#this isnt something you should read sober but we wrote it sober so do as you wish

[curdledbeefcake]

My bestie westie and I have started writing this crack-fic and it would be totally killer to have some folk who take kindly to reading get their hands on it. We plan on premiering a chapter weakly and we hope you see something that interests you enough to peruse and check in.

[arthurflecksgirl]

Artie falls in love with you / Arthur Fleck short story

Disclaimer: Suicidal thoughts, sex, drunk Arthur, romantic, sweet

“How...how many kisses?“

Arthur was lying on the couch, burying his face in the pillow. The two of you went out on a date for the third time today and you were truly in love with him.

“Just tell me sweetheart, how many?“ He mumbled. The couple glasses of wine werent a good idea considering that he was on his medication and was never really drunk before. You felt kinda bad about his condition right now. But you really tried to get him out of his apartment and did choose a good restaurant to finally get him to eat something. He never ate propery and looked kinda starved. Also a side effect of his meds. You felt good, watching him eating half a plate today, so you ordered some wine,too.

You kneed in front of the couch to made sure he's comfortable, petting his soft, sweaty curls “What do you mean?“

He smirked at you “How many smoochies will I get from you tonight?“ His face lighted up looking at you. His childlike grin made your knees weak every time.

You kept on playin with his hair “Many,Arthur.“

“But how much?“

He tried to get up and kiss you on the cheek, making kissing noises and almost fell from the couch “Oooops“ he buried his face in your neck “I almost fell. Good thing I fell in your arms,huh?“ His breath felt hot against your skin. The smell of his hair felt like home. “Yeah Arthur, I'm afraid you're a bit drunk.“

Arthurs smile grew even more “I'm not drunk. I just love you so much and need to know how many?“ A sloppy kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Countless,Artie.“

He sunk back into his pillow “Wow, thats a lot!“

You took the blankets and covered him with it “Just try to get some sleep,okay? You will get all the kisses when you're sober again“.

He crawled up under the sheets, his beautiful face lookin slightly weathered. “Hey (YN) wanna hear a Joke? “

“Sure“

“So this man comes into an libary“ he chuckles in his pillow already.

"...and asks for a book on how to commit suicide.

And the libarian said  Fuck off, you won`t bring it back"

He can`t help but laugh about his own joke. His dark homor said more about himself than you wanted to admit but you were very drawn to his view of things. He always seemed to feel everything with an intensivity you have never seen on someone else before. Eighter if he was happy or sad. When you met him he told you he never felt happy in his whole life but you felt like it changed dramatically since you dated. Knowing that he was all alone by himself, expect from living with his mother his whole life still breaks your heart. Never have you met someone more caring. He loves to make late night conversations while cuddeling up under the blankets, about everything that was going on in his head. Sometimes he had troubles explaining what he was trying to say but you loved his way of observing things around him. He payed attention wo every datail. You admired him, which he couldnt understand. He loved to be seen and he loved that you listened to him carefully. But he still wasnt sure why you loved him so much. You guess he wasnt used to this kind of attantion.

"Thats a good one,Arthur!"

He was getting sleepy "Yeah... you know what (YN) there are many more jokes in my journal, you know? I want you to read it. "

"The jokes?"

"The whole thing"

His eyes got heavier now.

"There are not only jokes in it" his eyes tried to focus on you "I was writing about you,too.I want you to read it"

Your hand slit under the blanket to caress his chest "About me? Really?"

"Yeah" the scar on his upper lip liftet when he did that smirk and it always made you blush. He even managed to make you blush while lying drunk on the couch. You felt kinda bad by getting turned on seeing him in this condition.

"I dont know Arthur, I feel like this is kinda personal. I dont want to disturb your privacy by reading your journal.

"Just do it!"

"Artie, you`re drunk. What if you dont want me to read it anymore in the morning?"

He was leaning  over to give you sloppy kisses again "Thats why I want you to read it now." He was pointing his finger at you "Hey, wanna hear another one?"

You gave him a soft kiss on his forehead "Get some sleep, Arthur. You need to rest now"

He falls back into the pillow and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

After you made sure he fell asleep you looked at his diary. He really said he wanted you to read it. And that he wrote about you.

You werent sure if you should take a look. This felt so personal. On the other hand... You were more than curious about what he might thought of you. You just started dating and had your first kiss some days ago. He was a really good kisser. You guessed he didnt really knew what to do at first but he was so emotionally involved. He seemed to soak up every second of the moment. Like he really wanted this. He was right there in the moment with you, which you loved.After the kiss he confessed that he never was with a woman before and you think he was a bit ashamed about it. But he still wanted you to know. You didnt mind. You thought it was cute actually. And you wanted nothing more than being his first. You would love him all night. Like he deserved to be loved.

Another stare at his diary. You put my hands on the cover. Arthur Fleck case number 064823. Sure he had some problems. But you wanted the both of you  to figure them out together. You wanted to hold his hand when he was in the waiting room to attent his appointments. You still werent sure what the exact diagnose was. You didnt wanted to upset him by asking too much about it. But you knew that he took anti depressants and anti psychotics.

You opened the first page of his diary. Some jokes, really dark ones. Mostly about death.

You turned the pages. Observations about homeless people. More dark jokes. Sad thoughts about being left alone.  You didnt really read all of it cuz it still felt like you were disturbing his privacy. So you tried to find the pages which are written about you and searched for your name to pop up and there is was.

Your name was written in big, red letters that looed like lipstick. With a big smiley. Your heart jumped out of my chest when you saw it. There was something so cute about it and you imagined him drawing this the night, after you met.

You took a deep breath and started to read as your hands were shaking.

"Today I met the sweetest girl. She was new in my neighborhood and seemed to be different from all those aweful bricks here in Gotham. She has a nice smile. An authentic one. Not like my own smile, which is never authentic for so many reasons. I dont even know what a real smile is. But when I saw her , I smiled and for the first time in my entire life  it felt like a real smile.

So she had those big packages to carry and i was just standing there, staring at her and suddenly she asked me for help. I was never been asked for help before. People tend to ignore and avoid me a lot. So I was very pleased to help her with her packages. We got into an conversation and I told her a joke. And she was laughing. I love it when people laugh at my jokes. I mean, I wanna do stand up comedy so bad. I need people to think that I`m funny. And I know I am. ---smiley face---

Anyway, I felt like finally someone sees me. The next day she came up to me when I was about to get to th pharmacy and she asked me out on a date. I couldnt belive it at first. I have never been on a date before. I was kinda nerveaus. Why would a beautiful, young woman like she is go out with me?

Of course I said yes.

I was dreaming about this for so long. Maybe she could be my girlsfriend. This would be a dream come true. I already told her that I have some issues, because she asked me why I was going to the city and I didnt thought twice and told her I have to buy my anti psychotics. I know that this wasnt a good move but it seems like it didnt scare her away. Well, she doesnt know how bad it really is by now.

I really hope that this time she is real and I`m not having visions or daydreams again.

Sometimes its hard to tell.

Some days I even think the meds make it even worse. But at the same time I am afraid to go off my meds. I did it once and I did some bad shit. I even ended up in Arkham for a very long time. Which wasnt that bad really.

Sometimes I think I felt better when I was locked up.

Not being able to leave my room, being with my thoughts all day, drifting away in daydreams gives me comfort. Its like ignoring the cold, dark world outside. The world doesnt care about me anyway. So why should I? The sad thing is, I still do care. I thought about ending my own life so amny times. Almost every day. But I never really tried it. Its just a game I play with myself.

How long? How long until it is not a game anymore?

How long till I have the guts to do it?

Oh man, I`m drifting away again. I wanted to talk about the GIRL!!!

She`s gorgeous. Just gorgeous.

I wish I could kiss her. I`m 35 and I hadnt had my first kiss yet. Its TIME!

I tried it once with this girls from scool i was in love with but I got so nerveaus that I started to laugh at her face and she thought I was laughing at her. Yeah well... she ended up punching me in the face and I never tried it ever since.

But I dreamed about it a lot. How would it feel to have someones lips pressed against yours? Softly and intense. To taste someones tongue in your mouth, to just melt into each other.I would never stop. I feel like a kiss is a connection on a higher level and I really wanna experience it with someone.

I got some other fantasies,too.

They`re pretty dirty and I dont feel like I can talk about them right now.

So i`m gonna quit writing for today and hope that the girl isnt already sick of me.

You turned the page and took a look at Arthur. He was humming in his sleep. Looking peaceful. All the words in his diary overwhelmed you up to a point where you didnt know what to think anymore. You hoped he enjoyed his first kiss. You really hoped your kiss was worth the wait.

The next page was just black scribbles all over the pages. Little drawings of people and cats. A lot of cats.

The next page was written on again.

"Today I woke up and wanted to die. I don`t even know why. It was just a gut feeling. I was miserable andthe darkness was caving in on me. But then I thought about the girls I just met and that she really seemed to like me. So I decited not to kill myself. Not today."

You thought about putting the diary aside. This was a lil too much for you. You didnt knew he was in such a dark place mentally. You were kinda scared but  couldnt stop reading eighter.

"So...I remembered her kiss, my first kiss and this memory was so strong. I am sure it wasnt just imagined. This time I am sure it was real. It has to be. I wanted to distract myself from suicidal thoughts and started to touch myself while thinking of her. Maybe I should write her a love letter. Or bring her flowers. Or both. I think I`ll do both. Anyway, I touched myself while thinking about sleeping with her and I finally felt something again. I tried so many times but my meds wouldnt let me cum. It barely happens. Thinking about her kiss, her hands in my hair, on my thights, between my legs.... and her sweet voice on my ear helped me a lot. I felt passion and  love and  I came so hard, you wouldnt even wanna know. I hope Penny was asleep and didnt noticed anything. This would be embarrassing as hell. I surely made some noises.

I imagined that I took her hand and made her dance all through the living room to Frank Sinatra songs and we got closer and kissed. She told me how much she loved me and how much she wanted me. I held her face in my hands and kissed her so hard, all my make up smeared up on her beautiful face. I am always wearing clown make up in my sexual fantasies. It makes me more confident.  

She just grabbed me and took my clothes off, threw them all over the room, threw me on the bed and covered my body with kisses. I felt loved for the first time in my life and all I wanted was to be inside her. To wear her like a coat that keeps me warm. I imagined her being on top of me, whispering in my ear how much she wants me to fuck her.  And yeah I know in reality she would have dominated me for sure. But in my imagination I just got on top of her and made love to her till she was out of breath. I could almost feel her breath in my neck, feel her sweet, soft hands all over me. It was just so real.  I wish it was real.

Could it become real some day?

My body was reacting in a way I didnt even knew was possible before.

I want to expercience it again. With even more details.

I think i wil get back to bed and try it one more time.

And afterwards I will write her a letter. Or two.

I just wish she never leaves again."

Blank page

Another blank page.

You put the diary aside and got up on the couch.

You crawled up under his blanket and felt the warmth of his tiney, fragile body which you want to hold for the rest of your life.

[scadplaysdnd]

a reflection

aka “holy fuck mom its been a year”

just warning yall now this is about to get hugely personal and if you’d rather not see insight of the worse sides of me or what’s been going on behind the scenes then i fully understand not reading this. i wont be offended. this is kind of as much for myself as it is anyone else.

so there have been a couple times in my life where ive had to look at myself and go “if i dont reach out for help of some kind, something really bad is going to happen”. around this time last year was one of those times. i was three credits shy of getting my degree and the last thing i needed to do was an internship, which would have started around this time and finished up by the end of 2016. i would have finished my education and gotten my degree.

and then i would have died.

id known this fact for a couple months now but as we were reaching two months from the end of the year i had this thought--maybe i should like, not do that??? so i put the internship on hold. i took a semester off on medical leave. while all of this was going on, kelly and erik had come to me asking me if i wanted to play dnd. i said sure, though i was pretty wary. id only ever played dnd once beforehand and it ended really badly--basically my character died and the rest of the party kind of callously left her behind which hurt and sucked.

ANYWAY i came up with the basic concept for tami. i know i wanted to play an orc because it was always weird to me that orcs are like the stereotypical and defacto villains that most parties are pitted against from the very beginning--what must it be like to be one of those people? but i wanted her to also diverge from the typical orc playable character, in that she was going to be quiet, stealthy, dexterous, and “level headed” (in quotes because yknow her emotions are something she’s always struggling with).

basically tami naruto jumping through the trees was always a key character concept from the word go.

but character creation is easy for me. ive been doing it nonstop since i was 10 years old. i also joined a new roleplay group around this same time. creative endeavors are something i can still pursue rather easily even in the throes of the worst mental breakdowns. in fact, its probably the reason ive survived most of them.

and i had no idea how much dnd was going to be that.

by this point, things were getting really bad and we were basically deciding what to do with me. my support network as ill call them (basically my therapists and doctors) were thinking i needed to be admitted into some kind of program and i agreed with them. but they wanted me to go to an inpatient program--essentially either being hospitalized or cut off from everything while i was taught how to yknow. not die.

but i didnt want to be cut off from everything. i wanted to play dnd. it was pretty much the only thing i had going for me at the time, since i wasnt doing any work or school. not to mention most of my irl friends were still in school or just generally busy and it was pretty much the only social thing i had to look forward to.

of course, that wasnt the only thing. in general, i just really didnt like the idea that i wouldnt be able to have a phone or computer for xyz months, quite literally being cut off from everyone and everything, including all of my essential coping mechanisms that have been keeping me alive thus far. but really, i knew that if i left the campaign just as it was starting for what would probably be months, i wouldnt be able to come back. and i didnt want that.

so i put my foot down and we got me enrolled in a local outpatient program. every day for 5 hours, i had to go to group therapy and learn how to Not Die. i had to go completely sober. i had to get drug tests. it was......hard, to say the least. it was scary and frankly humiliating to get to that point where i had to be constantly monitored to make sure i wasnt a danger to myself or others--even more so that it was justified.

every day we’d have to check in, let them know what our level of suicidal ideation was among other things, and i remember for those first few months, it was never none for me. but as long as it was passive, it was alright. in response, we were supposed to take a step back and look for things to live for, and look forward to. every friday we had to write about what we were planning on doing for the weekend.

and every friday i wrote the same thing: dnd.

it was honestly everything i needed during this time. i was going through a pretty rough period of agoraphobia and social anxiety, but once a week every week i got to be social as someone who wasnt myself. my experience with dnd hadnt been much up until that point, but almost none of you guys had played before. i felt almost an obligation to make a character that was somewhat take charge and open, in an effort to coax you guys out for the same. its kind of hard to remember at this point considering where we all are now, but at the beginning there, i know it was rough for a lot of us. i felt like i had to take charge, which was so the opposite of how i was actually living my life at the time.

and it was...nice. tami is much more confident and forthright than i am, and i had to force myself out of a lot of comfort zones to put myself in that place. but as weeks went on, it became easier, both in and out of character. all yall nerds are busy now but back then we were hanging out practically every night and it gave me a chance to not be alone with everything i was going through. unlike with say, the roleplay group, i wasnt just my character--i also got be myself with you guys. i got to rediscover who i was and could be during a time where i really didn’t see myself as anything worthy, let alone anything at all. plus, my connections to others has always been a driving force of me Not Dying and being able to be a part of such a blossoming close group was essential while living at home with little contact to my other friends.

and this went on for months. in that time, through the program, i was able to learn some essential, new coping mechanisms. i discovered some trauma that was affecting me way more than id given it credit for and was able to start working through it in a way that i hadn’t for years. through helping and supporting the others in my group, i was able to do the same for myself.

while all this was going on, i was constantly doodling tami and others in the margins of my notes. i was singing the praises of the group and the campaign to my program, whose members also became somewhat invested in the story and started asking me every week what had happened. it became such a huge part of my identity and every day that soon members of the program began to identify me with the game itself. it played such a huge role in my recovery.

but by march, i had graduated the program. id started up my internship, and was on my way to getting my degree. i got a nepotism job at my dads company, and i was actually leaving my house on a fairly regular basis. i dont want to say that it was all sunshine and rainbows because it wasn’t. i still had some pretty dark periods, and there were times that if you asked for a check in, i wouldnt be able to honestly say that there was no suicidal ideation.

but i kept on. and the only consistent thing throughout all of this was dnd. i started my own campaign on top of all of that, which has been an adventure in and of itself. tami has been through a lot, both through what has happened and general character development. it would be impossible not to after a year, even if it hasn’t been nearly as long in game. 

i thought i had some sort of linear progression to all of this, and this would be the point where i wrap it up all neat and say that im all better and its all because of dnd but that.....isn’t true. its not true in life OR dnd, and i think thats why i like the game so much?? its narrative for sure, but there’s also so much uncertainty and surprise that you don’t get in general writing or roleplay. not everything works out plainly and neatly, with things being completely fucked just by a dice roll. it can be just as messy as life is. which is funny because thats exactly what i used to HATE about the game, and why i didnt want to play in the first place. i didnt want to not have control over the narrative. i didnt want to not have control over MY narrative

but i needed to give up that control if i was ever going to get help. i needed to put my safety, my mental health, my life into other peoples hands. i needed help and i needed connections--and thats kind of what dnd is all about. and in the end, it still might not matter. our characters can still die, the story can still go in a way that not even the dms are prepared for, we might not save the world.

BUT WE ALSO MIGHT!! we’re going to work together and try our best and do everything in our power to fulfill our own quests, help one another, and create a greater good for ourselves and the world around us!!! and its like yeah, im not fully recovered, i dont think full recovery is ever going to really be an option for me, but i can keep going, and i know im always going to have the support of yall and the people who care about me. that means more to me than you could ever know.

and not to be a downer but like...im still going to die, someday. maybe in the ways that i thought, or maybe not. and in the meantime i might not figure out my life plan or get an amazing job or even move out anytime soon. but for once, that thought isnt as paralyzing and world ending as it was this time last year. its okay for things to be uncertain. its okay that things might not work out neatly in the end. and i think dnd played a huge role in helping me come to terms with that.

so remember like four paragraphs ago when i said i was going to start wrapping this up?? lmao for anyone who made it this far, i salute you and thank you. this game has been really important to me but more so its YOU PEOPLE. you guys are just such a wonderful and awesome group of people and its been a privilege taking this journey with you for this last year--and for many more years to come! we’ve been at this for two months in game and who knows where we’ll all be this time next year or the year after or even more after that. i dont know!!!! and thats okay

love yall im gonna go order a pizza now peace  ✌ ✌ ✌ (i have had nothing to drink thanks)

[thebrightestringaroundthemoon]

anyway time to use this blog for what i created it for i guess and type out a big long thing about how im a worthless piece of shit and should pour myself a nice big glass of creamer, sugar, and clorox. i literally serve like? no purpose? in life? at all? im a completely directionless failure that operates with about the complexity of a fucking roomba, running into the same goddamn couch over and over again and slightly redirecting. if i get lucky, i run into a different couch, but nothing fucking changes. i do the exact same thing over and over again: surround myself with wonderful, fantastic people, fuck it up and make them hate me, and then spiral into a pit of my own pointless fucking despair until i realize im such a fucking failure of a person i cant even muster the energy it takes to fucking die so i just get up again in the morning and go again. rinse and fucking repeat. and its not like i have some horrible life or anything, im just profoundly unfit to exist on this planet. i have wonderful friends who actually, honest to god care about me and its evidently not good enough for me?? so i just respond to everything by assuming the worst, spiralling, and being too much of a dumb bitch to fucking talk to A N Y B O D Y about A N Y T H I N G cuz i guess i’d rather make a dumb edgy tumblr blog named after the lyrics to a fucking asia song than actually solve any of my problems. i guess its too much to solve a problem when the fundamental core of who you are as a person is the fucking problem. i mean, there is a solution, but ive already covered why nobody needs to be worried about me doing that! bnobody needs to be worried about me doing anytuhing! accomplishing anything! ever becoming anything! ever managing to do much more than drag myself out of bed in the morning and inspire a profoundly sad mixture of pity and annoyance in everyone iv’e ever come into fucking contact with! im sitting here debating fixing the fucking apostrophe in the last sentence and its driving me fucking mad while real people have real fucking problems and my cardboard cutout ass bad edgy teen novel stupid bitch excuse for a person ass is sitting here doing THIS with my fucking time. I have things i shuold be doing, could be doing, but this is legitimately all i can bring myself to fucking contribute to society at this point. the surest sign that the people around me are fucking saints is that theyve stuck around this fucking long but honestly i dont fucking undeerstand. i guess thats the whole point of shit like saints, you arent supposed to be able to understand, its superhuman compassion, even for those who dont fucking deserve it. or maybe its just because i fundamentally dont work. i dont have any sort of actual power when it comes to my life. these are the idle musings of a bewildered spectator, the one person who comes to the party, stays sober, and sits on the sidelines and watches the fucking idiocy unfold. except instead of drunkenly stumbling around and telling my friends how much i love them, im stone cold sober and sitting on the sidelines watching myself fail to take even the most basic fucking steps towards fixing literally any problem that im dealing with. broken. non functional. i dunno if i was born a failure, though. i think that might be giving myself a little too much credit. other people were dealt infinitely worse hands than i was and they turned out fucking wonderful. i know a couple of them. no, i think im the way i am because of me. i probably had all the chances i needed to become something resembling a human being, and instead im whatever i am now. how can i be excited about some sort of future for myself when i can barely manage a relatively privliged day to day existance? i have friends, im not starving, im in college, i have an apartment. im far from rich but im able to afford to go to college. that should be enough. why the fuck isnt that enmough. why cant i just be fucking satisfied why cant i muster some sort of positive fucking emotions why does joy last a few moments why can i do this so much easier than writing anything positive about my life why does this flow like it does like a fucking river why cant i stop my hands why why what the fuck why why am i like this why was i born why am i who i am it flows so easily it just comes out but i cant tell anyone and i cant rely on anyone because im not anyone in noone im the fucking nobody that people keep around them to make themselves feel better and the only reason i have the slightest bit of doubt about that is that i love my friends too much to ever accuse them of something like that but then again does it fucking count when its someone like me do i qualify as a fucking person does it count as hurting someone’s feelings or using them when that someone isn’t a someone is just an empty fucking shell that was only gifted with the capacity to retain HURT thats all i can fucking remember thats all that sticks with me HURT i cant fucking be rid of it and its not some sort of innate inherent biological failing its who i am as a person i did this to myself i do this to myself i dont know that i will ever stop doing this to myself. all i can hope for is that one day i gain the strrength the fucking self esteem and self respect to kill myself. maybe it isnt self respect i need for that but respect for my friends. its selfish to put them through me. the pain they’d feel from my death would last a short time if at all. it would be so much better than forcing them to know me for however long this failing fucking body will carry my empty shell of a spirit onwards thjrough a world that i dont deserve to fucking inhabit. my inner monologyue put on paper sounds like a fucking evanescence song and i hate myself for it so much jesus fucking christ. i fundamentally do not like myself. as a person. on any level. i do not like myself. i wouldnt be friends with me, and ironically i hate myself for that too. but who would? who the fuck would? why does anyone? do they? maybe thats my one fucking talent. convincing people im likable. worming my way into their fucking lives until they trust me only to realize that i am not a human being. im an empty shell, a fucking roomba of a person. i can tell when ive run into something and back up so i can run into it again. i cannot solve my own problems. i cannot even conceptualize them. im something below a human cursed with the fucking ability to think at the level of one. my ocd is really really desperately trying to get me to scroll up and fix all the spelling and grammar errors but i dont know if itll hurt more to ignore them or to have to read the dumb ashit i just wrote. earlier i said that i wanted this to flow less easily and here we are i guess. though earlier i meant it in the context of only being able to properly conceptualize negative feelings and never being abkle to hold onto anything piositive i feel, and that hasn’t been magically fixed or anything, im just having trouble feeling anything at all now. im a completely blank slate. i havent even cried once troday. i cant. i cant care about my own fucking inadequacy and failure as a very basic human being enough to even fucking cry. i cried about an anime a couple nuights ago. i can muster emotion for that. but as soon as i look inwards i dont see ahyuthing thEres NOTHING FUICKING THERE THERE IS NOTHING FUCKING THERE THERE IS NOTHING FUCKING THERE I AM NOT A HUMAN BEING I AM NOT A HUMAN BEING I AM BROKEN I AM EMPTY I AM A {PLAGUE ON WHOEVER HAS THE PURE FUCKING MISFORTUNE TO BE A GOOD ENOUGH PERSON TO TAKE PITY ON ME i dont want to die, even. too many steps, too much feeling, too much. i just want to stop. to end. i want to no longer be. ill lock tghat away with all the other things id love to happen but know never will. that ones at the forefront though. it always will be. until i grow the fucking compassion to put others out of my misery. my roomate just texted me an innocuous questiona nd i texte d bacjk normally emojis and all im normal dont you see everyone im normal nothings wrong with me. oh sure sometimes i have a bad day but im fine everybody IM FINE you aren’t you have to put up with me ill fucking worm my way into your life and convince you im a real human being you can hold a congersation with only to snatch the fucking rug out from under you as soon as you actually attempt to engage with me on any level and i just end up eiother hurting you or revealing accidently that there is no such thing as luna thats not a fucking person its a name assigned to a loose collections of disorders, bad habits, and a gaping emotional black hoile from which nothing can fucking escape, jammed into an ugly broken body thats going to kill me early and doesnt even compensate by making me hot. wHEE. and of course, unable to be happy with anything, i will simultaneously complain about my own impending death due to horrific nutrition, subastance abuse (just the fun kinds so people dont realize anything is wrong WHEEEE) and some fucky illness that ive now gone and stopped medicating because im a stupid worthless bitch, AND I WILL COMPLAIN ABOUT THIS WHILE SIMULATENOUSLY WANTING TO DIE what do i want? who the fuck knows! not me! that’s a redundant statement, of course “me” doing know bercause thats not a thing im not a person! id love to blame it on my complete and total internal faliure as a person that i always end up hurting people, but honestly its probably because i dont put enough fucking effort in. even right now,. literally hours after a good friend of mine ostaroted feeling like shit in a way that is almost for sure my fucking fault, im doing THIS instead of trying to right the situation (to b fair she made a point of not inviting me but inviting the rest of the group?) or did she am i just reading into this? who knows! who the fuck knows! everyone but “me”! ejveryone else knows! becayuse its probably REALALLY FUCKING SIMPLE BUT NOOOOO I CANT EVEN MANAGE THAT CAN I I CANNNOT EVEN FUCKING MANMAGE TO MANAGE THAT CAN I thats too much for lil ol me! i am aggressively pointless! i am the single least important collection of fucking atoms on this planet! every last fucking rock i stepped on walking to and from the class that i skipped half of today is more important and has contribtued more to the grand scheme of things than i ever have or ever will, and thats jkust the inanimate fucking objects on the ground. lets not even get started on all the actual people whose time my existance waste, who i am a fucking affront to  by sheer virtue of being in any way associated with them at any point in time ever. i guess this is it, this is what i get when my entire personlaity is a loosely cobbled together collection of self deprecating jokes and a fake ego, desperately attempting to patch over an interior that has holes in it less than it just is one giant fucking hole. i was, am, and will be nothing, not even enough to earn the use of “I” at the beginning of the sentence. dinner is in 15 minutes. my friends will be there. im paralyzed. i belive every word i wrote above so why

would i inflict myself upon them but i 

i cant not

i so deeply want to

to go sit in uncharacteristic silence and hope somebnody notices and asks me whats up so i can give them a dumb, abridged, mostly fake version and get the sad pity looks and then feel bad about exploiting them and then

rinse

repeat

because i am not a person