#they've found one body from the events of 20 years ago that happened at the center. all the jurors' kids will be killed as revenge for the

[ramblingsofuncertainty]

Old Entries

Ramblings

Sunday

3:15. The silence is nice. I can talk to Allah swt and I feel safe at this moment. The stillness of the night isn't stifling. I don't turn on the fan even though it's hot. I like the silence. My thoughts are quite too

7:10. I don't want to get up but I've already jumped off the bed. Need to get breakfast ready. Need to take medicine. Need to hurry hurry hurry.

9:15. Panic and dread.

11:50. Relief. Exhaustion. 

2:42. I had this really intense need to be talking about it with Saadia. Can't call her cos she's probably sleeping. And this urge might become less and then I'll make excuses to myself to not call her. But I wish we were exhausted and lying in her room ranting. Or maybe not even that. Just being quiet. She'd be watching something stupid like NCIS or suits or something and I’d be squished in her giant beanbag (territory Id claimed long ago) I remember the neck ache I got when Id been squished in it too long. Her mom would poke her head in and shake her head at us and bring us pasta. Or chicken bread! Man, I miss that chicken bread. The squishy peices of corn that would pop in your mouth and the hot buttery peppery chicken.

She knows me inside out. I don't want to burden her right now. She can't do anything about it being so far away.

I'm happy, reminiscing while writing about her, and it hasn't made me sad, in a surprising turn of events. I think my circuitry is messed up. But happy accidental serotonin is still serotonin and I'm grateful.

Monday

Didn't write the whole day. Brain feels like a fog. No emotions. I just need sleep. 

Tuesday

9.:40. Stopped to have a conversation with a squirrel. It seemed interested, but then decided it didn't have the time. Squirrel business called. And I was late for class

9:43. Needed to make a call and that was it for the day. Cue the mind haze. All the emotions all at once. And none at the same time.

Music to shut out the thoughts. Helped a bit.

P realized something was up. As much as I felt cheery and awake at the end of the day, but she knew something was off. I couldn't put a finger on it til she said it. Despite trying trying to distract myself, I still felt like there is a pulling, scratching inside. I'm craving something and I don't know what it is. Bit it's like a dull sort of scratch, like the echo of a thing

Thursday

4:57. Missed fajr. Feel like shit. Had nightmares, woke up feeling more exhausted than when I slept. I haven't been able to dream for like five or six years. But nightmares are becoming a thing now.

8.25. Tried to wake up but the day already feels exhausting and I don't want to deal with it

9:20. Fell asleep and woke up in a panic. There's so much that needs to be done. I have so much work. How can anything feel exciting when there is always anxiety and panic that's flooding my brain. 

9:55. My joy in realizing they've made eggs for breakfast today is fleeting. The eggs are burnt at the edges and dry. I still eat them, my mouth feels like what I imagine it must feel like to wake up from surgery, desperate for water. I'm being ungrateful and I dont like it. It's food. Why am I being like this?

Cant feel much today.

4:50. Decided to take a nap. Woke up in a panic again because I thought I'd slept for three hours instead of one. Body hurts and I don't want to get up. I'll procrastinate more and then the day is over and I've done nothing.

8:05. Feeling good. Found myself humming something. Surprised enough to want to write it down. I feel like I can get something done. Making tea, then getting down to work. I feel like I'm in flow. Hope this stays!

P.S. it didn't stay. Something happened and all sense of time and work and sanity was gone. (Writing this on Thursday)

Friday

I broke the streak today. I didn't want to write down anything the whole day so now I'm writing it at the end of the day. I woke up with a numbness in my body. Had nightmares again. It's getting both more difficult and easier to get up. I can't explain it.

There's this short stretch of trees lining the football field that blooms with these hanging yellow flowers that always snaps me back to the present and gives a couple of seconds of relief everyday. Today it just made me annoyed (there aren't any blooms but the walk usually is still pleasant) because I realized the absence of that relief and that is what jolted me out of my thoughts. Not the relief but the lack of it. 

Everything felt off today. It's exhausting living with myself. 

I came back and slept. I just want to sleep. Forced myself to eat. I can't work. I can't work. I can't work. I'm trying. I have class at 6am. I don't want to be. There's too much noise. Writing all these things down is making everything more concrete. It's the fig tree again. From Sylvia Plaths Bell Jar. But the roots shriveled up and wilted and the trunk is hollow too. No possibilities lying blackened at my feet. They are a distant memory, haunting  the air with a rotten smell. 

(P.S. (writing this on Saturday: I feel disconnected reading what I wrote last night. I don't want to linger on it. That person was there. So was one who was not in that state. I feel like a conduit, in this moment, reading the previous entries, they feel like versions of me that exist and existed, a product of the things happening to me at the time)

Saturday

Today I felt disconnected, outside of my body. Woke up tired again but almost mechanically, went through the motions of getting up and getting through the day. 

I'm relieved though. Beats yesterday in any case.

Saturday/Sunday:

(A summary): I did not open this up to write anything for the past two days because I was in a good place after a very long time. I passively tried to understand what triggered it but couldn't. Coming back to why I didn't write. Writing things down forces me to confront what's going on in my head and usually that untangles whatevers up there and when the thoughts become clear, they are usually not very pleasant. And so I wanted to live in denial for a little bit longer. 

Sunday

9.09: Panic again. but dull. I have to work. There might be eggs. 

11.06: Mediocrity scares me. I don't want to be a blob of nothingness. I have worlds inside of me, I have been so many me-s, they were all people with thoughts and emotions and intelligence. I feel like I have lost grip of so many of those versions of myself, and of the potential that they all had. Now everything I do feels like I am dragging myself through a thick sludge of effort, pushing pushing pushing. My head feels dull and more empty than it used to be. 

The air feels thick. Dead, no crispness in it, just a lingering heat and smell of dead grass

Monday

4:40. Unraveling. The air is nice today, feels fresh and crisp. I can smell the freshly mowed grass of the football ground as a linger on my way back

5.:15. A summary of today: Flow state. I found myself quite unexpectedly in a state of flow, like everything was aligned and I was getting things done. Things seemed to be rolling off of me, I just kept working like nothing mattered and I actually felt happy with the work I made, and when I made something not so good, it didn't stop me. It felt like I side stepped a ditch that would have pulled me in, and I was just able to brush it off so easily and move on. I felt like a person. I felt complete. Like otherwise there's always echoes of me slightly lagging or moving ahead and I'm just trying to keep track of the pieces to move together and making the effort of carrying all the scrambling, falling, scattered pieces keeps me occupied

6:20. A word out of place. And it started this echo that kept reverberating and bouncing back and forth off the walls of my mind. And it shook everything out of place. Like a tiny tremor that upsets the precarious balance that had been a happy accident. 

The crows and their noise just before maghrib remind me of Karachi and the breezy evening air, that smells like dust and sticks to your face on the sheen of oil covering your sticky skin at the end of a long day. The smell of gasoline and petrol heavy and clinging to your clothes, coming home with you

Tuesday

My thoughts are not my own. Not writing today. 

Wednesday

I like this moment. Its the end of the day and I linger going back. My walk is deliberately slow and I focus and at the same time watch without seeing, the details of the accumulated dust on the sidewalk. The cars passing by seem slow and fast at the same time, their noise amplified for some reason. The sound is grating but I cant hear it even though everything feels heightened.

[s4pphoiduser]

blind (2022) is driving me insane. im begging my friends to watch it but theyre either busy with exams or almost exclusively fluff/romance-watchers . i need to talk ab this w someone just hit me up or something GOD

[orchestralcollage]

Current Name: Benjamin Cardiff

Nickname: Benji

Age: 315 (stopped aging between 17 - 19)

Species: vampire/werewolf hybrid

Gender/Pronouns: demiboy, he/they

Orientation: pan-aromantic/demisexual

Occupation: Chef at Maple Diner

Neutral when it comes to the Seelie Court

Traits to describe Benji: quick-learner, affable, generous, secretive, odd, lonely

tw: death, torture, assault, rape/rape mention

Benjamin Cardiff, not their birth name, was born in a small home out in the middle of the forest to a vampire and a werewolf. He grew up isolated, learning to survive off the land, and how to effectively hide in the event someone ever found them so far out from the rest of society. 

They’d lived out in the woods, undisturbed by the outside world for the most part, and at peace with nature for almost 25 years when hunters found them. The attack on their home had come too fast for any of them to escape, and his parents did their best to defend their child, and all three to defend their home. However, it wasn’t enough and ‘Benji’ watched as one of the hunters ripped the charmed pendant that allowed his father to walk in the sun from his neck, and his father immediately burst into flames, becoming nothing more than a pile of ashes. His mother suffered much worse, some of the hunters gleefully taking turns burning her with silver on her skin, stabbing her in different nonfatal parts of her body with silver daggers, and forcing wolfsbane down her throat before decapitating her lifeless body to make sure she was dead. While two of the others beat, cut, and burned him and left him for dead after having their way with him. 

He came to near nightfall and started to wander through the woods, he’d never been to the town before, but he knew it existed as his parents had sometimes gone for supplies. He’d had no intentions of staying, only to find something to bury his mother and what he could of his father. On his way he collapsed, and two days later was found barely alive by someone.

When he came to, again, a few days later he was in a strange bed in a strange place with strange people. He’d been taken to the town’s medic, and had people asking him questions. Ones that he had answers to, but knew he had to lie about. Because of his appearance, he was taken to the orphanage, though he was only there less than a week before running away. 

He lived on the streets and in abandoned places, learning ways to survive off this new type of land. Sometimes with the help of others that lived there as well, but often on his own. When others started noticing that he wasn’t getting an older they left.

Over the next hundred or so years Benji lived a nomadic life, never able to stay in any place for too long. He learned other skills from those who were willing to teach him, usually in exchange for some type of work, and even found a few that gave him a home, even if eventually he always left. Even with how kind some of the people who took him in over the years were, they never truly felt safe with any of them. Still, suffering from nightmares of the hunters, though they’d happened less and less over the years. 

They've lived all over, explored new places, fought in some wars, protested others, gained and lost friends, spent time in prison, traveled and lived with carnivals, magic shows, and theater troupes, and lived several other lifetimes before. (Not necessarily in that order)

They came to Faerune some 20 odd years ago. The first place since with his parents that he’d ever felt a true sense of safety. It was also the first place he didn’t feel he would have to eventually leave because of his inability to ever truly grow up. 

It was here that they gave themself the name Benjamin or Benji for short, always changing his name whenever he found a new place to live. 

While Benji can’t grow old or get sick and die as a vampire/werewolf hybrid he still has had his fair share of injuries and close calls with the plenty scars to prove it. Some scars that are older than most people and their grandparents combined. Not to mention that not all scars are physical. It’s nothing short of a miracle, that they’ve lived as long as they have. Perhaps there was something to his mother naming him Ansel, a name he's always given as his middle name if asked, which one of the meanings of is 'God's protection'