*sigh* it seems so silly compared to the gaping maw of depression i dealt with when i was young and the shit i've been through and grown to deal with so well, that i could possibly have seasonal depression... but then i look at how much i've been struggling since the days started getting shorter.
yeah, i could chalk it all up to the big changes in my life- changing jobs, my sweet bean chloe passing (a month, today)- but is that enough to have thrown my life into such unusual-for-me disarray?
my home is surprisingly clean, and the things slipping through the cracks are not from fatigue but from forgetfulness. it just hasn't crossed my mind to tidy the table. to bring the freezing plants inside. to cook for myself. not at any time that's helpful at least.
and in all of that i find myself actually wanting to be out and doing things. two weeks ago i started hiking, and all i want to do is be outside. to be in a different type of quiet from home. a different kind of stillness. and i can't parse how much of that is grief, how much is wanting every drop of sunlight, how much is wanting to... i don't know.
and i've been so forgetful. so forgetful. it's like i'm not even on this planet half the time, with how much slips my attention. and since chloe passed... the self depreciation has been hard to keep at bay. i've been talking to myself with more cruelty than i have in years. and every thing that slips my mind is more fuel for the fire. every typo i make another nail in my coffin. (and i make so many typos)
i've forgotten where i was going with this, beyond that now i want to cry, and i am so very tired. i feel like i havent been living my own life. and maybe that's grief. maybe it's seasonal depression. (i remember what this was about now) but it's been long enough since she passed, and i've been through so much that seasonal depression shouldn't be able to happen to me, that i really shouldn't be feeling this way. which only adds to the flame of self hate...
i dont know. i shouldn't let pathetic things like this wear me down so much. this is nothing compared to the hell i grew up in, and i think i've gotten awfully soft. ten years ago, this level of discomfort wouldn't have even been a blip on my radar. i shouldn't be so... pathetic
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loml
pairing: max verstappen x reader
summary: a journey through your relationship with max
a/n: so for a little background... my ex (he wasn't an F1 fan, it was never gonna work, let's be real) broke up with me the night before this album was released, so writing this series has been very healing; however, this one was extremely difficult to write bc it's the only song i can't analytically listen to and find the deeper meanings yet, especially after losing your first love. sorry for the rant and making this short🙃
tw: emotional abuse, manipulation
masterlist ttpd masterlist part two
________
You and Max were fan favorites, it was evident to anyone with eyes who had eyes. But they say you never know what happens behind closed doors.
“She’s the love of my life,” Max would always say about you, looking at you like you held the universe in the palm of your hand. His fans could recite your love story by heart from how much he loved to talk about you. It only made sense that he could shatter that public opinion.
“Y/n and I have divorced, I would like to ask for privacy as we navigate the changes,” Max posted one day, his socials wiped of everything. Your accounts remained the same, your last post being from the fateful race months ago. You haven’t posted since. The fans should’ve realized when the WAGs and George unfollowed Max.
Your apartment was full of things that reminded you of Max, every time you walked in it reminded you of every memory. He was embroidered in everything. You look at a printed photo of when you first met him. Despite it being six months later, you couldn’t get rid of him.
~~~
All it took was locking eyes with him across the pier for you to fall in love on that breezy summer day. He walked up to you and asked you to join him, and you did. You kissed him at the top of the ferris wheel later that night, and you didn’t even know he was famous all you knew was that he made you feel safe. The breeze reminded you of the warm ocean breeze from that day, one you called the winds of fate.
Despite being young, you married him after a year of being together. Things weren’t perfect even then, he could be incredibly mean, but he was also a standup guy when it mattered. That erased any wrongdoing of his.
“You have made me a better man, you reformed me, the love of my life,” Max had said that fall evening, repeating the one line that brought you back to him every time.
You believed his words, his lies spun to make you believe the hell you were living in was actually heaven. When he takes his anger out at you, doesn’t defend you against his father, you start to second guess him but he calls you those four words.
“I’ll never leave you, Schatje,” Max holds you in his arms, your back against his chest as you both look at a tv in the Paddock. The fans loved that photo, calling your love legendary. They didn’t know about the growing hole in your heart.
Your marriage was looking like one of those black and white movies you and Max watch on snowy winter afternoons. You and Max had been talking about starting a family, but you couldn’t get pregnant and you were watching everything you loved slip away.
“God, Max, you are like a con-man. I feel like I’ve been sold a get-love-quick scheme. What happened to you?” you ask, voice laced with hurt, during an argument about it. Max just ignored you, pushing past to stream with some friend. He ignored the sobs coming from your bedroom. He told the chat that you are the love of his life when asked about you.
“Y/n, we need to talk,” some of the WAGs pulled you aside during a race. They told you how Max was shit talking you to other drivers, saying you were a waste of a wife for your inability to get pregnant, saying he should’ve never married you, pointing out every flaw he told you was beautiful when he was lying to your face. You stand up and leave, not saying a word even when the girls try to stop you. Max is confused but simply responds to your text saying you were sick with an okay.
You are laying in your bed sobbing when Max gets back from the race. You face the terrace, where you and Max would dance under the stars. You can see the ghosts of it through your tears, and you wished you could un-recall when you thought you had everything.
“Please get out of bed,” Max says, his concerned tone laced with venom. Maybe the ghosts of your relationship are embarrassed by the scene on the other side of the glass.
“No,” you cry, mourning the loss of your counterfeit relationship.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Max sighs leaving the room. You sent a text to the WAG group chat who helped you remove all your belongings from Max’s apartment into George’s apartment that he wasn’t using at the moment.
Your phone is flooded with messages from Max, so you turn it off unless you are talking to your lawyer. Max finds a divorce petition and your apartment key on the dining room table when he comes home from training a few days later. The relationship that had such a valiant roar ended with the blandest goodbye.
You sit in George’s apartment with Carmen and Lily drinking wine. You took over George’s lease after they insisted that you did.
“For someone who claims to be a lion, he sure is a manipulative coward,” Carmen says as the three of you comb through the years of lies he spun.
You took the dreams that you thought you and Max wanted and lit the match to destroy them with your divorce papers. Despite your somber eyes, you seem more at peace, even with the sadness you will carry with you until you die.
“He’s the loss of my life.”
part two
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