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telehxhtrash · 4 years

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GON FREECSS IS NOT INSANE (and the next person who says he is is getting their shins broken)

Hi ! Welcome to another one of my brainrot analysis, and this one is entirely fueled by my hatred of people who mischaracterize Gon. I keep on seeing people say that Gon is crazy, unhinged, a psychopathic monster who only plays a role of the innocent kid.

He’s not.

Gon is a 12 year old with severe trauma due to his dad’s abandonment and unhealthy standards and with a chaotic moral compass forged by his childhood spent on an isolated island.

He’s not a sociopath, not a psychopath, not a monster, not unhinged. He’s just a 12yo thrown in a ruthless world where he has to constantly prove his worth to feel like he can live up to his dad’s expectations.

We’re so used to seeing shounen protagonists be happy, go-lucky characters who never suffer any real mental consequences from their past or adventures that some people have a hard time realizing that it’s just not realistic.

Gon is a realistic portrayal of what happens to an abandoned child tossed in a merciless world where he constantly has to prove his worth. And of course, it’s not pretty. It’s terrifying to see Gon’s evolution, and it’s scary to see him slowly lose it. But it doesn’t make him a monster. It makes him feel human.

Gon is introduced as this happy, cheery, stubborn kid who never backs down from a fight and likes the thrill of putting his life in danger. Which is…. normal in the shonen world, I’d say. But it’s really not normal for a 12yo, and when you take all the following events into account, it’s clear that Gon is not a normal shonen protagonist.

Gon is a very, very stubborn kid, and we get to see that very early in the manga. The one event that strikes me the most is during his face-off with Hanzo.

Gon gets absolutely destroyed. He’s pretty much getting tortured, with Hanzo breaking his left arm and threatening to cut off the rest of his limbs if he doesn’t surrender. But Gon doesn’t back down. And it’s terrifying.

No matter how much pain he’s in, no matter the consequences, he refuses to give up.

Because he hates being seen as weak.

Gon refuses to show any hint of weakness, and gets extremely mad whenever people perceive him as such. It doesn’t matter what the consequences are, he will NEVER back down. He’ll never be weak, even if it kills him.

And we’ve seen this a lot throughout the manga. Right after he shows his Ren to Tsezguerra during the Greed Island interview, Gon is pissed because he felt like he was being treated like trash. Same thing during early Chimera Ant Arc, when Kite tells Gon and Killua to fight Rammott, Gon gets really, really mad when Kite implies that if they can’t defeat him, that means they’re weak.

Gon really, really struggles with being perceived as weak. It’s the one thing he hates the most. That’s why he’s stubborn about this and never backs down even if it costs him his life : he wants to prove his worth. He feels that need to prove he’s not weak, to prove he’s not trash.

Weakness is not an option. He has to get stronger and stronger and stronger, because at the end of the road lies his goal : Ging.

And to me, Ging explains Gon’s most prominent character traits. Because Ging not only created those traits, but he also enabled them.

In shonen anime, oftentimes, the main protagonist’s dad is out of the picture, but it never truly has any impact on the character’s mental state or behavior. This is not the case in Hunter x Hunter.

Ging leaving left Gon with deep, deep trauma, and an extremely distorted view on his self-worth that leads him to overcompensate with physical strength.

When a child gets abandoned, they usually blame themselves. It creates that feeling of guilt, that maybe their parent left because of them, and that they weren’t and AREN’T important for them to just walk out like this.

This feeling of guilt and shame creates a twisted self esteem in that child, making them believe that they aren’t important, that they aren’t of value. That they aren’t worth anything. Because their parents left them, it surely had to do with them, right ?

Gon has that distorted self-esteem that a child experiences after being abandoned. He has absolutely 0 value over his own body, constantly breaking it, pushing it past its limit to reach his goals, and this lack of self-worth and need to prove his worth is oftentimes represented physically by Gon hurting/losing his arm.

Everytime Gon loses/hurts his arm, it’s always after doing something out of need for validation. In Hunter Exam Arc, it’s right after refusing to let Hanzo win. In Heaven’s Arena Arc, it’s after he uses zetsu to win, no matter the consequences. In Yorknew Arc, Gon gets his hand destroyed by Nobunaga/his arm almost broken off by Feitan after he stood up to them. In Greed Island, Gon loses his hand for the sole purpose of training. And lastly, in Chimera Ant Arc, he loses his arm entirely after destroying Pitou in an attempt to ease his guilt.

Gon really struggles with his self-worth, and it’s also illustrated during the time they’re held hostage by Nobunaga, when Killua insists that he’ll stop his blade so that Gon can escape, even if it costs him his life. To which Gon replies with a sentence that is extremely crucial to be able to understand Gon’s character.

”I can say I’ll die, but you can’t !”

Gon values Killua’s life more than his own. He gets to talk about death, he gets to be hurt, he gets to put his life in danger, because it’s fine if he does it, but Killua is absolutely not allowed to. Gon has absolutely no value over his own life, and doesn’t care if he dies. He doesn’t care if he gets hurt. Because at the end of the day, his body is not of value, and I truly believe that Ging’s abandonment left him with a feeling that he wasn’t of value as a whole.

And to me, this broken sense of self-worth is what created Gon’s hatred of being seen as weak. Because if he shows weakness, then Ging was right to abandon him. If he’s weak, then that means he’s trash, and worth nothing. If he doesn’t live up to his dad’s expectation, then what’s the point ? He’d mean nothing. He’d be no one. Just a small island boy whose dad left because his job was more interesting. That’s why he has to prove his worth no matter what.

Finding Ging is like this Holy Grail to Gon. It’s the ultimate goal. Like Kite said the first time he met him, it’s the ultimate hunt. It’s something that proves you’re worthy. So of course, Gon has to do everything in his power to find him. Because he wants to prove his worth. He wants to find his dad and prove that he’s not weak.

And to me, that’s why Gon is so stubborn and self-destructive.

I mentioned that Hanzo fight earlier, and there’s something interesting that happens during that fight that can be used to illustrate this.

Hanzo asks why Gon is so stubborn, why he refuses to back down when he could just lose this match and face someone else. It’s true, Gon could have easily given up and fought someone else, he could’ve won then. But he refused to even consider the possibility. He had to win THIS fight. But why ? Is it out of pride ? Is it out of pure stubbornness ?

Well, as Gon says himself :

It has nothing to do with pride or being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn. It’s easy. If he shows weakness once, he’s not worthy. He’s not worthy of finding Ging, and he’s worth less than trash. Because if he’s weak, he doesn’t deserve to find him.

And this is so, so important. Because this is the reason Gon never backs down from anything, even at the cost of his limbs. Because like he said, if he loses, he thinks that he won’t be able to meet Ging. So he has to do ANYTHING, anything at all, no matter the cost, to be able to find him.

That’s why he’s not backing down from the Hanzo fight at the cost of his arm. That’s why he’s using zetsu during his fight against Gido, even if it’s dangerous, because that’s what he has to do to get stronger. That’s why he purposefully blasts off his own hand during his fight with Genthru. Because he has to get stronger, no matter the cost.

And Ging enables him. By making him feel like Gon has to “earn” the right to see him, Ging is fueling Gon’s self-destructive behavior.

Ging enables him when he tells him that he has to hunt him to find him, that he doesn’t want to see him and that he’ll run away when he senses him coming. That cat and mouse game is putting extreme pressure on Gon’s shoulders. His dad expects great things of him. He expects strength, and he expects him to find him. It’s a challenge. And an unhealthy one.

Greed Island is another example of that unhealthy challenge and the pressure of Ging’s expectations. Greed Island was created for Gon. It was created to train him, and as Bisky says herself :

If Gon wants to see Ging, he has to be strong. He has to always be stronger and stronger so he can earn the right to see him.

Quoting one of my references here, but this is also a form of abandonment that fuels Gon’s self destructive behavior.

All of these expectations put extreme pressure on Gon’s shoulders. Because he has to keep on pushing further and further, always improving, always getting stronger, and he’s not allowed to show weakness because it’d mean losing his goal.

But showing weakness wouldn’t only mean he’d lose his goal. Being weak would also mean he’d lose Killua.

I mentioned that when a child gets abandoned, they fear it’s their fault and develop a broken sense of self-worth. But that’s not all. After having been hurt, it’s normal to try and minimize the risk of being hurt again. You’d do anything to not be walked out on again. And that’s what Gon is doing. His fear of vulnerability and weakness is a fear of rejection and abandonment.

That’s also why Gon hates being seen as weak. Because if he’s weak, not only is he not living up to his dad’s expectations, but he’s also running the risk of Killua walking out on him. Because he’s scared that if he shows weakness, Killua will leave him, just like Ging did. Because he’s not strong enough to keep him, or anyone by his side.

And to make up for that overwhelming feeling of insecurity and his guilt over being weak, Gon overcompensates with physical strength and stubbornness. We’ve seen it multiple times throughout the manga. Gon purposefully gets hurt when facing a dangerous situation, just so he can prove his worth. Just so he can get stronger.

Gon overcompensates and takes everything onto his shoulders for this sole purpose of proving he’s worthy of staying.

Take the dodgeball match during Greed Island arc. There’s an interesting thing happening during the match that says a lot about Gon.

When Killua almost gets killed by Razor, it makes Gon’s blood boil. He’s furious and enraged that Razor dared try to hurt Killua. Because Killua has NOTHING to do with this. He’s only here because of Gon, and here he is, risking his life for him. Razor is putting Killua’s life in danger because of Gon. And that makes Gon go feral.

But the most interesting line happens here :

“I have to crush him completely”

Gon completely shuts off Killua at this point. He says HE has to be the one to crush him completely. He’s taking this responsibility onto himself, he has to be the one to defeat Razor, it’s his role. His and no one else’s.

And to me, that’s another sign of overcompensation fueled by abandonment issues. Gon feels guilt at what just happened. Killua shouldn’t have to risk his life to hang out with Gon. He has nothing to do with this, he’s only here because he wants to, and it drives Gon mad that Razor is trying to hurt him when it has nothing to do with him.

So because he feels guilt, because him not being able to protect Killua fully is a sort of weakness, he overcompensates with strength and by wanting to handle everything alone.

He affirms that he will take the responsibility of winning against Razor. It’s his fault Killua almost got hurt, so he has to bear the consequences alone. He has to make things right, no matter the cost. He has to show strength. He has to prove his worth.

Because what if Killua left him because he wasn’t strong enough?

I think this situation illustrates pretty well Gon’s trauma-fueled thought process :

• “It’s my fault this is happening because I’m too weak” (sparked by his twisted self-worth due to his abandonment issues)

• “So I have to bear the consequences alone” (to prove his worth as to not be abandoned again)

• “I won’t back down under any circumstance because my life has no value” (because of his lack of self-worth once again)

And this pattern is found in any situation in the manga. When Gon lets Kon scratch his arm until he bleeds to keep Kite from killing him, he’s doing it because it’s his fault Kon’s mom had to die. When Gon refuses to back down from Hanzo’s fight as he keeps breaking multiple parts of his body, he’s doing it because he believes that if he’s weak and backs down he won’t be worth seeing Ging. When Razor almost kills Killua, Gon flips out and emphasizes that he has to crush Razor because it’s his fault Killua is here and he won’t back down on kicking Razor’s ass. And that’s why when Kite dies and Gon sees his mangled body, he tells Killua “I’m taking on that one (Pitou) alone” : because Kite got hurt because of his weakness, Gon has to make amends in any way possible.

That’s why Gon hurts himself, that’s why he’s constantly putting everything on his shoulders : he has no value over his own life. He’s focused on proving he’s worth something at any cost.

And those escalating feelings of insecurity and this behavioral pattern are exactly why Gon broke down during Chimera Ant Arc. Because everything that was piling up went crumbling down when he saw Kite’s arm being cut off. Because he was weak for an instant.

It was his fault. It was his fault, because he was weak, because he couldn’t defend Kite, because even though Kite had just lost a limb, he was still stronger than both Gon and Killua combined. If he had just trained harder, if he had put his life on the line more, if he pushed himself past his limit, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. It was his fault.

At that precise moment when Kite’s arm got severed, every single insecurity that Gon had from the beginning of this manga is flooding in. Gon feels weak, he feels guilt, he feels like all of this is his fault. He feels like he wasn’t enough.

And because it’s his fault, he has to take everything on his shoulders. He has to be the one to bear the weight of his mistake alone. He has to be the one to carry the burden. Just like that dodgeball match.

Because he just lost everything. He showed weakness once, and everything crumbled. He had just gotten his dad’s student hurt, and that weakness meant that he also just lost his goal of finding Ging. Because now that he showed a hint of weakness, Ging would never want to see him. Gon had just lost everything. His mentor, his goal, and his weakness might drive Killua away too.

That’s why he put everything on his shoulder and vowed to make things right. Because he wanted to prove to himself, to Ging, to Kite, and more importantly to Killua that he could do this alone. That he wasn’t a failure. That he wasn’t weak. That he was worthy of staying.

That’s why when he sees Kite’s mangled body, he tells Killua that he’s taking onto Pitou alone. Because it’s his responsibility. He has to make things right. It was his fault for being weak. It’s his fault Kite got hurt.

And at that moment, Gon probably already knew that he wouldn’t stop at any cost. Because it was a quest to assuage his guilt. It was a quest to make things right and prove that he wasn’t weak, that he could fix things, that he was still worthy of Kite and Ging and Killua. That he wasn’t a failure. So he pushed past his limit. Took everything onto his shoulders. Pushed Killua away, because it has nothing to do with him. It’s his own mistake, not Killua’s.

Him going after Pitou is his attempt at redemption, a plea for help. A plea for someone to realize his worth. A plea to not be abandoned again.

And that’s why Gon is not a monster. He’s just a terrified child.

During Chimera Ant Arc, he’s bottling up his feelings of inadequacy and guilt just so he could attempt to fix the mess he created, attempting to carry everything on his shoulders alone, because he can’t afford to drag anyone else into his mess, especially not Killua.

Gon is not a monster for pushing Killua away. It is not a sign of him being unhinged or manipulative. It’s an act of protection. An act of love, his way of saying “This is my mess and I have to fix this, I can’t let you get hurt for my sake.”. It’s the desperate attempt of a broken 12 year old to try and make things right.

Gon is not a monster because he threatened Komugi. It was a desperate attempt at regaining a sense of control on the situation.

Because Gon’s morality has always been weird, it broke him to see Pitou heal Komugi. He couldn’t comprehend why something he categorized as evil was doing something as pure as healing. Just like that time during York New Arc ! Gon couldn’t understand why Chrollo was mourning the death of one of his members when he showed no remorse relentlessly killing innocent people. This inability to understand that bad people can do good things already broke Gon during YN arc, and it happened again during Chimera Ant Arc.

He had nowhere to put his anger. All this time, he created this mental picture of Pitou in his head, this one where they’re an evil, evil villain who could never do anything good, he classified them as bad and that was that. But faced with them performing a pure act of healing, it broke Gon. He had no outlet for his anger.

So he did what a 12 year old with a broken sense of worth and a need for validation would do : he overcompensated with even more anger.

In a desperate attempt at regaining a bit of control on the situation, his last resort was to threaten an innocent life. To take her hostage.

Because if he couldn’t make things right, he’d just lost everything. No matter the cost. No matter what happens. He had to do this. He had to ease his guilt.

Gon is not a monster because he sacrificed his life. He’s not a monster because he turned into an adult version of himself. He’s not a monster because he bashed Pitou’s skull in until it was mush. It was the actions of a broken boy who had nothing left. Who had just lost everything. Because Kite wasn’t hurt, he was DEAD. He was dead by his fault, it was his fault. He had nothing else to live for, because he was weak and lost everything.

So he decided to kill himself to take down Pitou. Because he didn’t deserve to live. And this “fight” with Pitou wasn’t even to avenge Kite’s death. It was an attempt to ease his guilt. To feel a little better, because he might’ve lost everything, but at least he took down Pitou with him.

I’m not condemning Gon’s actions or excusing them. At all. He made mistakes, and committed actions that are hard to excuse. But it was out of despair. It came out of years of pent up trauma and insecurities. His actions were a cry for help.

Gon didn’t “snap” out of nowhere. He always felt weak and insecure, he always had a broken sense of self-worth that led him to be self-destructive and overcompensate by taking everything onto his shoulders.

Chimera Ant Arc just pushed him past his limit. But this darkness, this plea for help, this trauma was always there in Gon’s heart. But it doesn’t mean he’s crazy. He’s just a child with abandonment issues and deep trauma.

To summarize, Ging’s physical and emotional abandonment left Gon with deep wounds that reflected in his behavior. Gon feels weak and insecure, he has no self-worth and a deep need to prove his value which leads him to constantly exhibit self-destructive behavior for the sole purpose of living up to his dad’s expectations and proving his worth.

Gon feels the need to prove his worth and handle everything alone in an attempt to appear strong, and this unhealthy standards he puts onto himself and that Ging’s behavior enables are what ultimately led to his breakdown.

Because when Kite’s arm flew off, so did Gon’s entire reason to exist.

He blamed himself for it, cursed his weakness and desperately attempted to make things right no matter the cost. Even if it meant death. Because death is better than being weak. Death is better than the guilt of having let his mentor down. Death is better than being rejected by his dad for his mistake. Death is better than being abandoned by his best friend.

And this deep, suffocating agony is what led Gon to act the way he did during Chimera Ant Arc.

It wasn’t the acts of a crazy, psychopathic monster. It was the act of a kid, desperately pleading for help.

But this breakdown was a good thing. No, really, it was. It was necessary.

Chimera Ant Arc was written to break down Gon to his core, to break his character in the worst possible way to annihilate the toxic traits he had.

His stubbornness, fear of weakness and self-destructive behavior were always going to break him in the end. But now that he knows what happens when you let all of this take over, it won’t happen again.

Gon is back to square one. Clean start, new beginning. Back to Whale Island with no nen, no goal, and with his best friend gone.

And while some people might see this as depressing, or a sign that Gon didn’t change at all during the manga, it’s actually the exact opposite. It represents a second chance.

It’s the purest form of second chance he can get. He’s back to zero, and he has a blank canvas to be able to fix every wrong he made in the past.

With no nen, he now has the opportunity to learn it the proper way, taking his time to enjoy the process, learning it for pure purposes and not rushing to get stronger for the sole purpose of proving his worth.

With no goal, he’s free to find something that he wants to do for himself, not live in Ging’s shadow. He gets to be who he wants to be, with no unhealthy expectations.

With Killua gone, he gets to reflect on their relationship. He gets to realize the wrongs he’s made, the what-ifs and lost opportunities, he gets to realize how much Killua means to him.

This second chance is not a curse, it’s a blessing. Because it’s exactly what Gon needed to be able to heal.

And I’m willing to bet that this will be Gon’s final character arc : healing. We’ll get to see Gon act in ways that highlight how much he’s changed, showcasing his growth. When he was stubborn, hot-headed and impulsive, he’ll have learned to be more calm and composed. When he was always looking to prove his worth and look for strength, he’ll have learned that his true value lies in who he is and in the little detours of his travels.

He’ll be more calm, won’t put himself in danger for the sake of being stronger, he won’t drag Killua in impossible situations where he has to clean up the mess. He won’t hurt his arm, which was the physical representation of his trauma. He’ll have grown.

Because that’s what HxH is ultimately about. Togashi is all about deconstructing and reconstructing his characters to show growth and healing from trauma. To show that tragedy happens, but at the end of the day, you can overcome your worst traits. At the end of the day, you can become a better person, no matter what.

EDIT : I actually wrote a post on how I believe Gon’s next character arc was foreshadowed here.

Thank you for reading this ! I hope it was all clear and that I expressed my thoughts correctly, without mischaracterizing Gon.

Full disclaimer that I am NOT a psychologist and I’m not attempting to diagnose Gon, I’m just linking the signs of emotional trauma due to abandonment issues to his character in an attempt to explain his actions.

Please feel free to give me your thoughts or criticism !

References :

• “Understanding the pain of abandonment”

• “How to overcome abandonment issues from childhood”

Those two articles are the foundation of my meta. They’re extremely interesting articles that show all the signs of abandonment on a child’s behavior, and it showcases the consequences of both emotional and physical abandonment on their self-worth.

• “Fear of vulnerability and learning to trust again”

#hxh #hxh meta #meta #my meta #holy shit this took me so long to write AHAHHAA #i hope i didnt mischaracterize too badly #and i hope i was kinda clear #ty if you decide to read this <3<3<3

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lin-nin · 4 years

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A Mother’s Love & Grief

Ship: SurrogateMother!Reader x SurrogateSon!Wilbur, Philza x Reader

Plot: Wars were never fun, and you hated them. Especially when they involved the sons of your friend.

Disclaimer: Dream SMP Spoilers up to the Manberg vs Pogtopia War, some depictions of violence! Currently a one-shot, but if interest is high I could see myself doing more.

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You had always been there, lingering the edges and watching. Carefully watching as Wilbur and Tommy got up to their shenanigans. It was the least you could do for Philza. Watching his boys was easy, originally. It had started out simple, even as they raised the walls of L'Manberg. You were proud of them then, even as they fought for their independence. You had felt a fierce pride on how they had grown, regardless of their reasons.

The pain you had felt the day of the first revolution matched your pride. It had hurt seeing them get hurt the way they had, but you were powerless to stop them. There was a leverage over you because of them that you couldn't risk actively picking sides. So you watched, though you made sure to tell them you were proud of them once it all ended. You even promised Wilbur to tell Philza what a good job the two of them had to done. He had always wanted the approval of his father, and creating a country for freedom surely was a reason to be proud.

As L'Manberg grew, you settled within the walls, celebrating happily with the boys as they did. It was with pride you had watched the election, rooting for them to win. It was what they clearly wanted. The pride could only turn to horror as they were exiled, though. You had frantically shoved Tommy away, acutely aware of how dire it was that he get out safe. You had sacrificed yourself that night, an arrow through the neck draining you. A shot meant for Tommy. You couldn't do the same for Wilbur, helplessly watching as he was shot down by Punz. You couldn’t even cry out for him when you had seen the shot coming.

Everything had changed that day. You had carefully snuck off to their exile, forcing Technoblade to promise to watch them and take care of them. They were Philza’s boys, and he at least owed his friend that. You kept to Manberg then, sneaking out periodically to offer up information when you could. It wasn't until just before the festival when Tommy had come to you, desperate for help.

"It's Wilbur! He's gone- He's gone mad! He wants to blow up L'Manberg, he thinks it'll fix it. You have to tell him, tell him it's wrong. He won't listen to me. Please," The youngest had begged you, and you had relented without a second thought. Wilbur looked mad when you had walked into Pogtopia, his hair a mess. You hadn't seen him since the banishment.

"Wilbur…" You murmured cautiously, causing him to spin towards you.

"Did Tommy tell you? What do you think?" He asked, a grin on his face. An unstable grin. You needed to proceed cautiously, and you knew that.

"I think… it's impressive, but surely there's another way, isn't there?"

"If there's no L'Manberg to rule, wouldn't that be better? No more Schlatt, no more presidency, no more Dream breathing down our necks. Its perfect!" He seemed eager, and it made your heart pang.

"If there's no L'Manberg, you, me, Tommy and Tubbo all lost lives for nothing. Tommy would have given up his discs for nothing. Were all of the sacrifices pointless?" You kept your voice level, trying not to be cynical towards him. One thing could set him off.

"You died for Tommy! I'm proud of him for his growth but L'Manberg has only caused problems. Wouldn’t Phil be proud?" The words had stunned you then.

"Would Phil be proud? You're planning to blow up an entire country because you rightfully lost, Wilbur! Why would he be proud?" You had gestured around the pair of you, words clearly upsetting the brunette.

"Because I'm doing what's right! Who gives a damn if it makes me the bad guy?" Wilbur flung his hands up, scowling at you.

"You can solve this without blowing up a country, without being a terrorist! You aren't doing the right thing!" You had been fed up and frustrated, deeming to Tommy that there was clearly no reasoning with Wilbur. He was beyond that point. You could see it in his eyes.

The festival had caused more pain. It seemed like that's all it had brought. Tubbo died at the hands of Technoblade that day, the shot only spurring you more. What the hell had this country done? When the war came you kept to yourself. The second revolution was rough, but you truly wanted no part of it. It was for a country you were having your doubts for, but at least it was in tact. You may not care much for it, but the others did so you didn't care.

It was only when the victory cheers rallied that you cared to look, smiling almost fondly at the boys as they gave their speeches. It was messy and unpolished, but their pride and joy was immeasurable. They had succeeded in something they cared about for the second time.

Peace never seemed to stay with L'Manberg though. No sooner than victory was declared, fighting broke out again. You cried out as Techno fired at your boys, doing everything you could to protect it. That's when you heard it, the hissing of bombs. You hardly had time to react, watching as the ground beneath everyone shattered, erupting into a rain of wood and Earth. It was chaos, and you frantically searched for Wilbur. You didn't care that he had done this- please just let him be okay.

He was stood in a cave across one of the craters. With Philza. The man looked torn, and you could only stand and watch. It felt like slow motion as Wilbur shoved the sword into his father's hands. Philza’s wings flexed, frustrated as he yelled. You couldn't make out the words, everything ringing around you from the explosion. The sword was pointed towards Wilbur’s chest, the tip threatening to impale him. And then it did, and you weren’t sure if Wilbur had pushed himself onto it or if Philza had done it himself.

You were vaguely aware of the screaming. Your own screaming, to be exact, as tears streamed down your face. Wilbur was gone. The last life he had, taken in the name of a country that had done him wrong. You don't remember who moved you from the chaos of the battle. It became a blur in your shock and grief.

Days had passed and you sat in a house that had been built for you. You believed Tubbo had built it, simply saying that you deserved it. The grief had shocked you numb, the moments replaying through your head every time your eyes closed. Philza eventually visited, the visitations often quiet. Much of the time was spent with him making sure you were taken care of. As time passed, you opened up more, you recovered. The wound sort of healed. Enough for you to speak to Philza of his sons and what they had gotten up to in his absence.

As you recounted stories, you often found yourself pressed to his side, a dark wing draped around you. Sometimes he even managed to get you out of the house, walking around the lake they'd put in the explosion craters. Sometimes you would stare down at the water, watching the fish dance beneath the surface. Like they'd always belonged there.

It was all fine, until the day you met Ghostbur. The ghost had floated in behind Philza one day, chatting happily in a voice that only seemed reminiscent of Wilbur. He had introduced himself, recounting a few memories. That Wilbur had always cared deeply for you, and that he knew you had always done the same and looked out for him. He only seemed to remember the fond memories, and part of it hurt. He was Wilbur. Yet he wasn't. An echo of the boy you watched grow.

It had been silent as you sat there, even after Ghostbur left. Philza didn't follow, simply settling beside you. A wing wrapped around you, safely tucking you into his side. The sun was setting when he finally broke the silence. "I know," he mumbled quietly. As if anything louder would have been too much. "I miss him too."

"Everyday?" You whispered, voice thick with sadness. You looked up to him, desperate for reassurance. That this was normal, that you weren't alone.

"Everyday. It's hard. I always wonder if I could have stopped him." He stared wistfully out the window, and you released a shuddering breath.

"I do too. I tried. Not hard enough. Maybe I should have stopped him from even creating L'Manberg. All that it has brought is pain. So many people died for it. Our boys-" You choked as you spoke, the words spilling out with no restraint. "We lost him. I lost him. I loved him, Phil. He was like my own son, and watching him die-"

It was the first time you broke. The first time you spilled and acknowledged everything like this. Phil had shifted, moving to tug you into his lap. To hold you tight, both wings cocooning you there. You clung to him without a second thought, face burying into his neck as you sobbed.

"Everytime I close my eyes I see it- his body just- it hurts, and I couldn't stop it. I couldn’t save him, I couldn't save my boy," Your voice raised with your hysteria, and Phil rubbed your back.

"It isn't your fault. I don't know if either of us could have saved him. It's okay to grieve him, but don't let it eat you alive." His cheek rested against your head, and you hiccuped softly. He held onto you tight, the moment feeling horribly somber. You had finally broken after months of barely living.

"Ghostbur isn't the same. He's not our Wilbur," you whispered after your crying had slowed.

"No, he's not. He tries, though. He's got the best intentions with what he can remember. He wanted to see you right away but we wouldn't let him. He said Wilbur always thought of you as a mother." His voice was soft. Tender. You took a shaking breath, sitting up some more so you could look at Phil.

"How much does he remember?" You questioned, leaning into the hand that came to cup your cheek. Your eyelids fluttered shut as he wiped at the tear tracks with his thumb, trying to make sure you were okay.

"The trauma is gone, for the most part. He seems to only remember the good." He explained, and you nodded. You were somewhat glad for that. You weren't sure you could handle it if he remembered every detail of his demise.

"Was I a good mother?" Your voice was meek as you questioned Phil, reaching up to cradle his hand. His gaze softened at the action, moving to hold your hand instead.

"Given the circumstances, I'd say you weren’t bad. You tried your best to protect them. Tommy told me about the exile. That there is enough to rule you a decent mother." He ran one of his knuckles against the scar on your neck.

"I didn't even think about it when I did it," You leaned forward, settling your head on his shoulder.

"You don't need to, as a parent. It's instinct. Just remember the other two are still alive, I think they could use you." You nodded, closing your eyes. "Try and actually talk to Ghostbur soon, too. It'd make him happy." You only nodded again, the emotional exhaustion wearing on you. Phil pressed a ghost of a kiss to your temple, before settling his head atop yours. You weren't sure when you lost consciousness, only aware of the warmth and closure in your heart.

#philza #philza minecraft #philza x reader #philza minecraft x reader

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codename-adler · 4 years

Text

Kevin Day and his Oblivious Literature Lover, pt. VII

Happy Birthday, Kevin. I’m so glad you exist. We all are. Here, I give to you friendship, love and care. You’re gonna get through this, I promise. ♥️

>> Table of Contents, TW and other parts are here!

Jean leaves

after their game against the Trojans, Kevin says goodbye to Jeremy Knox, and to Jean

Kevin feels heavy, he feels torn, and sad and scared, because he’s alone once again

and he’s afraid he’ll never see Jean again, that whatever they managed to have hear in Palmetto was their unofficial “break up” and that Jean will never speak to him again

Jean had cried, he’d begged, he didn’t want to go, he didn’t want to be abandoned again, he didn’t want to be away from Kevin again

but Jeremy Knox had somehow worked his magic, and Jean had genuinely (well, as genuine as one can be after the Nest) accepted Jeremy’s offer, and even chose to move immediately to South California with him instead of waiting for the summer

Kevin hoped it wasn’t in an attempt to put as much distance between them and more because Jean was on his way to healing, even if it was away from him

they had hugged one last time, in Abby’s guest room, and poured everything they felt for each other in their embrace

they both knew things would be different from now on

they knew it would be hard, and painful

they knew the healing would be slow, that nasty things would resurface

but in that moment, they didn’t care

“Jean… Jean listen to me,” Kevin whispered in Jean’s ear. “Hell is over. You got through it. You got out. You’ll be safe, now, okay? I know- I know we have to process things… Take your time. Rely on Jeremy. Rely on your team. The Trojans are great. And I’m not just talking about Exy. Okay, Jean? You’ll be safe now. You’ll be far away from all this mess. And if there is anything, anything, Jean, you call me. I’ll be there. I don’t care why or how; I’ll be there for you, Jean.��

they held on tighter to each other, tears silently streaming down their faces

Kevin cradled the back of Jean’s head as Jean clutched Kevin’s shirt in his fist

they had to let go, they had to, and yet…

I care for you. I love you. I do. I’ll always love you.

words left unsaid, barely exchanged in a look, barely understood in their eyes

words that had never held any meaning to them, words they’d never heard, words they’d never said

they weren’t about to start saying them now, but their presence was strong

But this is goodbye, for now.

they let go

Jean leaves

Jean is gone

none of the Foxes know what’s happened, but they do feel the consequences

and it doesn’t help that their next and ultimate game is against the Ravens, at Edgar Allen, their last chance at winning Championships, at beating the odds and their nemesis

Kevin is a huge fucking asshole all week

he can’t seem to help it

he lashes out, he fights, he drinks…

he’s obsessed, he’s panicking, he’s a monster

the high of helping Jean has worn off, the high of their win against the Trojans has worn off

fear is all that’s left

Wymack has to forcefully bring him to Betsy at 6 AM when he finds Kevin at the court, having passed the whole night practicing, even after Neil and Andrew left around 3 AM

Kevin is shaking all over in his chair

Betsy doesn’t offer hot cocoa

Kevin doesn’t want to be here, never did, never will

Betsy has to thread carefully, has to approach him from the right angle

“How is Jean settling in at USC?” she calmly asks

“We’re not talking about Jean,” Kevin spits back immediately

“Okay. What are we talking about?”

“We’re not talking.”

“That’s alright. I’ll talk for a bit, then. As your designated therapist, your health is under my care as much as it is under Abby’s and David’s. What this means is, my word weights as much as theirs when it comes to who plays, and who doesn’t. Exy has been good for you, Kevin. Exy is good for a lot of you, actually. However, what my professional advice would be, in your case, is that you are to be forbidden from playing this last game against Edgar Allen.”

Kevin gasps

Before he can unleash the thousands of obscenities on the tip of his tongue, Betsy raises a calm hand to hold him off

“I won’t do that. I should, but I won’t. Ultimately, not playing would aggravate your mental state more than facing Edgar Allen and pushing yourself past your limits. You need this. You need closure. You need proof. In my opinion, it won’t solve your problems, it won’t solve your traumas, your alcoholism, your PTSD, your anxiety, your anger issues, and I’m being brief. But this is something you want to do, and I understand its importance. So I won’t be interfering.”

Kevin scoffs, uncooperative

“But hear this, Kevin: at the rate you’re going, you are not going to win this game. You’re not. You’re going to break, you’re going to lose, and then you won’t be getting back up. This? Right now? This is your point of no return.”

Kevin gapes at her

he can’t believe the words that just came out of Betsy’s mouth

not because they are cruel, or unprofessional, or harmful

it’s because they are true

Kevin finds that her words resonate in him, like the echoes of a desperate cry for help within himself

Kevin doesn’t cry, because he can’t, he doesn’t remember how to

he does however go into full-blown panic

without a bottle in his clutch

it’s bad

it’s really bad

he hears half the words Betsy says next

“Kevin, this is a panic attack. You know this, this is familiar. Don’t be afraid of it, you are not going to die. Not on my watch. I’m going to hold you now, okay? Do I have your permission?”

Kevin nods frantically as he chokes on air

Betsy gets up to come sit beside Kevin on the couch and takes him in her arms

she buries his head over her shoulders and crosses her arms behind his back; without rocking as to not increase the nausea, Betsy begins squeezing Kevin every three seconds, raising her shoulders everytime to encourage him to breathe

“One, two, three, in, Kevin. One, two, three, out, Kevin.”

the pressure of her arms and her deep, motherly voice bring Kevin down from his attack after a good twenty minutes

“I’m going to release you now, Kevin, okay? Can I let go of you?”

Kevin slowly nods, his eyes fixated on a point behind Betsy’s back

she doesn’t even have the time to sit back down on her own chair, though, before Kevin pulls a Neil and sprints out of her office

Wymack can’t even catch up to him

he runs, and runs, and runs

his feet should take him to his dorm, to the alcohol cabinet, or even to the court, to his gear

they don’t

he stops running right in front of Jackie Hall

rationally, Kevin knows classes start at 8:30, that Jules has been getting back in class progressively, that she was slowly getting back on her feet

irrationally, Kevin fears she won’t be there, or that she will, but in pieces on the floor, or that she won’t want to see him, or that she’ll know, or that-

his feet take him inside nonetheless

in a haze, he once again faces door 418

he doesn’t realize he’s knocked until his fist meets the air when the door opens

he woke up Jules, and she looks like it; eyes puffed from sleep, bonnet half off, naked feet

“Kev? Wha- You’re here. Why are you here? Are you- Are you okay? Why are you dressed like that?”

Kevin looks down, at his Exy clothes

his Exy clothes

Shit.

“Okay, no, it’s too early for this. Come on, don’t just stand there. Go shower. I’ll be there after, yeah?” she says as she ushers him inside her dorm room

but Kevin can’t seem to move, now that he has stopped

so Jules grabs two of his fingers and pulls him inside

which then pulls Kevin out of his apathy

“I don’t- I can’t- I-,” he tries

“Do I need to call someone? Are you in danger?” Jules panics a little bit

“N-No… I- Clothes… It’s all I have…” Kevin explains with difficulty

“Oh.”

Jules locks the door behind them and goes to her bed, only to pull out a pile of clothes from under the corner pillow

she brings them to Kevin

“You left this last time you were here… I figured if you didn’t ask for it back, it’d be more useful here in case… Well… You know… That,” she explains, a bit embarrassed

Kevin furrows his eyebrows, he looks like he is on the verge of crying

he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t, but if he could…

he gently takes the clothes and locks himself in the joint bathroom, without a word

Jules is left standing there, still shocked, nervous, overwhelmed…

she quickly undresses herself while Kevin is out of the room, puts on some more decent clothes that what he is used to see her in, washes her face in the tiny sink and fixes her hair for the day

she gets cold as she waits for Kevin, and pulls on a red polo sweater, the only one she has left that doesn’t need to be washed

she waits for Kevin on her bed

Kevin comes out of the bathroom at last, black sweatpants, black shirt, white socks on

he’s clutching his Exy uniform in his arms, close to his chest, close to his heart

Jules gets up to go fetch them two granola bars, the only two she has left of her oh so spare groceries

Kevin looks at it as if she’d handed him a live kitten

he gets that pained look again

“Are you sure that’s okay…?” he asks her

“Yeah, I’m sure. You need it, Kevin. Eat,” she answers him

she sits down on the floor and invites him to do the same

they eat in silence, Jules watching his every moves

Kevin barely nibbles at his bar

“Kevin… Tell me,” Jules finally speaks

and he can’t hold it in anymore

he tells her everything

everything.

from Betsy’s emergency session this morning all the way back to his mom’s death

and everything in between

Riko. The Nest. Exy. His hand. The Foxes. Thea. The alcohol. Andrew. Neil. The mafia. Jean, again, honestly this time.

everything.

it lasts for hours

or so they think

turns out the sun has barely been up for an hour when Kevin finally closes his mouth, emptied of all his bad history

Jules has bitten the skin off of her lips, but has stayed put where she sat next to him nonetheless, through it all

after a while, breaking the heavy silence, Jules asked the only question one could ask after such a story

“What do you need, Kev?”

what did he need, indeed…

“I- Help me…” was the only answer he could think of

it chilled Juliet to her core

she couldn’t

she couldn’t do that

she was a mess

she didn’t have the strength

she was falling apart at the seams

“Kevin, I- Look at me… Look at my life… I am the last person you want help from… I can’t hold you up like that… I can’t be your anchor…”

she was on the verge of crying, too

but she could cry for real

it took her everything not to

Kevin blamed himself relentlessly

“No, no, no, no… I’m not- I just want… Someone,” Kevin tried to explain

Kevin took a deep breath, getting ready to confess

“I can’t do therapy. I can’t do it. Not alone. I just can’t. I hate is so fucking much. I can’t do it alone.”

Jules understood

her eyes widened in surprise

“You want to do… Joined therapy? With me?”

“Yes.”

“Why.”

“I can’t talk to her… I can’t talk to Betsy. I don’t know how to. I don’t even want to. But you… I can talk to you. I want to talk to you. But I can’t do that to you. We need an outlet. Hence, you, Betsy, and me… The dream team,” Kevin chuckled sadly

it made no sense

it was unconventional, unheard of

it was playing with fire, playing with their traumas

“Okay,” she said

“Okay?” he asked in disbelief

“Okay.”

---

and so they walked back to Betsy’s office, together

Betsy is quite surprised, to say the least

not that Kevin came back

but that he came back willingly, with a plan and desire to get better, and accompanied

before agreeing to Kevin’s deal, however, she has conditions of her own

“One: these sessions are to be once a week, and more if I deem it necessary, no arguing. Two: No more alcohol. You go sober or nothing of this will work. Three: As soon as this Exy season is over, you are to be put on antidepressants. Again, meds mean sobriety.”

Kevin nods, somber but willing to try

“Also: we will all sign a contract to prevent any more harm and to clarify the conditions under which these sessions are to take place. It will be a bit different, as you are not family, or a couple, but we can make this work.”

Juliet and Kevin consent

“One last thing: I will need a full session alone with you, Juliet. I have to evaluate you, evaluate if you are not a threat to Kevin’s well-being, and if Kevin is not a threat to yours. We also need to get to know each other, I’m sure you’d like to know who you’ll be dealing with, yeah? I promise I’m not usually so serious. Would that be okay with you, Juliet?”

Juliet nods on her own, before she is hit with a heavy realization

“Ma’am- Doctor- I- I don’t have the money. I can’t. I should’ve thought about it sooner. I’m sorry, I didn’t think,” Jules apologizes

“Oh, that won’t be a problem, dear. I’m funded by the Palmetto Foxes. And believe me or not, they don’t use my services as much as they should. Right, Kevin? Besides, Kevin needs this. I need Kevin to do this. And I have a strong feeling you need this too. I assure you, money will not be a problem,” Betsy responds

“But… I’m not a- a Fox…”

“Oh, trust me, dear. You’re a Fox alright. Just not on a court.”

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ma-gic-gay · 4 years

Note

What the fuck is this oxygen thing doing in his nose, why is there someone praying at his bedside and who the hell can dim the lights?

"Oh thank god you're awake," the blonde by his bedside (presumably the one praying) smiles. "Are you comfortable?"

He searches his brain before remembering why he's in here: He got shot and fell to the ground (hence the headache). It was coming out of court and he was convinced they were going to shoot at her. "Are you?" He asks in return, noting that she's clearly stretching her back. The chairs aren't comfortable, though she has gotten used to sleeping in them over the years.

A single tear runs down her stained face (probably makeup, he figures. That's messy stuff) as she smiles. "I've dealt with worse," she answers calmly. When he starts pulling out the oxygen thing, she chuckles to herself. "Epiphany is gonna be mad you did that."

"Well I can breathe fine without it," he argues, mildly wincing with the pain of the bullet wound. "This thing's just annoying me."

"You were shot in the chest and narrowly escaped having a serious head trauma, Jason, that's not fine. I had to sign off on four different surgeries for you! One to remove the bullet, one when something went wrong after that with the bullet, an exploratory brain surgery, and then, just for fun, they had me sign off on an exploratory heart surgery to make sure you hadn't had more severe bleeding than they thought," Carly starts in on him, clearly worked up.

"How long was I out?"

"Three days. You could've died in this hospital and guess who would've been to blame? Me. Sam reminded me of that more times than I'd like to think about," she continues her rant. "No taking stupid risks with your life! If you see a gun pointed at you you run the other direction, you don't save me first! I need you alive so promise me you're not going to be a hero and save everyone but yourself."

"The guns were pointed at you, Carly," he argues, knowing it's in vein by the look on her face that says he's not getting out of this. "I wasn't taking a risk with my life, I was saving you."

"And you could've died doing it!"

"You could've died too, you know. They could've shot you or a bullet could've ricocheted. Besides, I'm fine," Jason shrugs off the surgery. "In a little bit of chest pain and with a minor headache but fine all things considered."

She glares at him, clearly still upset. Grabbing his hand, she exclaims, "I thought you were going to die! Sam was blaming me for it left and right. Jake, Danny and Scout thought their dad wouldn't wake up. Michael, Joss, and Donna were worried to all hell. Which reminds me, I was instructed by Donna to give you this card." After a brief moment of fumbling around in her purse, she found the piece of paper she was looking for and hands it to him.

The card was clearly written by Avery, considering that the handwriting is much better than Donna's. It reads, "Get Better Quick!" And has a stick figure that's supposed to be him with a bunch of red coming from his shirt. Blood, he figures. On the inside, it's the stick figure napping, no more red stain. All in all, it's a cute card.

"Hey Carly, is-" Sam starts, entering the room angrily. "Jason! You're up!"

"I'm going to go call my kids," Carly announces, leaving the room. "I'll be back in a few minutes, probably armed with at least one of them."

Getting a quiet chuckle out of Jason, she leaves the room with a pep on her step. He must've scared them pretty bad if she's that happy about his being awake and as functioning a human as someone in a hospital bed can be.

Sam, beaming, takes Carly's place and says, "Thank god. You were worrying us for a while there."

"I'm fine," he shrugs.

"No you're not. You almost died protecting Carly, again. This is becoming a habit of yours, Jason," she sighs. That's a lie; she knows it too. "You being her hero is going to cost you your life one of these days and I don't want that. None of us do."

Now she's just flat out pissing him off. Only took about a minute to do that, which is kind of impressive. "What do you want me to do, let her get shot?"

She takes a minute to think about her answer. What the hell? There's a right answer and there's a wrong answer here.

"I don't want you to die because of her. That's what I think. If that's the only way for it to happen, then yes, I guess she's going to get shot. It wouldn't kill you to let her have a little bit of the consequences for her actions for once, you know," Sam says simply. "Doing something dumb enough to get shot at might be a sign she has to learn her lesson."

"The gun was aimed at her. It was a hired gun from Cyrus. As far as I knew, his orders were to take her out." When Sam stops reacting, he asks, "What did Cyrus do?"

"You got shot saving her," Sam continues. "She's never going to learn to depend on you less if you keep saving her everytime you think she's in trouble, Jason. She'll always be this dependent, if not more, on you."

Oh good god. This conversation is going in circles and it's giving him a headache. "It's not your business anymore whether she's dependent on me or not," he says, voice as even as possible. She seems to be forgetting they're not together, or even friends anymore. They coparent their kids, that's it.

There's a hurt look on Sam's face, he can see as she simply responds, "You're right. But that doesn't mean that it's a good thing you could die protecting her from her own messes."

"I never said it was a good or bad thing. I'm alive."

"I've got to go get the kids," she excuses herself before leaving the room.

Well now he kinda feels like shit. He didn't mean to send her away or hurt her feelings, but it's clear he did just that. To be fair, she might've forgotten about the kids for a bit and remembered she had to pick them up somewhere, but he doubts it. Not wholehearted doubt, but enough.

"Stop frowning. It causes wrinkles," Carly jokes as she enters the room again. "Sam just went to go get Danny and Scout from the Quartermaine's. My kids are over the moon you're doing better. Donna would like to run in here right now, but I had to remind her it's a hospital and that's disgusting."

"The hospital's fairly clean," he smiles before noticing that her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "What happened?"

"Cyrus is out on bail. He's got full reign of the hospital."

"How?"

"I guess his lawyer's actually good and managed to get him bail. Sympathetic judge," the blonde says, shrugging. "He's stayed away from me, thank god. Not for me, for him. I'm half sure if I saw him I'd start attacking him."

"What about the trial?"

"It's over. Cyrus changed his plea. His sentencing isn't for a few weeks, though, so his lawyer petitioned for bail and got it," she smiles brightly as she says the first part, tone turning for the later half. "And if you're not admitted out of here by then, rest assured, I'll break you out to go."

He chuckles, noticing her eyes are glossy. "Why are you crying?"

"I don't know," Carly laughs. "It's just happening. Tears have decided to fall from my eyeballs, which doesn't even make sense because I'm happy right now. You're alive and as well as can be considering your four surgeries, everyone's fine, I don't get it." She wipes her tears away with a chuckle. "If you'd died because of me-"

"I didn't. I'm alive. Stop worrying I'm going to have a heart attack or something and die. I made it, you made it, your family is fine, my family is fine. No point in dwelling on the past," Jason interrupts her. "See? I'll be fine in a few days."

"You're in here because of me," she argues weakly, not meeting his eyes.

"Look at me, Carly," he instructs calmly and she does just that. "This isn't your fault. It's not mine or anyone but Cyrus's. And the guys that shot me. Alright? You did nothing wrong."

"I could've-"

"Could've what? Been psychic? Predicted the future? That's not real and we both know it. What is real is that I am alive. Everyone we care about it alive. I'm not planning on dying anytime soon. Everything is fine and you're not responsible for not having psychic abilities," Jason reminds her, watching her try to find a hint of a lie within the words or a way she can continue to blame herself. "Stop blaming yourself."

"Fine," she caves, "if you promise to not forget to save yourself when bullets start flying around me, I'll stop blaming myself."

"Deal."

"I'm waiting for the promise."

"I promise to remember to save myself and you."

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"No," he says, "it really wasn't."

"You can thank me at any time for introducing you to the lovely world of negotiation."

"I've been in a business involving negotiation since the 1990s."

"Coffee is a very competitive business."

"Very."

When she stops bantering with him and kisses him, he knows something in his life has changed.

To be continued after I pass out :) I live in hell

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stingroy · 4 years

Note

Who do you think was the mist immoral character of Moral Orel Clay or Censordoll? Do you think there were evil characters in the show or were they just flawed people trying to do what they perceived as the right thing?

THIS POST IS LONG BEWARE

im bias but clay all the way

if ms censordoll was a real person i would despise her, but in the show shes really fun and interesting to watch imo! of course i dont condone book burning and censorship i just think shes a good character to critique and make fun censorship with, plus i love her voice whoever her voice actor is did a great job. to be honest i havent rewatched the episodes where shes a main focal point in a long while so i need to refresh my memory before id be able to really form a strong opinion on her that i would stand by firmly

clay is an abusive addict with no interest in anyone else but himself, he has no agenda other than to get drunk and be miserable. i mean maybe he’s “invested” in teaching orel because he’s his only (legitamate) son but then... nature still happened. clay often talks about how hes distant from his family on purpose and doesnt care about them so i dont think he really gives that much of a shit all in all. i know he had a difficult childhood (yet another episode i need to rewatch (its been years), im on s2e3 so i still have a ways) but it doesnt justify like anything he does. cool motive still murder yknow? clay reminds me a lot of my religious alcoholic estranged father so i DEFINITELY have a personal bone to pick with clay cuz ive been there.

when it comes to whether the townspeople are evil, i feel like that question really lies at the heart of the show, not just for clay and censordoll but almost everyone in moralton (cept for orel of course). i could go into that concept for the next seventeen years so i wont right now but i think between the both of them at least censordoll probably thought she was doing the right thing for the people in her town. not that anything she did was actually right, but organizing all those daily pickets and book burnings must take some effort, right? someone who didnt care at all wouldnt go through the trouble. she seems to like genuinely care about moralton being righteous, even if her idea of righteous media is completely skewed and wrong. i wouldnt call that evil, horribly misguided and incorrect definitely but evil? im not really sure.

again tho its been a while so my opinion might change as i run thru s2 and 3 again, and im really starting to consider that if censordoll was a real person i probably would consider her to be evil but that might be more of a comment on my thought processes and perception of people than censordoll herself... lol

i dont know if clay even thinks he’s doing the right thing by orel truly. i think somewhere deep inside past his addiction there is someone in there trying to do something for orel, trying to keep him on the right path in a weird and terribly unfortunate way. clay has made it clear through his actions that he will not engage with parts of his family that he doesnt care about (cough bloberta and shapey cough), and he seems to always make time for orel. whenever orel needs to talk to him, clay is around to give his lessons and “guidance”. maybe thats just because his lessons are a crucial part of the show, but i think that shows. some effort? some acknowledgement? that he doesnt show to anything else other than drinking.

unfortunately clay is a sick motherfucker. he’s so rooted in his own trauma and addiction that he cant see anything other than his own pain. and i do absolutely sympathize with that, ive dealt with my own traumas and addictions and you lose sight of who you are and what you value. sometimes people can get to the point where they lose everything they love other than the bottle, and then they die and lose that too. its a disease, and its absolutely not someones fault that they have an alcohol problem.

but clay gives into himself. he makes no effort to change his situation, bloberta even brings this up in s1ep10 when theyre arguing about shapey’s breastfeeding. she tells him to quit his stinkin dead end job and stop being such a crybaby and you know what shes mean af but shes right! all clay does is wallow around and drink because hes miserable and stays miserable because he drinks. he numbs everything out instead of changing his life for... convenience? image? fear? probably a combo

my real problem with clay is that he hurts people because he is hurt. thats where my sympathy dies and i no longer really care about his motivations and trauma. i think nature is the clearest example of that, but clay hurts orel throughout the show. like damn he literally beats the kid with a belt in 90% of the episodes. its just not justifiable to me at all.

i will say one more thing that clay does that i think really says something about him. everytime orel does something wrong, clay takes him to his study, beats/spanks him with the belt (we never see it so who knows how severe it is), and then talks to orel. and orel LISTENS. ALWAYS. clay doesnt have to beat orel to punish him, orel has such a strong sense of loyalty and obiedience that his true punishment is his fathers disappointment. orel always listens to what clay says without question, and clay still finds it nessecary to beat him. it makes me think that clay gets something else out of that interaction like vindication, stress relief, or something of that nature. its cruel, and its selfish. its like beating a dog. you dont have to do it to make him listen to you, so why do it? probably for a reason other than discipline.

clay and censordoll are obvs the two people we’re talking about but a lot of people in moralton do bad things for the sake of righteousness and goodness. like i said a bit earlier i really do think that question is The Big Question of the show, and i feel like many people will have varying opinions based on their own morals and life experiences. the intricate motivations and values of each of the characters in moral orel is one of the things that makes the show so great and so interesting that here i am writing a long winded “analysis” on it on tumblr a decade after it was released.

WOW i completely derailed myself and started rambling for seven hours but!!!

tl;dr clay is a bitch and the people of moralton arent inherently evil monsters but i sure do have my problems with them

#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS QUESTION #i think i really needed to Talk. About Clay.#I Could Go On. about almost every character in that show but obvs wont atm because this is already les miserables level of length #but im sure ill get there eventually if my diatribes arent too annoying to yall #moral orel #anon #abuse #alcoholism #long post

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hanssolosbutt · 6 years

Text

I remember being eleven and holding my friend’s hand while she was having a breakdown in the middle of our english speaking test because her parents were divorcing and on the night before her dad had tried to force himself on her mother while her three younger siblings were watching cartoons in the living room. She could barely speak through the tears, all sobs and snot and anger and sorrow but. My hand. My hand she held tighter and tighter.

I remember being seven on the best hiding spot of the house, underneath my grandparent’s bed. It was tight and dark, the tittle floor was cold against my skinny back, i could see the green covers brushing the ground.

We were squeezing to fit in before my sister would stop counting and come after us and we were still hiding but oh! Hide and seek was no longer the game we were playing. But it was game. Just a silly game and he had said so, over and over and over, until my hands were down his pants and his hands were down mine and i just. I didn’t know what to to. “we’re just playing grown ups” he had said, moving his fingers underneath my clothes and and lacing his other hand over mine so i would touch him right.

And. I remember feeling so confused l-. It felt weird. Good. It felt good and it felt so wrong, so very wrong. The kind of wrong that feels tied to your skin. The kind of wrong that doesn’t go away.

Underneath my grandparents bed was tight and dark and you could see the green covers brushing the ground. And I left my first ounce of innocence there.

Nobody held my hand after, but I remember touching myself in a place I wasn’t supposed to yet, and I remember my mother’s yelling and my aunts mockery and feeling dirty. Dirty, dirty all the fucking time and my breath still caughts on the panic i felt everytime somebody would saw me doing it, and how i just couldn’t fucking stop. Or understand why. What was that why was it wrong? Why did i fell this way?

And i still feel so embarrassed for myself, for the girl who was seven and didn’t know what fucking masturbation was and who did it anyway. For the girl that was treated like a sickness, for the times my aunt wouldn’t touch my hands because she said she was disgusted. For the girl who was treated like a pervert.

And im scared for what is inside my head, for all the things I forgot or made myself forget. Because i know inside every single bone that rests inside this flesh that those fucking green covers weren’t the beginning or even the end. I am scared of the hidden conners of my mind. And am scared of the dark, of the monsters, of who the monsters will be.

One is clear. One monster is clear through the years, the same green monster underneath the bed. The same one who would grab my body, my barely developed breasts, my tiny ass. The one who made me so sick in the head i couldn’t accept a hug without flinching. And i hate myself so much for not fighting harder. For not having strength when strength was needed because it always seemed like everything was happening to somebody else. Somebody else’s body.

Not the scars though. Those were always mine.

My anger didn’t come until latter, until after, but i wear anger like a fire, burning hot and fast. And latter i would forgive, i would try to forget and pretend he had changed. That those things were in the past. Until the next time he locks me in the bathroom, in the car, in his room or in the supplies closet. Until my anger fails me again and i hate myself a bit more for not being able to fight. Or not being able not to trust. Hate myself a bit more because, you see, my anger is a quick fire only when it comes to those who aren’t me. The anger i have for myself is a ongoing inferno.

I remember being fourteen, pissed drunk on my uncle’s stolen liquor, high as a fucking kite for the first time. I remember kissing this boy, the sober boy with peppermint toothpaste mouth who would sworn latter that, he too, was drunk. That it was a accident, that he didn’t know what he was doing. This sober boy whose mouth didn’t taste like alcohol at all, this boy who was supposed to keep us in check so we wouldn’t fuck shit up.

He fucked my shit up.

i can also remember the hushed conversations on the early teens, the sounds of a group of overexcited girls whispering secrecy like mischievous smiles, I remember when we’d sit together and dream of having the perfect first time with the perfect boy. The boy would be a boyfriend, of course. We’d be seventeen and crazy about each other, making love on soft sheets, maybe even a few rose petals. Candlelight. Like on a tv show.

I got fucked blackout drunk in the playhouse of a dark square.

You see, the worst isn’t when it happens. It isn’t, because it comes a time that it ends, and when you’re so fucked up that you can barely move your body you don’t really understand what the hell is going on. You dont know how you got there but you know it burns right between your legs, you know it’s awkward and painful, so fucking painful, and you know what’s happening, but not really. You’re still as he moves on the top of you, heavy on the top of you, and you just want it to be over so even in this state you have the mind to moan your pain out so he takes it for pleasure and finishes it quicker. And he does. He does finish. Takes his dick out of you, asks if it is big. If it is good. You manage to slur that you don’t fucking know, you’re a virgin.

Oops, not are. Were. Were a virgin. On the background you can hear his complain about getting blood on his underwear.

You get up, barely standing, zip your shorts up and throw yourself out of the playhouse, stumbling blindly into the grass. There’s a emptiness building up inside you, like a deep eco of the ache you feel on your body. It grows, larger and larger, until it becomes a unbearable pain, until you scream and cry and ask why did he do this??? Why did he do this??? It is raw and freaky and the boys - (you always were one of the boys, right? Those buddies of yours who would never hurt you. You’re so fucking stupid) the boys try desperately to calm you down, to please just stop screaming cause you were going to wake the neighbors up. So you run, run your fastest and than faster. Run to the house, goes straight to the bathroom. The water is hot and you scrub yourself until it hurts your skin. It doesn’t feel any cleaner. The floor is pink with your blood and you think about ending yourself there, think you cant live on with the pain. Its too much. Its too fucking much and you’re only fourteen and what the fuck were you thinking?? Its your fault, your fucking fault like it always is. It always is. You call every friend you have between sobs, needy, desperate. You need somebody to hold your fucking hand. Nobody answers. This is the loneliest you’ve ever felt, but you don’t do it. You don’t end yourself. You put the razor back on the shelf for some reason you can’t understand. And drunk, uncoordinated and lost, you cry yourself to sleep.

Next morning you awake and you’re dead.

Except you’re much worse than dead, living is so much worse then being dead. It hurts so bad you might as well be dying anyway. Dying, but never quite there yet. Always a step too far.

So you change. The way you think, your dreams and your wishes. You warn your girlfriends and tell them to be careful, to stop accepting drinks from friends you just met and to stop getting on rides with nice strangers after the parties. To not to trust men unless they give you a reason. You live through the trauma and PDSD and hug flinching, worse now but still the same. And you talk about it like is nothing, because if it is nothing it means it can’t hurt you. Banalize your own pain until it feels like nothing

(its a lie. It is there, always there under the surface, pilling up along all fucked up shit you have inside your head and keep marking with DEAL LATTER.)

And you live and laugh and cry and kiss and gets blackout drunk again, is happy again. You look after yourself. And it’s a trophy. You’re living and its a trophy. The fact that you’re alive and every smile shining upon your face is a goddamn treasure.

[]

I remember being sixteen and hearing this one girl

say

I would rather

die

than

ever be raped

Oh, my dear, haven’t you heard?

“the rape, will

tear you

in half

but it

will not

end you”

It’s been tried and they will not break me.

I’d rather live.

[]

Can I hold your hand?

#my writing #mine #tw: rape #tw: child abuse #tw: sucide mention #rape culture #rape survivior #feminism #rupi kaur

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icharchivist · 6 years

Text

perso-rant underneath and at first i intended it to be more light hearted but welp cant dive into myself without digging the bad stuff so just ignore this as rambling.

(idk if the cut works on mobile so as usual blacklist #ichapersonal to skip it , its quite long)

its night and im noisy and all but yknow part of the reason m/lb is such a healing show for me and i rewatch it every couple of days?

i cry everytime M.arinette's family is on screen pretty badly bc i get so envious all the time. i hate my shitty family (and often can relate to A.drien's ressentment) so just seeing such a /healthy/ family being often shown litterally brings me to tears. im like C.hat in the animan episode when he stares at the family picture with a sweet smile (another detail that stupidly make me cry who allowed th i s)

like. i dont relate to A.drien's relation to his family but some of the emotional effects is often a moment of "welp. mood." and being kinda sad /for him/ even if i can feel it for myself too. but then with M.arinette's family everytime they get to be on screen i realize how happy this sort of dynamic makes me and it makes me /so envious/.

like my mom is an artist and an excellent cook but she always barred those interests from me bc it was /hers/ and it was for /her ego/ and this attitude just killed every curiosity i had and remplaced it with a complete unability to care.

i used to bake as a kid but my mom was always shutting down everything i was doing, and if i was asking for help or recieps she would just tell le "it's a secret just watch " and never letting me know tf she was doing so i stopped lmao. everytime ive tried meals since it was only for myself and with a hard mocking from family and mom saying she had a better recieps and i should just let her do so i dont even try it often. (moreeven now that the kitchen is opened to the living room and they're super judgemental when im in it)

i was messing with drawings and paints in her workshop when i was a kid but she would always point out flaws and take my tools to correct it without telling nor showing me how and it killed it, it took me until my 14yo to start doing mindless doodles and then my breakdown when i was about 20 to seriously try back to draw and do art and try different tools (until my right hand made it impossible for me to hold a tool and the failure still feels yknow)

i wanted to sew things and make clothes (at the time for my dolls) but my mom was never letting me touch the tools (that we HAD since not only she made clothes but her mom actually had a fabrique shop. like. right next door. i think it became part of my mom's trauma hating her mom and refusing us to connect with her, more so with what happened when i was 7 and we lost contact with them but still, the damn irony. and i cant remember if my grandma ever let me close her sewing material but i was a damn kid after all) so this is another thing i didnt pursue

i wanted to pick up music (piano mostly) bc my uncle is a musician but my parents never wanted to invest in that because they already gave a piano to my sister (that i wasnt allowed to use) so ye that was dropped lmao

and i started to write when i was about 11 and it was that /one thing/ i didnt need help for from anyone, completely self taught, with my own ways and tools, and my parents were always dismissive of it, never listening to me, always telling me it wasnt important, that i should focus on something else, and after other circumstances that added to that i dropped writting around my 17/18yo and it had been painful to even try to write again since.(i came back to writing around my 20yo a bit before my breakdown but after it happened it started to die out and i felt exhausted and stopped after a few months and since then i've never been able to pick up writing again ay.)

(and im not touching the obsessive elements bc like- the fact she does it for her crush makes it different, but the sort of things she does? taking pictures and putting them everywhere in her room when she hyperfixates, making overcomplicated schedules and such? i litteraly do that with fiction. i made a freaking timeline for this show. i am currently working on organizing codex from d.a and an approval guide for christ sake. and im not talking about my multiple fandom shrines in my room and the fact i legit have one for m/lb made from pictures found on merchs.

or also the fact i have a lot of passions i'd love to share and seeing M. play video games with her dad for exemple makes me so bitter when all i get is backhanded insults from my parents when i bring it up.)

So sometimes i see M. and part of me is just in awe, loving everything about her. the other part of me tho... i feel... a bit robbed? like she's such a creative kid, she's incredible and she inspires me everyday, and i cant help but think how i would have adored her when i was a kid. (im not even kidding, as a kid i requested my mom a costume of black cat for h.alloween and a l.adybug costume for the carnaval. i have pictures of that at my dad's place sadly it kills me. also my room when i was a kid used to be covered with l.adybug stickers like. HELL my mom doesnt care about my interests but last year she bought me a M/LB winter callendar (bc its been years i was mentioning i wanted one, a selfish whim but oh well) and i had a huge double take bc i was certain she didnt remember me talking about this show- and she did not. when i asked her why, she legit told me "because she reminded me of you as a kid with your pigtails your obsession for l.adybugs". like!! i cant even stress how kid!me would have adored this show and especially LB./M.) (the pigtails too this time i have proofs around there i used to carry them all the time until i was bullied for it at school. (bullying at school instead of good friends also adds to the difference in question tbh lmao))

there is something so... weird into seeing the parts of yourself that you cut yourself from in a character, and see that the main difference is because of how the family (and bullies) treated those elements so drastically differently.

my family was always neglectful but differently than A.. the things i relate to with him is how he specifically still holds on hope that his father will do better at least just for one day and his reaction when he's left down saying he's just used to it. and like normal, not every kind of abuse are the same and all but i still relate enough to feel sad.

but M. is always a whiplash of feelings like i could have been this sort of girl in a better environment.

at 13/14yo she was already making stuff up, baking, designing clothes, doing art, she was doing so many things, even forgetting the superhero part. she was being happy being a creator at her pace and with encouragement. at 13/14yo i was starting to show concerning signs of d.epression because i was trying to handle my parents's divorces and the multiple trials that followed that /i/ had to handle by finding middle grounds, allowing some of my father's blackmail to avoid worse, and by litterally having to collect infos from mails everytime to prove against some of his arguments to the judges. and my sister refusing to talk to us for a year, which caused us basically to feel very bad thinking of the eldest sister who ran away from home, and having to handle my father's harrasment and emotional abuse of constantly belittling me (fuck this was the age he legit told me i would probably end up a p.rostitute so ye!!! fuck that!!!) andd the fact my mom was also falling apart from all of it on me and i was always supposed to cheer her up while i was having a hard time in a new school and new environment away from the very few friends i had and again feeling abandonned by my sister which freaking sucks after already had suffered that from our eldest one.

but M. makes me cry every. goddam. rewatch. its like maybe the ultimate wish fufilling story of just how i would have loved my family to be. of how i think i could have turned up.

and that realization hits so badly everytime.

there's a thing with my hyperfixations where i'll always find a way to tie it back to my traumas. i dont know if im pulling straws, or if the things are there. for having watched m.lb when it came out unfazed and only got hit with that realization upon rewatching- i feel it was more me realizing "there is something there that is touching me more than before" and having an introspection to get it.

and i think the difference is that- before my breakdown the characters and stories i related to where the eternal optimistic-yet-damaged "never give up!" type of characters. When things started to go downhill to my breakdown and since then the fictions that talked to me the most were all dealing with guilt coming from toxic environment that werent your fault per se but you pierceved that way. my way to relate were to characters who felt deeply connected to their guilt (peak being c.loud of f.f7 that even topped it with the deadly skin disease making him lose will to live (because ye that happened. still hate to watch out for that so ye), and memories issues, you would have told me at 13yo when i first watched that movie that this would be what i would relate to him about 7 years later i would have laughed at your face.), which translated with pushing people away and self destructing habits.

and i know i watched m.lb the first time around that time, when i was 20/21. and that may be why i didnt feel that. that my concerns were too elsewhere to realize that. That i was too focalized on how i felt like i failed by suddenly breaking under the pressure, having all the things i've kept burried kicking me out at once, and that i couldnt afford to be a burden to anyone. and it translated with me loving characters like that because in most cases their friends ended up reminding them of what was important - and sometimes just getting frustrated about your fav being as dumb as it forces you to pull yourself back together lmao. not always working but it was there.

now im 23. i cut ties with my father for about 3/4 years now, with all the shitty things that ensued out of the last trial where he sued me and his still-happening harrasment (sometimes silly sometimes scary). My mom and step dad are suffocating me more and more everyday. my health had become so disastrous i cant even manage to go school or find a job. And more than ever im frustrated and angry.

and i think it may be a shown of recovery? perhaps linked to therapy? of while i still have guilt of falling apart- /they/ are the reason i fell apart. and I'm yet to have proper apologizes for it. i grew furious at my family. of how much i feel robbed.

lately im so angry at everything i lost, was taken of, stolen childhood all of that- because of my parents, mainly. (hell even the bullying at school - in primary school it apparently started bc of gossips about why my eldest sister ran away from home, and in middle school it was first bc my parents insisted on sending me to private school where i was an outcast. which then had me truly embrassing the outcast persona that had made it impossible for me to be at peace in the two others middle schools i went to. highschool saved my social life tbh).

i think it's therapy and recovery that is making me shift the blame and feel so angry at them. so bitter. and suddenly i see in an innocent kid show a "what could have been". same starting personality, different people to channel this.

and this is. frustrating.

but it makes me love it even more. idk if its driving anything else than ressentment but at least for the time of an episode I'm in a bubble of a.lternative universe where i can forget about my life and feel satisfied at once.

like finding a piece of myself that i deliberately broke and burried to never think about it again, and realize far later how it missed to the whole, and how damaged this piece is now, but still is.

and there is something incredibly healing about that. i would never have thought there would be this much healing out of this anger and yet satisfaction. what a strange feeling.

fiction is funny that way. the things people can get out of it to deal with their own psyche are so different one person to the next.

it's just so weird for me to go from "i relate to the horrors this character went through" to "and fuck those horrors. let me think about what could have been if this didnt happen."

even moreso knowing i had this piece of fiction before and didnt approach it that way. there's a time and a mindset for everything. apparently now was the best mindset for me huh

.......

so ye apparently i cant like something like a normal person and have to go on about how it connects to my deeply rooted traumas lmao.

anyway it's been eating me up for weeks now and it's 4:45am i have absolutly no impulse holding me back. if you sat through this piece of work im sorry. just needed it to get it out of my chest.

i'll go back to hugging my cheap-yet-lifesaving c.laire's l.adybug pillow now

good night o/

#ichapersonal

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wantstokms · 4 years

Text

5/3/20

yes its the same day the last post was just really early in the morning

i still really wanna die even after sleeping like my dad and i can’t stop getting into fights and it’s always my fault. like he just doesn’t see thati care about him and i have such bad anxiety about him smoking and he doesn’t care at all.

he doesn’t even care about me when i’m upset even when he knows he did it. like how can you care so little about your daughter like that i don’t understand

i’m trying not to be loud cuz he’ll hear me crying in my room but like damnit i just wanna sob or something.

i can’t make the decision of whether i even wanna completely die or not. like i have friends i have to stick around for but apparently no family cuz whatever i do means nothing to them. all the effort i make to try and express that i’m worried gets filed under “bitching and complaining” when i’m just worried. all i do us cause people more stress in life but i can’t decide if killing my self will relieve that stress or add to it.

i feel so guilty going to my room to be alone but all i ever do is cause more problems. and i don’t even know how id kms. like pills sounds effective but overdosing sounds painful cuz i searched what it does to ur body. obv i can’t do a gun cuz we can’t even own one. maybe i could go out the way ive always planned: car crash. i’ll get my license soon enough. i can just drive off into a lake or something (but i think that counts as drowning so no) i just need something quick but idc how painful i guess cuz id be in shock anyway

maybe i should try to be more optimistic about my life. even though it feels like it’s always gonna end i guess maybe i wouldn’t want it to end on my own terms. well. maybe i do. you get to control how you die.

i kinda wanna talk about something good as to relieve my mind from all this but i don’t think there’s anything good to talk about. none of my special interests are helping rn and everytime i even look at one of my band posters i just cry even more.

i’m only 16. i shouldn’t have had to deal with all of this.

i’m only 16

i’m only a child

i’m gonna be fucked up sooner or later, as if i arent already am. i’m gonna have so many trust issues

thanks dad. not only have you made me want to kill my self twice in the same day but also are probably giving me loads of childhood trauma. yay

edit//

it got worse. he said he’ll leave in a month if we don’t figure out how to help him. says we’ve had two years to do that instead of being so selfish. everything that we talked about last night was my fault. i hate this family. i’m only 16. i’m just a child. why does everything have to be put on me

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amethystmoonkat · 5 years

Text

Why telling those who are suicidal to "call whenever you need" doesn't usually work

My story: Survived Attempted Suicide

Call me no matter what time

You know, I'm here for you, right?

Anytime your feeling that way, please call me

It's a nice thing to hear. I know you have the best of intentions, but I'm sorry it's a generic lazy response to give your loved one in crisis.

Whenever I hear this, it feels like a punch in the gut. One time I protested and told my best friend "if I called you everytime I felt I wanted to die we would be on the phone 24/7." I don't know if he knew the extent of my illness or what I was trying to say. I don't think anyone in my life still does. Though, medication now does allow me more even days than low.

Let me give you an overview of the mindset of some who is suicidal. Suicide is a symptom of mental disorders and typically associated with depression. With an acute suicidal mindset the person has dissociated enough to override their survival instincts. That's a big deal! This dissociated state usually doesn't allow them to reach out.

My depression, anxiety (social and generalized) and complex trauma disorders can literally take over my life.

I will not eat. I will not shower. Brush teeth, what's that? My dogs need to drag me out of bed to go outside and I'll take the opportunity to chainsmoke. I won't go to work, a 5 hour shift is too draining (thank the universe for flexible schedules). I feel I'm a burden to everyone around me. I will sleep 12 to 15 hours a day. I dont engage in conversation with my fiance RIGHT NEXT TO ME. For gods sake calling someone adds to my list of shit that never gets crossed off. So many fucking obligations.

Literally, it is not even on my mind to burden someone else with this shit.

A few months before my attempt I started drinking 4 to 5 days a week, smoking a pack and a half a day, doing coke a couple times a week (literally never, had I ever wanted that shit in my life before) and smoking pot every day. I was doing everything to numb myself from feeling so fucking worthless. While I was throwing myself a pity party I didn't want to invite anyone! I felt like a waste of life. Useless goddamn oxygen thief. Like my fiance would be better off without me. Like people only think they care about me and will become disillusioned; I have fooled them into liking me. They will realize eventually how worthless I am too.

But see the thing is on the outside, apparently, it seems like I have my shit together (I guess I wouldn't know)

If only I had continued going to my therapist and taking medication. It had been 6 months.

I was dead sober when I attempted. I had been with friends literally only hours before. In my acute suicidal state I contemplated for nearly 20 minutes. My fiance was sleeping next to me when I took 10 Xanax. He was the one who found and carried my lifeless body. He was also right next to me when I woke up in the hospital.

You see, the signs were all there, most people would called me lazy or unmotivated. I am loved by others and have great people in my life but that's not enough when you despise your very core.

After my attempt, I felt coddled, angry, exhausted, embarrassed and alienated (even more so than before). In the hospital I was intubated and induced into a short coma a "sedation vacation" if you will. I didn't know how long I was out but after taking a couple days to relearn how to walk and piss by myself again it had been 4 days. I did receive calls, sometimes daily for awhile after I got out of the hospital. It was nice until I realized it was all just so they could keep tabs on me, like a goddamn child. Then again came the "you know you can call me"s

Eventually, it was all the same again. My father stopped reaching out, so did other family and close friends. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

If you know someone who is suicidal, has attempted or has suicidal ideation I'll tell you what I want my friends to know:

I is not your fault. I have been struggling with ideation since I was 8 years old, it took me 20 years to hit bottom. People struggle for some time before thinking this is a solution.

Reach out to catch up not check in. Also, call back if they do reach out to you; after a few to attempts to reach someone after awhile I assume I'm too much to handle and will completely disappear. I know its irrational and it only causes a downward spiral of isolation but it is difficult to interrupt those patterns.

Therapy, medication and daily rituals take up SO much energy. Some days I am so drained by 3pm I need to rest for the day. Honestly, who wants to be seen as lazy? No one. This is a huge red flag for depression.

They don't want to feel alone. I don't want to feel like my loved ones have the need to fix me but I do appreciate when constructive questions are asked. "How can I help you right now?" "Do you want to come up with a game plan or vent?" "What is something that you are grateful for?" Sometimes the answer will be "absolutely fucking nothing" "the world fucking sucks and life is pain" and "only my dog makes me not completely dead inside". In the end it is very appreciated.

They really do want to get better. They really do want to be happy and your love has held them up this far and it has never been wasted.

I hope this can help

💜💜💜💜

#suicide attempt surviver #depression #anxiety #complex trauma #communication #cptsd #cptsdsurvivor #mental health #mental wellbeing #therapy #you can help

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