himself and Trey Parker laugh.

Trey is his co-creator and is not Jewish. He is the one responsible for a lot of the writing past the ideation stage and beyond making sure the plot tracks/things make sense. I feel like it just isn't 100% accurate to say Matt largely spearheaded the show, when the show is moreso about his dynamic with Trey, where Trey is the one with basically full creative control, only (or mostly) answering to Matt's second opinion. Matt defers to Comedy Central in Trey's stead as well, which is still a lot of work but mostly to keep Trey's work in tact.

Since I did go over what is known about Matt's experience being Jewish, I can cover (what I know regarding) Trey's experiences regarding Judaism. He grew up in a largely white, largely Catholic (or just Christian) town. He talked about how there was only one Jewish family in his choir or something? And how bad he felt for the 1 Jewish girl who had to go up and sing Hannukah songs after everyone was done singing Christmas carols. This might seem inconsequential but he chose to say this, though it must have been a bit ago when he was in his 20s so the memory was fresher. As far as I know, he hasn't said a lot else about it.

I think it might have been actually Matt who said this, but either way, one of them also had witnessed physical assault on Jewish peers at their school (I'm leaning toward Matt being the one who said this just because I think Trey just talked about hwo he felt sympathy for the girl in choir being the odd one out).

I will also say in terms of their partnership, Matt is viewed more as the one who has a dark sense of humor while Trey is considered to be the one with "heart." A lot of South Park overall is just the two of them making them laugh, and sometimes especially recently Trey will play off of "whatever Matt is pissed about today" for episode plots, and sometimes episodes feel like the A plot is Trey's idea while the B plot is Matt's, or vice versa... but regardless, Matt isn't the one writing the episodes (and he only co-wrote beforehand). That isn't to say either of them are genuinely anti-semitic, racist, misogynistic, homophobic, transphobic... but that isn't to say they aren't actually those things either.

I don't know what they currently think and i can't fully know what they were thinking when they said those things in interviews and whatever else. But we can still look at what is in the show and how people respond to its content, because REGARDLESS of Stone's involvement, if he does more or less in the development process, the show still had an effect on people that many would consider to be negative. I guess the question is how much do Jewish people need to be involved in a creative work for it to be "okay"? Does Matt Stone's involvement absolve South Park of being anti-Semitic or perpetuating anti-Semitism at all?

Anyway Lois, sorry for the long ask! Feel free to delete, I just used to be obsessed with South Park for years so I wanted to share what I knew. Let me know what you think!! I love your blog 🩷

Sorry I dont care about South Park so I didn't read this

[nathanknowsitall]

Jealous

Summary: You were going to tell Tom today that you had a crush on him, but he went to the club with the boys instead.

Notes: This is dedicated to people who can’t help but be a little jealous sometimes. It gets to the best of us. <3

For some odd reason, you had decided that today was going to be the day you told Tom that you liked him. Or, more accurately, that you had always found him attractive, always wanted to always be around him, and are in love with him. But that didn’t happen.

When you went over to Tom’s house that afternoon, he had been mid-conference call, so you had made yourself comfortable on the couch and decided to watch something on his big TV, trying to distract yourself from what you were going to tell him and all the doubts you had spinning around in your mind.

A couple episodes in, Tom came out dressed in a tight black shirt and some jeans that fit him in all the right places. You tried to ignore the sudden heat that came into your cheeks as Tom raised his brow at you while you squirmed.

“You know, if you’re warm you can turn the A/C up darling? No need to suffer when you’ve got Spider-Man money”, he said with a wink as he went to turn the A/C up, while you rolled your eyes as you tried to compose yourself.

“What are you all dressed up for?”, you asked instead of trying to come up with a witty retort. 

“Me and the boys are going out clubbing tonight actually...trying to cure the dry spell if you know what I mean...”, he said winking again and sticking his tongue out, pretending to be a proper fuckboy as you laughed and tried to ignore the jealousy in the pit of your stomach. 

Tom then turned and looked at you, as if he was really checking you out. 

“You’re dressed up nice, are you going somewhere? On a date or something? Someone from Tinder? No...Bumble?”, he teased as you tried to ignore the way your throat dried up. 

I was hoping I would be going on a date with you, you div, you thought as you looked down at the outfit you had picked out with him in mind. A casual dress with some heels.��

It’s fine, I could do this tomorrow? Or the day after that? Or never?

“No, no, just...I don’t know? Felt like it, I guess?”, you shrugged as Tom looked at you curiously. He looked as if he wanted to ask you more, but then there was banging at the door, probably the boys. 

“Hey!”, the boys yelled as they barged into Tom’s home.

“Hey pretty girl!”, Harrison said as he hugged you, pulling you close. He knew that Tom hated when he flirted or got close with you, but he loved teasing Tom when he got jealous. 

“I didn’t get to tell him”, you whispered sadly into Harrison’s shoulder. Harrison was one of the only people you had told about your apparently “very obvious crush” on Tom and had been a really helpful part of your plan to tell Tom that you loved him. Well, failed plan.

“Well, if Tom doesn’t see what a dream girl you are, I think I might snatch you up!”, he teased. You felt your mood lighten slightly as you both giggled.

You greeted the rest of the boys with hugs and they all made a point of complimenting you on how nice you looked just to see Tom get jealous.

“That dress fits you so good, Y/N! You should wear more of them!”

“You look so gorgeous, I still can’t believe you’re single!”

“Maybe you guys should go, I’ll just stay here and snuggle with Y/N...”

“That’s enough of you lot for tonight!”, Tom said, obviously pissed, as the rest of the boys giggled at the outburst. You turned your head, eyebrow raised at Tom, as his face turned into one of panic. I just exposed myself!, Tom thought as he tried to recover from what he said.

“Do you want to go out with us tonight, Y/N?”, Tom said softly, coming to hold your hands in his. 

You felt so many emotions in that moment. Your heart was beating so fast as you tried to process what he had just asked you. Your heart hurt so bad from not being able to tell him that you liked him. You were so confused about his sudden outburst. You definitely did not want to see him getting all gooey-eyed over someone else. 

“I think I’ll stay here, if that’s alright with you?”, you said as you resolved yourself to watching romcoms on Netflix and trying to recover from the fatal emotional blow that was today.

“But, baby-no-Y/N”, Tom rambled while you looked at him confused.

“Baby?”, you questioned as the boys looked between you two with wide eyes.

“No, no, I meant Y/N! Y/N, are you sure?”, Tom said with big puppy dog eyes. You rolled your eyes in fake bashfulness.

“No, I’m fine, I had a hard day I want to stay here.”

“Okay then...make yourself comfortable and we’ll get going”, Tom hesitantly.

“Okay, bye! Have fun!”, You said as you put on something on Netflix while they headed out the door. 

                                                              -

“Tom, why are you so sad? You’ve been sad ever since we left the house mate, what’s going on?”, Harrison said as he sat down next to Tom in the booth the boys had decided to occupy for tonight. 

Tom just shook his head, “Nothing...nothing at all.”

“Well you don’t have to lie so blatantly if you’re going to bother lying to me. I know it’s about Y/N.”

“What about Y/N?”, Tom said, faking naivety. 

“I’m asking the questions here Tom. Why are you not enjoying yourself right now?”.

“I don’t know...I kind of just want to go home.”

“To be with Y/N?”.

“No, it’s just not fun here.”

“Oh really? ‘Cause it sure seems like they’re having fun over there”, Harrison said as he nudged his head over where Harry and Tuwaine were dancing with people and seeming to have the time of their life. Tom giggled as he took another sip of his beer, avoiding Harrison. 

“So?”, Harrison questioned.

“So...what?”, Tom shot back. 

“Are you going home or?”.

“Why would I go home mate? You’re being ridiculous Harrison. I came here to have fun, so let’s have fun!”, Tom said with false enthusiasm.

“No, you’re going home right now and I’m driving you”, Harrison said as he practically dragged Tom out of the club and into the parking lot.

“Mate, what are you doing?”, Tom exclaimed as he got his hand loose.

“I have a secret to tell you and I can only tell it to you if you get in the car.”

“Are you serious Harrison?”

“I’m dead serious. Get in the car.”

“Okay, fine, but I did it because I’m nosy”, Tom says as he gets in the car.

“Whatever you need to say...”, Harrison said as he started the car and started driving. After a couple of minutes of silence, they came to a petrol station and Harrison stopped.

“What?”, Tom says, thinking that his best mate just went absolutely bonkers.

“What?”, Harrison said nonchalantly as he turns off the car. 

“What is going on? What are you going to tell me? Why are we outside of a petrol station? I’m dying here, man.”

“Well...I’ll only tell you if you promise not to tell Y/N”, Harrison said as he held out his pinky.

“Okay...”, Tom said as he offered his pinky and promised.

“Okay, now that’s settled...Y/N is in love with you. Absolutely, completely, and totally head over heels for your ass. I feel sorry for her because you’re so oblivious, but I digress. She was going to tell you that tonight but then that got messed up by...I guess the boys, including me and-I’m sorry but how did you not notice it before? It was so obvious?”, Harrison said very seriously with frustration as if the answer was so obvious. 

Tom had absolutely paid no attention since Harrison said Y/N was in love with him. His crush since forever ago liked him back? The person he always dreamed of but thought he could never have liked him back? Y/N loved him?

“Tom! You div!”, Harrison said as he snapped in front of Tom’s face, startling Tom. Tom looked at Harrison with the most vulnerable, weak face, ever.

“Really?”, Tom said with excitement and nerves in his voice.

“Yes, really Tom! Now go into that petrol station and buy Y/N snacks so you can go home and spend your night watching movies and having the time of your life with them!”, Harrison said as he practically shoved Tom out of the car. 

                                                             -

You heard keys started to jangle and the door open and you ran to go hide in the kitchen, knowing that it was probably the boys coming back with their one night stands. You went looking for something to eat but you still felt jealousy still in the back of your mind knowing that Tom will never want you in the same way.

“Darling, why do you look so sad?”, Tom said as he stood looking at you from the doorway of the kitchen.

“Tom what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out partying? Where are the boys?”, you said as you tried to wipe the tears away.

“Well, I decided that I’d much rather be here with you, that’s all. And I got us some snacks”, Tom said as he held up the grocery bag he had before putting it on the counter, “But I want to know why you’re crying, love”.

You bit your lip for a second before you decided to just go for it.

“Tom, I felt jealous thinking that you were going to sleep with someone when I’d much rather have you here with me. I always want you in my life and I just want us to be together. I love you so much and I absolutely understand if you don’t feel the same way. I won’t be mad at-”, you stopped as you realized that Tom was standing extremely close. 

“Do you really mean all of that?”, Tom said earnestly as he looked between your eyes and your lips over and over again, while you did the exact same. 

“Yes.” 

With a simple word, he kissed you and you felt all of the jealousy melt away. 

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

Tumblr was fighting me on the reblog, so I just made a new post. Thank you so much to @spookyboywhump for tagging me in that picrew chain; I went a little overboard and had a lot of fun!

In order, these are Percival, Floyd, Llyr, Hugh, Ray, and Mabel all from my pirate universe. I’m going to go into a bit more detail under a cut because of course I am, you guys know me, so open that up if you want some excited appearance rambles!

Oh hello, welcome to the forbidden Keep Reading land! Glad to have you here. Just gonna do this list style before I start going wild with transitions or something dumb like that.

Percival - Ah, it’s been ages since we’ve seen this man, hasn’t it? If you’ve been around for a good long while, you might remember me doing a drawing of him and Floyd a while back, and details on both of their appearances have definitely shifted since then. This picrew is more accurate, especially in the hairstyle. The color should be warmer and have streaks of blond in it, but otherwise it definitely looks like him to me.

Some more details to note is that no picrew will ever get his eyes right. They should be lighter and lean a little more towards orange with yellow highlights that are especially prominent when he’s using magic. I’m not sure if he has his nose pierced in canon, but he does have his ears pierced and oh yeah those snake earrings were definitely used because of his reputation as The Serpent. And I love snakes a completely normal amount but that’s totally irrelevant definitely not a driving force what?

(fun side note: i was gonna give him the lemon background because he is a sucker for anything acidic and strong, hence his really weird obsession with vinegar that is the only thing he wants to tell  me about himself most days, but then this one looked really pretty so I kept it)

Floyd - We just saw him again if you’ve been keeping up with the Llyr and the Pirates storyline, though this picrew is based more off of his starring role and captivity in Persistence. He doesn’t have piercings in anything we’ve seen so far, but he will canonically get them at some point :D

Other than that, everything’s pretty straightforward. He’s got his collar from Percival, which is technically a more brownish leather and just a little thicker than that, and his eye color should be a little lighter, leaning towards blue-green. Oh, and I gave him a pass on my attempts at kinda realistic clothing because I thought that Floyd would absolutely love this shirt. A shame he isn’t in our time really... I think he would love a lot of funky patterns and stuff in modern fashion. aNYWAYS-

Llyr - My sealy son! I’ve really gotta see if there’s a seal picrew I could use to design his other form lol. But here’s what he’s meant to look like! I think this hairstyle was meant to be used as braids or dreadlocks, but it was the only messy looking one I could find. Because ever since Llyr turned human, his hair has been awfully maintained, and by that I mean Not At All it’s so tangled you couldn’t even pull a brush through it without a good amount of effort. But all the colors are correct here!

If I could very quickly point you in the direction of his cloak, that’s the closest I could get to the way he wears his seal skin when it’s not being taken away from him (*glares at the Offending Individual(s)*). He isn’t wearing a shirt under it because clothes are still super weird feeling to him, and he’d rather go with the bare minimum than feel fabric moving around and clinging to him all day. And he’s being assertive and indignant, because Of Course He Is.

Hugh - Aha, a design! A design for the largely descriptionless bastard man! The hair is pretty accurate for how he wears it currently, though he definitely prefers it shorter than that so it isn’t curling into his face all the time. The color should be darker, closer to a traditional brunette tone, and this picrew is so invalid only because I couldn’t give him the beard that was the only thing I pictured for so long. Hugh has a full chin beard that he also keeps fairly short, but he isn’t able to grow too much of a mustache so that stays as stubble on his upper lip. 

As for physique, he’s definitely a lot more muscley than this picrew allowed him to be. The outfit he has on is definitely close to something he got his first night on Gawain’s ship, though a little more tight fitting than it is in reality. Otherwise, I don’t have too much to say on him! Smarmy grin and half lidded eyes is his signature expression for harassing people, but those eyes open up to look a little more friendly most other times.

Ray - Ahhh my sunshine child, always trying his best! *stares at both of my story wips with him* He’s completely fine, both physically and emotionally! But I digress. Here’s Ray on a classic, happy day! This picrew did such a good job with his hair. Wavy, ending just above his shoulders, and sometimes tied up in a ponytail or bun. This honestly looks so accurate to him and I love it.

A note on his coat that also extends to Percival, this choice isn’t super accurate to his coat? Percival’s should be dark red/magenta and Ray’s should be more of a navy blue/green, and both of them should be more tailored, but these were the closest I could get them. My captains really like their fun coats (except Gawain. He likes to stick to protocol uniforms, which in the Law Abiding Business does not include a fun coat)

Mabel - Last, but certainly not least! Mabel is fantastic and this picrew fits her very very well. That shirt is definitely made of some softer flannel-ish material and she wears it on windier or brisker days. Those stripey shirts are some of her favorite patterns aside from No Pattern. 

Oh and her hair I really had a blast making here. It wasn’t working out at first because there aren’t a whole lot of options, but I thought to have her put it up and then include that little braid bit and with some curly bangs and little loose bits on the side it really came together! Yellow looked cute with her and I didn’t want the beautiful fruit backgrounds to go to waste, so I gave her some lemons because why not. 

Ah and one last note. The only reason y’all aren’t getting a Gawain picrew as well is because 1) even numbers,,,, good,,,,, and actually because 2) he looked absolutely cursed in this picrew and it didn’t represent him quite as well as I’d like. Maybe I’ll doodle him out sometime so you guys can see what he looks like....

Sooo.... yeah.... that was certainly. A Ramble. If you’re still here, I’m so very sorry. I’m going to go get something to eat now. Ah, and everyone I would have tagged has already taken care of this since I took all day, so anyone can go ahead if they’d like.

[liawake]

Writing Life Day 129: Finishing Up

Day 129:

Hey, what's going on everyone.

I hope your week has been great thus far, and we only have the remainder of the day left. We get through this together at the very least, and to those of you almost done your day or close to it, well you're just the lucky ones out of all of us eh. Anyways since you're already here, why not let me kill a few minutes of your day by rambling on about my week, and the things that I got myself involved.

Before we jump into the story side of things though, and I know you might not care since the title of the blog is Writing Life, but I finished my wedding photography class on Wednesday this week. Now the question I guess is what do I do with the stuff I learned and is it worth pursuing and blending it with my writing. I think so, but I can't help be a little bit hesitant since it is a big step moving forward. That's something that I'll be working on, on the side and if anything comes of it, it'll probably be mentioned here since in some way it'll likely cross paths with my writing. Anyways I digress and let's get into this Friday's recap.

Goal 1: Novel In Progress - So basically the title of this goal isn't accurate anymore since the Novel that I was working on is no longer in progress. It's completed just like I had hoped and mentioned on the Monday recap. Let me give you the run down; basically, the story topped out at 212 pages before being edited, or formatted so I have high hopes that number will likely increase a fair bit. It's just over 110k words. So editing will slowly be taking place on in the next couple of weeks. As always when it gets posted to Amazon, it'll be the usual $0.99 in Canadian so it definitely won't break your wallet. Also, I'm looking at creating a launch team for the new book, so if you're interested in Adventure / Romance stories, and maybe want an early copy. Let me know, and I'll keep you in mind.

Goal 2: Advertising - So as always I'm here to promote my two current stories; The Thirty Pound Backpack & Blind Beauty and soon there'll be more to add to that list. That being said there'll be a separate post as well for this, but there's currently a free promotion going for Blind Beauty so it's definitely worth it if you like romance novel's all I ask in return is if you could please leave a review it would mean the world to me.

Goal 3: Random Stuff - So since I finished up my current project yesterday, and I have some odd little things to do, I'm not really sure what I'll be focusing on for the rest of the day, and I very well might just be doing some proofreading. Then depending on how long that takes, maybe I'll figure out something a little more concrete by noon hopefully, even if it's just some spring cleaning.

Anyways that's pretty much I got for today, and hopefully, if you're reading this, I was able to kill some of your time before the weekend. When it comes to the weekend though, like goal number three, I'm not sure what my plan is. If I can get all the proofing done, I might start on a new story, but if not I'll probably just be editing until then. Again I guess we'll see.

Alright, so anyways again I hope I was able to kill some of your day and if you're genuinely curious about my writing life, I'll be back on Monday with a new update. Till then though remember that tomorrow's a different day, and anything could happen.

See you next time everyone,

- Li. A. Wake

Blogger Link: https://liawake.blogspot.ca/

[braindamageforbeginners]

Hairspray: A Tale of Life, Death, and Rebirth Gone Wrong

Cycle 7, Day 2

So, I'm going to recycle some photos and ideas that I may have touched upon earlier, or in different media, so forgive me the potential repetition. Also, it’s a Temodar week, so repetition, rambling, and half-thoughts are to be expected (at least until Sunday-ish). On the other hand, the last scan (the six-month one) came back clean, which is a feeling of relief I know hard-core opiates can’t compete with (I know this because they dosed me to the gills for Surgery #1 with morphine, and it wasn’t as good). On the other hand, that also means six more months of marizomib and temodar - which I’m definitely not looking forward to, but, screw it, I’m still in this thing to win it. If that means pouring the Cuyahoga River through my veins, I’ll do it if it brings me a step closer to beating this thing. Or at least doubling my life expectancy.

One of the big things cancer survivors are asked is what being prematurely bald is like. And, surprisingly, like everything else in the process, it sucks (I know I promised I’d find better, more floral synonyms for “sucks,” but  English is sadly lacking)(I could try Finnish curse words, which are easily the best in the world, but I can’t spell them, and I’m not sure Google translate would help the readers).

So, I know from personal experience that if all you need is neurosurgery to treat a tumor, just let it grow out beforehand, because the surgical team can cut and shave as-needed, and that’s usually (in my experience)(again, though, I’ve done it three times) 6-8 square inches. Which you can cover up with long hair until you no longer look like you have some rare form of mange.

In the most recent case, the one where I literally had a week-long-lag between discovery and surgery (again, that’s probably within established medical wisdom/timelines since I was still asymptomatic), and I knew I’d need chemo and radiation after (unlike my other tumors)(again, it will never not be severely weird to me that I had outlived my life expectancy twice in before I was 30). So, solution; a shorter haircut. However, I have some rather specific needs (in all things, as it turns out)(Hey, I didn’t choose the heavily-medicated, chemo-dependent life, it chose me), in that it be short, but also hide my Batman-villain scars (or at least draw attention to them).  Based on my time in Miami, when you’re a man in a hair crisis, the go-to solution is to find your local Hispanic barber, ideally a middle-aged man with an impressive mustache. The fine folks at Ernesto’s did not disappoint:

I think you’ll agree, that’s a good haircut that meets all of my needs. There’s two big scars that are visible, but you have to squint to see them. Sadly, as the ancient Persians would say, this too, shall pass. This was quickly supplanted by the very, very worst haircut I - or anyone - will ever get.

Those annoying little glue-on cheerios are to help neurosurgeons when they go spelunking through your skull. If you see someone with those little dots on their head, buy them a drink, the’re about to have an awful (but necessary) day.

Again, that passed, and was replaced by something usually associated with a baseball:

If it looks painful and unpleasant, I’m understating things. The pain aspect needs to be accentuated, because I was put on extreme steroids as a post-surgical pain-killer, instead of opiates, which have the benefit of being both ineffective and causing seizures (AUTHOR’S NOTE: One of the weirder aspects of brain cancer treatments is that all of their side effects mimic brain cancer symptoms). Buy hey, at least I still have a fully-intact memory of the rather nightmarish time my neurosurgeon removed my shunt (the irony of this all taking place in a large, city in Northern California where any sympathetic, competent person probably could’ve obtained a quasi-legal substance associated with tie-dyed shirts that works better as a pain treatment is not lost on me). But I digress, this is a tale about hair, my hair, and the potential options available should you go bald in treatment.

After surgery, you get a four-ish weeek break to recover before the real fun begins. Because I was a naive babe in the woods, I decided to let my hair grow back, based on my experience that it’s always easier to shave hair than grow it (I realize that’s a little hypocritical coming from someone who uses a straight razor).

Let’s take a brief break, reader, to discuss baldness and cancer treatment. Even though I’m going through heavy-duty, once-a-week maintenance chemo and it does feel like it, physically, the chemicals I’m being dosed with are highly targeted. All chemotherapeutic agents biochemically target either fast-growing/dividing cells, or some nutrient or product such cells need. In my case, the marizomib targets a protein associated with brain tumors with an IDH and P57 mutation. Temodar targets happiness. Which means, in my case, the odds of some poor regularly-dividing cells that are just replenished quickly (like blood cells or hair follicles) are minimal. If this goes south, I get switched from misery-inducing maintenance doses of each to something much more effective (and dangerous) that will likely target a greater variety of cells. Radiation works by tearing cells apart at a subatomic level in a highly-focused beam (which is an amazingly terrifying concept to think about when you know how the body tends to react to “empty spaces”). TRANSLATION: You’ll go bald in two different ways if it’s radiation-related, or if it’s chemo-related.

If you go completely bald, I’d argue that, even though that’s really bad, there are a few ways you can deal with it before going to a hat shop.If you’re a man, there’s always the Star Trek approach

Not an ideal look, but it’s a dignified one. If you don’t have that RSC dignity, you can try an alternative:

If you’re a woman, the options are much more limited (unless you want to emulate Janeway in that awful time-warp episode). But there are still some role models:

If Britney’s not your thing, there’s also Scary Spice.

You can also look into hats, wigs, or beanies, there are many different types based on your needs. If you’re healthy, it might seem unnecessarily vain, but when you have cancer, people do start treating you differently, and, even though most of my experiences with that have been positive; there’s a reason I go for scar-hiding haircuts. I would recommend finding a hat/headcover that meets your needs before you go bald (I’ve written previously what that’s going to look and feel like), so you’re not approaching it from a place of desperation. That’s how you wind up in a trilby. I eventually went for a Stetson both because broad-brimmed hats should be in proportion to your shoulders (if you’re a man), because I like horses (also true, although I haven’t been on a horse in a few years), because the snappy plastic part of baseball caps goes right over my new, angry scars, and - this is important - for the proven anti-cancer properties of a Gallatin (go ahead and prove me wrong, I’ve got six months of data to back up that claim). My point is, there is a hat or baldness solution out there that’ll work for you if you put in some time and research. Just don’t get a trilby.

But, back to me; prior to treatment, I didn’t know I was going to go one of the worst kinds of bald (or at least, one of the weirdest).

That’s not the most flattering photo, but it is the last photo I have of me with human hair (and you can still see the damned scar). Here I am a few weeks later:

“Tactial baldness,” as it turns out, is not an attractive look at a singles’ bar. Who knew? Of course, like so much in life, that’s not the end of it. Not by a longshot.

That’s the final score, about seven-ish weeks in. I call the the “Friday the 13th, if Jason Had Shears.” Again, not the end of the story, not by a long shot. Even though I shaved my head down with an aggressive crew cut, the non-nuclear scalp would just just keep growing around it.  There’s a reason almost all photos of me from the last six months feature hats.

If you go “radioactive bald,” and you’re worried it might be permanent (as I was), ask the radiation techs. They’ve seen it all and will give you a more accurate assessment. In my case, they estimated a few months, with the caveat that it might come back differently coloured, or curly, or a different texture. We’ll discuss that last warning shortly.

This is my hair as of three-ish weeks ago.

You’ll notice the right side of my skull looks mostly-normal; what this photo doesn’t convey is that the texture is odd and off-putting (but that might just be me, after you spend a few days unable to feel your left leg, you get a little twitchy about inhuman-textured hair growing in. Also, since I’m a glioma patient, my go-to move is to chop off any part of my skull that’s not a team player (even though, as Mom pointed out, at this point, I should only complain if it came back as pubic hair). Back to Ernesto’s, and a return to normality (maybe).

The point of this sordid tale - apart from telling a really twisted story about the hair day from hell - is that serious illness does tend to knock you back a few paces, and you have to adapt quickly (I know that’s shocking news). But, sometimes, with a bit of luck (okay, an awful lot of luck) you can do it. Today, bitchin’ hair pattern/design, next month, I will have Steve Harrington’s hair.

[kalosops]

“Stupid Piece of Sh*t”

So, I mentioned when I posted the sketch I did of Hollyhock over on my art blog that I might be making a non-art post about BoJack over on my main blog at some point. Well, here's some point. 

Note that this is pretty much being posted unedited and with very little review. I made a deal with myself that I would create this more as a stream of thought and less as a crafted statement as I almost always tend to do, especially when talking about serious topics. So hopefully it makes sense and is digestible.

What I wanted to talk about today was BoJack Horseman Season 4 Episode 6. So, this is your spoiler warning, I suppose.

Anyhow, as any of you who have watched the show probably know, this show gets super intense and way too real on a regular basis. It's a show that touches on a lot of things that many shows and movies opt keep at arms length, bringing many difficult topics (such as abortion, as an example) into the fold to make many a point and realization about them.

This episode, however, was quite a doozy. Despite how intense some of the other episodes have gotten, they'll still be manageable in the sense that they've never made me stop and take some time away to think about them. This episode gains the distinction of being the only one to do that so far. I actually took a day off from my binge-watch so that I could process this one.

Why? Well, the stand-out aspect in this episode was that we really got to experience what goes on inside of BoJack's head, seeing his inner monologue in the form of stylistic animated sections. What I can say about this is that it really nailed the feeling of what depression and anxiety can do to a person's mind. Like, it portrayed it in a frighteningly accurate way, between the way that his thoughts abuse him and how they continually push him to do self-destructive things both minor and major.

I don't often talk about myself on this blog, or really online at all (not even much on my Facebook). I find it quite difficult to talk about my thoughts and feelings, which is something I have struggled with for most, if not all, my life. So, odds are that no one who reads this blog knows that early last year I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder. I think I've mentioned it online a grand total of one time, in an end of the year journal entry that was quickly pushed aside by another containing a hopeful message for the new year.

So, what I'm saying is that this is actually something that I've experienced. Perhaps not in an exact sense, though probably closer than I would be happy admitting. And it's something that I can't recall being illustrated to quite this accurate a degree in any media I've personally consumed. I've seen hints of it here and there, but rarely do I see it tackled head on, and never quite like this. Honestly, the closest I've seen before is in the film Inside Out and its depiction of both memories being bent out of shape to bring forth the painful parts and the gradual loss of interest in things once considered vital aspects of one's self. And that hit pretty hard as well. If you haven't seen that film, go check it out. It's well worth your time.

I digress, back to the reason I'm writing this. This episode was particularly impactful because it made the reason of why BoJack acts the way he does in many instances crystal clear. This internal monologue constantly egging him on, telling him to do things or not to do things, and lambasting him pretty much either way he reacts to it. Now, having watched the rest of the series prior, it's pretty obvious at this point that BoJack has some /serious/ issues (it's kind of a central theme to many of the show's arcs), but seeing this aspect of his mental state shown so explicitly is quite disturbing, especially since I experience a lot of the same inner thoughts and impulses.

I know on some level that other people grappling with depression and anxiety experience similar things, but, as Hollyhock says at the end of the episode, I know, but I don't always know, you know? There's a major difference between knowing it conceptually and physically seeing it illustrated before your eyes and thinking "Wow, whoever created this really gets this mindset on a fundamental level." I mean, I feel that they must have experienced this sort of thing at some point to be able to depict it with such poignancy.

And seeing the general reaction online to the episode leads me further seeing how not alone I am in experiencing this sort of thing. I've seen a multitude of comments from a variety of places (reddit, AV Club, etc.) where people are expressing similar feelings to what I am. That this episode hits really close to home, that it showed this idea that they understand personally but perhaps never truly believed other people could understand.

Now, to explain the reason that it bothered me so much. I feel that I see way too much of myself in BoJack, and this sort of cemented this idea. I mean, I don't (and never plan to) do drugs and I'm not an alcoholic, though honestly the possibility of alcoholism never feels too far away. Many days I feel that the only reason I'm not seeking to be drunk regularly is the lucky factor of having people constantly rely on me for transportation (I have a roommate that cannot drive themselves to work and a father who flies regularly for work but cannot deprive us of the car and such requires drop-offs/pick-ups). As such, I literally just cannot do it, no matter how much I may want to.

I'm not quite sure what would happen if I didn't have such an obligation. I already spend quite an excessive amount of time just out at places because I feel that need to escape, to be somewhere, anywhere else. For me, that means sitting at a Taco Bell and gorging on unhealthy food and drink rather than sitting in a bar drinking, but is that terribly far from the realm of possibility in the future? Probably not. And that thought really shook me up.

I doubt I could act quite as horribly as a character like BoJack has in the past, but I truly think that's only because my anxiety issues prevent it. They prevent a lot of things, actually. Between stopping me from lashing out at other people despite having an entire tirade planned out in my mind, begging to be unleashed, and preventing me from self-harm almost solely due to how it might negatively impact others, I constantly have a conflicting voice of conscience that pulls me from the breach even as I gaze deeply into the abyss.

It's a frightening state of mind to be in, it truly is. And despite there being ways to manage it, it's not a very easy thing to do. Back when I was diagnosed, I was put on an SSRI as an attempt to quell my mental state. To be fair, it worked decently for a time (I was on it fairly consistently for about six months), allowing me to ignore the inner monologue in most cases, though never completely silencing it. But it wasn't quite enough of a kick to get me to stick with it. In the end, my anxiety won out (in part due to the prospect of losing my insurance as it was about the time I lost my job), preventing me from setting my follow-up appointment and leaving me unmedicated to this day.

Despite having insurance now, I've not yet been able to muster the strength to return to the doctor's office to get a new prescription. I'm not terribly surprised as I delayed my first doctor visit for over two years after the concept of having depression occurred to me. And I only did that because I found myself in a situation where overcoming the crippling anxiety keeping me at bay was easier than the alternative. Sadly, this is an unlikely thing to repeat. Maybe someday a similar situation will present itself, but who knows.

I've rambled on quite a bit at this point about things, and this post has been rather self-involved at this point (which was not at all my intention when I first started writing it, but I suppose was inevitable). So let me leave it with a few final thoughts.

If you're reading this (and somehow made it this far), thanks for listening.

If you also feel that this episode hit way too close to home in this regard, please do yourself a favor and seek professional help. Odds are if this sort of monologue plays out in your head on a regular basis, there is a problem that is best attended to and not left to fester. I know you've probably thought about seeking help before, possibly even for years, but still, sometimes it's helpful to hear it from someone who gets it. You can overcome it and get the help you need, but you have to be the one to take the first step. No one else can do it for you. Do what you need to in order to get it done. For me, it was blasting my most inspiring CD in the car while sitting in the parking lot of the doctor's office for a half-hour or so just to muster the strength to go in and make an appointment, but you may need something different. In any case, I wish you well.

If you aren't the kind to have these thoughts, hopefully this episode gave you a bit of perspective into these mental conditions. I realize that it can be difficult to understand or empathize with mental health conditions, but these sorts of things help give me confidence that these conditions can be explained and depicted in ways that viewers that lack the experience of them might be able to understand. I really wish I could show this episode to everyone that just doesn't get it, but I feel that the episode does require watching the rest of the show prior to have the necessary impact (which I unfortunately cannot just blanket recommend to everyone, despite how amazing I think it is).

Anyway, yeah. Thanks again for listening.

Oh, and also, that last scene where Hollyhock asks him if the similar voice she hears will go away was just devastating. I understand the want, and perhaps the need, to give her hope that maybe it won't be something she struggles with her whole life as well, but man was it devastating...

Anywho, I've rambled long enough for today. Needless to say, despite the difficulty of experiencing this episode, I am very thankful for its existence. I wish I could thank everyone who worked on this episode personally, but this will have to do for now. Thank you all for this amazing gift.

Take care, everyone!

[diamondsableye]

The Ivory Parasite

The Ivory Parasite

       It's kinda funny how your viewpoint on anything really can be completely shattered within a day, hell, usually it happens in a matter of minutes for most.  Like the time you caught your parents putting presents under a beautifully decorated tree (probably adorned with ornaments yourself) on a chilly Christmas Eve. Or maybe when you lost one of your teeth and didn't tell your parents out of forgetfulness and woke up to the sight of its shiny, pearly color still resting under your pillow.  If you never had any of those wondrous experiences, you are either in denial, or you had no childhood.  Sorry, I'm rambling, aren't I?  Well, the fact of the matter is that I am dying as we speak.  (or type for that matter)   I should probably specify and say that I am dying as the result of becoming a host to a devilishly malicious parasite.  It's almost comical how I thought just a few hours ago that the only real harmful parasites you could get in the modern world were maybe tapeworms, but even then they're easily dealt with and even easier to prevent.  I think I've droned on enough and should probably start explaining how this mess even started. I'm not sure how long the Incubation period lasts, but if this thing takes control of my brain first, then I'm going to speed things along.

   To start off, I should probably give the setting where all this started, which is around the southeastern area of the U.S.  I'm not going to give my precise location in case some idiot tries to be the hero and save me.  Please don't look, really.  I don't know If you can stop whatever is afflicting me once it fully takes hold, and the fewer people I come in contact with, the better.  Anyways I'd advise you not to go out at night, actually, venturing into any dark and moist environment is probably a bad idea as well.  (as you can see, I learned that the hard way.) Lock your windows and doors too, hell carry cyanide around with you too, just anything you can think of to keep yourself safe from this damn parasite!  But I digress, I at least want to get the story of my encounter out there, so you know what to expect, or something like that.

   It all began last night, a particularly humid night for that matter.  I was dealing with lots of stress, from social events to finals and the end of school, and even a few existential crises here and there.  (I have never been sure of my life or anything for that matter.)  So I ventured outside to get some environmental therapy.  I was living in a cheap apartment at the time, (One not even suited for roaches if I might add.) so I threw on some old sweatpants and a hoodie, before deciding to take an Uber out to the local park.  My car at the time was my parent's 'hand me down' and frequently had to go in for maintenance.  I can't get another car that's at least decent for not finding a high paying job fast enough.  (Then again, what kind of high paying job can I really get with an arts degree anyways that doesn't require a minimum of ten years experience?)  I'm getting sidetracked, the point is I was out there alone without any quick way to get back to my small flat.  That didn't really register with me however because I was already in the midst of a full blown panic attack and even the few sentences spoken between me and my driver was enough social interaction for weeks in my troubled mind.

   For a moment I realized that the park was less occupied than usual, but I reasoned with what little sanity I had left, that there were fewer people at night, and I usually strolled through the park grounds during the day.   Using the flashlight on my phone, I decided to take my usual route through the deer trail that I had discovered a few years back, during one of my first few trips here. I should probably mention that I have high functioning autism and some various other mental issues that typically come along with it, like ADHD and anxiety.  My old psychologist that had done social therapy sessions with me during my teenage years recommended that I try nature walks as a form of stress control. So ever since I was about 16 or so, I've frequented this place often and knew most of the east side like my own home. That being said, it was glaringly obvious that my small 'hidden grotto' as I referred to it, had been discovered. I couldn't tell if the damage was done by an animal or a human, but whoever or whatever had done it really ransacked the place.  The overhanging tree next to my climbing rock near the middle area of the clearing had been nearly shredded in half, with deep gashes in the bark.  I was honestly surprised that it was still standing.  Patches of dirt and soil had been torn up from the earth and had been strewn all about the spot of land and the various forms of foliage that dotted the vaguely barren expanse.  Small areas of shrubbery had been completely ripped from the ground from their roots (But not all were in one piece.) and appeared to be thrown around the site.  This set of my already shaken nerves, but oddly enough the urge to run never came. Instead, I was utterly captivated by my own morbid curiosity.

   I know this might sound strange, but I've always had a strange fascination towards the nightmarish and gruesome the world offered me. (Drawing blood is probably one of the most relaxing activities I enjoy.)  It was this bewildering interest that brought me to look closer at some of the stranger markings left in the soft, moldable soil.  I was confused at first, to say the least.  I found myself to be staring at bundles of handprints and footprints littering the topsoil.  The strangest thing was that they weren't positioned in a way I could accurately follow, or to put it simply, there wasn't any way that the prints could've been created that didn't defy the basic laws of human anatomy. Took a mental double take as I re-envisioned the possible movements that would've been taken.  It still didn't add up, even if someone were to scamper around on all fours like some wild creature, there's still no way they could've made those prints.  It was confusing, to say the least, and my tired mind wasn't in the mood to search for a logical explanation.  So, like the idiot I am, I decided to follow the prints deeper into the woods.   I guess it's my fault for always living in a sheltered environment, not knowing how to deal with wandering criminals that would hold you at knifepoint or mentally unsound druggies that would become violent at a moment's notice.

   I was about a few yards into the continuing woods until the dense underbrush became too thick to pass through.  Feeling rather unsatisfied I decided to head on back letting my tired body lead the way until some rustling bushes caught my attention, followed by a small rabbit leap out of them, startling me somewhat.  It was injured, made evident by the long gash on the side of its body, fresh blood staining the otherwise clean pelt of its cream colored hide.  I half pitied its plight while half expecting a wild fox or bobcat to chase it, following suit.  Figuring that there's no reason to stick around my damaged and not so secret anymore grotto, I walked down the deer trail the second time that night, making a mental note to find another, not so banged up hideaway.  I was about halfway through the trail when yet another sound grabbed my attention.  What I heard could only be described as gargling, except it was the lethal kind, like the sound of someone drowning.  Quickly jerking my head around, trying to locate its source, I was met with the complete lack of movement and sound, a silence which no one should ever hear in a forest.  I started to panic, changing my leisurely stroll to a faster half jog.  Eventually, my own nerves got to me to the point where I turned my half jog to a full run.  At that point, every passing branch felt like a limb darting out at me, and every twig became fingers tugging at my hair.  Even my own breath sounded like the pained gasps of someone barely living. Looking back at it now, it might as well have been.

   I decided that I had enough nature for that night and decided to take the trip back home.  The sun had set hours ago, and I really needed to get more sleep thanks to my unshakeable habit of working on projects throughout the night.  I was about to call another Uber when I realized that I didn't have enough pocket money on hand to afford the trip back.  Cursing myself and not wanting to wait half an hour for the next bus, I began the 30-minute trek back home, according to Google maps.  The streets were relatively barren like usual, save for the few partygoers and late night travelers still present.  It was only after a short while did I notice the now unimaginably strong smell of spoiled eggs and soured milk emanating from the resting hood of my jacket. Expecting the worst, I gently slid it off while walking, careful of its disgusting contents, and peered inside the hood.

    It was a finger, a human finger.  One that was green and black from rot and decay, looking weeks old. I threw it to the ground in panic, with questions racing through my mind faster than the lead car in the Indie 500. The most notable one being "how?".  Maybe there was a dead body in the canopy above me?  Somehow it got picked up when I was running?  I was trying to come up with a reason for it, any reason at all. I flashed back to the rabbit I saw fleeing the clearing with the gash along its abdomen.  It was made by a fox or wolf or some other natural predator right?

   "Hey doll, ya looks as if ya seen a ghosts or somethins. Ya interested 'n a drinks?" A large, mildly intoxicated man called out to me, breaking me out of my haze.  He chuckled heartily, seeing me physically jump, escaping my stupor.  I hadn't realized I had passed by the rather shabby bar that served as my one fourth distance landmark.  Glancing up at the one bright, now barely functioning neon sign, it read "Al's Ale".  I chortled to myself at the thought of a balding man somewhere in his forties and who was most likely an alcoholic at that managing to snap me back to reality faster than my nature walk.

   "What? Are ya deaf or somethins?  Don't leaves me hangin ya pretty thing, I knows ya wants ta shares a shots or twos wif ol' Sammy heres" he continued with a more pronounced lisp.

   "Oh, ah.  N-No thanks, good-uh-sir." I responded in my usual, stutter riddled fashion. Hearing this, he let out a hearty laugh before retorting

   "No mores al-alcohol for ya! Sounds ta me that ya alreadys got enoughs sweet cheeks."

   "Yeah, I-I buh-better get, uh going." I meekly responded before continuing my way back home.

   "Yeah!  Party hard sugar tits!" he called out after me.  

   Pretty soon 'Sammy's' cries along with the general ruckus of the bar faded behind me as I continued on towards my apartment complex, leaving me alone with the general ambiance of the near barren street and my own thoughts echoing their hushed worried tones throughout my head. However, something lingered throughout the general atmosphere of the city's slum.  The general disturbance caused by the strays and the alley cats had disappeared, but they hadn't vanished completely. Instead, they were replaced with something one would describe as being more calculated.  It wasn't like the usual white noise of scurrying paws, and occasional growls, barks, and hisses during a scrap over food or turf.  This was very different.  It was what sounded like distant, haggard breaths, the creeping sway of determined movement and, the slight shuffle of something being dragged along the ground. I told myself that this wasn't out of the ordinary, that this was just some old, late night janitor making his rounds, garbage bag in tow.  

   I wasn't buying my cheap, half-hearted explanations, and becoming more vigilant than usual, began to look around for the probable cause.  I told myself that I was just overreacting, that whatever this was is entirely logical.  Within one quick glance, however, nearly all thoughts that this was the result of something ordinary completely vanished.  I had locked eyes with dead ones.  However, they retreated back into the alley from which they had appeared from as quickly as I had caught sight of them.  I started off in a full blown sprint, nearly tripping on the uneven sidewalk. However, even with adrenaline coursing through me as my fuel, I have to admit that I was not terribly overweight, but I still was extremely out of shape.  Needless to say, I couldn't keep running for too long and soon had to revert back to a slow walk.  I didn't know what it was, or if it was following me, but I rejoiced at the sound of the usual city sounds enveloping the streets and alleyways once more. However, my good news stopped there as I had missed a turn in my hurry and was still about 15 minutes away from my apartment.  

   The rest of the trip back was agonizingly painful, jumping at every sound I heard.  I doubted my sanity, but the world provided me with a harsh reality check each time I fell into questioning myself by gifting me with unnatural sights just at the edges of my vision, darting into some unknown hiding spot each time it presented itself.  Maybe a rotting limb here, a fractured bone there, or maybe a spindly, Ivory appendage crawling back behind the corner it came from.  I wasn't sure what was real anymore, only finding solace in my own room once home, locking the door just in case.

   I brewed some tea for myself, not for taste but for stress relief as I settled down in my bedroom.  By that point, it had started to rain, and I gladly settled down, relieved that I had not been caught in the steady downpour.  The rhythmic beat of the rain put me at ease hearing its patter against the windowpane.  It was almost surreal.  The effect of the rain and tea combined began to lull me into a trance like state as I casually drifted between consciousness.  I awaited the warm welcome of sleep, resting underneath my bed covers. However, this was interrupted by an unusual tapping at my window. Half expecting it to be tree branches or something of the like, I remembered that trees only tapped against the windows of my parent's house and that there aren't trees outside of the building.  I jerked my head around almost hard enough to pull a muscle at the realization and turned to see several black tendrils retreating upwards.  

   I sat in stunned silence for a moment before reality came crashing down on me and bolted towards my kitchen.  I grabbed a knife along with my phone and keys and was heading out my apartment door when I heard the window to my living room shatter.  I was taking no chances and decided to call the police. Running down the halls towards the stairs, I glanced over my shoulder to find whatever it was already close behind after reducing my door to splinters.  Taking off down the stairs, I tried to explain to the operator what was happening as best I could.  It wasn't far behind, I could hear its wheezing breaths inching closer and closer to me.  I finally saw the door to the main parking lot, taking my chance, I shoved open the double doors for myself and slammed them behind me into the creature.  I actually managed to cut off some of the tendrils with the door as I shut it, and I could hear it screech in pain as they were sliced.  I checked my phone to make sure I was still on the line, and I was notified that dispatch was on their way and would arrive soon.  For the briefest of moments, I really thought I was going to make out of this alive.  That feeling was all too early shattered as the creature started to forcefully pound at the doors.  It only took a few strikes for it to force its way out, and I was finally able to see the beast in all its glory.

   It used to be a girl, now broken by what I am sure to be a vile parasite.  Her body was mangled nearly to pieces and was experiencing severe decay.  The gray skin had rotted of her completely in some places, exposing some of her bones and deteriorated muscle.  The black tendrils had actually been eye stalks and had a bright white orb among each tip, and they seeped out of every hole and tear in the skin.  I could see them writhing underneath.  The legs along with the pelvis and spine had been spun until they faced backward, and the neck was broken, leaving the head to freely move limply around in the dead flesh. I also noticed that the body was missing a foot and several fingers.  However, that was only what used to be human, the real parasite showed itself by the various ivory, insect-like limbs that jutted out from broken arms at the elbow, what remained of the ribcage, and from inverted legs. To my horror, it seemed that somehow, the girl was still alive, as I could hear her shallow breaths as she struggled to breathe.  I could see her twitching in pain at the touch of those stalks wriggling under her skin. I could hear what remained of her vocal chords trying to cry out, but only giving off a gargle as they decomposed and stirred into her own rotting flesh.

   I was frozen in fear, I tried to move, tried to shout for someone anyone to help me, but the only thing I managed to do was give off a pitiful whimper of fear as the parasite advanced towards me.  It swiftly picked me up with the two front legs extruding outward from under the rotting skin of her arms.  As it cradled me in its strong grasp, the rotten and broken human arms once belonging to the girl clasped onto my shoulders, dragging me closer to her face.  She tilted her head to a close upright position, and her once brown hair, now blackened and matted fell from her face and drifted across mine.  I wanted to die from the smell alone.  I would've vomited had I not skipped dinner, never the less I retched and recoiled from being as close as I was to her face.  Her eyes once dead in her sockets I'm now sure were peering right through me into my very soul.  Slowly she opened her mouth, and two more small insect-like appendages revealed themselves extending from the tears in her neck.  Without warning the ivory limbs attached themselves into my jaw, forcing it open.  As the girl's mouth kept widening, the smell as impossible as it seemed, continued to get worse, and I was crying from the horrid aroma.  I watched and felt as she gave me what only could be described as a kiss of death, that is, my widened mouth on her gaping one, and having what was left of her almost completely shredded lips hanging down in thin raggedy pieces darting across my face.  Soon enough she extended her tongue down my throat, far longer than any human's tongue and I felt something crawl down it, something horribly rancid.  With that, the creature withdrew its tongue, dropped me on the pavement and left.  I couldn't make out where it was going to in my shock, and I just lied down in defeat. I cried until the police showed up and I kept crying afterward.  I think at some point they tried to explain to me that what occurred was just a home invasion and I must have dreamed up the rest.  

   I want to believe them, I want to think that they're right, but I can't.  I can't when I can feel this parasite moving inside me.  I feel what I think are more tendrils moving around inside my skin, and see my blonde hair turn dark and have patches of skin turn gray with rot. I know I'll be like her soon, and I can feel it growing inside me.  It's getting harder to breathe, and type, and think, and I didn't sleep at all last night. I wonder what will happen If I kill myself, will I still live and turn into that thing?  Or will I kill the parasite along with myself as it's host? I know I can't go anywhere or see anyone. Otherwise, I might spread it more, despite the urges telling me to visit my friends or family or just go out into the grotto one last time.  I'm trying to fight it, but I don't know how long I can keep it at bay.  I really do think yhis thin is tryun to git in m hed bc I fel ih t gt n.

 Sorry for the ruckus!  I went to the officials, and they say that I'm all better so no need to worry!

That being said, does anyone want to trade contact info?  I'd love to meet some of you IRL, you know, in real life?  Anyhow, ring me up if you want to meet!

After all, I make for great company.