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aliendes · 4 years ago

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Natural Borns - Chapter Nine

Banner by @thebannershop

Series info/genre: Angst, fluff, smut (NSFW)

Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual)

Warnings: cursing, vivid depiction of a panic attack do not read if this makes you uncomfortable, crying, blood, shitty medical descriptions (probably), depression, cursing, anxiety, forced medical practices? Restraints, mentions of unwanted sexual acts? I suppose just sadness, man. The next chapter is going to get pretty dark, and this one leads up to that, so beware.

Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it?

Word count: 7.1k~

A/N: Surprise!! Hi, I know this is early, but I had a productive week and felt inspired. I am so excited for like two chapters down the line, because there is a really sweet scene, that I can’t wait for you guys to read. Thank you for all the love, it means so much. Please like, reblog, comment so more people can see this series! I absolutely LOVE hearing from the readers of this series, and it is my favorite time of the week interacting with you, so please send me all the asks you want, I’m happy to answer questions about characters! You might learn a thing or two if you read those asks I answer ;) ALSO: I’m less than 50 followers away from 1,000... which is... insane. I’m going to do a drabble/ask maybe request thing once I reach 1,000 so stay tuned!

Jungkook’s eyes were panicked and Jin’s heart cracked at the sight, not remembering a time when Jungkook had been so passionate about something, the weight of his words settling in his own chest, “They took her.”

It’s dark and cold. Your eyelids are so heavy you don’t think you could open them if you tried. Your throat feels like the Sahara desert with how dry and scratchy it is, and your muscles feel like you attempted to run a marathon without stretching whatsoever. To put it simply, you feel like shit. But why?

The last thing you remember was sitting with Jungkook next to the small stream you found in the middle of the forest. Sharing your first kiss with him. The thought makes you smile mentally, taking your thoughts away from the searing pain you feel throughout your body. You’re not sure if you’re even awake right now, you can’t move any part of your body, nor can you open your eyelids. Were you in some sort of coma? No, there’s no way.

Did you fall asleep? That must be the case, right? Maybe you were so dehydrated and exhausted you passed out. Jungkook would take care of you, though, so you shouldn’t worry. But then again, why do you feel like you’ve been hit by eight trucks and thrown off an overpass?

Your body feels like lead, it’s so heavy, and you almost feel like you’re sinking. Your body is floating, you feel no hard surface beneath you, like you might if you were laying on the ground, but at the same time it’s like you're slowly falling through quicksand. It’s like you’re weightless, but entirely too heavy all at once. Nothing is really making sense to you right now, all you know is that you’re in pain, and you really, really want to wake up and ask Jungkook what’s going on. Is he okay? Are you okay? Your brain calls out to him, but nothing happens.

Your thoughts are cut short by a sudden sharp, shooting pain in your right arm. At least, you think it’s your right arm. You can’t be entirely sure, because it feels like your limbs aren’t quite attached to your body. You’re panicking, the pain is seeping through your veins, traveling to the rest of your floating limbs, connecting all your body parts together through a burning sensation that is one of the most unpleasant feelings you’ve ever experienced. You want to scream bloody murder, you want to open your eyes, you want to figure out what’s happening to you, but you can’t. You’re stuck in this dark abyss, unable to locate your mind or your body, unable to piece them together to become one being again.

The pain is duplicated on your left side now, the same acid like burning sensation traveling up the left side of your body. You’re starting to feel whole again, but at what cost? Your arms feel like jelly, yet you still can’t move them. They’re burning, like fire, it hurts so bad. If you could, you’d be crying out for help. For Jungkook. For Jin, for anyone to help you. You need help! Your brain is screaming out to anyone, but no one can hear you. You can’t even hear you, you can’t hear anything. You don’t even know if there is anyone around. Did Jungkook leave you? What did you do to deserve this kind of torture? For the first time in a couple of days, you think about Mina and Woo, how they would help you if they were here. You want your friends, Seokjin, Namjoon, anyone. Please…

Jungkook walked close by Jin, never straying from his side, clutching onto his hand tightly, as the seven of them traversed the forest. He hadn’t fully stopped crying since he woke up, tears blurring his vision as they travelled, thoughts of you swirling through his mind. All he could think about was you, the kiss you shared, the way you made him feel. He felt responsible for you, he was the reason you got separated from Jin in the first place, right? He took off without making sure the elder was with you. If he had just stayed, or maybe charged his stupid phone so Yoongi was able to track you, maybe you’d still be with him. There were so many things he could’ve done differently. I feel safe with you. Those words engulfed his mind. He didn’t deserve your trust, he let you down, and he would never forgive himself for it. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this low before, ever felt such a horrible pain of losing someone. He never knew his parents, never really had anyone besides Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin, and Tae, so to finally have that with you, and to have it all ripped away in a few short days, was excruciating to him.

Once they realized they lost you, Namjoon urged them to push on, to make it to the outskirts of Seoul where they could come up with a plan. They hoped they still had Yeonjun on the inside, but they couldn’t be sure until Yoongi could get to a secure location to try and contact him. For all they knew, he could’ve given them away on purpose, though Namjoon liked to find the best in people, so he wasn’t completely sold on that idea. He was trying to keep a strong frame of mind for his group, he needed to be their pillar of support right now, make sure they were safe. But he was conflicted. Shouldn’t he have kept you safe, too? They accepted you as one of their own, told you that you could trust them, and now they’ve lost you. Namjoon felt horrible, like he should’ve been able to stop this, even though the logical side of his brain told him it was no one’s fault, really, except Big Hit’s. They were the only ones to blame in all of the unfortunate situations all of them have gone through.

While Jimin and Taehyung had yet to meet you, they could sense the pain the others were feeling. Even Hoseok’s demeanor had changed, and he barely knew you. He knew the people he loved most, loved you, he could feel it, and the fact that they were feeling pain, was bringing him down as well. Jungkook and Jin were enraptured by you, so there must be something special about you. What little time he spent with you told him that much. Would he ever get a chance to get to know you better? He hoped so. Even for the boys who weren’t close to you, they all understood the pain that you were probably in right now, and understood what you were about to be put through. Especially Taehyung. He just got back from the torturous experiments and shitty conditions they kept him in, and he hoped he would never have to return to them. The fact that you were experiencing the same, or similar things to what he had just gone through, was heartbreaking to him.

Once they were reunited, Taehyung clung to Hoseok and Jimin, looking to them for guidance and support, unsure of his feelings. He was so happy to be free of that place, but at what cost? Now they have you, an even rarer DNA makeup, he couldn’t imagine the things they would do to you. Sure, he didn’t know you, but he was an empath by nature, and was already feeling guilty over essentially switching places with you. His freedom for yours. It didn’t sit right with him, and so he was starting to slip, following Hoseok around like a lost puppy, a glazed look in his eyes.

Yoongi was trying to stay focused on getting to another safe house, or somewhere he would be able to potentially help you. He can’t believe the way he’s treated you since you’ve come to stay with them, and he’s been beating himself up about it since you all left the warehouse last night. He made you cry, he hurt you. You probably hated him, or at least thought he was cold, cruel even. He didn’t want you to remember him like that. Despite his often icy exterior, he didn’t like when people viewed him as cold-hearted, and he was pretty sure that’s how you saw him. He wanted to make sure he had the chance to redeem himself, to get to know you, actually know you. He was determined to get you back.

But no one was more determined, more distraught with your disappearance, than Seokjin. Not only had he spent the most time with you, and gotten to know you the best, but it was so much more than that. He could feel himself falling for you, for your shy exterior, but your deep faceted personality, your stunning features, and that adorable pout you wore when he was tending to your injuries. He was falling for you, much like he fell for the others. Maybe even harder, and he was not prepared to lose you without a fight. Aside from his strong feelings for you, he could see that Jungkook, his other half, was in just as deep, and that cut him to the core. They could have had something so special with you, with the others, that they haven’t experienced before, and you were ripped away from them. Just when he could tell Jungkook was starting to open up and blossom into the person he always hoped he’d become, you vanish into thin air. That hurt more than anything, the what if. What would happen if you were still here? Would your relationship bloom into something beautiful? Even if they get you back, which they will, Jin tells himself, you won't be the same. They all know what happens in that lab, and they couldn’t even begin to imagine how much worse it will be for you, their first female. Jin shudders at the thought, catching the attention of his companion who is clinging to the back of his t-shirt.

Jungkook looks up at his elder with wide doe eyes, still glassy from earlier events. When Jin looked down at him, the dam that he had been holding together with a string, burst. He stopped in his tracks, making Jungkook stop as well, looking panicked as he reached out to wrap his arms around Jin. They stood in the middle of the forest, clinging to each other tightly, silently mourning the loss of what could have been.

The others slowly started to realize what was happening, one by one, and all started to gather around Jungkook and Jin, no words spoken, emotions telling their story. First was Hoseok, placing a comforting hand on Jungkook’s back, and leaning his forehead against his shoulder. Next, was Jimin and Taehyung, each wrapping an arm around their maknae to support him as he sobbed. Then, Namjoon approached the eldest, wrapping him up in a tight back hug, placing gentle kisses against the back of his exposed neck. Last was Yoongi, he was hesitant to offer his comfort, because he didn’t feel like he deserved to comfort them, didn’t feel like he deserved any place in this with how awful he had been to you. But grief at watching his love's hearts break, eventually pushed him to move, reaching up to wipe Jin’s tears away gently, as his own started to fall.

You blinked your eyes slowly, once. Twice. Three times. You felt the haze of the Sandman try to pull you under once more, but resisted with all your might. Even though you had no grasp on how long you’ve actually been asleep, your aching body told you it’s been too long.

You let your eyes slip shut again, the appeal of unconsciousness dangling just within grasp. You almost let it take over you, but you persist, opening your eyes one more time, blinking tightly to try and remove any leftover sleep from them. When you finally manage to peel back your eyelids, all you see is white.

Furrowing your brow, you try and turn your head to your right, but your neck feels like you haven’t moved in it decades, cracking under the pressure of movement. You let out a soft whimper from the back of your throat at the pain, but it sounds more like a growl with how low and gravely your voice is. You don’t even recognize it to be you for a moment, still uncharacteristically sleepy.

When you finally manage to twist your head to the side, you’re just met with more white, and more confusion. You’re in what looks like a small doctor’s exam room, like the ones you would go to at your pediatrician’s office when you were a kid. Only this one was completely void of any color or those posters that tell you about puberty.

White walls, white tile floors, white ceiling, a white table and chair in the far corner, and a white door. No windows, no sink like you’d usually find in a doctor’s office. The room closer resembled a holding cell at a prison than anything else. You try to sit up, but your muscles resist, instead shooting a searing pain from your shoulder down to your lower back, making you yelp in surprise.

The pain made you feel more awake than you have since you opened your eyes, and for the first time, you really take in your surroundings, realization hits you. Where is Jungkook? Jin? Anyone? You sit up, ignoring the cracking of your bones, biting back the scream that wants to escape your throat at the feeling. You wince, trying to bring your hand up to rub at your face in any attempt to wake yourself up, you must be dreaming right? Only your wrist is snapped back to the bed, a loud metal clanking sound echoing off the walls. Your head snaps down, eyes widening at the sight of a leather cuff strapped to your wrist, connected by a chain to what you can assume is the slats of the metal bed frame you’re currently laying on.

Looking over at your other wrist, you notice it is restrained in a similar way. Panic is starting to set in, your mouth slightly agape in fear, eyes comically wide as you frantically search for a way out of here. Your breathing is labored, you can feel that black shadow of anxiety creeping up your spine, bleeding into your throat and traveling into your nose, making it hard to take a deep breath. You’re suffocating, pulling at your restraints, you can’t inhale at all, it’s like someone is holding a pillow over your face.

“H-help!” You try and scream, but it only comes out as a garbled cry with how little air you have in your lungs. Tears are streaming down your face as you start to thrash in the bed. This can’t be happening. They got you, they took you. Did they get Jungkook, too? What about the others? The thought is enough to send you into another spiral of panic, neck straining with the need to escape. They can’t be here, you led them away, right? But, that means they probably took Jungkook, too. Or worse.

Your chest is heaving, soft whimpers escaping your throat as you attempt to take in any air your body will allow, when the white door to your room is thrown open, bouncing off the wall adjacent to it. The panic doesn’t stop, however, when you see who walks through the door. You grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut, willing away whatever demons were bringing you this wretched dream. This can’t be real, you reason with yourself, it’s just a horrible nightmare.

“Pearl?!” Your father shouts, coming into the small room, another, shorter man, in a white lab coat following in behind him. You barely have any time to take a look at the other person in the room, as he preps a syringe, filled with an unknown substance that only makes your fear suffocate you further. “Pearl! Can you hear me, Pearl? It’s me, it’s dad!” Your father is kneeling next to your bed now, as the strange man approaches you, needle in hand.

“N-no!” Your high pitch scream startles both men, piercing their ears as you let out a wail when the man approaches you, stabbing the needle into your bare thigh. “N-no -n-no!” your voice wavers, stuttering to a complete silence, as your body falls back against the cardboard-esque mattress. Your breathing is evening out, eyes half-lidded as your brain feels like it’s floating. You aren’t asleep, no, just floating, peaceful even.

“Is she out?” you faintly hear your father ask.

“No, sir,” another voice sounds off, “it’s just a sedative. It’ll wear off in about an hour, but I don’t expect her to be in much better condition by then.”

You can hear them, though it kind of sounds like they’re underwater. Focus, YN, you tell yourself. Listen to what they’re saying. In your dazed state, you can’t really remember why exactly you should be listening, just that you should be listening.

“Are you going to keep her here?” You could hear your father ask, his voice sounded… strained? Your hazy mind was confused by the pained tone of his voice.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry,” the second voice sounded professional, yet there was a hint of regret to his tone, “that was part of the deal.”

Deal. What deal? Your foggy mind tried to hold on to that piece of information, but you were in and out of consciousness, your body felt like it was floating. The next time you regained consciousness and were able to decipher the voices again, you only heard one.

“Yeah, she’s here,” it was the second voice, the one you hadn’t recognized before, “no, I don’t.”

It sounded like he was speaking to someone, but you didn’t hear a second person anymore. You definitely didn’t hear your father.

“Look, I don’t have much time. They suspect me, but they haven’t done anything yet, though I’m expecting it soon. Yeah. I’ll try.”

You loll your head to the side, unable to do much to hold it up. You felt heavier than you did when you woke up the last time, but you were able to open your eyes slightly to catch a yellow haired man talking into a phone. “You really need to get here soon,” his back was to you, but you could hear the urgency in his voice. He lowered his voice when he spoke his next words, “They’re getting ready to run tests, you know how-” he cuts off abruptly, pausing for a second, “I can’t Namjoon.”

Namjoon? Your brain was feeling more alert at the mention of his name. Faintly, you could hear the yelling of another voice coming through the phone speaker. Was that really Namjoon? You were about to use all your strength to sit up and ask the young man, when the door slammed open again, another man in a white coat entering the room. The yellow haired guy immediately shoved his phone into his pocket, turning around, wide eyed.

“Yeonjun,” the second man addressed the yellow haired one, he sounded a bit surprised, “Soomin has been looking for you.” Yeonjun, you supposed, bowed slightly, walking out of the room quickly, but not before he sent you a worried look from behind the second man’s back.

You still couldn’t move much, bones and muscles feeling like gelatin, but when the man in the white lab coat approached you, you tried to sit up and scoot away from him. It didn’t take a genius to realize exactly where you were, now that your state of mind was a little clearer. The fact that your father was here, and seemed to know exactly why you were here, only confirmed what Namjoon told you a couple nights ago. It must be the drugs doing their job, because you weren’t feeling the panic and anxiety that was suffocating you earlier. You felt a little more clarity about where you were and what was happening to you, even though you were no less scared.

As you tried to back up against the wall, your right wrist tugged on the chain, preventing you from moving any further. The man didn’t care, though, as he continued to close in on you, eventually settling for sitting on the end of your bed. He was way too close to you for you to feel comfortable at all. You pulled your knees to your chest with all the strength you had left in you, even though you couldn’t hug them like you wanted too, you tried to make yourself as small as possible.

“Miss Y/L/N, do you know where you are?” The man asked, his voice low and placating. You didn’t trust him, something felt off about him. You squint your eyes at him slightly, shaking your head. He takes a deep breath, crossing one leg over the other. “You’re at a testing facility for natural borns,” he begins with a smile, one that you can see right through, “we brought you here because your family sold your rights to your DNA. I’m sorry to break the news to you like this, but it will help you cope in the long run. I know it’s a lot to handle, and so we have therapists on staff to work with you-”

“I don’t believe you.” Your voice is so rough you hardly recognize it. You give one of your chains a quick tug to prove your point. You don’t miss the way his eyes flash with anger, only momentarily, before he steels his features, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Ah, yes,” he sighed, rubbing his chin with his hand, “the restraints were for our safety. We didn’t know how you would react once you were awake, but I promise we aren’t always like this, in fact, it’s actually pretty nice here once we get you set up in your own room.” The smile he wore was disgustingly fake, it was unnerving. Everything about him was unnerving. He must be a designer baby, one that borderlines the uncanny valley. He starts to reach his hand out to touch you, a creepy smile on his face that makes you want to scream, instead you shake your head quickly, making it known you don’t want him to touch you. He doesn’t care, though, instead his hand continues it’s path until it’s resting awkwardly on your ankle. It’s almost like he wasn’t human, but was trying to mimic the action of comfort that humans normally do.

“Why am I here?” You ask quickly, your voice squeaky as you pull your foot from his grasp, eyes wide as you stare at him.

“I told you, Miss Y/L/N,” he sighs again, like he was annoyed by your questioning, and pulls his hand back to his lap, “your family sold-”

“Why. Am I here.” You gritted your teeth, willing the tears threatening to break the dam, away.

“Miss Y/L/N,” his voice was suddenly more stern than before, turning in his seat to face you head on, “it’s better if you don’t ask questions. Things will be easier here for you if you accept it.” His words scared you more than he himself did, accept it? That’s what it came down to, right? You’re stuck here. You had no idea if you’d ever escape like the twins did, had no idea if the others even cared to get you back.

You shook your head back and forth, dislodging some of you unshed tears, biting at your lips hard enough to draw blood. If you were stuck here, you at least needed one question answered. “Where is Jungkook?”

The man scoffed at your question, making your tears fall harder, “That boy? They left him in the forest. He’s no use for us here. Now, I have some things to go over with you.”

You sniffled hard, trying to stop the tears from flowing, as your focus wavered, not really listening to anything else he had to say. At least Jungkook wasn’t here, at least he had a chance of escaping. You could only hope that the others found him and he was able to get back to them. You didn’t know them very long, they would forget you soon enough. That was what you were going to hold on to if you had to be here. At least it wasn’t him.

“Are you listening?” The man asked, more aggressive than before. Your head snapped up, tears still falling, as you looked him in the eye again. He lets out another sigh, standing up from the bed, “You’re going to be administered medication three times a day. You already had your first dose this morning when you were brought in, and someone will be by shortly to give you your second. It’s very important that you eat the food they give you with it, otherwise your body won't be healthy enough for testing. You’re very valuable to us here, so if you don’t take care of your body, someone else will, and I’m sure you don’t want that.” He gives you one last fake smile before turning and heading for the door. You watch him with a furrowed brow, tears flowing like a river down your face. He turns around, hand on the doorknob, “And YN, dear? Welcome to Big Hit.”

You’re not sure how long you were left alone in that insanity inducing white room before someone came back, you were too lost in your own thoughts, unable to self-soothe, due to your hands being chained to the bed. You sat as close to the wall as you could get, knees pulled to your chest as you sobbed into your knees. By the time you heard the door creak open, you were nearly out of tears, devoid of any emotion, other than hopelessness, maybe.

“YN?” A woman’s voice called out. It sounded sweet, but you knew better. You didn’t lift your head, didn’t acknowledge her at all. She huffed a little when you didn’t respond, walking into the room and closing and locking the door after her.

“YN, dear,” she said again, wheeling over a metal cart to your bedside, “you need to eat something.” She set a tray of something down on the small desk in the room, but you didn’t bother to look at it. You could smell it from here, and it didn’t smell appetizing.

When the woman realized you weren’t going to speak, she came over and sat on the edge of your bed, as far away from you as possible, as if she was afraid of you. Like I could do anything, you scoffed, mentally.

“YN, I know you’re upset,” she sighed, “but if you don’t eat, dear, they’re going to force feed you, or worse, run a tube through your nose.” You perked up at this knowledge, head tilting to the side slightly, but still not looking at her. “I’ve seen them do it plenty of times to patients. You need to be healthy, darling.” She sounded kind, older, wiser than you. But you didn’t care. Why would you care if you were healthy? For all you knew, you could die in here. Then what was the point of eating at all? Maybe it would be better if you starved yourself to death instead of whatever horrors they were going to put you through.

“What’s gonna happen to me?” You surprised both the nurse and yourself when you spoke, your mouth betraying your brain. Your voice was even scratchier than before, and you sighed at the sound.

“Didn’t Dongin tell you, darling?” Dongin, that must have been the white lab coated man from earlier. Did he tell you? You honestly couldn’t remember. You spaced out halfway through what he was saying, thoughts only on Jungkook. You decide that no, he didn’t, and you tell the nurse as much. “YN, you’re here for donations. I would’ve thought your father told you that long ago?” She sounded puzzled, like she didn’t really even know what was going on here.

You looked up at her for the first time since she walked in, shocking her with the dead look in your eyes. You decided to play her to your advantage, maybe she really didn’t know what was going on.

“Tell me what?” You asked,as innocently as you could muster.

The woman furrowed her brows at your, reaching out a hand to place on your leg. You flinch away from her, making her pull back instantly. Maybe she was kinder than the rest. No, you can’t let yourself believe that. “Darling, you were born here. The company was taking back what was theirs in the first place. Not that I agree with that, or anything, but you know how these big pharmaceutical companies work. All about their money.” She rambled on, her tone almost disbelieving that you didn’t already know the things she was telling you, but you didn’t feel like you had any answers to your questions. You only had more questions. Taking back what’s theirs?

“What do you mean, ‘what was theirs’?” You straighten your legs out a bit, knees popping and cracking as you do. You bring your hands as far into your lap as you can without straining them against the cuffs.

The nurse was looking even more confused than you felt, pinching her brows together tightly and pursing her lips. “I - I don’t think I should be telling-”

“Soomin!” A man, the yellow haired one from earlier, bursts through the door, cutting the woman off and making her jump at least a foot in the air in shock. Turning around quickly, Soomin stands and bows to the man before scurrying out of the room, bowing one last time for good measure, before she’s gone. The young man runs his hand through his hair, huffing a breath of air as he closes the door behind him.

“YN-” he rushes over, dropping to his knees in front of you, frightening you into backing up as much as you could again, on the defense, “I’m not here to hurt you, I promise. At least not on purpose.” He was talking so quickly you could barely keep up, “My name is Yeonjun, and I work with Namjoon and Yoongi for an organization that helps natural borns. I’m the one who helped Jimin and Tae escape yesterday, and I think the company is starting to catch onto me.” He takes a deep breath, looking over his shoulder quickly and then back at you, “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

You nod, slowly, still not exactly following the frantic man.

“That nurse is going to come in here in about fifteen minutes to administer hormones to you,” you furrow your brow at this new information. Yeonjun must sense your confusion, because he quickly explains, “They’re trying to harvest your eggs, YN. They’re trying to use your DNA for new experimental designer babies,” he shakes his head, a look of disgust written on his face, “it doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that you take the hormones, and you eat. I know, I know you don’t want to, and I’m not going to lie to you, it’s going to hurt.” You wince at his words, and he softens his gaze, pursing his lips, “I’m sorry YN, but the only way I’m going to be able to get you out of here, is if you play along. They have to believe that you’re complacent before they’ll move you to a less secure area of the building. I don’t know how long it’ll take for them to move you, so I need you to play along to speed up the process, but I will do my best to deter them from… experimenting on you, for now.”

Yeonjun looks uncomfortable as both his hands grip the side of the mattress. “E-experiment?” You aren’t sure you want to know what he meant by it, but you’re sure you’ll regret it if you don’t.

He sighs, looking sideways for a second, not wanting to look you in the eye. “It takes a long time to successfully create an embryo in a lab…” he trails off, still looking anywhere but your face, “it’s relatively… quick, in a human body.” He coughs, clearing his throat as he looks back up at your mortified face.

The weight of where you are and what is going to happen to you here, suddenly hits you. It’s like a giant wave, crashing on top of you, pulling you under water, trapping you on the ocean floor. Your throat felt like it was closing again.

“YN, look at me,” Yeonjun begged, and you obeyed, trusting this man before you, “I’m going to do everything I possibly can to keep that from happening, but you have to comply with them, or it’s going to make it harder for me to do that. Okay? Do you understand?” You were breathing heavily, eyes blinking rapidly, but you nodded your head at him, gulping as you did.

“B-but, why? I- I don’t understand what t-the nurse said,” you stuttered, still desperately trying to suck in a decent breath of air, “what did s-she mean?”

Yeonjun looks conflicted, but answers your questions anyways, “I don’t have the entire story, but what I do know is that your dad used to work here. I guess he still kind of does, in a way? But from what I have heard, him and your mom struggled to have a baby…” he trailed off, like he really doesn’t want to answer your question. He’s staring at you with furrowed brows, like he’s trying to get a read on you, trying to determine if you’re mentally aware enough to hear this information.

“The company agreed to… help, on one condition. You were still their property, and when you turned eighteen, you were to come back to the company. You were one of their experiments, YN.”

Your mouth drops open slightly at his words. You weren’t sure what you felt, sadness… anger? Were you not a natural born? Did you go through all that torment in school, in life, all for nothing? You were actually one of these God forsaken designer babies, forced to live a life of secrecy, and for what? To be bullied into a crippling depression? Your mind was reeling with this new information, you had no idea what you were supposed to do with this.

“So I belong to them?” You blink your eyes tightly a few times, trying to hold back tears, unable to rub at your eyes like you want. You pull slightly at your chains, letting out a broken sob. “I-I’m one of them?”

Yeonjun sighs, shaking his head and looking up at your watery eyes. “I’m sorry, YN, I wish I had more information about what exactly you are, and I wish I could have told you this under better circumstances. The goal was for Namjoon and Yoongi to bring you to the safe house so they wouldn’t be able to take you, but obviously that didn’t work out.” There was remorse in his words, but no anger. He understood it wasn’t their fault, or yours. It was this horrible company's fault. They were the only ones to blame.

“I have to go, YN, I’m so sorry,” he whispered as he stood up. He placed a hand gently over your head, stroking your hair back once before turning to leave. “Please, listen to them. For now. I’m going to help you, I promise.”

You look into his eyes one last time before he nods once, leaving the room, locking it behind him. No longer do you have the distraction of conversation to sate your mind. Now you’re free to spiral into the dark depths your brain created for you.

Your parents have been lying to you for your entire life. Were they really even your parents? Could you trust them? Your father did seem conflicted when he was here earlier, almost like he didn’t want to leave you here. What Yeonjun said circled back in your mind. They were only supposed to have you until you turned eighteen. But you were twenty three now. Had they been the ones keeping you from Big Hit?

You thought back to that fateful morning only a few days ago, when your father met with Hyunwoo. Was he telling him to leave you alone, would he have protected you, did you screw yourself over by leaving with Namjoon and the others?

The others. You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering to them. Were they okay? You hoped so. You could only hope that they were able to get out of that forest, and finally able to reunite with one another. You hoped that Seokjin and Jungkook wouldn’t blame themselves for you being taken, though knowing what little you do know of them, they probably would. Your heart ached for them. You’ve come to care about them so much in the past few days, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said a part of you didn’t hope they would come for you.

You heard Yeonjun on the phone earlier, though the memory was a bit fuzzy. He did tell them to come here, and even though you wished they would help get you out of here, a larger part of you hoped that they would stay away. They had a chance to be away from this place, once and for all. All of them, together. You didn’t want to stand in the way of that.

Lost in your thoughts, you startled violently when the door to the small room opened again. It was the nice nurse from earlier, Soomin? When she shut the door behind her, she tsked at your pitiful sight. Still curled into the smallest form your restraints would allow, dried tear tracks staining your face.

Taking a wash cloth from her little cart, she walks over to you, holding it up as a way of asking for permission. You remember Yeonjun’s words from earlier, and nod your head in acceptance.

Soomin sighs, wiping the tears from your face, “You’ll be able to take a shower and get cleaned up once we get some food in your and you take your meds, okay?” You nod as she continues to clean your face.

When she’s done, she brings the small plate of food over to you, setting it on the bed in front of you. Carefully, she feeds you the oatmeal and fruit, and while you would normally protest, not wanting to eat, fearful that you’ll just throw it right back up, you’re mindful of what Yeojun said. You need to be complacent. What could happen if you weren’t, was so much worse than having a nice older woman spoon feed you breakfast foods.

After you finished off the fruit, Soomin went back to her cart, putting on gloves and setting up what looked like syringes and tiny glass bottles, holding some kind of liquid. You wince as she picks up one of the needles, bringing it to the tiny bottle, and pulling the liquid out.

“Lie back for me, YN,” she says sweetly, walking back over to the bed. You look at her hesitantly, fear in your eyes. You’ve never liked needles, always been afraid of them. “It will only hurt a little, okay, dear?”

You shut your eyes tightly and nod, just wanting to get this over with. Laying back on the brick like pillow they provided you with, you try to relax into the similarly firm mattress. When Soomin lifts your shirt gently, you jump, definitely not expecting her to touch you there. “W-wait!” you shout, louder than you mean to. “W-wait, p-please! Where are you putting that?!” You whimper, not wanting her to touch you further.

Soomin backed away for a moment, looking at you like you were a disobedient child. “Darling, it’s just a shot. It’s going to go in your lower stomach, I have a few of them.”

You shake your head, eyes filling with tears as you try and sit up, “No, please, don’t” you beg, wrists pulling at your restraints harder now.

“YN, dear, please calm down,” she shushes you, walking closer and placing a hand on your stomach, holding you down slightly, “it will be quick, okay?”

You let out a sob as she brings up the cotton pad to clean your skin for the injection. She does it on both sides of your belly, before cleaning on a small patch on your outer thigh, as well. You let her, though your body is trembling in fear as she does it. Your brain is instantly transported back to the searing pain you felt earlier when you were in your coma state. Is that what you were about to feel again? Before you could think too deeply about it, you feel her gloved hand on you again, causing you to jolt.

“Deep breath,” she says, before you feel a sharp pain in your stomach, making you jerk up and cry harder. Soomin pushes on your stomach with her free hand, holding you still. The searing pain from before flushes through your veins, not as intense as before, but hot, like the blood in your veins is boiling.

Your entire body is shaking with sobs by the time she finishes, not bothering to clean up the small drops of blood pooling at the entrance wounds. Maybe she isn’t as kind as you originally thought.

You feel violated. You weren’t able to stop it, to defend yourself. Even though it was only a shot, only some hormones, you felt completely stripped of your rights. That experience really solidified to you that you are nothing more than property to them, a doll, to do with what they please, and that thought breaks you when you remember Yeonjun’s words again today. You have to comply.

“I’ll be back in a few hours for your next round, dear,” Soomin says as she finishes up with your leg and leaves you. You lay flat on your back, staring at the ceiling with no emotion in your eyes, but oceans of tears falling from them. You let your eyelids slip shut after a few minutes, but you’re never able to fully fall asleep.

To be continued...

A/N: thanks for making it all the way to the end, I’m so excited to write the next couple of chapters, ahhhh!! xx

taglist: @mrsstilinski96 @sammiilynn10192 @minifruity @mrcleanheichou @arantxaglz @chim-possible @kooksremedy @irishhbamb @sugashaye @lovelyseomin @strawberrygatorade @kookiebbyxx @itneverends15713

ok i updated tags, but some still wouldn’t let me tag!! tumblr has been doing me dirty these last couple of weeks, so please REBLOG to people can see this

#bts x reader #bts angst #ot7 angst #ot7 x reader #ot7 smut #bts smut #cypherwritersnet

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sadselfhelp · 4 years ago

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Who I Am, And Why I Created This Blog.

TRIGGER WARNINGS - Mental Illness, Self-Harm, Child Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Violence, Drug Overdose, Suicide, Psychotic Breaks.

Take a walk with me, let me show you around the mind of The Sad Hatter.

There's a lot going on in my head right now, and I feel like I'm on the precipice of something. I'm standing on a cliff's edge and I'm either going to plummet or I'm going to fly. It's been building inside me for a long time, and I can't contain it anymore. So here it is, here's me laid bare, because I need to say this, I need to put it into words. I need to purge it all. To try and make sense of all of this shit in my brain, I think it's time I organize it. I don't know where to begin, but I guess I start at the beginning and make use of the ability to edit.

Before you read this, please be aware of the trigger warnings. And please understand that this is the most honest and open I have been, I really am stripped bare in this piece of writing. It’s not at all pretty, and am I not guiltless in parts. This may well alter whatever opinion you have of me.

I guess the beginning is birth, right? But I don't want to rehash all that trauma, so let me speed through it. Twenty-Eight years ago I was born, violently. I'm serious, I ripped my way out of the womb, and tore that thing apart. I guess I can sort of understand why my mother couldn't love me after that was my first act, collapsing her womb. So let me speedrun this part of the story. Mum didn't want me, gave me to my dad who raised me as a single parent with the help of his parents, until he met my stepmother. Shockingly, she didn't want me either, but because she couldn't get rid of me she decided to physical and psychological torture was the next best thing.

When I was eleven years old I snapped and didn't want to put up with it anymore, so I wrote a goodbye note and then snuck into the medicine cabinet and took a bunch of pills. Spoiler alert, I didn't die. I did however end up in a children's home, cue more abuse, little bit of bullying and sexual assault etc.... I snapped again, but instead of turning my anger inwards, I became an absolute bastard. Ok, I still turned it inwards a bit, I had a lot of anger, and now I have a few hundred scars to prove it. But, it turns out that violence can beget violence, and I acted out in every possible way. Racked up a horrifying rap sheet, assault, vandalism, arson, and finally... GBH. I was supposed to get put in a secure unit (child prison – Scottish Edition) but I was always able to talk myself out of trouble.

See, I was this tiny little white girl with big sad eyes and a hell of a sob story, even at the bottom of the food chain I still had privilege. So instead of getting locked up, I just got sent to a different home. And here's the really messed up part, this home was better. The staff were nicer, and nobody hurt me. My behavior literally changed overnight. I went from being charged by the police on a weekly basis, to never getting so much as a pocket money sanction. I will never excuse my actions, nor condone them, but after years of guilt I finally realized that the bad things I did were in retaliation to a bad situation, and though I wasn’t acting like a good person, I’m not a bad person, just a messed up one.

I still refused to go to school though, because though I didn't yet know it at the time, I had severe social anxiety. I was smart, a little too smart to be honest, and I found myself thriving with a private tutor. When the time came to sit my exams, someone fucked up, and despite having record breaking test scores on the pre-exams, I never actually got to sit my standard grades (think SAT's – Scottish Edition). I'm still bitter about that. So by this point in the story, I'm 16, and legally an adult, too old for a children's home. I got turfed to a hostel, and the next few parts of the story are pretty fuzzy to me.

This is where my mental health really started to deteriorate. I bounced between homeless hostels and B&B's for a year or so, until I got a my first flat/apartment. By that point, I was utterly fucked in the head. I was blacking out frequently, for anywhere between a couple of minutes to three days. I would come back to myself in sometimes compromising positions, and once there was blood. A lot of blood, splashed all over the walls. Then there was the time I suddenly found myself standing in the kitchen, about to plunge a knife into my own chest.

Nobody ever did tell me what the hell that was about. Or maybe they did and I just... forgot? But because I was extremely suicidal, a doctor finally decided to do something, and the police and the paramedics came to my door to take me to the psychiatric hospital. I spent ten months there while I cycled through various anti-psychotics and anti-depressants, and was 'rehabilitated into society'. The second I was out, I made the worst decision I have ever made in my life. If I can give you one piece of advice, one lesson to take from my shitshow of a life, it's this: Don't move hundreds of miles away to be with the guy you met online while you were having a psychotic break.

I've never really thought of myself as a victim, but I guess I'm the only one who saw it that way. Ben, that was his name, Ben was a monster, and I didn't know it until it was too late. He never hit me, never lifted a hand to me, he never had to. He could put a knife in my hand and make me hurt myself for his entertainment. I had told him everything, so he knew exactly how to break me down, how to make me want to bleed. He locked me in a house and used me up. And when I had enough, and tried to break free of him, he would just tell the police I was mentally ill and they would smile sympathetically and give me back to him.

But then my dad had a breakdown. My dad, who when he found out what my stepmother was doing to me, buried his head in the sand and packed my little suitcase for me. I hadn't spoken to him in a while until he reached out from the same psychiatric ward I had not long vacated. He had cracked under the realization that I had never lied about her, and the guilt broke him apart. I could have hated him, if it had happened a few years earlier then I would have. But I had experienced enough of the world to learn a few things, like how easily it is to fuck up, and that no matter how strong you are, you aren't immune to monsters. The truth was he was as much a victim of her evil as I was. She had manipulated him, played with his head, used his insecurities against him. So I helped him through his issues, the way I wished someone had helped me. That doesn't really make me a good person, it just makes me human.

But my dad got better, and found his footing. And when he did, he realized something wasn't right with me, and I told him the truth about Ben. My dad had left me to suffer at the hands of an abuser once before, and he wasn't going to allow it to happen again. He came and got me, and he took me home. He moved me in with him, gave me his bed and slept on the couch. After a couple of months, he helped me get my own place.

And that's the happy ending, right? All the trauma was over, I was safe, that's where the story should end. Right? I bet you're not naive enough to believe that, but I sure as hell was. I thought I would recover and that everything would be ok. I thought that with safety, there would come the chance to heal. I thought my wounds would scab over, and I would have my scars but at least I would be able to move without bleeding out. But that's not how trauma works. I had two decades worth of trauma, abuse, and hell.

I just... faded. I didn't crack, I didn't crumble, I didn't break, I just stopped. For five years I sat in one room of my home, drowning inside myself. Last year I got handed a lifeline, and now I live somewhere better. I'm not really allowed to live independently so I actually live in kind of retirement village of all places. I have my own house, but it's got intercoms and emergency cords everywhere, I get checked on daily by on on-site worker. And I'm trying to get better, I really am. It's just not that easy.

There's more to the whole story that I maybe should have put in, like the fact that my mother was a drug addict when she was pregnant with me, and that may have been the reason some of my organs didn't properly form and/or formed wrong. My lung split in half when I was a baby, and parts of my stomach are missing. Or that my mother is full on batshit insane. I could have had a perfect childhood and I still would have been mentally ill. Hell, I was seeing psychologists at five years old. Take my sketchy genetics, add twenty years of severe traumas, and well... I'm a little fucked up. Because a lot of medical conditions use acronyms, my full list of diagnosis looks like I'm collecting the fucking alphabet.

I have Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), and Agoraphobia. I also have a Pulmonary Sequestration, Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia, the stomach and lung issues. Immune Hemolytic Anemia, I'm basically allergic to my own blood. Plus, ya know, my liver recently decided to just fucking nope out, the pissy lil bitch is failing. I also may or may not have cancer, I don't know because I pussied out of the tests. At this point I am a walking, decaying corpse that is held together by glitter glue and bitterness.

So... why exactly am I writing this? And why am I even considering posting this? I mean, my problems aren't as bad as some other people's. We've all got shit to deal with, especially in 2020. The whole world is falling apart, so what right do I have to sit here pouting and pouring my problems out? Well, for a start, I guess this is my blog, I can post whatever, and it's up to everyone else if they read it.

So here it is, you have the backstory, so here's what it's all been leading up to.

I'm struggling. Like, really struggling. I'm stuck on this cliff, and I want off, any way I can. Whether I fall or fly, I just want free. I can't live like this anymore, because I can't breathe.

The fucking agonizing duality of being socially anxious and too easily overstimulated, and yet feeling fucking empty inside if you're not surrounded by action and noise. The world is too noisy for my brain, but my brain is too noisy for the world. I get antsy if I'm not doing at least a thousand different tasks, but I get overwhelmed if I try to do anything at all. It leads to short bursts of mania, followed by weeks of depression. But underneath all of that, under all the dramatic showboating, and the dark humor, under all the bravado... I'm really just sad.

Years ago, when I first came up with the moniker "The Sad Hatter", I said it was because I may be mad, but my madness was born of sadness. I'm just sad. I carry it with me where my heart should be. So I named myself Sad, and I put on the hat, and I wore my sadness like armor, turned it into an act, and made a spectacle of it. "I'm The Sad Hatter, and I'm mentally ill but that's alright, I'm going to be just fine!" I told you all I had my issues, and I'll come close to opening up about how bad those issues are, I'll give little chunks of information at intermittent intervals, and then two hours later I'll act like it never happened. I'll admit I was close to killing myself, and then two days later I'll post dog photo's and act like I'm all better.

I'm writing this because I'm sad. And tomorrow, I'll act like I'm not. But when I waver again, I'll come back here and I'll open up again. And along the way, maybe you're reading this and realizing you aren't alone in feeling overwhelmed. Maybe you're realizing you're not the only one who isn't healing neatly and in a timely manner. Maybe you're reading this and gaining some insight into the struggles someone you care about is facing. Maybe my opening up is can help somebody else, I really hope so, but I know it's helping one person. It's helping me.

This blog, it's about living with myself. It's about living with The Sad Hatter.

#trigger warnings #mental health #anxiety #borderline personality disorder #adhd #domestic abuse #child abuse #self harm #violence #just all the trigger warnings

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autisticlassiedog · 3 years ago

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ADHD asks taken from here

I decided to just answer all of them since no one is sending me any lmao

1. what is one thing you wish more neurotypicals understood about adhd?

That it’s not just a childhood disorder! ADHD kids become ADHD adults! And it has serious consequences if left untreated!

2. a hot take/untalked about issue about adhd that deserves more attention?

According to the book Taking Charge of Adult ADHD by Dr Russell Barkely, the criteria in the DSM (pre-DSM V at least?) was written with children in mind. Adult ADHDers may present a bit differently, and they symptom threshold is slightly lower. He even said that a lot of studies supported that an adult could have a minimum of 4 out the 9 symptoms in either category and still count for a diagnosis.

3. do you have any comorbidities?

Anxiety, seasonal depression, OCD

4. what is ur adhd subtype?

Ok, official diagnosis is ADHD-C, but I think they’re focusing too hard on my childhood presentation of symptoms. I was def combined as a kid, but I only have like 2 hyperactive symptoms, at most, as an adult. So I’d say that I’m inattentive type.

5. do you have any adhd study tips?

Nope, lmao.

6. what’s ur current/most recent hyperfixation?

Honestly it’s been a while since I last hyperfixated, truly hyperfixated. So I dunno..... might have been Sonic.

7. your most embarrassing/weirdest hyperfixation?

Alvin and the Chipmunks? lol..... though that changed from a hyperfixation to an actual mental-health-damaging addiction, so.....

8. what’s your mbti/enneagram type (sorry it’s my hyperfixation lol)?

INFP :)

9. favorite stim/stim toy?

Ooh, I love my stim toys! Idk.... I recently got like..... a “click and snap” I think? I love it. I also love my fidget cube.

10. any experience with ableism you want to share?

Welllll, plenty of people have Opinions about ADHD I’ll tell you hwat..... but one of the most notable? My mom believes, or used to believe, that it’s a made up disorder to sell pills. I would probably have been diagnosed as a kid if she didn’t have that mindset.

11. did you get a diagnosis? if so when.

Yes, was diagnosed at age 24 in 2018.

12. do any of your relatives have adhd?

My bio father was diagnosed with ADHD at age 6! This was like.... in the 1970′s. Honestly, I suspect my mom has it, too. She’s always losing things! And is always late for everything! And she says that my grandma was just like that, too!

13. any good adhd/neurodiverse representation recommendations in media?

I dunno. I heard Percy Jackson uses ADHD almost like a superpower. But I don’t read that series, so.

14. that one character you just KNOW has adhd?

I actually kinda think Neptune from Hyperdimension Neptunia probably has ADHD.

15. do you have sensory issues?

To a degree, yes. I think I experience sensory overload at work. When it’s busy and crowded, I feel physically unwell. Like my body is buzzing. It’s terrible. I also can’t wear socks, they are uncomfortable!! The texture feels bad on my skin!!

16. i can’t believe i almost forgot this question do you take meds, and what is your relationship with meds (whether you’re on them or not)?

Looking into medication! I want to see if they’ll help me.

17. kinda weird question but do you think being neurodivergent had any affect on how you figured out/are figuring out your gender/sexuality (if you are lgbtq+)?

Probably not. (I’m bi-angled grey-aroace.)

18. what’s the hardest thing about having adhd?

Honestly..... knowing that I have such a hard time dealing with anything without external structure. And feeling like it’s very likely I’ll end up homeless one day, because of that. It’s classified as a developmental disability for good reason.

19. what’s the best thing about have adhd (if there is one)?

Well, it’s not all bad, for sure. I think it makes me who I am! I would be a completely different person without it! My mind is funny, too.

20. what is the biggest difference you notice in friendships with other neurodiverse people vs neurotypical people?

Hard to say.

21. if you could tell everyone on tumblr with adhd one thing what would it be?

Remember you are valuable and loved!

#collie speaks

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onlyonewoman · 3 years ago

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People need to stop giving uneducated, unsolicited advice on other people’s meds, especially psychiatric meds, okay? We don’t need to hear another “but what about walks in the forest/SUNLIGHT/herbal tea/meditation” etc from people who have absolutely no medical degree. Sometimes, getting off your meds isn’t a goal and that’s FINE. In fact, that’s AWESOME! Because by being able to take meds that improve your life and help you through not only the day (or night) but YEARS of, for example, chronic pain, insomnia, anxiety, depression, ADHD etc. is AMAZING and an opportunity to value and be grateful for. No one will give you a reward for “most unmedicated person of the year”. I take my daily psychiatric meds because I enjoy having a life where I can actually LIVE and not just survive. The same thing goes for people who need medication for other chronic and for now unfortunately not curable illnessess. Don’t tell people to stop with their antidepressants, ADHD meds, painkillers etc. because this isn’t a competition, it’s LIFE and meds doesn’t make your life any less. You deserve to feel as good as possible and meds isn’t “cheating” or “failing” or anything like it. You taking meds that works well for you, is you taking charge of your life and trying to give yourself more freedom, less stress, less pain, more opportunities and joy. And in case you believe in the power of herbal tea, yoga, forest walks, sunlight and meditation, you’re not wrong. But just as meds can’t fix everything, these things can’t either. I’m entering this new year just as broken as I entered last year and every year before it, because I am chronically disabled and will remain so unless a true miracle occurs. And I will take my meds and also enjoy the forest and the sunlight and (hopefully) attend yoga again when it’s safe - while still using my meds. Because I’m not ashamed for refusing to add a completely unnessecary stressor that has exactly ZERO benefits for any part of my life, for the highly questionable “victory” of saying “I don’t take any meds”, while being absolutely exhausted, miserable and unable to maintain anything even remotely close to a healthy and happy life.

#life is better alive #meds isn't failure #chronic illness #chronic disability #we all deserve less struggles

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akumageist · 4 years ago

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I would die for Hitori Uzune. RIP to Kazuaki, but I’m different.

The Hatoful fandom consists of 13 people and a paperclip. It always has. Unfortunately, it probably always will. Where this is cause for some perks, it’s also some of its faults. In example, it’s still an anime game, made by a Japanese woman, and attracts weebs. Weebs tend to like to think of characters 2-Dimensionally, breaking the character down to what they think is their core personality traits. Hitori is no stranger to this, and is beaten down into this heartless, manipulative, selfish bastard. But I believe Moa is saying “anyone, even the best of us, is capable of becoming a monster if driven to it.” Let’s roll.

2162. Hitori was born into a world of war and hate, plopped into an orphanage at just 2 years old. This can be found in Moa’s canon spin-off manga, where Hitori at about ten years old is caring for the other war orphans along with the other older birds. Luckily for him, he was a genius. He was able to go out and get jobs tutoring birds and support his rag-tag family at his young age.

With that, we know Hitori was not originally cold and heartless, despite how the world may have birthed him. Especially when Nageki arrived frail and sickly. Hitori and the other birds were happy to put in overtime in an attempt to pay for the poor dove’s medications, even in his protest.

Then, 2180 happened. Imagine what sort of toll that would take on Hitori. he was absent. He was at work, unaware of the jeopardy that befell his family. What kind of horrible, mind-rattling survivors guilt must rack this bird’s brain, knowing he wasn’t there as his family was massacred one by one?

“What did we do? We had nothing. Our parents and homes had already been stolen by the humans. All we had left were each other.”

We can gather from this same scene Hitori blames himself for not being there. For not being able to protect his family, or even Nageki. Even though had he been there, he would have died alongside everybirdie else, and left Nageki to succumb to his illness alone. Something of this magnitude would create anxieties and trauma unfathomable to those who did not deal with it.

In Hitori, this manifested as full-blown helicopter mom. He can’t help but think of every little nit-pick detail over Nageki, terrified one feather out of place will kill him. The fandom is good about this side of his character! And of course, so is Moa. This may be the Summer Vacation Drama CD: Hitori The Worrywart (which takes place in MIRROR AU), but I love it’s portrayal of the anxious quail.

Hitori continued to care and ache over Nageki’s declining health. He was desperate. Begging doctors, even though deep in his little quail brain he knew Nageki was a lost cause, and that he was dying. But he couldn’t think of a life without Nageki, and did all in his power to try and keep the bird as well as he could. We can see a great example of this love in words you might not think of.

“How about this? From now on, ‘I’m fine’ is not allowed.”

I’ve always imagined Hitori getting mildly heated at Nageki in this conversation.The quail is on his last strands of stability, and the dove he cares endlessly for is trying to hide the very thing he ails himself over. The genuinity in his words shines through- telling Nageki he’d rather hear he’s bad and hurting.

So, in this desperation, Hitori carted Nageki off to some strange doctor in some strange prestigious school. And how couldn’t he? A doctor who claimed to know of the virus eating away at Nageki’s life, and how to cure it. Hitori’s beacon of hope in a sea of darkness. The only bird in the entire universe he had left to love, the one he had arguably always favored and adored, was dying. He would do anything in his power to keep the one thing he loved alive, no matter the irrationality or cost. No matter the very dying bird’s own lips saying “I… don’t want to go.”

Whether or not you ship these birds, I firmly believe Hitori is in love with Nageki in a romantic sense.

“I can no longer love another creature // I think we meant more to each other than anybirdie else in the world... // The love I felt soured into resentment // I should remember the beautiful face I knew, not… a photo covered in scribbles”

Not to mention admitting he can’t bear to live without the dove in BBL. And, in his route, Hiyoko goes as far as to refer to this bird as a female, which means he’s speaking so fondly she’s assuming it was a lover, and therefore a woman. Hitori’s stopped any sort of love at the idea he can only love Nageki post-mortem. That is canon. And well… that’s not very brotherly, no matter how good of a relationship you may have with your sibling (I speak from experience).

Okay, okay, this persuasive essay is NOT for convincing you of this ship, that is another essay for another time. I’ve only mentioned this opinion because I need you to understand his irrationality for the one thing he has left, and the fragility of it. And why it might drive anybirdie to… Hitori-level madness. Moving on.

2183. A mere 3 years after Hitori had lost the majority of his family to human terrorists. Nageki sends a coded letter, and… we can see Hitori’s anxieties outright.

“It’s happening again. Nageki needs me, and I’m not there.”

This is… a very powerful line in the game. We’re seeing just how vulnerable Hitori truly is. This is a traumatized individual in a panic attack- realizing the love of his goddamn life is once again faced with something horrible, and Hitori is once again absent from the scene.

And just like that, he’s gone.

The only thing. The only one Hitori had left in life to love. To live for. Taken from him without so much as a second chance. This is painful to write. This part of Hatoful is, without a doubt, the most agonizing. I know how it is to lose something so dear and feel as though maybe it’s not worth going on without them.

This is the peak of Moa’s tragedy writing ability (and yes, I’m including Holiday Star). But this is my point, is it not? Though his kanji may be “sun bird”, the actual word for his name “Hitori” quite literally means one, alone, solitary. He is now all alone in the universe, no family left. How can anybirdie even remotely remain in charge of their faculties (as Sakuya would put it) by now? You wouldn’t.

Hitori is now a husk of his former self. Anything he’s ever cared for is gone, he has nothing left to live for. He goes- my favorite coined term for him- absolutely batshit. He gets what we call “trauma-induced psychosis”, and begins to hallucinate very vividly, a form that he refers to as “Nageki”. We all know him of course, as Shadow. Shadow, from the little information we’re able to gather from BBL, is tormenting Hitori ruthlessly.

Shadow is easily misunderstood, because Moa made him fathomable, so the reader was able to understand exactly what was happening. What had become of Hitori Uzune. Shadow in all his simplicity- is Hitori. It is an introjection of Nageki, manifested to validate Hitori in his self-hatred. Don’t you get it? He hates himself just as much as you hate him!

Anything Hitori thinks of himself, Shadow is there to back up. He’s taunting him day in and day out, reminding him that he killed Nageki, and every ounce of Nageki’s suffering life was the fruit of Hitori’s inability to protect him. But again, it’s his own brain, telling him exactly what he wants to hear. What he truly believes. Telling himself what he’s done, and how he deserves this. ...And to seek revenge.

Hitori lost his mind. He had nothing else to lose, after all. He became obsessed with Nageki even moreso than he was in life, because there was no level-headed dove to calm him and tell him to stop worrying so much, or keep him at least reasonably held together by simply being there.

He listened to his psychosis, and when he made a friend (Moa gives evidence Hitori and Kazuaki were friends prior to Hitori’s ill-intentions), his psychosis got in the way of that, too. As he travelled down this relationship (which Moa herself says is pretty much romantic), we can assume he realized just how unable to love he was. He had Kazuaki around because, let’s face it. He wanted someone like Nageki who was incompetent so he could nurture and care for them. And for a while, it worked. But it didn’t. Hitori didn’t love Kazuaki. He couldn’t. He was too busy looking for Nageki.

So, you’re reading this in english. You speak english. At least a little, right? So maybe you played the english (and localized) version of the game. Well then you may not know the following. Please pay attention! This gets a bit rocky, and a bit more “Hitori...!”.

In the English version, Hitori disguised as Kazuaki is “tired”. In the Japanese version, he’s “sleepy” or “dreamy”. I’d describe him as ditsy, for sure. He kind of acts like an airhead who knows absolutely nothing, and his students don’t take him seriously. In the Hatomame Sweet Blend Drama CD, there is a track that follows Kazuaki on a little adventure of his narcolepsy, and going to Shuu for help.

In and out of comatose, Hitori, as himself, is there in his dreams as a separate bird.

“This bird with a face I had never seen spoke to me in a voice I had never heard, and this is what he said.”

“Nanaki-sensei” is clearly denying his own identity.

“I’ll sleep, just a little, and then leave… good… night…”

“But sleeping is my job… You still have a little longer. Tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that…”

This is dream Hitori telling himself that he has to continue his alias until his revenge is fulfilled. The quail that was once Hitori must remain dormant until he is reunited with Nageki again, and can be happy again. As a metaphor for depression… don’t you feel like you’re a shell of your former self?

So, going off this information… I believe Hitori has repressed himself. This is due to my own knowledge on psychology but-- Hitori doesn’t want to be Hitori anymore. It’s too hard. Hitori the war orphan. Hitori the lone survivor. Hitori the murderer and identity thief. It’s him not wanting to deal with his trauma in a healthy way, and instead locking it up and becoming somebirdie new and undamaged.

He killed Hitori.

This falls into the other delusion- that Nageki is somehow not completely dead and gone and ash- but still trapped, somehow, somewhere, and Hitori needs to find and get him. To kill Isa and the researchers who “killed” Nageki, and bring “Nageki” home. Whatever he believes Nageki is. In BBL, we see this quite literally varies! He tried to cut Ryouta open and steal his liver!

“Sir, Nageki would have never wanted this…!”

There is no difference between a serial killer and someone in a court room screaming for the serial killer to be murdered in turn. That mourning mother is then one in the same with that killer, is she not? She sees him, and wants him to die. She wants him to die and suffer. She believes that will bring her a sense of justice. Even though she knows it will not return her son to her. Hitori, is that mourning mother. He sees Isa, and all he can see is the man who murdered his dove.

I know the biggest aspect as to why the fandom hates Hitori is the sole factor that Kazuaki is #relatable. He’s a depressed college student who thinks he’s better off dead. Then, Hitori tricks him. But you’re not reading Kazuaki right. It’s okay, he’s easy to misread from Holiday Star’s plotline.

Holiday Star was written with Kazuaki as the villain, do you forget? A grey villain as well, but a villain nonetheless. He told his tragic sob story death in such a way, you can’t help but to cry. He’s the victim! I’m not saying he’s not. But he was written specifically to be pitied in Holiday Star, and as you continue on, you begin to see he’s actually just anti-self help. He doesn’t want to face his fears. He doesn’t want to leave his safe egg and take the risk he should have.

Kazuaki is meant to be pitied, yes, but just on the brink of annoying with his helplessness and self-deprecation. He’s, forgive me, a “sad sack of shit” who does nothing to help himself. Don’t come after me for being “ableist” or whatever- Moa literally wrote him this way.

This is also depicted in “Kazuaki-kun’s Book”. Now, this book takes place in the MIRROR AU, but it tells of how Kazuaki met Hitori. Moa starts the manga off by explaining Kazuaki had a great chickhood, a healthy life, and an easy, happy time. But then, he flunked his college exams and didn’t even get into his safety school. He lazed around, grew depressed, and let his apartment rot. He played video games until his online friends got jobs, and wasted any money he had on them as well. The only thing that scared him out of it is when his next door neighbor was found dead, having rotted into his own futon.

So imagine Hitori, who has worked so hard and lost everything he had done so for. Tirelessly, through his horrible, fucked up existence. Nageki, who had his short and miserable life robbed from him, had to die. Had to kill himself. And this random quail has the audacity to bitch and moan, thinking he’s got it bad? He’s a waste of space that could have been filled with Nageki. This is what Hitori’s brain is thinking. Hitori’s only ~20 years old when Nageki dies, after all.

I’m not saying this is cause for murder and identity theft. Don’t you dare misread me on this. But as I’ve stated prior- Hitori’s completely lost it. But you ship him with the chukar that literally ruined his life. Hitori’s a grey villain but holy fuck why would you want him to fuck the partridge that tortured and drove his only loved one to suicide?

It was wrong to trick Kazuaki. It was wrong to insult him as he died. It was wrong to steal his identity. That’s obvious and a given. But you all seem to look at that factoid alone, chalking it up to ‘preying on a poor mentally ill man” but not taking into consideration Hitori is mentally ill himself. ...Just not #relatable enough for you.

Hitori is suicidal as well. He’s been suicidal presumably since Nageki died. Don’t you dare say Hitori isn’t at least a little in the same boat. I don’t care if he’s not as soft and uwu and cuddly as Kazuaki. Mental illness is not rainbows and butterflies and emo hair (though Kazuaki is not portrayed this way).

Holiday star bears all the answers. I raise you important points, so pay close attention. The first key component is Hitori, found upside down in the pudding. He’s crying. Why is he crying? Because he’s lost his name? Oh, but think deeper.

“I’m Nemo”.

“Nemo” is latin for nothing, and his name translates to “nothing” in every language of HoliStar. The King has vomited him up in his kingdom, and robbed him back of what he stole from him. His identity.

But it goes even deeper than that.

“I’ve lost something, and so, I think I might cry.”

From this phrase alone, it’s painful to play this game. Nageki is right in front of his beak. But what did he do? He ate his own eyes. Hitori, in his refusal to identify with himself, has robbed himself of quite literally seeing the very bird he adores and sought after. Then, he is renamed his own identity by that bird (the only identity he accepts). How surreally real.

The second key component is when everybirdie is being rescued, but Leone warns Yuuya the quail is clearly falling more rapidly into a coma, and may not be able to awake. Why is this? Because Hitori wants to die. He’s fine with it, and Kazuaki is more than happy to keep him. When Yuuya finds him, Hitori is not at all alarmed as he should be. He seems passive, and simply wants to fall back to sleep. He’s to the point of trying to strangle Yuuya in attempt to let himself fall into eternal slumber (even if he thinks Yuuya is… Kazuaki..?).

Heed these next words carefully. When Yuuya asks if The King did something to him, Hitori replies-

“...No, all The King did was close the door.”

I am a firm believer this is Hitori indirectly saying “Kazuaki did nothing wrong, and I do not resent him for hating me.” Especially since Hitori shows signs of knowing it’s Kazuaki, and repenting.

“He said I need to be punished. Apparently I did something bad… and I think I know what it was.”

This is confirmed in my next point, so bear with me.

Hitori, in this same conversation, is admitting he wants to die. The only thing that stops him- as morbid as it may be, is remembering this takes place before the events of BBL. He hasn’t fulfilled what he believes is his “something I need to do”. Which is seek revenge, and bring Nageki home, as per Shadow’s orders.

Lastly, at the bitter end of Holiday Star when everybirdie is plummeting through the air from the false star, Hitori is still blind and confused. Suddenly, The King erupts from behind Hitori, and appears to be talking to him.

“Oh, is that right?”

“...I know, I know. ...but it’s still too soon. That’s right, I’ll be along soon. I’ll catch up with you. Someday…”

This is arguably my most prominent point in the entire essay. This is Hitori, admitting not only does he still plan to kill himself, but that he intends to keep his promise and reunite with Kazuaki in the afterlife. These are not the words of a heartless quail. These are the words of somebirdie who knows they’ve taken advantage of a friend, but is continuing to do their best to keep their promises and make amends. This is Hitori telling Kazuaki he still cares for him.

Hitori is the result of trauma and hardship beyond compare, and his inability to cope. He is not meant to be hated. He is meant to have shock value, yes. What he has done his disgusting, but you want to love him. Because he raised the sweetest bird in the entire game who would rather kill himself than hurt others.

Grey-villains are difficult, and because you can’t love them for being purely evil, you end up hating them for being a good person who’s done bad things. Hitori is a cracked window. Not quite shattered, but no longer whole, with a faulty image. Hitori is not just some heartless, manipulative, selfish bastard. He’s quite literally a bird with a broken wing (or entire ribcage more like), trying to… well, Live, and be happy.

#hitori uzune #uzune hitori #hatoful boyfriend #hatoful kareshi #hatoful #hatoful boyfriend bbl #kazuaki nanaki #nageki fujishiro #hatoful boyfriend holiday star

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thehundredplusone · 5 years ago

Text

Infodump: The Satanic Panic & Satanic Ritual Abuse (SRA)

GRAPHIC CONTENT AHEAD! STRONG CONTENT WARNINGS FOR THE FOLLOWING:

Child abuse

Murder

Police abuse

Satanism

Mental illness

Cannibalism

TL;DR at the bottom.

I'm autistic and my "focus" or specialist subject is extreme religion, cults, and religious abuse. The subset I've been most interested in for several years is the satanic panic of America in the 1980s and 90s. This is the period of time which the idea of satanic ritual abuse comes out of. For those who don’t know, satanic ritual abuse or SRA is purported to be an organized form of child abuse and murder conducted by underground rings of “satanists”.

An important bit of context around these events: it was around this time that the fact that child abuse existed first entered the public consciousness. It's weird to think that child abuse wasn't considered a 'thing' at any point because we're so aware of it today but up until the 1970s, at least in the USA, no one really considered it. People ignored physical, mental, and sexual abuse in the home, considering it a private matter. "We believe the children" was such an important mantra during this time and so key to the SRA movement precisely because they were coming out of a period in which children were never believed about abuse at home and there was a major push to be aware of the symptoms of abuse.

The first ideas of SRA initially came from a book called Michelle Remembers, which is purportedly true account of a woman surfacing memories of SRA with her therapist. The book was a cultural hit and spread like wildfire, leading the authors, Dr. Lawrence Pazder and Michelle Smith (soon to be Dr and Mrs Pazder, as they both left their spouses and got married), to go touring the country to speak at psychology conferences, to newspapers, and on TV shows. They claimed that there were underground rings of satanists going around abusing children.

Interestingly, as people dug into Michelle's history to make sense of how this horrible abuse had happened to her, some inconsistencies showed up, like the fact that she had perfect attendance at school during the periods which she was supposedly being held captive by satanists. Michelle also claimed to have been directly healed by religious figures like Mary and the Archangel Michael, which was why she bore no physical marks from her abuse. Some have speculated that Michelle’s trauma was actually related to repeated miscarriages and the medical procedures she went through surrounding them. There are a number of elements which make the story suspect but they were brushed aside during that time.

Soon enough self-titled experts on SRA with no real qualifications other than attending a conference began to offer training sessions about recognizing the signs of satanic activity and abuse to police departments and teachers. Among their claimed signs that satanism was active in a community was one particularly dangerous suggestion. These experts, who often had little training in child psychology, claimed that while children never lie about being abused, children who were victims of SRA may lie and claim that they weren't abused. It was important, they said, to keep asking and make it clear that they didn't have to protect their abusers.

If you know anything about about psychology, your red flags might be going up right now, and with very good reason. Children are highly susceptible to suggestion and pressure. If they are asked a question over and over again by an adult who is pushing them to give a certain answer, they generally will. Adults are susceptible to this as well but to a lesser degree, which is part of why you see people confessing to crimes they never committed. Hold a person in a room for hours and hours, asking them constantly about something they want you to confess to and many people will eventually confess falsely just to get out of the room.

This is exactly what happened once things really took off. If you ask Americans about the satanic panic, those who know of it will often point to one key trial set right in the midst of the most frantic part of this cultural hysteria. That would be the McMartin preschool trial. So the McMartin preschool was a daycare in California run by a family, the McMartins. They were well regarded in the community and had quite a few kids attending their center. One day, a mother noticed an odd mark on her son's bottom and became concerned that he was being abused. After questioning him repeatedly, he finally said that his father, who was a teacher at his preschool, had hurt him. She contacted the police, and the police, seemingly knowing exactly what would send the community into a fervor, sent a letter to every parent at the preschool urging them to talk with their children and find out if they were being abused. More parents insistently questioned their children until they too confessed to abuse of all stripes. Another interesting note here: The mother who initially made the complaint had a history of mental illness and of suspecting others of abusing her son. She checked him for marks regularly and questioned him about possible abuse. While we can't say for certain this is what led to his confession, knowing that he'd had this line of questioning before makes it more likely he could have been coerced into a false confession.

The daycare teachers were arrested and all of the children were brought in to be questioned by social workers and police. They used the same tactics as described above, holding children in rooms for extended periods of time, asking them over and over about the same things until they agreed, telling them that other children had confessed to acts which they hadn't confessed to, and describing explicit, leading scenarios. The children questioned were very young, as young as two in some cases, and they were being prompted to agree with trained adults.

The adults also took any fantastical statement the child made as fact, going on the premise that they should believe the children. Claims taken seriously included dozens of babies being butchered and eaten, being flushed down a toilet into a secret room, and flying through the air. The daycare's entire building and property were dismantled and searched for hidden compartments or rooms and remains of the children supposedly killed. Nothing was ever found. The parents and children also met with Dr Pazder and Michelle in the run-up to the trial and it's believed that this influenced their testimony. SRA claims were also heavy in the medial around this time through a number of other cases and it's likely that children picked up on the stories and them subconsciously used what they'd heard from the TV or their parents in their own accounts. Ultimately, most of the charges were dismissed due to a lack of evidence. The few which went forward were eventually reversed, in some cases after the defendant served time in jail.

That's not the end of the story on SRA though. Remember the kids going through this? The kids who were trapped in rooms, separated from their families, forced to confess to graphic details of abuse which no child should ever have to hear, not allowed to leave until they told the police or psychologists what they wanted? That is scarring for a child. While some kids had enough of a sense of self to realize that none of it happened, many others had their very fragile sense of self ripped to shreds and tainted with the ideas people pushed onto them. They developed false memories of their childhoods. Normal scenes of happy families, playing with friends, going to preschool, were tainted by the anxiety and fear they were put through by people who should have been protecting them.

One story highlighted in a podcast I listened to highlighted a young man named J and his father, M. M was accused of satanic abuse by his ex-wife and ended up in jail. J and his siblings were sent to a therapist who convinced them that they were abused. The therapist told him he'd never be able to hold down a job, that he'd be stalked all his life by the satanic cult, and if he tried to be normal, he'd wind up abusing children the way his father did. J wound up depressed and involved in drugs but did eventually stop therapy and managed to pull together a life for himself.

When he was in his 30s, still fully believing that his father had abused him, his younger brother made contact with their dad. M sent the brother a long letter explaining what he remembered of the events and apologizing for them, which was forwarded to J. The letter ultimately helped J find cracks in the abuse memories which his mother and therapist had created and he began to question everything. He had been traumatized as a very young child into believing he was abused, but that itself was ultimately the abuse. Nothing had happened to him but a mentally ill mother and a manipulative, unethical therapist, but those were enough to leave him with years of scars and problems to work through.

I want to be clear that I’m not trying to discredit or harm people who have memories of SRA. While the acts never happened in nearly every case, the pain and trauma inflicted by being made to agree to graphic descriptions of abuse is very real. Their suffering is real. The blame for that suffering should be placed where it belongs. The only way we prevent something like this from happening again is to have accurate accounts of how it happened the first time. If you believe yourself to be an SRA victim, my heart goes out to you. I hope you’re able to heal in time and piece yourself back together.

TL;DR: SRA came out of a weird period of botched child psychology and hysteria. It's not likely anyone was ever ritualistically abused by satanists. People with memories from SRA cases have had false memories imprinted on them through repeated questioning by police, social workers, therapists, and parents. These people were their abusers, not satanists. They are abuse victims and they may have very real mental illnesses due to trauma.

If you want more info about this topic, I recommend checking out the podcasts "Conviction" (Season 2), "You're Wrong About" (Michelle Remembers episodes) and "The Satanic Panic".

#sra #satanic ritual abuse #cw child abuse #cw murder #cw police abuse #cw mental heath #graphic #michelle remembers #ritual abuse #infodump

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ask-the-good-creeps · 4 years ago

Note

You can open up if you'd like

TW: SUICIDE ATTEMPT MENTIONS. DEPRESSION MENTIONS. MENTAL HEALTH MENTIONS. DO NOT READ IF THESE THINGS COULD NEGATIVELY AFFECT YOU.

Okiedokes, mi amigos. The following story happened years ago, but it still comes up in my mind a lot; and I feel like sharing the experience may benefit someone going through a rough patch and/or yield a bit of insight to y’all about why I think the way I do. If you decide to read further, please read it to the end.

So, this story begins with my first year of university. I was nineteen years old, fresh out of the Arizona foster care system, and had a history of mental health issues (official diagnoses from the psychologists I saw was PTSD, Anxiety, Depression, and Bipolar Disorder Type II – all of which triggered and fed into each other) that I was medicated for at that point in my life.

Things were going well for the first year…I made friends, I joined clubs and events, had an on-campus work study job, and was pulling decent grades in my classes. Then, the year ended and summer rolled around. I volunteered to spend my summer on-campus as a Resident Advisor for the university’s honors outreach program (where we brought 7th-9th graders to the campus for 2-week programs to give them a taste of college life and encourage them to come to us after high school, pretty much).

To anyone on the outside looking in, things looked like they were going great for me. In my eyes, everything was going great. Except for one thing…my grade hadn’t posted in one of my classes for the semester, and I didn’t do to well on the final (in my opinion). I was slightly worried that I was going to fail the class – looking back now, that was a ridiculous worry because I was doing great in the class and the professor was a really cool dude that usually didn’t fail students unless they put in literally zero effort throughout the semester.

But, I worried nonetheless.

Even then, it didn’t feel like a big deal to me…what I didn’t realize is that subconsciously it was the straw that broke the camel’s back for my mental health.

You see, being in foster care as a teen is Hell. Especially in Arizona. One of the things they drill into the heads of teens in “the system” is that we’re absolute failures who will drop off the map and end up leading miserable lives after we age out of foster care (probably because they don’t teach us the necessary life skills to survive outside of their care, but I digress…that’s another story for another day).

In the group homes, I was the kid that stayed out of trouble and got straight-A’s in school. I was the kid who never smoked, drank alcohol, or tried drugs not even once in my life. I was the one that kept climbing and got accepted into university on full scholarship after high school. So, I was the one that all those adults of the foster care system used as an example…the one who had extremely high expectations on their shoulders as a result.

So, when the grade for that class finally posted online and was not an A like my other classes (it was a C), it was the end of the world to my mind. I didn’t realize it when it happened, but seeing that grade made a thread of stability quietly snap behind the scenes where I couldn’t see it.

As a result, I had a rogue thought.

Now, when it comes to my thinking patterns, there is always a clear…well, pattern. If I’m thinking about my Great Aunt Vickie’s cat, for example, I can recognize that I started thinking about her because I thought of a funny cat story that was something similar to what Vickie’s cat did; and I can recognize that I thought of that funny cat story because I saw a cat meme on the internet yesterday; and so on, and so on, until I find the real-life stimulus that triggered the whole line of thinking.

Rogue thoughts are a whole different matter entirely. Unlike my usual thinking patterns, these rogue thoughts just show up without any noticeable stimulus or previous thinking…and that makes them dangerous for someone like me, who has learned to control my depression through CBT and recognizing when my thought patterns are starting to get too negative for me.

I returned to my apartment in between summer outreach programs (we had a few days to recoup between each 2-week session) and that’s when the rogue thought in question appeared.

“Kill yourself.”

That was the thought. It was not linked to any depressive thinking patterns, it was just there. It didn’t feel like a big thing, just another item on my to-do list for the short break I had. Had I been more used to rogue thoughts and encountered a similar one to this in the past, I would have thought more about it.

I would have recognized that this thought may have popped into my conscious line of thought out of nowhere, but seen that it had deep roots in my subconscious thinking.

But, I hadn’t had a rogue thought like this in the past.

All of my previous suicidal ideations had patterns to trace back to in my conscious mind that allowed me to work through most of them without incident.

So, I sat at my desk and started writing out a suicide note. It was very casual in tone, like a friendly farewell to my friends and family as opposed to being a depressing final record. I planned to jump off my apartment balcony the next day. After careful consideration, I decided that I would prefer my body to stay in one piece (my apartment was on the eighth floor, after all) and I opted to overdose on my medication instead.

I had a little garden at my window, and I set the note there. I sent a quick text to my father that simply read, “My plants know the reason why.” I was prepared to take the pills…then my father called me.

He was concerned, but I lied and said that I was just spouting random nonsense with the intent to confuse people (easily believable, as my catchphrase at the time seemed to be, ‘the pancakes fly at midnight and the waffles swim at dawn’ for some reason). He asked multiple times if I was alright, to which I always answered affirmatively. Then, the call ended.

I went to my room and laid in bed. I put in my headphones and turned on my music. Then, I swallowed ten of my prescription pills (which I was only supposed to take one of every 24 hours, for reference). After that, I swallowed a literal handful of melatonin tablets I picked up OTC, because I didn’t want to be awake for the damage the prescription meds would do to my system.

I laid back in bed with the music going, and passed out fairly quickly. However, the melatonin wasn’t enough to keep me unconscious as my body started trying to purge the pills in an act of self-preservation. I couldn’t open my eyes because every time I did, the room spun. I was throwing up a lot, and at one point when I leaned over the bedside to get it on the floor instead I lost my balance and faceplanted onto the ground (which I found out later had led to a broken nose). I didn’t even feel it, just the pain my insides were going through as I faded in and out of consciousness.

Here’s where it gets interesting, reader. It was night by now, and the lights in my room were off. The livingroom light was on and it shined in through the crack under my closed (and locked) bedroom door. Even if I could open my eyes, it wasn’t enough light to see by.

Yet, it wasn’t my eyes that detected anything. I felt a presence in my room with me, there in the dark. It felt like I knew this person, as if they were a close friend, despite the fact that I had no idea who they were. I remember asking this person,

“Do I still have enough of the poison left in my system to kill me?”

To which I received their reply:

“No. You’ve coughed enough of it up. You’re going to be alright.”

I cracked my eyes open ever so slightly and saw a flashing blue light shining up at the ceiling every so often. It was a notification light on my phone, which I had left plugged in to charge on the dresser next to my bed.

My goal here was to die, not to suffer. Since this person there with me insisted I wasn’t going to die, I reached out with my eyes still closed a couple times. I managed to grab my charge cord and pull my phone off the dresser and to the floor next to me.

It took a couple tries to dial emergency services (911) because I couldn’t keep my eyes open very well, but eventually I got an operator on the line and managed to briefly explain why I called in between bouts of vomiting.

The paramedics came in. They asked me what I had overdosed on, how many pills I’d taken, and when I took them. I answered with the name of my med, that I had taken ten times my normal dose, and that I didn’t check the time but it was still light out.

The paramedics didn’t believe me at first. One of them told me it was almost light out again now, and that taking that amount of that med meant I should not be alive still, let alone able to express semi-coherent thoughts. They didn’t believe me until they picked up my pill bottle and saw how many were gone.

I was taken to the hospital and spent a few days recovering there. I had my eyes closed and was in and out of consciousness the whole time, so I’m still not sure exactly what they had to do to keep me alive (though I don’t remember getting my stomach pumped, and I think I heard someone say something about charcoal).

On my third day there, I started to think on what happened and realized something. I still didn’t know who had been in that room with me. The paramedics had to get a key from the front desk when they arrived and go through two locked doors (my front door and my bedroom) to get to me. My apartment was on the eighth floor, so someone coming in through the (also locked) window was out of the question.

I didn’t recognize the person’s voice, so I chalked it up to my brain treating me to reverse psychology through an auditory hallucination to keep me alive. Though, that is just a theory.

So, dear reader, you’re probably wondering why I decided to share this story. Well, it’s not really the story that I wanted to share, but what I learned from the experience.

I learned that suicide is not a proper course of action, no matter the circumstances.

I learned that we cannot die before it is our time – the universe will intervene.

I learned that I have plenty of people who care (though very few of them know why I was in the hospital in 2015).

I learned that stress is not to be taken lightly (subconsciously I had been super stressed about my C-grade and the implications that I was a failure because of it, and also because of everything loaded on my plate) and it must be handled in a healthy way.

I learned how to say ‘no’ to avoid putting too much on my plate.

Most importantly, I learned about freeing myself from the expectations of others. You see, my friend, you will meet many people throughout your life that are important to you that have expectations of you. Family, friends, teachers, mentors, and so on…and you may be worried about disappointing them, as I once was. But please understand that only your own expectations for yourself truly matter, and if you try to please everyone else you’ll end up in a really tight spot. Learn to let go of what they want and pursue your own passions and dreams (preferably before you end up going to university for a major you aren’t even fond of, like I did).

Lastly, If you feel or think in any capacity that suicide is something you should do, I encourage you to think twice, and reach out openly and honestly with what you’re experiencing to someone you trust in your life or to a Mental Health/Suicide Prevention hotline. If you feel like you have nowhere else to turn, I’m here.

As someone who almost became a statistic, believe me…I understand.

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infiniteglitterfall · 5 years ago

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Hi! I have atypical autism and I’m having trouble at work. I feel like no work place is working out for me because of my diagnosis. I’m uncomfortable around my colleagues, I’m quiet, I don’t know when to speak or what to say etc. I’m sad, mad and frustrated that this ruins every work place for me and I don’t know what job would fit me. I’ve never told my bosses that I have atypical autism and I don’t want to do it either. I want advice on what I should do

this is a great question! I didn’t know what atypical autism was, but I googled it and it sounds like they came up with this because they can’t call it asperger’s anymore? “a subthreshold diagnosis, presenting with some symptoms of autism but insufficient to meet criteria for a diagnosis of childhood autism (or autistic disorder). Alternatively, atypical autism can be diagnosed when there is a late onset of symptomatology.” Aka DDNOS, apparently. From my perspective, it doesn’t sound different from any other autistic experience. FWIW. I think they tend to base their diagnostic labels more on how we seem from the outside than what our experiences really are. just my onion It sounds like you’re struggling with social anxiety, in that special vicious-cycle kind of way where not knowing how to interact with people makes you more anxious, and that makes it harder to interact with them, which makes you more anxious....? The nice thing about vicious cycles is that you only have to knock out part of the cycle to make the whole thing fall apart. Like: if you didn’t feel anxious about not knowing when to speak or what to say, it would be easier to figure out when to speak or what to say. Which, in turn, would give you less reason to feel anxious about it, et cetera. Or, if you knew what to say to them and how to hit it off, you would have fewer triggers for your anxiety, which would then make it easier to.... you get the idea. There are a lot of things that help with social anxiety. I am going to give a shout-out to medication, first of all. There are a lot of life hacks and therapeutic techniques that help a lot. And for yeeeeeaaaars, I didn’t realize that I really had anxiety, and also, thought that I “should” see if I could manage anything myself before “resorting to” meds. Turns out, medication saves me a TON of spoons, which I was previously using to “manage” depression, anxiety, and ADHD. You would not BELIEVE how much more energy and just general functionality I had when I finally got my meds right. OMFG. It can be a pain in the ass to find the right medication, especially if it means first having to find a medical practitioner that can help you and then having to explain the situation. Sometimes you find something that helps you right away. Sometimes you have to try different things to find something that works well enough. Sometimes you get the fun of “doesn’t work for me AND has bad side effects for me.” (OTOH, when looking at side effects, always remember that you might not get any of the side effects.) IMHO, the hardest part of finding the right medication is that a lot of practitioners don’t know how to track whether it’s helping you or not. Or whether it’s helping ENOUGH. Like: I got on anxiety meds that were starting to help, but which were making my ADHD meds not work. I tried a bunch of other things, and finally got Vyvanse to work for my ADHD. But I managed to FORGET that my anxiety meds weren’t doing anything, for a full year, until things got really bad and I was like “wait a minute... these should be helping????” And I did some research, accidentally found a competent psychiatrist, and found that Cymbalta worked for me... but even then, if I hadn’t found decent tools for assessing if it was enough, I would’ve stopped at like half the dose I actually needed to be on. This post is gonna be long as it is, so I’m gonna reblog to add different tools you can use to gauge what’s working, and which will help medical professionals understand what you’re experiencing. (Because tbh, they’re often just plain ignorant about this shit.) You do not necessarily have to go to a psychiatrist to get medication for anxiety, social or otherwise! My partner’s OBGYN prescribed him depression meds. My family doctor was willing to prescribe stuff for depression and anxiety, but only if it was something that didn’t potentially interact with ADHD meds. My chosen brother’s doctor was asking EVERYBODY, after the 2016 election, how they were doing and if they needed depression/anxiety meds. (And they’re in North Carolina!) He had never really thought about it before, and in fact, when he started taking them, his social anxiety got so much better that he was doing shit like going back into the store to tell them they’d given him too much change. He was the one who got me to think about taking them. He had a little kid, and he was like, "I’m doing this for my family.” Ok, medication aside: Some kinds of therapy are really good for figuring out how to interact with people. I’ve been learning a lot about different modalities, and I would recommend finding someone who does what’s called “relational therapy” or “relational-cultural therapy.” Basically, relational therapy is ALL about learning how to interact with people and have better relationships of all kinds. It’s very connected with issues of marginalization: people who are into relational therapy learn about how marginalization, and abuse, affect us and our relationships. Like, how we can internalize a ton of shame, just from being autistic and being devalued by the people around us. Even just from existing in a world that doesn’t value or understand how we communicate, and how we experience things. And it’s really good for identifying that stuff, healing from the struggles of trying to interact with people, and learning how to relate to people in a way that works for you. I found an organization that explains it pretty well (”Are you anxious when it comes to social situations like the workplace?... If we are depressed or anxious, inevitably it can be traced back to tension or breakdowns in relationships, or an inability to connect”), has a blog post in the sidebar called “Signs of Aspergers In Adults - Sound Familiar?” and apparently does therapy globally via Skype. I have never used them, I don’t know anything about them, I just googled “relational therapy” “online therapist.” (Shockingly, tho, that blog post not only links to one by an actually autistic person, but is very positive about autistic traits. I’m impressed so far. And I’m sure there are other options out there, too.) Lastly (as far as Things That I Personally Know Work go), I’ve gotten a LOT of recovery around social anxiety, and learned how to build relationships at work, from 12-step programs. The reason it works for that, as far as I can tell, is: • It’s a peer-led model, where everyone is equal. (this was huge to me, because I really struggled for a long time with feeling like everyone knew better than I did and had more of a right to talk about anything than I did, and therapy was a tough way to deal with things at that point because I saw the therapist as A Professional who’s In Charge.) • There’s a lot of emphasis on the fact that the newcomer who just walked into the room has as much of a right to give input in a business meeting, or to volunteer to help out with something that doesn’t require specific experience, or to share what’s going on with them, as anybody else. • Everybody there has gone through the same stuff as you, and anybody who’s helping you is showing you what worked for them, not what they were taught would work for people. That can be a pretty big difference, especially in terms of being able to relate to them and share personal things with them. • Working the steps involves a lot of writing about your fears and resentments, and looking at, basically, what has and hasn’t worked for you, and why it hasn’t worked. Really, what you're doing there is seeing where you can reclaim your power. And then you deal with a lot of shame, and get to discover how much you’re like other people, and how much you’re equal to other people, and that you’re a good addition to the world. • You also connect with your intuition, when working the steps, and develop a better sense of what’s intuition and what’s fear/anxiety. That, and sharing in meetings, REALLY helped me get a sense of what to say to people and get comfortable saying things. (A lot of people shorthand what I’m calling “intuition” as “god,” but it’s very much supposed to be a nonreligious idea of “god.” and IME, it’s basically your intuition, whether your belief system says that’s god talking to you, or a psychological thing, or a mystical force, or what.) Plus, 12-step stuff is free, which I’m very much in favor of lol. And most 12-step orgs have phone meetings and online meetings, so you don’t even have to go in person if that’s a barrier. (and in a phone meeting, they might not even know you’re there!) The tricky part can be figuring out which 12-step groups are good in your area and what might work for you. Because they range from Alcoholics Anonymous to, like... what’s the most obscure one I can think of? ARTS Anonymous, I guess. (it’s for artists who are stuck, it’s not saying art is an addiction) But if you wanted to try 12-step for this, I would say that Emotions Anonymous is really good for dealing with all sorts of emotional and mental health stuff. (and holy shit, they have an app????) Adult Children of Alcoholic and Dysfunctional Families has, iirc, a good book, (as well as all the meetings and whatnot) and most people probably qualify for that. If you have any experience with sexual assault, abuse, harassment, or being cheated on, COSA is good, and you end up working on all your other relationships and emotional stuff along the way.

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askbloatedbellyblog · 5 years ago

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Update: AKA wtf did you go AB3

Alright everyone, now that my birthday is over, I thought I should give everyone an update on why I’ve sorta disappeared.

Well first off, life and work got extremely busy. I’m been trying to accomplish some real life goals and have made some success, got super stressed out with too many things to do and even quit a place I’ve worked at for nearly 6 years for mental health reasons even though I then worked there for another 6 months after. yeah it was super weird.

I’ve had anxiety for a while and some of the stuff I was doing was trying to get over it by confrontation, lessen some by getting out of situations, and pursuing dreams.

Now that doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten bellies or anything else either, just been stretched thin. Or so I thought.

So what I chalked up to getting old I’m not really old just thought “aging” and apparently this is fairly common with what I will lay out and anxiety sometimes to an extreme with more panic attacks and depression which I’ve always dealt with and have been going to therapy for, which I suggest for anyone, lack of focus, ADHD, muscle aches, tiredness (which I thought was from bad sleep habits), etc; weren’t exactly what I thought they were.

I’m a fairly fit person. I workout or had but again motivation was waning or being busy but also gets to this in a second nearly every day, I don’t eat TOO badly, I sleep way worse than I should but okay, take vitamins etc. Recently leaned on energy drinks too much but oh well. But I’ve had some bad foot pain and other ailments for a while. I’ve not had a ton of money, thought part of it was from tile floors or planter fasciitis (basically a tendon injury that can be caused by over use and flat feet, which guilty).

So after finally reaching deductible for the year, I finally went to the doctor and discovered that somehow I have peripheral neuropathy. Meaning somehow my nerves are messed up. I can move fine, but I was told my “sensory nerves were worse than an 80 year old” and that why my leg/feet were on fire. Usually this happens with advanced diabetes which I don’t have (as far as they can tell and said I’d know it by the time this would have happened).

It’s really great to hear that your nervous system is all jacked up and you didn’t know it. I’m still trying to figure out a legit diagnosis with a few of the blood tests I’ve had be fairly normal. It still could be something with my thyroid, maybe cancer, MS, who knows. I’m still trying to get in to see other doctors to try to see what is going on, though I have a sneaking suspicion and so far way less serious than all that.

At the casual suggestion of the doctor who did my nerve test because it “helps the nerves”, I took vitamin b12. I’ve taken some before and its in BASICALLY everything as far as anything fortified, the multivitamin I take, energy drinks, cereal, you name it. It’s in there to SOME degree. Well I’ve been having digestion issues as of late (wondering if I really had like IBS or Celiac etc) so I thought “You know what, I’ll buy one of those gummy versions so I can chew it up better and see what happens.” Well boy howdy, did that affect things and not necessarily for the better at first. I had bought both a b12 gummy and a b complex and the complex happened to have a different form of b12 than is usually in all those shelf stable fortified version of food. It was the “active” version of the vitamin (because apparently there are 4 different types, who knew).

Have you ever wanted to know what it’s like to feel like you’re on fire? Or to have your whole body be electrically charged? Well basically that’s what happened. Still happening to a degree. Still trying to find out for sure (which apparently is very hard to find doctors well versed in it because it does have symptoms similar to other diseases and not always present in the blood) but it looking pretty likely I have pernicious anemia. SUPER fun let me tell you. Not sure if it’s going to be a forever thing or just somehow got a b12 deficiency but I’m really starting to suspect actually a family history with it and not having things connected together.

Normal people don’t react to vitamin B12, even if they take too much, they just pee it out. But when I’ve taken it especially at first (it’s a known issue that it can have worse symptoms when you first start getting B12 again because your system finally is screaming GIVE ME ALL THE THINGS) I’ve gotten worse symptoms of pain, migraines, spreading nerve pain, lung, heart issues, breathing, stamina, everything out the window for a little bit. Being on fire but knowing you have to deal with it as best you can is super fun let me tell you. In a perfect world, I’d actually get shots for it but that requires finding a doctor who believes it. The big problem is that some people don’t find out they have it for YEARS and by then nerve damage is permanent. If you act fast it can be reversed. I don’t want to ruin my shot at getting better while I can.

Now the good news is so far, I have been getting better! It’s early days but nerves are less on fire. I’ve been getting energy up, libido is better, mood is better, breathing is getting better, heck even my digestion and heartburn have been getting much better. Not perfect but improving. Hell I didn’t even realize it was an issue but I had a night a bit ago where I was tingling all over in my legs and feet and suddenly could move my pinkie toes more than I ever remember being able to. So things are communicating and trying to recalibrate.

Fun fact: did you know lack of B12 can cause anxiety, panic attacks, depression, insomnia, sleepiness, dementia, lack of focus, bowel issues, nerve damage and more? So my anxiety and depression (not saying I’m fixed or that it will go away by any means) could be linked to chronic lack of b12? That lack of being able to concentrate and focus could also be symptoms? Did you know that if you have absorption problems (bingo from intestinal issue) and taking heart burn medication (also a check mark because have fought it for years) can cause b12 deficiency? Because you need the stomach acid to digest it and have it in your colon? WELL I KNOW NOW LET ME TELL YOU WHAT. Did you know that working out burns more B12 and so does stress and anxiety? So its very possible that because I have been working out and super stressed that I actually made the problem worse by using up what little stores of B12 I had? SUPER GREAT let me tell you.

So while I’m still trying to get to a doctor and hopefully don’t have something more serious, it seems likely that I’ve had a chronic B12 deficiency for years and it may have just not been in the right form for me to use despite ingesting a ton and then the cycle just made it worse. It could be a long road with maybe some permanent issues but I’m hopeful things are looking up even though it seems like it’s kind of a two steps forward, one step back kind of process with some relapses even though there’s progress. I still get worried and stressed about my condition and hate being in pain and weak and probably over research on whats going on (also still hoping that it’s not something more serious) but considering I’m making improvements and doing so fairly quickly all things considered makes me okay and hopeful I’ll be better than ever and able to accomplish more and not worry that I’m “getting old” when I’m pretty young.

Where does this leave me and this blog? Well it’s not going anywhere. I still exist, I’m still pining for bellies or muscle in my own way, and while it’s been slow thanks to health, lack of time, and lack of motivation; I do have some stories I’ve been working on and hopefully can get back to more canons. I do like being creative and trying to think of new things, even if I do tend to reuse a lot of ideas sometimes. Hopefully everyone will still stick around to support me even if I’m absent for a bit either on Tumblr, Twitter, or wherever else. I’m sorry for sometimes dropping conversations from being busy or procrastinating or social anxiety. Maybe that will get fixed with this. I’m honestly horrible at being the first one to start a conversation or pick it up again, so bug me first please.

Congrats if you’ve made it this far in my big life update/rant/manifesto? Thank you those who gave me birthday wishes. I luckily was healthy enough to go out and have some fun and I think I’m well enough to rejoin society again though there may be some pain. Thanks everyone for sticking with me over the years in all the places I’ve been and for enjoying all the weird ideas and writing that I’ve done to torture various characters. I hope to continue to do so for years to come.

Laters!

AB3

#mun speaks #health yo #everyone take b12!#apparently SUPER IMPORTANT #don't be a young old man like me #Hopefully I will grace everyone with a late christmas story soon I nearly finished #also everyone watch dr stone #Its my favorite

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iwillalwaysstandwithtaylorswift · 5 years ago

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Need to Speak Out // trigger //

i know i wasn’t around lalety. here a short explaination of why i disappear.

DISCLAIMER : this will NOT be a happy-positive post. If you’re triggered by depression, and thought of suicide, DO NOT read this, please.

I need to write it down. I need a safe place to do so. And Tumblr is. Cause somehow i feel close to @taylorswift here. Anyway.

Unfortunatly, those past few months has been tough. Like, really tough. Of course @taylorswift helps me go through it but this time, it wasn’t enough.

Taylor has been through much. And she managed to get through that bunch of storms.

So why can’t I ?

Eight years.

Eight years since depression, borderline disorder, eating disorder and anxiety disorder ruined my life. It came by step. When i first exeprienced it, i tried to kill mylself by ODing. Then i got in charge with medical procedures. For years. They kept me alive. My family friends and goals helpt me going through this storms. I’ve been strong. So strong.

And then , summer 2o19 came.

Apocalypse

“ Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it I'd like to be my old self again ...”

Since, i’ve never been the same. It broke me at the point where i don’t know how to manage live anymore.

I lost my friends, first.

Because of shady, greedy, and vile person. They turned everyone against me. My best friend. I had to move out, changed the city, came back to my mom, and stop my education at the UNI - which was a great balance to my life.

But in fact, returning to her made me lose her too. She couldn’t deal with my illness and wanted to focus on her youger boy, my youger brother. So Family and Friends went OFF the screen. To end the rest of my resistance, my boyfriend became a stranger to me. We can’t understand each other anymore.

So, like that, in a blink of an eye, in a few month - may 2o19 to april 2o2o - i’ve lost everything. Except my cat. My little angel. Who gives me oxygen when i can’t find some.

But it is still not enough. This morning i was faceskapping my therapist, in tears, saying that “ i cant cope, i can’t do it anymore “ i needed to stop. right now. why death is such a horrible thing when someone desperatly wants it ? Death seems to be the only way out of this. I swear, i’m not being dramatic or seaking for attetion.

But when you’re whole body and mind are in pain 24/24 you just stop believe in hope. It just HURTS. So much. I’ve never cried so much in such a long time. I don’t see any point of staying alive because pain ERASE everything. I wish there was a magic pill. A surgerie. An incatation. something... Cause no one, NO ONE, can live with this amongt of pain. That’s what my therapist told me. She also told me to keep holding on, ‘till we find the correct treatment.

But God... how am i supposed to do so ? how when every cell of your body screams to death that they want it to S T O P?

God, help me. Hear me out. Don’t live me here, hagging. I’m not struggling, i’m in so much pain that this state of mind is passed.

I’m dying. And that’s okay for me. But all the poeple who cares about me and doctors refuse to let me go. They threatened me. Again and again. I feel life if i kill myself i’ll kill others - my boyfriend told me he would if i’d passed away.

I’m a prisoner.

I want out.

God, it hurts.

It hurts so much... can’t even breath without a million of sharping knives cutting my will to live, my happinness, my body and skin... my soul.

I’m ripped.

“I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here 'Cause I remember it all, all, all... Too well...”

i just want my life back. My friends. My family. My Education. My lover. All of that blew away thanks to mental illness. I want to be a 22 girl. Not a zombie gurl who cries her eyes out every signle day, screaming inside, whishing she was dead, cause nothing should be that painful.

I just need the pain to slow down a bit, to give me break. Or i wouldn’t make it. What it the plan ? Killing someone by huge amoungt of hurtful feelings ? Is that a thing ?

I don’t how much time i have. honeslty. not saying that to alarm anyone. all my close ones noticed my state. It is knew.

My doc : just wait for the new treatment. .

Me : I can’t. I can’t spend another month like that. I’ll lose it.

Doc : Lose what ?

Me : My fight.

Doc ; Keep holding on. There is still hope.

Me : No, there is not. There are just tears, blood, and endless pain.

Doc : It will change.

Me : WHEN?! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE, YOU UNDERSTAND ?!

Doc : I know. Soon.

Me : Soon... i do not believe you.”

and i burst into tears and shut down all morning with @taylorswift in my ears to ease my mind while i had took all of my bottle of medecine to stop my mind to think and my body to hurt.

I don’t belive in anything right not. Not God’s will. Not medecin. Not love.

How ever... I still make dreams about meetting @taylorswift. Like if... She reminds me that there IS poeple who didn’t failed on me. She never done that with her fans. She is there without being there. And sometimes she appears in my dreams i am so frigging happy. And this might be my brain trying to prove to me that there are things that ease my mind, heart, and soul. You, baby girl. You’ll be there ‘till the end. Headphones on, soul off.

#i love you taylor #taylor swift #i love taylor so much #help #bpd #bpd problems #depression #hard times #pain #open heart

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surveys-at-your-service · 5 years ago

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Survey #241

“where once a heart was beating, nothing but embers glow. our love, it serves as kindling to stoke this flame’s inferno.”

Would you care if your partner did drugs etc? If it was legal here and just for medical purposes, I'd be fine with just weed. Otherwise, I treat the idea the same way as I would a tobacco smoker: no. Has anyone lost their virginity to you? I guess in a gay context? For two females, when is it really... "lost?" Idk. Do you live near a beach? Like... two hours away. Have you ever skipped school just because you were tired? Ha ha, yeah... Do you enjoy going through the car wash? I do, actually. I'm still a little kid when it comes to the rainbow soap, ha ha. Have you done anything embarrassing lately? Oh, I'm sure. How many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now? One. Would you consider painting your bedroom purple? Noooo, it wouldn't be cute y'all. Do you actually wear every shirt in your drawer? Ha, no... mainly because there's a handful of them that I'm working to shrink back into. Then there's others I'm self-conscious of because of color and having hyperhidrosis out the ass. Just wearing black disguises sweat the best. Would you ever get a tattoo on your collar bone? I have one already, but I'm getting it covered at some point. I didn't put much thought into it and has no meaning to me now. I plan on getting the other collarbone tatted too, of course. Are you pregnant right now? Bitch fuck no. Do you still dress up for Halloween? Ugh, no, but only because I can't afford even things to put together my own costume. Not having anywhere to go only further discourages dressing up period. Who was the last male you talked to? My dad. Do you hate cuddling? Hell no, if I like you anyway. Do you have any bruises right now? No. Why did you take the last pill you took? They're my morning prescription meds. My last pill was for anxiety. Could you handle having kids? FUCK no. Nervous breakdowns would happen twice a week, I promise. What outfit makes you feel the most attractive? Attractive? In anything? What a concept. What do you think of people who always wear make-up? You do you, boo. What’s a smell that absolutely makes you gag? Gag, probably vomit. Or feces of some animals. Is there a smell that gives you headaches? GASOLINE. And fresh-cut grass. What do you do while you’re on campus but not in class? Sit in the library doing schoolwork or whatever on my laptop. Do you know anyone who has Autism/Asperger’s syndrome? Yes. Has anyone of the same sex ever hit on you? Yeah. Are you open to a same-sex relationship and why or why not? Yeah; been in one already and I'm still open to dating another girl. What do you think of people who litter and do you? I openly fucking despise you. So obviously not. How much time do you spend online daily? If I'm not in school, I can like... guarantee you I'm on the computer doing at least something. Not always the same site, but I'm somewhere. I absolutely hate how reliant I am on the Internet. Do you wear sunglasses regularly? I never do. I need prescription sunglasses. Who was the last person you called? My mom. Do you own a tablet of any kind? No. Do you tend to put things off until the last minute? OH YES INDEED. What are your parents’ natural hair colors? What is yours? Mom's is brown, and I cannot believe Dad was born with blond hair. HOW does that turn black. I was born dirty blonde. Are you afraid of getting shots? Nah, just the injection is kinda painful with how it burns. Do you hate it when people smoke around you? I very much so hate it. Have you ever wanted to vlog? Noooo, I'm too awkward for that. Always have been. What’s the last piercing you got? Tongue. Do you have a best friend? Ye. What’s your internet homepage? Google. Do you have a shower stall or a bath tub? A tub. When was the last time you saw someone attractive? In person? Idk. What do you hear right now? "I Am Hell" by Machine Head. This time last year, can you remember who you liked? Same person I like now. Did you speak with your father today? No. Are you currently frustrated with someone? No. Name one of your hobbies? Watch YouTube is high up there and like... the only thing I have motivation to do lately. I really hate it. I want my writing will to come back. What is your biggest worry in life right now? My lack of a job. Do you like hot or cold showers? Hot. Are you happy with your relationship status? I don't have a particular feeling about it. What colors would you like to have at your wedding? Depends on the season and the opinion of my spouse, too. How easy was it to get over the person you last dated? It didn't take too long, though it was really because the event left me believing we were, without question, getting back together once we are independent enough to live on our own/mutually move out. It's still possible we may, should life just play out where it works out, but it also was much easier to accept because we're still completely best friends. Have you ever lived with a girlfriend/boyfriend? Not on paper, but pretty much. How old were you when you first smoked weed? But I never have. What is one thing that you’ve done that a lot of people said you couldn’t? Idk; I don't have a lot of unsupportive people in my life. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? Mom. What was the last reason you cried? I listened to a song that deeply triggered my PTSD. Have you ever hated a song, and then later on found that you liked it? Yup, however that works. Did you have a good childhood? It was mostly normal, I guess? Do you play games on your PC? Just World of Warcraft right now. I started Alien: Isolation and Resident Evil 6 FOREVER ago, I just haven't had the motivation to finish either. Do you have a formspring? It's familiar, but I'm actually not sure what that even is. Do you know anyone that is racist? Welcome to the South. Do you have an active sex life? No. Are you defensive about anything? Yes. Have you ever driven 80+ mph? No. Have you ever changed a lightbulb? Yes. Have you ever gotten a bullseye in darts/archery? Darts, possibly. Never done archery. Do you have a Wii? Yeah. Do you own any animals that absolutely hate you? No. What brand is the computer you’re currently on? Acer. Are there any piercings you want but you’re too afraid it will hurt? The pain factor doesn't keep me away from piercings, so no. Do you think ear gauging is gross? When it gets to a certain width, to me anyway, it's pretty ew. I don't judge at all about someone having them, but it can get to a point where it just isn't appealing imo. Are you afraid of anyone in your family? Who and why? No. What’s the last scary movie you saw? Ummmm idk. It's been a long-ass time. I'm sure something in theaters, but I really don't know. Why aren’t you friends with your last ex? We are friends. When did you last spend the night at a friend’s house? A year ago when I was at Sara's. Did you ever watch 2Girls1Cup? Fuck no, I've never even looked into what exactly it is, but I know enough to know I don't wanna fucking see it. Do you have anxiety or depression? *shrugs* Why not both? Have you ever lived in a mobile home? No. Have you ever had your bedroom in a basement? Never even had a basement to begin with lol. Friend asks you to hide drugs, booze etc for them, do you do it? lol no. Animal you like to watch but sort of creeps you out: Big spiders. I particularly like writing spiders/orb weavers though, and watching big spiders eat is just fascinating. Have you entered the Lays create a flavor contest? Oh man how long ago was that??? No. Bagels or English muffins? Bagels gotta win it for me. Who is a family member you look forward to seeing on a holiday? On Christmas especially, I love seeing my niece and nephew because they're just so excited. Brings me back to what it felt like as a little kid. Are Easter baskets only for kids? No. My sisters and I each had super cute baskets that Mom would fill until like... two years ago. Now that it's just me living with her, she'll just usually buy me a candy bar or something. Do you do anything to recognize St Patrick’s Day? No. Do you think nutcracker figurines are creepy or cool? No opinion. Speaking of nuts, do you like them? For the most part, no. There are instances however where I can enjoy like little pieces of them with other kinds of food, ex. chocolate. What do you do when you are nervous? Dead giveaway: I'm kneading/playing with my hands. I pace naturally, but I do so more frequently when I am nervous. I'll have a harder time making eye contact, too. Does your family have an SUV or pick up truck? No. Which of your parents do you laugh more with? Dad. Have you ever been to an open casket wake or funeral? Wake, yes. Who mows the lawn at your house? Some guy Mom knows through the dance studio. Where do you keep your phone at night? Usually to the right of my pillow, a bit far away, and up more towards the headboard. My bed's a queen-size and it's just me, so I have room where I won't hit it. If it has to charge though, then it's on the table beside my bed. Do you feel comfortable asking your parents or grandparents for money? No in almost every case. I'm only somewhat comfortable if it's Mom and I'm asking for like a snack from the gas station or something like that. What’s the last thing you lost? My phone, I think. If you could have your own car or an apartment, which would you choose? An apartment would be entirely useless as I am in no way competent enough to live alone yet, and a car wouldn't have much use seeing as I only have my permit and STILL pretty much never drive. It'd be more useful than an apartment, though. Last time you hid, and why: Uhhhhh. I have zero clue. How do you like your eggs? I'll only ever take them scrambled with cheese. Favorite Mexican food? Quesadillas. Upcoming event you are dreading? I'm happily enjoying it right now, but in another way, I'm dreading school break ending just because I am INCREDIBLY nervous about the effects of it on my legs with the whole muscle atrophy thing. I'm scared of regressing. Do you have a favorite pen? What kind? No. Do you do more surveys during the day or night? The day. Just shampoo, or shampoo + conditioner? Just shampoo. Conditioner adds oil to your hair, and trust me, my hair does NOT need any extra oil. Scariest driver you’ve ridden with: Dad the day he had to pick Nicole and me up from school and we had a 30-minute drive home. Basically, we got home in maybe 15 or less. He was in a fucking awful mood, speeding like hell, running red lights, passing illegally... I was entirely convinced we were going to die that day. Still one of the scariest of my life. Do you think you’re smarter than the average person? If so, why? It depends on the subject matter; in areas such as English, wisdom, stuff kinda like that, honestly yeah. In areas like common damn sense and mathematics, fuck no. What was the last topic you did thorough research on? Why? Paganism. I recently found that Neo-Paganism is the closest description for my spiritual beliefs; it covers such a broad spectrum, and it emphasizes the divinity of nature, free will (so long you are not inflicting harm upon another), the equality of man and woman (plus the beauty of humanity), and one of the concepts of the "ultimate being" includes not an actual deity, but just like this... source of energy and power. I don't even know if I believe it to be conscious, it's just like... the source, and it lies within nature. I'm still doing more and more research into it as I'm thoroughly intrigued, and I continue to feel more at home with its inclusiveness to an array of interpretations. What was the last thing to upset you? So beyond just an annoyance? Probably when this random fucking Facebook post of a father sharing just how proud he was of his son for killing wolves together and sharing purely evil photographs of them playing with/posing the bloody dead bodies (which included making them "snarl" at the camera, and mind you, their mouths were full of blood) popped up on my feed for no goddamn reason. Safe to say, I left a comment and got into a fight with a backwards son of a fuck who thought it was totally kosher to kill these "vermin" and used personal attacks versus logic to try in vain to prove his point, when all he did was accomplish me seeing him as the vermin. Where did you go to the last time you left your house? My sister's house. Do you wear something on your left hand/wrist/arm without fail? Friendship ring with Sara as well as the bracelet she gave me. What is an article of clothing you would never ever wear? Stealing the last answer of jumpsuits. Will you go outside today? Probably not. Are you doing everything you can to make yourself happy? Not everything. I know I could do more. What is a phrase or a saying you try to live by? I don't think I have a set one that I always look to. I refer more to ideas, such as to be unrelenting in your goals. What is something you lie to yourself about? I don't know. I'm not good at that. What has been the best job you’ve ever had? lol What is a holiday, that is NOT celebrated in your country, that you would like to celebrate? Day of the Dead. I know some do celebrate it here, but it's more of a holiday in Mexico. Which nation’s culture (excl. your own) do you find the most interesting? Germany's, from what I remember. We learned quite a bit about them while I took it as a language. They are very serious about honesty and manners. What is something you judge about other people? How you treat others, certain aspects of ones personality (ex., arrogance), and as the previous person stated, to a certain degree anyway, moral/political/religious beliefs. What is something you do not want to discuss? I get really uncomfortable talking about sex, and though no one in my "real" life knows about it (except perhaps Mom due to an outburst during the breakup), I don't like even looking back on the Joel situation. There are also some political things I just don't want to talk about. Do you enjoy solving problems? No, shit's stressful. Are you a kinesthetic, an auditory or a visual learner? Kinesthetic, 100%. Are you an introvert, an extrovert or an ambivert? I'm a pretty strong introvert, though not as much as I once was. I can get lonely kinda quickly now, but I still NEED my alone time. Are you socially anxious or awkward? OH BOY AM I!!!!!!! Do you actually think it’s gross to talk about body functions? NO!!!!!!! This needs needs needs to be normalized because it's stuff we all endure, so we should be comfortable talking about these things, asking questions, etc. Have you ever sent a love letter? Yeah. When you look up at the sky do you ever NOT see a plane or vapor trail? Yeah. Welcome to the country. Do you wear any shoes with holes because you can’t give them up? No. When you go out to breakfast, what do you order? Pretty much always pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon. What’s the best compliment you’ve gotten from a boss/teacher? That when she came back to teaching, I was the exact kind of student she hoped for. What’s a weird or interesting nickname you gave someone? lmao the first one that came to mind was Connie's "Einnoc." Is there a phrase or mantra you repeat when you are frightened? No. What are you most envious of? Successful photographers lmao. Do you have a friend with a habit that worries you? Yes. Would you rather have coffee, cocoa, tea, or soda? UGH soda. That's my weaknesses. You could take sweets from me, but I'm pretty reliant on soft drinks. When you walk into your best friend’s room, what do you smell? I don't remember, actually... I haven't been there enough. Have you ever purposely broken something that belonged to a sibling? Wow, no. Have you ever worked at the same place as your best friend? No. Do you like to visit famous people’s homes? I've never done that, and I find it disrespectful anyway. Give celebs their privacy, goddamn. Do you take days off from shaving when you can get away with it? The only thing I shave are my armpits, and considering I don't shower everyday, yes. Every time I do take one however, I always shave. Is there anything hanging on your bathroom walls? No. If your SO agreed, would you want an open relationship? No. Have you ever slept with three people in the same bed? When? Why? At some point, yeah, but not in a romantic context. It was with friends or family when we had limited space. Does your family regularly eat sit down meals together? Pretty much never. Who would you like to slow dance with? To what song? SOBS "The Only Exception" by Paramore w/ Sara continues to sob What’s your favorite pet name someone calls you? None that I have now. If you could talk to one species of animal what would it be? Good question. I guess cats, as I have one and would love to know what he thinks. What’s the largest animal you’ve ever seen in person? An elephant, strolling RIGHT by the fence at the zoo. Have you ever used the change counting machine at a store or mall? Ohhh, I remember those! Yes. Would you give mouth to mouth to your dog to save its life? We have a dog I honestly can't stand, and this is gonna get me mentally punched, but I don't know. NO, not BECAUSE I don't like him, but I don't love him enough to deal with those germs. I don't think I could stomach doing it. If you came with a warning label, what would it say? "Is going to be uncomfortable if you say one word to her but craves friendship anyway." Have you ever tried to learn a language on your own? No. Have you ever had a pet destroy something valuable or important? The thing that upset me the most was when Teddy tore up the corner of one of my art pieces I'm most proud of. I cried. It was weird considering he never really tore up stuff... but alright then. What’s the best burger EVER? UGH I'm weak for Wendy's Baconators. Did you ever show up late for an important event? Probably at some point?

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