#trying to say that i was neurotic crazy and projecting onto them
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Visit Tumblr Blog
Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.
Last Seen Tumblr Blogs
Fun Fact
Tumblr’s website traffic is steadily declining.
Text
You should always be wary of people who swear off therapy and then minimize, attack and step over your own feelings and experiences, because they think they're above having therapy, or they've tried it for one day, or one week and didn't seek another professional's advice.
Because genuinely, my heart goes out to everyone whose tried therapy and it hasn't worked for them because of problems outside of their control. But for people who fight you on the fact that therapy never works, not for anyone, and that they're better off just reading psychology and theory, those are the people that you should criticize the most.
It is obvious to anyone in the disabled or neurodivergent or mentally ill community that plenty of professionals are fucking stupid or ignorant because they haven't researched enough or learned past a certain point in their lives and stopped helping their patients beyond what they took tests for. And those are the people who let down people the most when it comes to helping people. Those are the people you shouldn't trust with your time or money.
So what makes you think that reading a couple psychology books, probably the same old, traditional bullshit, that they taught to all those terrible doctors, will actually help with yours or anyone else's mental health issues. Everyone whose met an annoying psychology major knows. It's clear that trying to be intellectually superior than a literal patient in therapy, or someone actually living with the disabilities described in those books, isn't the brightest idea.
As someone whose tried and failed to DIY their own mental health journey, it is not easy nor recommended to go through this shit alone. You probably shouldn't, because its damn well easy to make your mental health worse, because it's so easy to fuck something up. Like accidentally or purposely triggering yourself, in order to get to the bottom to why you're feeling something. It's not fun.
So please, if you're having trouble finding therapy, there are community resources out there to help you deal with shit on your own, but don't go spouting stuff you don't actually understand. Don't go trusting strangers who say they have the answers to self help, and then twist around actual clinical terms to bring their point home, don't listen to those people. Don't listen to people who spitefully swear off therapy because they think they can handle it all by themselves. Just don't trust people who don't actually have a degree, and still criticize the ones that do. If some advice to you, seems off, or overblown or diminished, you should be questioning that advice. You should be getting a second opinion.
I make mental health and disabled content all the time on here because I want people to be informed, and to find community and resources to get the help that you need. But you can't pull therapy words out of your ass and expect people not to question you. Talk to the community and don't just go informing random strangers, if you don't know what you're talking about.
If you abuse your platform to misinform other ignorant people, you deserve to have your platform taken away. So treat the chance to educate people as a privilege, don't use it to spout bullshit that you don't understand. Therapy isn't a last resort, so don't listen to anyone that treats it that way.
#babey posts#this shit is a red fucking flag!!#i just tried arguing with someone about the way they were misusing clinical terminology#and then they decided to diminish and minimize and gaslight me#trying to say that i was neurotic crazy and projecting onto them#this is some emotionally abusive bullshit#don't trust strangers who give shit medical advice like that#especially with the 'hold yourself accountable by shaming yourself for having negative thoughts'#LIKE THAT'S SO WRONG!!!! STOP#i can say a million things that they were saying wrong#but posting therapy terms in a community that is not actually psychology was one of them#this is not the same as people who genuinely cannot access therapy whether to an abusive situation or to actual lack of insurance#these are the people who complain about issues that could be solved through therapy and say that therapy is stupid and doesn't work#sometimes therapy doesn't work for people!! but please try it.#if you have access to it. do it.#and if you don't have access to it. talk the community with the same disorders as you.#watch youtube videos and talk to other people and seek support there.#please please please don't spread the idea that other people need to shame themselves for their issues in order to improve#thats the opposite of improving. that is literally the opposite.
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Undone, Chapter 14 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica
A/N: Welcome to Chapter 14 of UNDONE, our slow burn Bitney lesbian AU. Here’s a link to the previous chapters.
Summary: Bianca escapes to a gig in Atlanta at the perfect time, as things are getting real tense with Jared.
Thank you to everyone who beta’d while I changed around the plot 40 times: @kitschypixel @sheofthethrone @jillybean2314 @theartificialdane
TW: This story deals with themes of emotional abuse, and since that can be subtle, we’re going to keep a general TW on all of the chapters.
***
Bianca falls into bed beside Jared, sighing. Her buzz from dinner has unfortunately worn off and now she just feels tired. She glances over at Jared, who seems to be ignoring her, tapping furiously at his phone, brow furrowed.
She picks up her own phone, scrolling absentmindedly through Instagram. She pauses on Courtney’s latest picture: she’s in Sydney, at the Mardi Gras parade, surrounded by throngs of colorful revelers, covered in glitter, rainbow streaks in her hair. Her expression is jubilant, ecstatic.
Bianca likes the photo, begins to slowly type out a comment. “You look like...” her fingers hover over the keys, stomach twisting. Joy. Perfection. Everything I have ever wanted.
“What are you lookin’ at?” Jared asks, turning onto his side.
"Oh, um, my friend is in Sydney for Mardi Gras. It looks crazy,” Bianca answers.
“That Australian girl from the show? The lesbian?"
"Uh, yeah." Bianca is a little surprised that Jared made the connection. But, she supposes that she has mentioned Courtney to him a few times before. She’s certainly not trying to hide anything.
Jared moves a little closer, asking, “What does she look like? Is she cute?" He tries to grab her phone and she jumps away.
“Stop!”
Jared laughs, now enjoying the struggle.
"Why won't you let me see her?!"
"I'm in the middle of writing a comment!"
“So what?! Give me the phone!"
Bianca quickly deletes what she was writing, cheeks burning with...something. She’s not sure what, but she feels a little hot and wonders if maybe the alcohol from earlier hasn’t quite worn off like she thought. She gulps, handing over the phone and watching his face carefully.
"Daaaaamn..." Jared lets out a low whistle, clicking on Courtney’s username and checking out her other recent pictures. “Are you sure she’s a lesbian?”
“Uh, yeah. Pretty sure,” Bianca answers, slightly irritated.
“Huh. She doesn’t look like one. She looks...sexy.”
Bianca isn’t sure why that comment annoys her so much, but she doesn’t like the expression on his face as he scrolls through the pictures. It almost feels like he’s stealing something from her. When he double-taps a picture from last autumn, Bianca quickly snatches the phone back.
"What are you doing?!" she shrieks, and he begins to laugh.
"I just liked a picture, what?"
“But...but we're friends, and that was like, a thot picture of her in a bathing suit, from like months ago, you can't-oh my god..."
“Who cares?"
Bianca sighs and patiently asks, “If Willam posted a picture of his ass, would you like it?”
“Uh...if he looked like her, yeah.”
“Way to miss the point.”
“Okay, so just unlike it then. Or tell her it was me.”
Bianca stares at him for a moment before exclaiming, “That’s even worse!”
“B…” A sly smile spreads across Jared’s face. He leans in and murmurs, “Do you have a crush on this girl?” He presses a kiss to her neck.
“Stop it,” Bianca says, pulling away. “Of course not.”
“Yeah, you do,” he insists, arms sliding back around her. “You naughty girl.”
“I don’t-”
“It's okay, baby, it's hot.” Jared nuzzles her ear, hard dick against her hip. “My bad girl. Should I punish you?”
“Jared-”
“Remember that girl junior year? The redhead?”
Bianca’s stomach is tight, her breath shallow. Another protest is on the tip of her tongue, but seeing his sleepy-eyed leer, she relents, letting him pin her wrists over her head, climb on top of her.
“Don’t be ashamed, babe. I told you, it’s hot,” he says, smirking down at her.
Bianca nods, biting her lip. She supposes that she should be grateful. Not all husbands would be this open-minded. This forgiving.
“I mean, if it was a guy, I’d have to kill him. But…” Jared laughs, a hollow laugh that makes Bianca shiver. “But this? I’m into it.”
Bianca stares up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. Where the fuck did those come from? She brushes them away angrily, closing her eyes, while he slides down her pajama bottoms.
***
Courtney flops down onto her sofa, finally home after almost 18 hours of traveling. She breathes a sigh of relief and picks up her phone. Her first message sounds way too needy, and she quickly deletes it, trying to think of a way to say what she wants without being such an obvious jet-lagged emotional mess.
COURTNEY: I really miss the way you manhandle my seams <3
BIANCA: lol, you’re an idiot <3
COURTNEY: When do you leave for Atlanta?
BIANCA: Saturday.
COURTNEY: Shit. Maybe we can do lunch sometime this week?
BIANCA: I wish. I’m so fucking slammed with prep. I don’t even know when I’m gonna pack.
Courtney lets her head fall backwards, deflating a little. She’s been getting the sense that Bianca was pulling away, although sometimes it’s hard to tell if it’s real or just all in her head. The idea of waiting months before seeing her again is a crushing blow, but she doesn’t want to make her feel bad.
COURTNEY: Ok. I’ll let you get back to it then. Have a safe trip. <3
***
Bianca stares out the window at the puffy white clouds, a sense of relief making her feel more relaxed than she remembers being in...years, maybe. Maybe the most relaxed she’d ever been sober.
She hates to admit how tense things have been with Jared lately. But after she’d kissed him goodbye and gotten into the uber, it was as if every cell in her body exhaled.
Or, maybe it’s just the excitement of finally being a department head, for a beautiful little indie film set in the 1960s. Finally having a project where her creative vision would be fully realized, the director and producer basically giving her carte blanche because they loved her preliminary sketches so much. And of course, there’s the fact that she’ll be living in the same city as Latrice for the first time since high school. That must be it.
She smiles, bending down to drop a few treats into the dogs’ travel bag.
***
Bianca yanks open the door of the little sidewalk cafe and rushes over to Latrice - her oldest friend, the person who knows her best in the world. She throws herself into Latrice’s arms, the taller woman letting out a deep laugh as she embraces her tightly, saying, “I missed you, too, gorgeous.”
Once they’re seated, Latrice pushes a glass of sweet tea over to Bianca.
“Alright. Give me the latest. What’s going on? How’s your team? How’s Prince Charming coping with you being gone?”
“The crew’s great, I’m really excited about this show. And...he’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure about that?” Latrice asks with a chuckle. “Remember when we went to Barbados and he called you 20 times a day? That boy can barely breathe without you.”
“Well, he’s busy too,” Bianca says, feeling just a little defensive. Jared had spent her last 2 weeks in LA going on and on about what a sacrifice he was making, how hard her absence was going to be for him, how grateful she should be that he was so understanding. By the end, she had conceded every point out of pure exhaustion.
“Sure, I know. But...it’s hard to make a baby long distance. Is he gonna come visit for Game Day?”
Bianca forces a laugh.
“No, I don’t think so. Actually, I haven’t even been tracking for a couple months.”
“Really? Just letting Jesus take the wheel?”
“Yeah. Well…I mean, it’s been such a stressful process. And the last doctor I saw basically told me that I was like...trying too hard. And also...” Bianca trails off, looking down. She hasn’t admitted the next part out loud yet. Maybe she hasn’t even admitted it to herself.
Latrice covers Bianca’s hand with her own.
“Yeah?”
“I dunno. I guess…” Bianca looks away. “I’ve been having some doubts about whether we’re even meant to...have kids. What if it hasn’t happened for a reason?”
“B…” Latrice pauses, searching for the best way to respond.
“...well, isn’t it possible? Que sera sera and all that shit.”
“You know, someday, you’re gonna give yourself a break from all this neurotic self torture. And that will be a beautiful day,” Latrice says.
“You’re right.” Bianca clears her throat. “I just need to chill. Obviously. But...enough about my bullshit. Tell me about the wedding plans!”
***
Work is slow for Courtney in the spring, so she asks her old modeling agents to toss her some commercial work. When she learns about the first job they booked for her, she doesn’t know whether to be horrified or proud. It’s a pretty big print ad campaign, for Johnson & Johnson. She’s playing a mother, lovingly placing a BandAid on her baby. When Bianca learns of the whole thing via text, she’s utterly amused.
BIANCA: BAHAHAHAHAHA
BIANCA: Should I call you Mommy now?
COURTNEY: If that’s what you’re into ;)
BIANCA: omg
COURTNEY: It’s cool, I don’t kink shame
BIANCA: SHUT UP OMG
Later in the week, she texts Bianca from the set to give her an update, curled in a chair in the greenroom.
COURTNEY: OK so I’m at this shoot, and they tell me they want me to show some “respectable mum cleavage” in the shot when I lean over to put the band-aid on the kid. I LOL’d IRL, because hello? Wrong girl.
BIANCA: lol awwww. Can’t relate.
COURTNEY: Thanks, I’m WELL aware
BIANCA: ;)
COURTNEY: So their brilliant solution was to tape me into this wonderbra/bustier thing, and to further emphasize my (lack of) tits, they are contouring and highlighting the fuck out of my chest. I feel like a goddamn drag queen.
BIANCA: HAHA, you would be the worst drag queen. Do you even own makeup?
COURTNEY: MEANWHILE this damn baby is just sitting over in the corner drooling. He better not be making more than me.
BIANCA: He probably is. Needed: Caucasian baby, must not roll eyes when co-star waxes poetic about vegan pudding for 30 minutes.
COURTNEY: IF YOU ARE IMPLYING THAT THE VEGGIE GRILL PUDDING ISNT WORTHY OF POETRY THEN YOURE A DEMON
BIANCA: Calm down, crazy
COURTNEY: Omg they just applied the fake wound to him and it’s a little horrible looking. I’m actually worried that I might not put this band-aid on him properly. What if he bleeds out and dies? I don’t think I’m ready for motherhood. I CANT TAKE THIS PRESSURE
BIANCA: You’re gonna be fine. ;P
COURTNEY: Okay he made it. Phew.
BIANCA: I was on pins and needles.
It’s like an addiction, this need to share everything with Bianca. To make her laugh, to get her feedback, to know all of the mundane details of her day. To connect, as often as possible. Courtney knows that she’s in way over her head, but she doesn’t care. She just wants more.
***
Bianca doubles over laughing as Chris recounts a story of trying to take Latrice white water rafting. Latrice tries to chime in and dispute some of his facts, but she’s laughing too hard to be very effective.
“Honestly Chris. What on earth made you think that was a good idea?!” Bianca asks him, wiping tears from her eyes. She takes a sip of her wine and helps them load plates into the dishwasher.
“I...I don’t know. Seemed like an adventure?” Chris says with a sheepish grin. He places a newly washed pan in the drying rack.
“Lesson learned!” Latrice pipes up, sliding the leftovers into the fridge. “Now go away so we can talk about your dick.”
“You could just say that you wanna chill with your friend,” Chris laughs, kissing her on the cheek as he sails out the door.
Latrice slings an arm over Bianca’s shoulder and guides her into the living room.
“I’m really glad that I’m getting to know Chris better,” Bianca says, settling onto the sofa. “He’s just so great.”
“He is. I’m very lucky.”
“Well, you’re both lucky.” She flashes a grin and Latrice smiles back.
“How about you? How are you doing?”
“Good! Yeah, the show is humming along, the crew is better than I thought, it’s been…” Bianca shrugs, letting out a contented sigh. “It’s been amazing.”
“And...how’s Prince Charming? Still surviving without you?”
“He’s okay. Actually...” Bianca bites her lip nervously. “To be honest, it’s been kind of wonderful to be on my own. I haven’t really thought about him that much.”
Latrice raises an eyebrow.
“I know, it’s awful, right? I’m a terrible wife.”
“Of course not. Everyone needs some alone time, B. But...is it more than that?”
“No!” Bianca exclaims, a little too vehemently, then asks, “...Why?”
“You just seem a little tense every time I mention him.”
“Yeah, I don’t know.” Bianca looks down, fighting the urge to guzzle her entire glass of wine in one gulp.
“Are things okay with you guys? You know, it’s okay to have issues. Every couple goes through ups and downs. You don’t have to be perfect all the time-”
“I know that!” Bianca sighs. “Anyway, it’s nothing to do with him. Or…”
“I’m listening.”
“I think I may have...um...fallen for someone else.”
“You did what now?” Latrice sits back, eyebrow raised in judgment.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Bianca says, eyes downcast. “I haven’t done anything.”
“I just wonder how many years this boy has to jump through hoops before you see how good he is to you,” Latrice sighs.
Bianca swallows.
“I mean, come on, B. Is there really someone better out there? Or is this just more of the same commitment-phobic stuff that you’ve been putting him through since college?”
“Stop. Forget it. I’m sure this time away will...make me realize how much I miss him, and-”
“I just don’t know why you torture yourself. And him. He worships you. Why can’t you enjoy it? And who is this other person? Your typical pretty boy type?” Latrice asks.
“She’s-”
“Oh, so we’re back to girls, eh?” Latrice teases. “That’s fun.”
“It’s really annoying when you pretend not to know how bisexuality works,” Bianca informs her.
“Sorry, sorry,” Latrice rolls her eyes. “And does she grovel at your feet, like your husband?” The disapproval drips from her tone.
“No...she...it’s a totally different situation.” Bianca presses her lips together. She’s trying not to squirm, not to appear too gleeful, but thinking about Courtney always causes her to get a little giddy.
“Alright, go ahead. I can tell you’re dying to tell me all about her. Just remember, Jesus is listening.”
“Noted,” Bianca says, then leans forward, lowering her voice for some reason. Maybe to make things a little harder for Jesus to hear. “She’s...like...unbelievably gorgeous...but that’s not even the best thing about her. I mean, she’s sexy, but also so smart, and fun, and like...she has this charming, effervescent personality...I’m so fucked.”
“Yeah, sounds like it,” Latrice sighs. “Well...I mean, how deep are these feelings? Is it like, a crush, or…?”
“I think it started out that way,” Bianca admits. “Things are just like...I feel more myself when I’m with her. It’s like being with you.”
“Are you hitting on me now?”
“No,” Bianca laughs. “I just mean that like...I don’t know, the attraction is always there, right? But also, we’re friends.”
“You’re not friends with Jared?”
“It’s just...different with him. It’s more tense. More...complicated.”
“Couldn’t that just be a case of...you know, the grass is always greener on the other side?”
“It could be…” Bianca pauses thoughtfully, sipping her wine.
“Because you know, every relationship is complicated. But there’s a reason that you guys are still together, right? I mean, he suffered through that endless engagement. That means something.”
“It does. But Courtney-that’s her name, by the way.”
“Courtney,” Latrice mimics in a Valley-girl accent, making Bianca laugh a little. “Ugh. You would fall for a Courtney.”
Bianca smirks, then sighs. “Well, for starters, she doesn’t make me feel like my career is a pointless waste of time…”
Latrice opens her mouth, but then stops. It had been a throwaway comment, but something about it made her pause. For years, all Latrice heard about was how much Jared worshipped Bianca. His endless love and affection and understanding. The idea of him thinking that anything she does is a ‘pointless waste of time’ is...incongruous in a way that makes a giant red flag flash for Latrice. She tilts her head, careful to pay extra attention to what Bianca is saying, and particularly the way she’s fidgeting, the anxious look in her eyes.
“...and, I guess...spending time with her made me realize how often I’m walking on pins and needles around Jared. He’s so moody, and I...I thought it was me. You know, because I can be...”
Latrice frowns.
“You can be what?”
“I mean, I push people’s buttons. I’m not sensitive, and I make people upset. You know, you’ve seen it,” Bianca sighs.
“What are you talking about, B?”
“Well, like, remember in high school, with Alyssa?” Bianca begins tearing up the napkin in her hands.
“Yeah, I remember Alyssa, but what-”
“You know, I would say the wrong thing, trying to be funny or whatever, and she’d like, lose it. Remember? I was always making her cry, or-”
“Bianca, Alyssa was crazy. Like, legit bonkers. That wasn’t your fault, at all.” Latrice reaches out to grasp her hand.
“But I made it worse. I mean, I certainly didn’t help,” Bianca insists.
“Okay, sure. Because you were 17 years old. Not a mental health care professional. It still wasn’t your fault.”
Bianca looks down, and Latrice swallows.
“What does this have to do with Jared, though? Does he...I mean, is he as volatile as her? Because-”
“No, of course not.”
“So…”
Bianca takes a deep breath.
“He just...sometimes...gets...upset, and angry. Really angry, and I…it makes me...” Bianca wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “It’s unsettling, like I don’t know...when the rug’s gonna be yanked out from under my feet, and…and I don’t know if it would be right to bring a child into that...”
Latrice moves closer to her on the sofa, something clicking in her mind and filling her with fear and guilt. She feels like the worst friend in the world for not seeing it, for believing the stories, for failing to probe deeper before now. She squeezes Bianca’s hand a little, before asking softly, “B...has he ever hurt you?”
“No! God, no. Forget it, this is...I’m obviously just being dramatic, you know, so-”
“But he makes you feel...scared?”
“Not scared, exactly. Just...uneasy. Sometimes. I’m blowing this totally out of proportion. Probably just, like, to ease my own guilt about being a shitty wife who pisses him off and then fantasizes about my coworker like a dumb fucking-”
“Okay! Okay, so, let’s say, for a second, that you’re not blowing things out of proportion.”
“But I am. I mean you thought I was trying to say that he-” Bianca’s breath hitches. “He would never-”
“Okay.” Latrice holds up her hands. She can see that the vulnerable part of their conversation is over, and she doesn’t want to push Bianca any more, so instead she gets down to business. “I believe you. But...if things get worse, or...have you thought about what you would actually do? Where you would go? Do you have your own bank account, credit cards? Is everything joint, or-”
“Latrice, stop. This is ridiculous, I’m not some battered wife who needs-”
“No, but...you still might want to leave, at some point, so...didn’t you sign a pre-nup? What if he tries to claim that you cheated? Are his parents vindictive? We know the answers to all of these questions and you are totally fucked. You need to open a bank account, stat.”
Bianca looks down, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I’m not leaving, I already know that. And you were the one defending him ten minutes ago, so I don’t understand-”
“I know! I know, but...this is just a safety net, okay? Plan B. In case things get worse and you need... Look, Plan A is still that you stay married, and work out whatever you need to, and have a long life and beautiful children who will grow up as spoiled as your horrible little rat dogs.”
Bianca begins to laugh through her tears, crawling into Latrice’s arms.
“Why do I do this? Why do I ruin things?”
“Hey.” Latrice takes Bianca’s face in her hands. “I’m sorry if it felt like I was taking his side over yours...I’m on your side, always, okay?”
Bianca nods, letting her friend rock her, stroking her hair and telling her that everything is going to work out.
***
“Oh man,” Bianca groans, sinking into her bed. The dogs are going crazy, smelling everything and jumping all over her. “You guys excited to be home? Huh?” she asks, scratching Dede behind the ears.
“Not as excited as I am to have you back…” Jared says, sliding in beside her.
Bianca turns to look at him. Maybe there was something to that whole ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ after all. She smiles and runs her fingers through his hair.
“So...you missed me?”
“Like crazy,” Jared murmurs, nuzzling closer.
For a moment, Bianca feels utterly content, sleepy eyes falling closed. But then, as his hands move to her fly, popping the button, she wriggles away, sitting up a little.
“Seriously? It’s been over 2 months,” Jared whines, pulling her back down.
“I know, but I’m just...I’ve been traveling all day. I’m exhausted, and I feel filthy, and-”
“I like you filthy,” he growls into her ear. “Come on…”
“Jared…” she pushes him away harder.
“Fine! I got the fucking hint. You don’t have to be such a…” he scoffs. “Forget it.”
“I’m sorry. I just need to like, rest and then shower, and-”
“Whatever, Bianca. I’m a monster for wanting to have sex with my wife. Message received.” He rises from the bed.
Bianca doesn’t have the energy to chase after him. Not today. She falls back against the pillows with a groan.
***
They have a luxurious three weeks to prep season two of Silver Screens, and by the first shoot day, Bianca’s confidence in her work is soaring. Beth has trusted her more than ever, and she’s now designing nearly half of the costumes on the show. But as good as she feels about her job, nothing compares to the heart-bursting joy she feels when the trailer door swings open and Courtney comes flying into her arms, practically knocking her over.
“Hey!” Bianca says, hugging her tightly. She inhales deeply, loving the way Courtney melts into her arms, face tucked into the crook of her neck as if it belongs there. An embarrassing heat creeps into her cheeks as she pulls back a little. “How have you been?”
“Pretty good! Just got back from that music video shoot in Seattle. What about you? How was Atlanta? I’m so proud of you!”
“It was good. You know me, I love to boss people around.”
“And you’re so good at it,” Courtney says, still gripping both of her hands tightly. She glances down and then says, “Hey, where’d your nails go?”
“Oh, uh. Yeah, they kept breaking, so…” Bianca’s usual French tips have been replaced by short, shiny red nails.
“Hmm. I like these a lot better.” Her eyes dance mischievously. “They’re, uh...very practical.”
“Is your mind always in the gutter?” Bianca asks, cheeks burning, palms itching. She has an instinct to rip her hands away, but doesn’t.
“What?! I just said I like them,” Courtney giggles, squeezing Bianca’s fingers, gazing up at her with glittering eyes. “So, are we gonna hang out before the season starts to kick your ass? I really missed you.”
Bianca clears her throat and pulls up a stool, trying to cover the fact that she’s literally weak at the knees.
“Uh...sure...”
“Are you free Saturday?” Courtney asks.
“Actually, no. One of Jared’s douchey coworkers is having a barbecue, let’s-get-fucked-up-cause-it’s-summer type thing. And I promised his fiancée that I’d go, so...ugh. Saturday with the bros.”
“Sounds enchanting,” Courtney laughs.
“You should come!” Bianca blurts out, and then adds, “I mean, if you want. Willam is gross but he does know how to throw a party. And the house is supposed to be really cool, so...”
“That is an enticing offer…” Courtney tilts her head, pretending to think it over.
Bianca leans in. “I’m not gonna beg.”
“Well, that spoils all the fun,” Courtney tells her, eyes glimmering.
“Ha ha. Nevermind-”
“B…” Courtney places a hand on her shoulder. “You had me at ‘douchey coworker.’”
#rpdr fanfiction#bianca del rio#courtney act#bitney#latrice royale#lesbian au#slow burn#fluff#angst#undone#stephanie#veronica#tw emotional abuse#concrit welcome
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Life Story Part 97
It was May 31, 2011. Zack had agreed to be the driver in our trip to see the Bright Eyes concert that my sister Allison and I in particular had been dying to see for five months or more. Because after this concert, Bright Eyes was on hiatus as a project of Conor Oberst. Conor would continue with his solo projects, and other projects, but to me, it felt like the closure of Bright Eyes was the end of the 00's. There was something so anthemic about Bright Eyes in the 00's, regardless if you came upon it from a perspective of growing up and being young in those times, to the political strife of the Bush administration. Bright Eyes took on concepts of the beginning of the 21st century and poetically drew them together into these clear and consistent ideas within each album. It had been a world that I had felt very much alive and apart of, even lost and alone in Kendrick. The ideas that Conor Oberst had conveyed in his last album had involved elements of science fiction, religion, futurism, insanity. It was very atmospheric and a great album to spiritedly and wholesomely wave goodbye to us all as we sailed off into the postmodern reality of what would develop and become our dark technological future.
The car trip started well enough. Zoey, Allison and I sat in the back seat. Zack drove, and Sarah was in the passenger's side. The day was sunny, and all was well. Zoey wanted to meet Conor Oberst and tell him he saved her life. Allison had a tape of her songs she had put together in hopes he would give it a listen. Sarah had grabbed a wet mildewed rag from the counter by the bathroom and had made the fatal error of washing her face with it. Some horrible bacteria had been in that rag, and it blessed her eyes with infection. Her eyes were swollen shut and seeping with oozy liquids of infection. The doctor had given her some kind of eye drops, but it was going to be awhile before it got any better. I am sure she was in quite a bit of pain, but she wasn't going to not go to the concert.
When we got up to Spokane it was later afternoon. Josh, Whitney and Josh's sister Melissa had also traveled up to Spokane for the concert, but we had arrived first. We found the venue (the same one I had seen Gogol Bordello in seven months previous) and got in line. There were a lot of indie kids in the line, and a group of them had brought guitars and were sitting in circles singing pop punk songs. It reminded me of everything I had thought was cool when I was thirteen and I laughed. I felt antsy and nervous. I really wanted Allison to get her tape to Conor. To me it felt as important as when I had made the painting for Eugene Hutz and had managed to give it to him. I didn't want to let Allison down. I was disappointed that Conor Oberst was nowhere to be seen. Given the crowd that was already eagerly waiting to see Conor Oberst, it was unlikely a good opportunity would come forward for Allison to simply walk up to him and give him her tape.
We did end up seeing him a few times. He was as I imagined he would be. But he was wearing sunglasses and was whisked away by a group of people who surrounded him. Girls screamed emphatically at the sight of him. I tried to talk to Allison, but she wouldn't respond to me. I was trying initially to say supportive stuff to her – not to give up, that we might get an opportunity soon, and so forth. But she wouldn't answer me. Instead she glared at me. I began to panic, and feel guilty. I had to do something, anything to make it up to her. In a lot of ways, Allison was the only person in the whole world I felt like I had left. David was gone. Sarah was there – but not really there anymore, so to speak. I knew I had to get her in close proximity to Conor Oberst. It was the only way she would forgive me for being horrible. I wanted to explain to her that I wanted to help her get her tape to Conor. But the more I tried to ask her what was wrong, the more she glared at me and refused to speak. I asked her more openly why she was mad. She had never quite reacted to me like this. Eventually she started trying to get away from me like I was threatening. Sarah looked over and studied the situation. She too was very confused as to what Allison's sudden problem with me was.
I was hurt and baffled. I felt like I was standing on some kind of ice. The more I tried to find my balance in my social settings, the more I broke the ice beneath my feet. I was on the brink of losing my mind – and in this realization, the certainty that I had to do something drastic to make it up to her became a certainty. I had to show her just how much I believed in her music. She looked humiliated and disgusted with me, and when I tried to ask her why she was all of the sudden not talking to me, she told me to 'shut up', and 'get away from her'. I felt myself derailing. Zoey meanwhile was embarrassed by Allison and I and had moved up the line by making friends with the people in front of her to get ahead – leaving Allison and I in our state. I wasn't quite a spectacle, but it was almost. People were beginning to stare at us. I didn't have the composure or the stability to step down and accept her sudden rude behavior, and Allison wasn't thinking clearly enough to really understand why she suddenly loathed me so much she couldn't even respond to normal questions. My eyes were watering. I was trying hard not to sob outside in line for a Bright Eyes concert, but good lord things were falling apart on me fast.
One of the few permanent fixtures of Bright Eyes was this multi instrumentalist named Nate Walcott. He's one of those people who was integral to all the instrumental aspects of Bright Eyes but most fans didn't really know. Nate Walcott is an extreme introvert, neurotically so. I remember even watching a documentary once with Allison, and Nate Walcott is such an introvert and so shy, that him and Conor Oberst barely even talked, even though they both really liked one another. He had no interest in having fans. He was always there in the studio and at all the concerts, but he wanted to blend in and be forgotten about. Allison told me to shut up and told me she didn't want to give her tape to Conor anymore, and that it was all my fault. So, like the mentally stable person I was, I grabbed the tape out of her hand, spotted Nate Walcott and began to chase him in front of the crowd of people yelling at him to give the tape to Conor. It was desperate, it was insane. I was trying to prove how much I cared about Allison and her music, that I wasn't afraid to make a complete fool of myself. But of course this was too much. Looking back... it's probably the most embarrassing thing I have ever done. I didn't catch him. He looked at me with anxiety and loathing before getting into the tour bus. I could hear Sarah and Allison screaming my name in the background. I turned around and in the distance I could see Josh and Whitney and Melissa looking at me confused. People were looking at me like I was crazy. Allison was sobbing. Zoey looked like she was embarrassed that she was with us.
I felt deflated and hopeless. I felt like I had been trying so hard to be happy that my smile had become all teeth. That I was pushing myself so hard to succeed in the face of severe disappointment to the extent that I was attempting to do something futile and magnificent and impossible. I was trying so hard to find a way to keep everyone and everything around me, but in the end all I was doing was repelling everyone. And poor Nate Walcott had to be the one to pay for it that day I guess. I am sure he thought I was a monster. I sat down and leaned back against the brick wall and put my head in my hands. Strangely, the only sane acting person in line was Zack, who seemed distant and unaffected by any of the fight.
By the time we got into the venue, I knew there was no way we were going to make it up to the front of the stage like we wanted. Allison and Zoey split up with us, and we went to the balcony bar area. My eyes were watery. I wasn't crying exactly, but I felt depressed and dead inside. The opening acts were The Mynabirds, a band that shared the same label as Bright Eyes and who's singer had sang in the backdrop of one of the songs from the latest album. The next act was Jenny and Johnny. It was Jenny Lewis from Rilo Kiley's band with her boyfriend. I loved the first two Rilo Kiley albums and the first Jenny Lewis album 'Rabbit Fur Coat', but her stuff with Johnny just wasn't very good to me. But she was elegant, and wholesome and lovely as ever.
Josh, Whitney and Melissa were at the bar. Josh and Melissa were getting drunk in a not so subtle way. Josh started saying that he felt that me and his sister Melissa should be best friends, on account that he had found out that my favorite musician was Tom Waits, which was also Melissa's favorite musician, and we both really enjoyed Kurt Vonnegut. So Melissa and I sat at a table and looked at one another, and acknowledged that we liked the same things. The conversation went nowhere. Sarah and Zack quietly sat. Eventually Bright Eyes came on stage, and for three hours I watched from the stage intently. I swear he played half the songs he had ever written. He even played a lot of stuff from EP's that most people hadn't heard. Conor Oberst was visibly drunk – but somehow it worked. I think he drinks quite a bit. It was a gorgeous concert actually though, and despite how badly I was feeling, the sham of what had once been a sliver of myself that I could hang onto, there was something timeless in the way that all these songs kept being played. Had I been anything less than melancholy, I would have been more into it.
Josh and Melissa by this time were hammered and they were dancing drunkenly and out of their minds. I was too sad to look over at the commotion of their brother-sister dance off. They ended up coming up to me and dancing up against me. Sarah took a picture of this very scene, and I still have it. I had been trying not to cry, and then suddenly I felt these two warm bodies dancing crazy behind me and the idea of crying flew out the window because in the face of all the absurdity, to cry would be just one more insane layer to add. Josh whispered in my ear in a drunken stupor if I would be his girlfriend. I looked back at him confused and shook my head. I had definitely not seen that coming. I couldn't tell if he was being serious or not, but in any case I barely knew the guy and he was sloshed.
Melissa as it turned out was a great dancer. She was one of those people who can dance well impromptu and totally drunk, and it's a little bit wild and insane and you are afraid to look at it because if you do she will know you saw and she will come right up to you and god knows what will happen next, but it's unreal to look upon so you have troubles ignoring it. So I just ended up hugging the railing and watching the show more intently while all of this was going on behind me. When Conor Oberst started singing his well loved song 'Landlocked Blues' Melissa and Josh could be heard singing along at the balcony, and it was the most off tune and hilarious horrible singalong I had ever heard. It turned out, when the Boyer's drank they became emotional animals with no filters. At a moment when Conor paused in the song, Melissa and Josh could be heard singing their hearts out terribly ahead with the lyrics, and Conor Oberst started to laugh and could barely continue to sing himself for a moment, that was how notably ridiculous they sounded.
I managed to overcome my ego by the end of the show. It started to occur to me as my depression subsided, that though getting sad and staying sad was at time inevitable, if you shut off your egotism hard enough you could sometimes discover that it was somewhat of a personal choice to torture yourself. There was something addictive about feeling horrible. But of course, not everyone is balanced. I was not balanced. There was, and never will be balance for me, at least not in the traditional sense, and it would and will likely take my entire life trying to fully comprehend what is missing in me, why I slip between severe bouts between idealism and fantastical power, and feeling deflated and suicidal and sick. But being aware that I had some control was strange. Because by the end of the show I didn't feel anything. I just let go – realizing that half the thoughts I had been hurting myself with had been unnecessarily embellished on to make it even worse for myself than it already was. It was unreal to think I had chased poor Nate Walcott down the sidewalk in some psychotic attempt to prove to Allison that I supported her artistically. I guess I was afraid she would lose her music. She'd gotten so little support. And quietly, behind the articulated upset of my life, and the violent angst of David's life there lived this void of disappointment that Allison had been dealt. And she had taken the lemons and made lemonade and I really didn't want to see life snuff that out. Her music meant more to me than it probably should have. I was trying to demonstrate that, but in the end she probably didn't respect or understand my meaning. Nobody seemed to understand what I was saying to them anymore, and I was coming to this point where I had to accept that my connections had been severed. It was what it was. It was like losing connection over the phone and thinking that if I just screamed louder the person on the other end might hear me. And if Allison and David hated me, they hated me. If I was toxic, I was toxic. And if I deserved what I got then the last thing I needed to do was to go looking for additional punishment, as if life hadn't already been painful as it was. And if people had fucked me over, then they could fuck off. I was tired of trying to make sense of it. I just wanted to get away.
Allison and Zoey ended up meeting Conor Oberst after the show. Sarah, Zack and I waited by the benches as Allison waited by the tour bus for Conor Oberst to come out and say hi with a small group of other fans. I would have gone over there, but honestly there wasn't much to say to him. I love Conor Oberst in my own way, and I felt a sort of kinship with his music. Personally too, I think it's likely I have a lot in common with Conor in my awkwardness and idealism and how I see things sometimes, but I had no need to ever meet him or touch his hair or anything. And I had come to find that was what most people waited out by tour vans to do. Just touch the greatness physically because there is so little of that in our mundane everyday lives. And sometimes artists, writers, musicians and actors are the only people who bring magic to the lives of us common wage slaves. It's tempting to want to fall in love with them, be them, touch them or see them in person. But they are just people, and we are all on the same rock floating through space. It's sometimes worth your time to go out of your way to seek these people out, and sometimes it isn't.
Josh and Whitney met Conor, but they they were too drunk to make sense of it. Allison did end up giving Conor her tape that night. She said he was the sweetest person she had ever met, and that he smelled like booze and gave her a huge hug and promised her he would listen to it. Zoey got to tell him that he had saved her life. He was so drunk he could barely stand, and eventually he crawled into the tour bus and they were off.
In the mean time though, Sarah, Zack and I waited at a bench by some big business building. Zack was basically still acting calm and unaffected. Sarah's eyes were still swollen and oozing. Melissa came to the bench, drunk and unstable. A strong chaotic energy radiated off of her, and it made me nervous. It seemed to me that she was the drunkest of anyone at the show. She began asking Sarah some personal questions about her relationship. Zack walked away distantly to smoke. Melissa after all had dated Zack for a few years and had broken it off. It confused her that Zack would ever have any success getting a girl like Sarah to date him. But then Melissa became distracted because here walked up this other drunk man down the messy city streets of Spokane. This guy looked like he had started the day as the CEO of some major company, but throughout the day had lost all his money, lost his job, his wife and his house and car. He was wearing a business suit, but the suit was disheveled, and he looked as though someone had beat him up. He was just as drunk as Melissa.
Melissa belligerently began yelling at him, which caused him to stumble up to the metallic bench we were sitting on and try to drunkenly get in her face back. From there, the two of them fell into this bizarre exchange. They would start fighting – mainly the aggression was coming from Melissa who was provoking it initially, but as soon as Melissa went too far and he walked away, she would say something and he would come back. Eventually he decided to drunkenly sit next to us. I was not impressed, but the situation was so abnormal to me. Melissa was toying with this drunken fool, but to what end? He started telling her how pretty she was, and she told him to fuck off, and then she acted like she was going to kiss hi, but instead she spit in his mouth. It was disgusting. He freaked out and started calling her a cunt, and then she told him she was sorry and tried to get close to him again and she then proceeded to spit a big ball of spit in his face again. But somehow he was still sitting there, undeterred. He was slurring and going between making excuses for why such a pretty little thing like her would do such a nasty thing, and calling her a fucking cunt. He looked enraged, but underneath did he enjoy having her spit in his mouth? Was she enjoying it? Both of them couldn't seem to stand one another and Melissa had been nothing short of awful towards him, and he was nothing short of disgusting – like a man stripped of all dignity. The whole thing seemed so unnecessary. I would have gone to Melissa's defense, but it seemed like she had him right where she wanted him. I was just standing there in front of these two looking down at this power exchange baffled, trying to make sense of it all. This was not my world, or at least I really didn't think so.
It had been a long day, and now we were all tired. There hadn't been enough money for us to get a hotel room, so we would have to drive back and be home by morning. We got into the car, and Zack immediately began blasting the worst Limp Bizkit music. He had this gross look in his eyes, like he was pissed off, or was enjoying his position of power a little too much as the driver. As we started driving out of town, he rolled down both his and Sarah's windows all the way. This caused the cold winds to blast into the backseat onto us. We politely asked him to roll his windows up, because in the back seat, it was blowing wildly in Zoey's, Allison's and my faces and none of us had a coat. We were curled up in balls trying to withstand the cold night air that was blowing at us. It was freezing and absurd. On top of that, the obnoxious Limp Bizkit album was horrific and though I wanted to be respectful since he had been the one who had volunteered to drive, it was too much. In the backseat the speakers sounded awful. We asked Zack to roll up the windows because we were cold, and he told us no. Sarah said nothing. Zoey, Allison and I looked at one another and up at Zack hatefully. We were infuriated.
Eventually we stopped at a gas station outside of Coeur D' Alene and I asked Sarah specifically to ask Zack to please roll up the windows. It was in desperation. We were shivering and poor little Zoey looked especially pitiful trapped back there. Zack was in the gas station buying cigarettes and Sarah looked at us blankly and told us that if we 'wanted him to roll up the windows then maybe we needed to ask more nicely.' She wasn't saying this in the sense that she thought we had asked him rudely before. She was telling this to us in the sense that maybe we needed to kiss Zack's ass, no sarcasm. It was then that I realized just how lost and gross Sarah and Zack were. I didn't want to be around them anymore. I didn't want to live with them. The intrigue was gone. I wasn't going to 'be nice' to Zack. He was a grown ass man and he was rolling down his windows to be a fucking creep, and Sarah was enabling him.
It was hard for me to even imagine Sarah saying something like this. It wouldn't have even crossed the old Sarah's mind to even think such a pathetic nasty thing was worth saying. If Zack wanted to hurt us, then she wasn't going to try to stop him and she had made that pretty clear. I think she did however babytalk him into rolling his windows up, just a sliver. As he got back to the car, she got out and seemed to be touching him and whispering in his ear in a seductive manner, and I assume it was because she was trying to seduce him into doing the right thing. I already knew we were fucked however. If a guy doesn't want to do the right thing on the basis that it is the right thing, then the pathetic pleas of a girlfriend he doesn't even respect wasn't going to make it any better. And of course, it barely helped, and twenty miles down the road and he rolled them back down and looked back at us with this pissy looking grimace on his face. If his face wasn't so looming gross in the dark that I didn't want to touch it or see it ever again, my anger would have consumed me and I would have thought to punch him directly in his ugly mug. Because he knew what he was up to. He looked in his rear view mirror from time to time and saw how demonstrably cold all three of us were in the back. And Sarah had the audacity to occasionally look over her shoulder and ask if we 'were okay'. I wanted to say back 'What the fuck do you think Sarah? Do we LOOK okay to you?' But I held my tongue, somehow. Perhaps I felt bad because of how swollen her eyes were.
We got back down to Lewiston by early morning. The sun was coming up. I was relieved to at least be back. Finally this hellish second half of the trip was over. Between fighting with Allison, delusional memories of chasing Nate Walcott down the street with a cassette tape in hand, the Bright Eyes concert, the Boyer's drunkenness, and the finality of knowing that Allison did get to meet him in the end and the sense of calm and acceptance that washed up on me by the end of the night, only for us to be plunged into ice for three hours by my ex best friend's sadistic new boyfriend whom I used to adore but now couldn't stand with Sarah's condescending request we kiss his ass in tow, I just wanted to go home and sleep. Allison, Zoey and I were visibly shivering. The only thing that had kept me going was this sense of rage towards Sarah and Zack and the delusional nature of exhaustion itself.
Zoey would never hang out with Allison again. After Allison had been sobbing in line to see Conor Oberst, and I had acted like a total reckless freak chasing after some poor introverted shy musical genius, and after the ride home with Zack in the wake of his shitheadedness, I think she thought we were bad news and decided being friends with Allison wasn't worth the trouble. There was no ill will, but she wasn't having it. Allison and I are still friends with her on facebook and all that for what it's worth, and it's mostly because I still wish her a lot of well. She seems to have a nice boyfriend, a decent job as a hair stylist. She's cute and thoughtful and really nobody could blame her. She barely knew us and what she saw gave her good incentive not to want to know us.
There is this inexplicably delightful feeling of wanting to be home in bed, and turning the door knob of your home, knowing the door will open and you will float to the bed and enter the oblivion of sleep. That it's all waiting for you. And for a few hours I did sleep. But I woke up to my mother coming in. Something was up. Allison and I woke up as my mother explained that she had ran over Shorty, my favorite dog, and the dearest friend I had for all those lonely years. It's true, he was getting old. His hips hurt him, and we all knew his time was coming. But no one had expected it to end like this.
Technically, he was still alive. He was bleeding pretty bad. She had ran over his leg and part of his belly and he was in misery. We were going to take him to the vet, but we all knew he wasn't going to be coming back home with us. Not only this, but there had been a litter of kittens and three of them had been squashed as well. She had started up a pick up truck that was down at Wes's that she seldom ever drove, and she had backed up without looking. She had crushed those poor baby kittens, and had fatally injured Shorty. My mom was in a distant state of mind, reacting as logically as she could, but I knew deep down she was feeling horrible about herself. Allison and I went with her back to Wes's. This would be our goodbye to Shorty. I would never be seeing him again after that day.
I tried hard not to cry, but the tears happened anyway, even though I knew we were doing the right thing and I kept a straight face. Shorty was clearly in agony. It was hard to look at him. He was panting and salivating and he looked up at me with his big aware eyes. Even in his misery, he was sweet and happy to see me. I remembered when we first met out in the back of Mike's old house. How he had looked up at me, and I could tell he was unusually smart as I had hesitantly gave him the hamburger, and about how we had let him come into the house for the first time and how he liked to talk. He had always started dog-talking whenever I came to my mother's house because he was so excited to see me. He always slept in the same bed as me, and more often then not we shared the same sandwiches as I watched television together. His death was a certain kind of death for me, but ultimately it was his death. I would go on and continue living a life with no Shorty in it. I stroked his head and talked to him in the back of the van that we had to carefully lift him in with a blanket. David was with us, but he said nothing. He hated me, but he wasn't above realizing the merit of Shorty's death and what it meant for us, me in particular since he had been in a lot of ways, my dog. We were all very very sad.
We went up to the vet, and sure enough they explained that, though they could fix him up – it would almost be inhumane to do so and costly. It would cost us well over a thousand dollars to keep him alive, and after he recovered he would likely have difficulties eating or moving very much. And he was already very old. He definitely wouldn't be living for too much longer longer. The vets looked apologetic as they explained it to us, and we already knew. While my mother talked to the vet, arranging Shorty's final shot, I held Shorty's paw and spoke to him affectionately. He looked straight up into my eyes and I felt like he was listening. Obviously he didn't and couldn't really comprehend what it all meant, but I felt like he understood that I was there for him. I told him what he had meant to me, how he had been the best dog I had ever had, and one of the best friends I had ever had for that matter, and that soon the pain was going to leave him and he wouldn't hurt anymore, and that I loved him and I always would. He slowly licked my hand. I continued to hold his paw and pet this nose.
It was time for the vet to come over and give him the final shot. I held Shorty's paw as he looked into my eyes for the last time, and I watched his eyes fall into a momentary sense of relief, and then a light that was in his eyes suddenly burned out and Shorty was nothing but a hairy husk of meat. He was gone. We drove home with his body in the back of the car. We weren't supposed to bury him on the property, but we wrapped him in a pink blanket and all got shovels and buried him in the front yard of Wes's anyway. Then we sadly walked back to the van. When I got home, I told Sarah and Zack distantly about Shorty's death. But I realized their sympathy didn't mean much to me, and why should it? They didn't really know Shorty, or what he meant to me. They weren't on my side. I couldn't ascertain if either one of them cared about much save what directly impacted them personally.
On a side note, and in the service of dark twisted humor, Wes paid Fast Eddie to rototill his front yard. He asked Fast Eddie to do this from the nursing home, and wasn't aware that Shorty had been buried there. Fast Eddie had always been one of Wes's horrible friends who hung around to steal Wes's pills and whatever else he could get his hands on – and even though he had been caught in the act, Wes still kept him around. We always had to worry about Fast Eddie coming into our areas and stealing from us, and naturally we didn't like him. He looked at Allison pervertedly. David and my mother were in Wes's house two months later and they looked out and noticed that Fast Eddie was rototilling the area where we had buried Shorty about two months previous. It was hard to entirely tell what had happened, but it was clear that Fast Eddie was suddenly hunched over and vomiting. Fast Eddie had rototilled Shorty's bloated maggot filled dead body, and he was so disgusted probably by the smell that he was vomiting. This might upset some people, but to me I think it was fantastic that Shorty had gotten some revenge for us all beyond the grave.
I remember my mother's look of sorrow and exhaustion after it was all over though. She was rarely the kind of person to weep. My mother, though dramatic often, always went about it in a theatrical way that was never entirely honest, and was usually meant to manipulate the 'audience' which was us, and express anger and rage. She was genuinely sad this time. She was hating herself not just for killing Shorty, but for killing those baby kittens. She didn't look at any of us, she just got into her strange bed in the central corner of the house, and curled up into a sad ball and I could hear her silently sniffing.
I sat at the couch despondently trying to make sense of life. Best friends come and go I guess. It's hard to hold onto anything good, and more often then not we aren't even thinking about the good things in life till they are gone. One day you are with someone you think you understand and love and can trust and the next you are strangers stabbing each other or thinking about it stabbing one another, and how point A became point B will forever elude you. One moment you think you know yourself, the next you don't. Nothing stays, and our lives are temporary and likely purposeless. And friends, family and pets die, and so will you someday. Sometimes you have to find a lot of good in life, and you have to really fight and struggle and throw your back out to find that good to cancel out all the horrible awful bad shit. I imagine for some people it's just not something that can be balanced. But if you can, you have to try. Because otherwise, life can legitimately not feel worth the trouble.
PART 96 - https://tinyurl.com/y8cm6pdy
PART 95 - https://tinyurl.com/ybxq2o5j
PART 94 - https://tinyurl.com/y8k7mwq4
PART 93 - https://tinyurl.com/yc8mae7e
PART 92 - https://tinyurl.com/yb7bwsuw
PART 91 - https://tinyurl.com/yar8e8rp
My Life Story in Chapters, PARTS 1-90 (this link below will lead you to a list of all the chapters i have written thus far).
http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/168782771574/life-story-sections-1-90
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
dreams the night before last
walking with a group of ten or so people through a calm field of tall grass. an attack helicopter appears. it shoots at us. we run & hide in a grove of trees in the middle of a field. the sky fills with maybe a hundred aerial drones that want to kill us
riding in a car that a guy is driving in a foreign country. none of the tourists can ever remember what side of the road to drive on, so the locals can never count on the left lane being safe, so any consistency in the lanes people drive on dissolves. we’re driving very fast, turning corners sharply
i trick-or-treat at a pretty house maybe. it feels so autumnal. orange brick, pointy sloped roofs, historical neighborhood
i peek through a doorway into a medical waiting room that's almost entirely baby blue. several men shout at me because it’s a strictly quarantined room for immunocompromised people. i guiltily retreat. i feel tantalized by getting such a short glimpse of the room, because when i looked in it really struck me. i remembered being in that room once when i was maybe four years old. none of this corresponds to real life memories
dreams last night
i’m in a big, crazy, blocky, mostly featureless but bumpy & blue place under a partially cloudy sky! it feels sort of like a roblox environment. it’s full of soldiers who want to kill me. i have to do crazy ninja stuff, like leap, crawl, jump across platforms, wall run! i make the mistake of running into a courtyard where there is a van with a big laser gun mounted on top of it. i'm no match for it. i hide under a big cube floating a foot or so off the ground, but it’s no use. the laser destroys me effortlessly
as a result of dying in the blocky place, i'm ejected from the medical care area of a clinic. i’m in the lobby. i ask my brother to go back into the medical area to retrieve my backpack & my medication. he does. then he gets on a dirt bike that's idling in the lobby. my dad & i get on it. we start driving back home through suburban neighborhoods, mid-day. i have a bottle of vodka in my hand
as we drive, my dad asks me incessant & prodding questions about the vodka. it's like he’s projecting his alcoholism, trying very hard to get at the idea that i’m an alcoholic. questions like, when everything is terrible, aren’t you compelled to drink the vodka? & i flatly reply, no. & i think to myself, that’d be pathetic. he seems unable to conceive of alcohol in a way that's removed from alcoholism
at night, on a deserted highway, we pass a city which may be indianapolis or minneapolis. it doesn’t look much like a city. it’s like the condensed, mashed-together shapes of clustered multi-story buildings, made out of panels that dimly show blurry moving images. it’s so nocturnal & beautiful
then my dad & i are on foot in a coastal city with cobblestone streets, mid-day. he's still questioning me. we come to a big rickety metal bridge over a river. he carries on across, urging me to follow. my nervous system doesn’t seem to be working. at the point where you step onto the bridge, there are these mildly precarious gaps where you could fall in the river. they'd be very easy to step over, but my balance & coordination feel compromised. i feel like i’ll fall in
out of a riverside building nearby come men who seem to recognize us. they wave, call us, & walk over. i think they're musicians. they're affiliated with bands like negativland & coil. one of them points to a band logo tattooed on my arm. i think it’s a band he’s affiliated with. it’s one of several tattoos. he thinks it's very cool. i don’t remember getting tattoos. i conclude that i must have swapped into another person’s body at some point & forgot. a man takes out a pocket knife & stabs it into my hand at a shallow angle so that it catches a flap of skin that he tries to tear off. i tell him to stop doing this! then he starts slicing chunks of my fingertips off & i scream at him to stop doing that too!
then i’m in a shopping mall. i sit down in some leather chairs around a small circular table with the members of the band animal collective to conduct an interview. they say something about how one of them is the main guy of the band so he might as well answer all the questions
the coffee shop that i frequent is so warmly lit with string lights. the chalkboard is covered in colorful & elegantly illustrated scenes of cartoon characters playing etc. it looks kind of like Peanuts
at the college, at night, i walk down a real-life ominous staircase that goes deep into the ground adjacent to a building, so there can be a door to the basement. there are two middle-aged women prying the door open. it feels like they’re intruding on something obscure & forgotten. they pry it open. they say i can go in & look around.i do it’s a very dark, tall, forgotten room with some machinery, maybe power generators, set into one wall. it’s metallic, stony, dusty. it feels like not a single thing has happened here for decades. there is a pair of steel double doors with windows. the two women are very adamant about me not looking through the windows. it’s kind of ominous. it feels like the most important mystery i’ve ever encountered
i’m upstairs, in the public face of the building, mid-day. it’s a store that seems to sell bridal gowns. the lady working there seems neurotic & uptight about what customers do, & how long they stay. the security cameras stand out. i think it has something to do with whatever is behind the steel doors
i’m walking in an alleyway behind a strip mall, mid-day. there's a taco bell, a ... potato chip factory? a sixteen wheeler truck is elevated & mounted against the side of the factory so people can manage what’s on it. that’s very cool, i didn’t know they did that. i walk away from the strip mall, past a parking lot, past a multi-story parking garage for semis. i come to an area where the ground is dirt, speckled with rocks, devoid of plants. there are torn, ragged, disused overpasses overhead. it’s very beautiful in kind of a dystopic way
i raise my phone to take photos, but a few children appear near me. their mother appears. she’s a middle-aged pop star from an eastern european country. she was very popular in the 70s, 80s, or 90s, but now only has a cult following. she walks to the top of a dirt hill, stands in front of the tattered facade of a brick building that isn’t there anymore, & starts singing. there might be musicians accompanying her. i want to take a photo of the facade but she is in the way
at 2 am or so, i walk west on a big street near my house. when i walk west on this street, i’m heading into town. or at least a park, or a trail, or a more commercial area with things to do. there are no cars or people right now. i find myself coming to the empty highway that ends in the ruined overpasses from the last vignette. there's a sign blocking me, since the highway is under construction or repair
everything feels so dark, still, & nocturnal in a way that things typically don’t feel nocturnal. it doesn’t feel nocturnal like wind in the night & stridulating bugs & radio towers, it feels nocturnal like deep space, infinite black stillness, grainy, oppressive, shrinking, like it wants to consume me, & there’s nothing beyond the road anymore. i turn to walk back home & find that the street is now a very thin, wobbly cut of street, suspended in darkness, so thin i have to walk on it very carefully, balancing
0 notes
Text
REI AMI Is the Saddest, Baddest Bitch [Q&A]
The first time I came across REI AMI it was not through a well-intentioned pitch e-mail or by way of an eerily well-calculated Spotify algorithm. It was during an interview with FINNEAS, the sole producer and brother to Bille Eilish, and it was during that conversation above Hollywood Forever cemetery that I came to discover what exactly excited him so much about the up-and-coming artist with only three singles to her name.
At her core, REI AMI is an artist of duality quite like no other. It is not a duality carefully explored through a large body of work or multiple online personas but one expressed with a reckless abandon, often in less than three-minute outbursts. REI AMI takes the appeal of Gen Z’s distaste for strict genre conventions and sees just how far she can push it. "
MAKE IT MINE,” her debut single, opens in haunting fashion, painting a transfixing picture of ominous pop perfection. Yet, on the same track, we are introduced to an entirely differently REI AMI. Gone is the siren with her cutthroat delivery. Instead, we are thrown down the rabbit hole, left to dance a psychedelic waltz that quickly sputters out of existence. The effect is all the more pronounced on “SNOWCONE,” which balances an impressive chaotic bravado and acoustic melancholic bedroom pop with inimitable ease.
youtube
I had the chance to speak to REI AMI, on the set for an upcoming music video, about Sailor Moon, living a double life, and the importance of being both a sad and bad bitch.
Ones To Watch: Who is REI AMI?
REI AMI: REI AMI is me. I grew up watching a lot of Sailor Moon. There are two characters, Sailor Mars and Sailor Mercury. Sailor Mars, her name is Rei, she's like the more hot-headed, very direct, blunt, bad bitch. Then there's Sailor Mercury, Ami, and she's still a bad bitch but like, she's more sweet and sensitive and reserved, and I thought those two characters best represented like, the two polar sides of my personality. I was like this is it! REI AMI sounds so dope. I have an emotional attachment to it. There's value in that and also it just represents duality. It's not having to choose between this or that. It's about embracing both and I feel like I can do that in my music. The transitions, they make sense because I can go from twerking to crying (laughter). Bad bitch to sad bitch, you know?
This idea of duality, from your name to your music, is outright impossible to ignore.
REI AMI, this is who I am, I don't have to pick and choose just like, let's fucking go. With "MAKE IT MINE," "SNOWCONE," and "DICTATOR," they all have transitions, so those are like straight REI AMI tracks. Some currently unreleased songs that I have are straight REI tracks or AMI tracks, and if I want to do both it's REI AMI. But I know that, especially with "SNOWCONE," my producer Elie and I wanted a drastic switch-up because I go through highs and lows, and I'm not alone in that.
“I want you to feel, and I want you to go from twerking, being a bad bitch to knowing it's okay to be sad. It's okay to be a bad bitch and still be sad.”
I think it's a very human experience that everyone deals with, and I thought it would be really important and really cool to sonically represent that and allow my listeners to experience what I go through on a daily basis. The reception it's gotten and the DMs from people telling me how much it meant to them was like the most validating, rewarding thing, because shit like, my song made you feel some type of way. That's the goal. I want you to feel, and I want you to go from twerking, being a bad bitch to knowing it's okay to be sad. It's okay to be a bad bitch and still be sad.
Yeah, it really gave me the vibe of this girl killing it at the club and then going home and crying in her pillow.
Yes! Like, "Ugh, I hate my life!" Shit like that, we all go through it.
I discovered you in relatively unconventional fashion. FINNEAS, who loved your production—
—and co-signed the fuck out of me!
Yeah, it was an immediate co-sign! He was like, "I only have one One to Watch right now, and it's REI AMI."
Oh my God, I'm fucking dead. I just... What the fuck is going on in my life? Like, of all the people, the first song I ever heard from Billie was "COPYCAT," and I've been following her since. She's obviously a worldwide superstar, and FINNEAS, they work exclusively together, so that story was already so beautiful and appealing, and that's very much like my producer and I. I work mainly with one collaborator because it works. You know, don't fix what's not broken. Obviously, I'm open-minded to working with other people, but what we have is so special, and I feel like I really see that in Billie and FINNEAS' relationship. So, it was just a very validating thing to get it from FINNEAS. From all of the people, FINNEAS was like, "Yes, REI AMI is that bitch!" Thank you FINNEAS, thank you for understanding!
How did you start making music with your producer?
So, freshman year of college, which was like 5 years ago, so I've been recording and writing for five years. I didn't release anything up until this year just because I felt that I wasn't ready, and I was still trying to figure out who I was and what kind of message I wanted to spread. You know, I was a dumb bitch, and I was making a lot of sad, heartbreak R&B songs, because I thought that's what people wanted to hear. R&B is the new pop, I love R&B, and I grew up on it. I was playing it so safe. I wasn't taking risks. And for the longest time, I wasn't having fun making music. Then I went through some real fucked up shit in my life earlier this year that spiraled me out of control and put me in a bad place both mentally and physically. I wanted to quit. I was like, "I haven't released shit so it doesn't fucking matter, no one's going to know or care." But then Elie was like, “No, pull up.”
I went to the studio, I got shitfaced, and he started making a beat. I had a hook written down and it ended up being "MAKE IT MINE." And the weird breakdown in between was because I was so shitfaced and he intentionally did that so I would stumble on it because he wanted to know what drunk REI would say, and that's what happened. We shot the video the same night—he literally got up from his producer desk and was like "Uh, so do you want to shoot the video tonight?" I was like, "Say less."
youtube
“Why would you want to make another song that sounds like 10 other songs out there? No, just fucking be you. There is no recipe, there is no equation.”
I love it! It feels so organic—all of your music does.
Literally, it's just us fucking around and bullshitting. And that's how it should be. That session was the most fun I've had in years, and that's when I realized like if you're not having fun writing, recording, if you're not enjoying the process, you need to step back and re-evaluate your whole fucking approach. Like, what's wrong? What's good? And for the first time in such a long time, I felt so... myself. And take to mind, the production sonically, everything, is very left-field from what I was making, so I initially did not like the song. I was like this is so different, this is so weird. But then I was like wait, this is how it should be. Why would you want to make another song that sounds like 10 other songs out there? No, just fucking be you. There is no recipe, there is no equation. Fuck the equation, fuck what you want to hear. I want to make the shit that I want to listen to on the daily, on repeat for a week at a time.
I think that’s exactly what Billie and FINNEAS strove to do, and it seems like that’s where you’re headed with your music. There's no one else out there where I've been like, "Shit, she's a pretty good rapper," right before throwing me into a sad bedroom pop spiral.
Yeah! And I love hip-hop, I really got into it in high school when my friend put me onto Kendrick’s Section.80. I don't know much about that genre, because there's so much to learn and so much that I need to understand and really dive into and study, but Section.80, in terms of storytelling and his vocal abilities, like Kendrick is not just a rapper, he's a vocalist. The way he delivers vocally was so new to me, and it had such an impact on me. So, I've always been a huge fan of rap and hip-hop but I never thought I could do this until this year.
With "DICTATOR," when I first wrote it, I had gotten my wisdom teeth taken out and I was high as fuck on Vicodin and I was like, "You know what, Imma fucking spit bars because I feel crazy right now." The first half of "DICTATOR" was all written by myself, me in my room, high as fuck. I ripped a beat off of YouTube, I was like, "I'm going in!" and then I sent it to Elie and he was like "Pull up this weekend, it'll be produced out and we'll re-record it, and that's what happened.”
What does your day-to-day life look like compared to this crazy music life?
(laughter) I am Hannah Montana. I have a full-time day job and they have no idea. I work for a custom packaging company and our biggest client is Sephora, so I oversee all of their international and domestic programs. It's a nine-to-five, but it's such a lax company that I can do music and be here and be places, but they have no idea. I'm the youngest in the company by like... a lot! So like they're not going to be like, "Hey girl, what's your Instagram, like add me!" (laughter) Like no one's doing that shit. They think I'm just chilling in LA.
So, what's next for you?
So I have a series of singles coming out next year with videos and then there's a fuller length project—a mixtape dropping around May-June, followed by some live shows. It's crazy, a lot of people are like, "When are you going on tour? When are you performing? I want to see you live!" And as much as I want to perform, I want to get it right. And being the neurotic person that I am, I'm not going to put on a show that's half-assed. If fans are paying money and coming, giving me their time, I want to make sure it's worthwhile and the energy I give out, I want it reciprocated. As much as I hate making them wait, like, hey, good things take time and I promise you, it's going to be such a wild experience. I'm so excited like, oh my God I cannot wait!
With 2019, coming to an end, what was your favorite thing about the 2000s?
Well, okay, I'm sorry but early 2000s pop and music in general I mean come on, the classics like "Milkshakes," 50 Cent’s "Candy Shop," "Moneymaker" by Ludacris and Pharrell, the Pussycat Dolls, Fergie, old The Black Eyed Peas, you know. I think that obviously molded my sound like you know, Missy Elliot and Destiny's Child and Beyonce—oh God when she was just rising and becoming that fucking monster you know? I think I miss 2000s music so much, and it always puts me in a good mood.
What's your 2020 resolution or goal?
Okay, I mean I want to do COLORS, I want to do Genius videos, I want to do the Teen Vogue Playlist of Your Life, Pitchfork’s Over/Under, Song Association on Elle. I want to do all of those things because those shows on YouTube are how I found some of my favorite artists. I want to go on tour and I just want world domination. I want to go internationally like, ugh I have so many ideas. I want to release the dopest merch where my dog is the brand mascot. I guess touring would be like the ultimate, whether I go on a headlining tour or a supporting tour. Just to be able to go out there on the road and meet my fans. That's an experience I've never had, and I'd love for 2020 to be the year where I do that.
What's the one thing you wish you could tell 18-year-old REI AMI?
Stop giving a fuck. Just stop. At the end of the day, if you're not happy doing what you're doing, especially when it comes to the music, stop, grow the fuck up and do what you want. Fuck what other people have to say. It took a long time for me to get there, and I believe synchronicity is very much real and timing is everything, but I just wish I cared a lot less about people and their opinions of me. Be a boss bitch! Goddammit! Stop being a little bitch. That's exactly what I would say. "Stop being a little bitch, bitch!"
Who are your Ones to Watch?
Ant Saunders. Ant fucking Saunders. His voice is fucking incredible. "Yellow Hearts." I haven't been able to stop listening to that. It just puts me in such a good, uplifted, happy mood. His voice is just so rich and so mature.
youtube
0 notes
Text
Wed. November 6 2019
12:21AM I need a new lighters
8:09AM
I woke up with that feeling.
Surprisingly not tired.
I might be after I cry.
Goodbye past.
4:33PM I'm starting this in my car on my anxious pressured 'break' at the ever busy Budapest. I'm gonna not. Brb.
4:55PM Okkkk, I’m going to be real with you.
I had a lot of clever ways to open this conversation but I have forgotten them since sitting in my Ferrari having not 1, but 2 smokes. You ever feel like you’re chewing on your own teeth? No? Good, that means you haven’t smoked meth for the past 255 days. To be clear- Cobain, Lampwick & The Joke are all synonyms for a former co-worker. Although the same person, they’re sort of not #mentalhealthawareness. TLDR; the more evolved part of me really hopes this guy is just a mean, jaded fucking asshole because the alternative is that they’re deeply psychotic and likely the permanent kind. Both leave little hope for improvement but the former at least KNOWS that. KNOWS I know. I could do a whole bullet-point slideshow fucking presentation on the red flags I had been seductively blindfolded to through exploitation of deepest nature and a stubborn unwillingness to accept pain and anger & I just might. I might. I might need to! I processed most of it as it was happening, denial was a bitch though. If you come from a place of; neglect, abuse and chaos but decided to assess your damages rather than project them on to innocent and typically pretty wonderful people.. then you need to equip yourself. Even if you took the more outward approach, leaving everyone in your path as empty useless collateral damage.. you could benefit as well. Tell yourself 'I’m only self-improving to gain further access and a tighter hold of my victims’ It doesn’t matter. Educate yourself on the impact of trauma/abuse/upbringing. See what happens to you. @ me.
5:53PM There’s a lot of Construction Boyz here tonight. They hit on me and I’m all like ‘omg I smoke crystal meth and I’m in an over-sized hoodie at work with obviously contrasting roots growing in.. you have no idea how much I needed this’ hahah. Still, it’s nothing quite like the validation I get from making humble jokes to myself in my neurotic head! Where was I? Oh yeah. The Joke; Lampdick. This motherfucker fucking pulls out a REAL LIFE meth pipe, Chief Leaf right there. Of course CL is through-n-through up to date and real time a best friend without judgement, so it doesn’t reflect on me, but I’ve been fighting tooth (lol) and nail against obvious (but not blatant) disapproval toward this endeavor with Joke.. (of course gaslit with remarks like ‘fuck the haters’ ‘you’re really going to care what they say’ ‘it isn’t their relationship’ .. you’re the hater.. they treat me with consistent respect so duh.. you’re absolutely fucking right-it’s ours-and it fucking sucks because you’re an abusive psychopath.. shove that isolation groundwork technique up your) ? No respect. To pull out a fucking meth pipe after:
Day 1 appreciating we had a different DOC (drug of choice) and agreeing that use needs to be controlled in the best harm reduction sense possible & I firmly disclosed that I am 100% in no fucking way ever going to be okay with anyone-ever smoking meth near/with me. I still barely forgive the fuckers that ever let me do it - and I know full God damn well it was my choice/fault/willing action. I barely forgave myself! For letting them let me! Or that I even let me let them do it! So. No. It was immediately made clear. Day 1.
Throughout this treachery The Joke made here-and-there comments about like “pass it this way” and “why don’t you save me any” and other repulsively ignorant and juvenile comments and my stance toward the matter remained firm. Which he always met with “yeah I know! I’m obviously joking! I agree! I would never do that to you” Like I was crazy for hardening my responses. Fucker, fucking fucker.
Seeing/hearing what I have vulnerably shared and experienced since the first day I made this choice (and I know not everyone who has/will make that choice is going to have MY experience. I’m not claiming that. I’m claiming ‘I don’t give a fuck what another person’s experience may be - I am not fucking here for it’ - ‘it’s a no from me dawg’
Knowing how desperately I am trying AND want AND try to want (some days it really do be like that) to stop smoking crystal. To end-all repair the damage it has done to myself, my relationships and my life. To prevent the inevitable damage that waits if I don’t.
Not to mention all the attempts at ‘crazy making’ by exploiting my guilt and fear of potential harm: caused by crystal meth. ie; “you’re definitely sleep-stealing my keys and/or moving things because YOU’RE smoking crystal meth, and that shit is BAD bad + your traumatic childhood,’ (that he doesn’t give a fuck about unless using it against me in similar scenarios) ‘so come on. You can’t deny engaging in these behaviors, that I refuse tell you about. You meth-trauma black events out.. you’re not conscious of it because of YOUR big bad drug.” (which it is and I don’t intend to downplay it)
Seriously. These are real events & that’s just scratching the fucking surface. Note: this blog intentionally has NO followers and is ran anonymously. My intention is only to self-vindicate the man made madness I've enabled. Yet STILL it manages to drag into a month and a half of my God damn precious and OBVIOUSLY seriously fucking sensitive time. I feel NO shame for that; for struggling right now. For falling the fuck on my ass/face/faceassfuckhands onto a SERIOUSLY cemented floor! that manages to also be falling upwards into my fucking face! So instead of ceasing upon impact; continuously bashing my fucking FACE in. It fucking happens man. I fucking know that and I fucking own it as shamelessly as is safe to. Not as a way to justify where I am right now - but to foster a belief that I am worth the insidiously meticulous effort that's required to be better. In a better position to improve the quality of how I serve myself and thus actually beginning to serve those around me. Jesus shit what a Joke. I can’t believe I let myself: be treated this way, be ignorant to it, be willing to entertain the idea that maybe it was OK (even warranted).. but between you and me: I find it even harder to believe that another human being - one who has clearly been deeply wounded as well - can see the genuine sincerity of another human being’s soul and heart.. compulsively bleeding from a profundity raw enough to captivate a nihilist.. and humbly exposes it.. with nothing but purity in the regard of inherit human good.. and could intentionally stick their dirty fucking arms vigorously inside and tear at the exposed gauge made faithfully available. I’m not innocent here. But there’s no blood on my hands. I won’t point my fingers but my eyes are staring right at you. I know what you did to me. I did not agree to it. I agreed to taking the risk. Do you know what you did to me? Educate yourself. Wash your fucking hands.
I didn’t bring any crystal to Budapest today. I didn’t know I was going to begin opening this, or I would have.
= I’ve got to go for a smokes.
That’s enough for now.
7:55PM I don’t know wtf but Doug offered me to get stoned and so I did outside but the guys who needed to switch rooms came back and then outside too because they insisted on my break.. Golf was looking for tape and offered me a Tim Horton’s, I said hot chocolate. Then Striped Vest guy also forever chatted and offered me a Tim Horton’s; I said hot chocolate. Still no tape and I tell him about Striped Vest and hot chocolate. He says ok. Meanwhile, Doug and his friend Chevy Lover are shooting the shit too and Doug asked for my number. Well first he asked if I was single. He asked if I was dating anybody LOL first of all I’m stoned and second of all the literal words out of my mouth were ‘everybody’ sincerely believing it as a reflection of my innocent love for life and immediately realizing that was a stupid answer so on reflex I said “no, myself. ha ha no. nobody. nope. that’s a. this guy who was my boyfriend died once. like a long time ago. no. weird. yeah it was wicked. wait what? why? but no. I don’t. not.” and I’ll never forget that or this hot chocolate.
8:03PM Golf asked me to put his poppy on (dude you’re 51, you’ve definitely done this more than me and I HATE war) so I asked him like, when the war was and what it was called - “Oh no, I don’t know a lot about history” meanwhile a second ago he was like “I guess I should put one on because my Grandpa fought in the war” no that was you. anyways so I’m learning about WW1. You say you remember so much, name 5 of our veterans? #therealneverforget
Disclaimer: I still haven’t read anything about it, I’m sorry to all relatives of dead soldiers I deeply condolence and RIP. No disrespect. We out here.
8:07PM Damn I really wish I had another hot chocolate.
8:39PM How is it not midnight?
1 note
·
View note
Text
Caroline Forbes (The Vampire Diaries): ESFJ
Dominant Extroverted Feeling [Fe]: Is there a character who uses Fe more than Caroline Forbes? While she might be able to slip into a very confident public persona, Caroline is extremely insecure, neurotic, and vulnerable. She longs to be loved and admired by others. Caroline craves validation. She is very expressive with her feelings and can easily tell what other people are feeling. After becoming a vampire, she becomes much more comfortable with herself, and her formerly unhealthy Fe seems to mature and evolve. She is fierce, loving, protective, and kind. She cares very much about other people and hates seeing anybody hurt. She comforts people when they’re down and can easily talk about her feelings, as well as the feelings of others. Caroline cares deeply about her image and loves being in charge. Miss Mystic Falls, cheerleading, organizing dances and parties, you name it, Caroline has a hand in it. Most of the things she participates in serves to elevate her social status. Because she is so motivated by what others think of her, she tends to be an overachiever. Caroline is a complete control freak and needs everything to be just so. She is warm and sensitive and, when threatened or attacked, has no trouble using her Fe to take someone down. Caroline knows how to take charge and get things done. She has a knack for leadership and can sometimes be a bit bossy and overbearing. She inserts herself in other people’s problems and is a known meddler. Being extremely opinionated, Caroline is very quick to tell others when she feels they’re in the wrong. She can also be rather judgmental at times and inflexible in her ideals. Caroline adjusts remarkably well to being a vampire and, because of her capacity for empathy and goodness, is able to control her urges. She enjoys harmony, teamwork, and likes when everyone is happy and getting along.
Auxiliary Introverted Sensing [Si]: Caroline has a very difficult time letting go of the past. She learns through experience and trusts those prior experiences to judge new situations. She can be quite rigid, unforgiving, and stubborn when something threatens her Si impressions. She has a strong sense about the way things should be. She is also very passionate about all of the Mystic Falls traditions. Caroline is extremely detail-oriented and has a talent for organizing. Her Si supports her Fe in her planning of various town social events. Caroline likes things the way they are and uses her Fe to keep them that way.
Tertiary Extroverted Intuition [Ne]: As Caroline’s Ne develops, she becomes more open-minded. She learns to become more adaptable and to get less worked up about things that threaten her Si. When Caroline entertains ideas and possibilities, it is usually to achieve a specific goal or to solve a problem, rather than just for the sake of speculation itself.
Inferior Introverted Thinking [Ti]: It’s not easy for Caroline to put her feelings aside and make a logical choice. She gets so caught up in her emotions that her judgment can often get clouded. When she wants to, she can tap into her Ti to make assessments about people and situations. Because she is so focused on the emotions of other people, her inferior Ti sometimes causes her to project her own feelings onto others and leads her to incorrect conclusions. Enneagram: 3w2 1w2 6w7 So/Sx
Quotes:
Caroline: I’m shallow. I’m worse than shallow. I’m a kiddie pool.
Caroline: Do you ever feel like there’s not a person in the world who loves you?
Caroline: If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.
Caroline:I’m a terrible, awful person, but I’m working on it.
Caroline: So you’re saying that, now, I’m basically an insecure, neurotic, control freak on crack.
Tyler: Why are you helping me? Caroline: What do you mean? Tyler: Why do you care? We’ve never been friends before. Caroline: That’s not true. I’ve known you for my entire life, Tyler. Tyler: We’ve never been close. Not like this. Caroline: I don’t know. You just seem like you kinda need it. I was alone when I turned. I had no control over my body or my urges. And I killed somebody. I don’t want that to happen to you. I don’t want you to be alone.
Caroline: I don’t hurt anyone, I swear. Dad, I swear. I can handle the urges. I can!
Caroline: I just want this school year to be great, you know? I just want everyone to be happy. Even in the midst of all the crazy unhappy bits.
Caroline: How did he plan a better party than me so fast? What? Is that a band outside?
Caroline: I get it. Your father didn’t love you, so you assume that no one else will either. And that’s why you compel people or you sire them or you try to buy them off. But that’s not how it works. You don’t connect with people, because you don’t even try to understand them.
Caroline: I’m sorry, but Stefan is your epic love and I’m not going down without a fight.
Caroline: Look. I’m your best friend. I would never pick sides. But, are you sure that this is what you want? Because Stefan is your soul mate! Sorry, picking sides.
Elena: Well, what was I supposed to do? Lie to him? Caroline: No. But you weren’t supposed to let Damon weasel his way into your confused newbie vampire heart.
Caroline: Fine, friend-tervention. I think your so-called “feelings” for Damon are really starting to cloud your judgment and I don’t like it. And the thought of you two together really makes me want to barf.
Caroline: It’s just, as her best friend it’s my duty to warn her when she’s making a giant mistake, right?
Caroline: You help your friend, that’s what you do.
Caroline Forbes (The Vampire Diaries): ESFJ was originally published on MBTI Zone
#3w2#Caroline Forbes#So/Sx#TVD#The Vampire Diaries#ESFJ#mbti#mbti types#mbti personality types#fictionalcharactermbti#fictionmbti#tv mbti#enneagram#enneatypes#enneagram type#enneagram 3#Type 3
9 notes
·
View notes