I’m just gonna write this here because it’s been living rent free in my mind for..*does the math* eight years. Gross eight years, I’m fucking old. Anyway, this happened when I was at the ripe age of 16. That time where your insecurities are at an all time high and everything sucks and you’re pretty sure no one will ever love you.
For some reason, I had gotten this burst of confidence and thought: “hell yeah, I think I’ll wear a bikini for the first time this summer”. I had my own job and ordered this real cute floral one online. I also ordered a shirt I liked and waited with bated breath for my package to arrive. It came in a box, I brought it home, my mom asked “Hey, what did you get?”
I wasn’t quite ready for everyone to know about my confidence boost so I just said “A shirt”, to which she replied “There’s no way only a shirt came in that box, you’re lying. Tell me now”. My my, quite some aggression right of the bat. My fear and anxiety skyrockets and I tell her I got a bathing suit. Well she wants to see it…great. So I show it to her…she wants me to put it on…awesome.
This new found confidence of mine has plummeted within seconds as I put on the suit. Suddenly it’s too tight, I’m sucking in my gut, and I put on a pair of shorts to maybe hide my shame.
“I’ll wear these shorts with it,” I tell her. She’s just…staring at me. There’s clear disgust I’m sure. I can see it in her eyes. It’s taking everything in me not to cry. She tells my sister to hand her the iPad so “I can take pictures so you can see what you look like”
She makes me turn around, gets all my bad angles. At this point I’m hoping to drop dead soon.
After she finishes clicking away, she hands me the iPad and says “Now go look at yourself”. I shamefully rush to my room and close the door. I don’t need to look at the pictures because I already know I’m a fat, ugly pathetic mess. So once I stop crying enough to where I can breathe, what else is there to do except cut the emotions away? Cut them out. Bleed them out. Make everything go away with thin lines on my thighs.
I’ve never spoken of this with my mom. Never brought up this event since it’s happened. In her mind, she’s justified because I lied to her so…this was an apt punishment I guess. It’s something that’s stuck with me for years. How could it not? It’s one of those defining moments you look back on when you realize why your self confidence is so fucked up. Why you’re so critical over yourself. Even now, writing it out, all those emotions are running back and I’m hating myself again.
Just gotta fight it. I need be to nicer to that 16 year old girl. I have to show her the kindness my mother didn’t.
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Tell me your dad didn’t love your mom without telling me your dad didn’t love your mom, I’ll go first; my dad doesn’t know where my dead mother’s cremated remains are. He has an idea but he doesn’t know and if they’re not in the storage unit I literally have like a gram of my mother in my possession.
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Non-Britons! Instead of being distracted by the pomp and fanfare of the coronation, here’s a reminder that:
The coronation was funded by tax-payer money. This same tax could have gone towards the cost of living crisis. People are starving and freezing to death as this is going on.
Protests (peaceful or otherwise) are illegal now. A lot of anti-monarchists are being arrested for simply holding signs.
Our government is currently trying to push through a revision to the Equality Act that will exclude trans and non-binary individuals.
Oil companies have made a record profit in the past couple of years. Oil and gas prices aren’t rising because of an inflation issue.
Our NHS is crumbling because funding is going to stupid projects like this coronation.
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“Are you okay?” Levi asks you.
“No.”
“I know, you don’t look it. What’s wrong?”
“Everything is wrong, Levi. I’m exhausted…I wonder what it’s like to have a brain that functions the way it’s supposed to.”
His eyebrows furrow slightly. “Your brain is fine.”
“But that’s the thing, it’s not!” You say exasperatingly. “It’s wired differently and so it makes everything more difficult. I switch between three modes: Not wanting to exist, Surviving, and Beyond Surviving. Guess how much time I spend in each mode?”
Levi doesn’t say anything in response. His expression shows more concern than confusion this time.
“Fine, I’ll tell you. Most of my time is spent surviving. Some of my time is spent not wanting to exist. And just a little of my time is spent beyond suriving…what kind of life is that?”
Levi’s eyes look at you with sadness. “Not much of one, to be honest…but it’s yours and you only have one.” He counters.
“Well, I don’t even know if I want it half of the time. Y’know, someone told me that life is basically climbing mountains. You climb a mountain, which represents a challenge or obstacle, once you get to the top you enjoy the view for a moment…then you climb back down and do the same thing all over again. Rinse and repeat.”
Levi seems to identify with what you’re saying and he knows you’re frustrated right now but he needs to keep you from spiraling. He’s not letting you give up. That’s not the way. “It’s what we have to do, Y/N.” He says gently.
“And what if I don’t want to do anything? What if I don’t want to climb fucking mountains? What if I don’t want to constantly be challenged and given obstacles? What if I just want to sit at the top of the mountain and just be?”
Levi knows these feelings all too well…he’s wrestled with them a few times throughout his life but he’s continued to push through because that’s what you just do. And you’re going to do the same even if he has to do the pushing for you. You snap Levi out of his thoughts with your next statement.
“It would be so much easier if I just…”
“Stop.”
“But-“
“Stop.” He repeats sternly, his steel eyes boring into yours.
You grunt angrily. “You’re not even real, Levi!” You yell out at him. You’re not angry with him. You’re angry at the world, angry for the universe and your parents for putting you in this predicament, angry for placing you into a world that doesn’t accommodate you. “You are a 2-dimensional character I use to cope. There’s no way for you to actually soothe or help me. You. Are. Fictional.”
Your words don’t seem to phase him. He shrugs. “I’m real enough.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I’m real enough to you. Y/N. You are the one who brings me to life. You are the one who decides how real I should be. What does it matter if I’m not a real person?”
“It’s silly.”
“Who says it’s silly?”
“I don’t know, a bunch of people.”
“Well, fuck all of those people then. Just fuck them.” He states as if it’s obvious.
You sigh. “It doesn’t work that way, Levi…”
“So make it work that way. No one else is keeping you alive but yourself.”
“And you…” You say softly.
Levi shakes his head. “I don’t do anything. Like I said before, you’re the one who does the all the heavy lifting. I exist because you want me to. I function the way I do because you want me to.”
“So I control you?”
Levi rolls his eyes at that. “Don’t be a brat. What I’m saying is I’m just an outlet for you.”
You pause, thinking of his words. He’s not wrong. He’s just a character but he’s also not just a character because of you. “I wish you were real.” You admit sadly.
“I wish I were real too…for you.” He sighs as he runs a hand through his raven hair. “But it doesn’t matter if I’m real or not. I still occupy your brain. I still make you happy, that’s all that matters. As long as you let me live in your mind, I’m always going to be here for you.
You nod, not saying anything further.
“Okay?” He asks.
“Okay.”
“Good.”
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