#TRUTHFULLY THOUGH MY SCHOOL YEAR IS ENDING SO ILL ACTUALLY HAVE TIME TO POST

[idiot-arih]

If uncorrupted Nightmare is called passive noot, can we call corrupted noot aggressive noot?

#also hi I’m back from hiatus if you saw from my mutuals’ blogs #IM SO SORRY FOR SAYING I WOULD COME BACK AND LEAVING AGAIN #TRUTHFULLY THOUGH MY SCHOOL YEAR IS ENDING SO ILL ACTUALLY HAVE TIME TO POST #idiot’s art #undertale #fanart #asdfghjkl #undertale au #snas #digital art #lineless art #nightmare!sans #corrupted nightmare #nightmare sans #this was from nearly a month ago but executive disorder said haha no #I swear I’ve been meaning to come back for forever but executive order AND school are the worst duo I would wish upon no one #the last few months have high key sucked BUT I’m back now!!!! for real this time #again im so sorry #please take this as an apology #also mutuals and followers I love you all so so much #and tumblr in general I guess #no other social media platform can even compare to how I feel for tumble bumble app

[celestialrry]

nerves

4.8k

HELLLLO IM WRITING THIS INTRO AND POSTING THIS WHILE FALLING ASLEEP SO ILL POST ALL THE DETAILS ADN ADD THIS TO MU MASTERLIST LATER I LOVE TOU ALL THANK YOU FOR FOLOWING AND REBLOGGIN KISSES FOT YOU ALL (this is like right after release of hs1 harry I think hope you enjoy mwah)

summary: Actress!Y/N goes onto a talk show, and the host has a surprise for her.

warnings: cursing, kinda sorta an anxiety attack?

Y/N was nervous.

This would only be the 5th talk show she’s ever gone on alone after being in the spotlight for a few years when her acting career took off. She started off with indie films and soon made her way to the red carpet, working with esteemed actors and actress’s she could only ever dream of meeting. It was pure bliss.

Of course, fame came with other struggles like hate from the media and random people on twitter, but at the end of the day she was so grateful she had the opportunity to be in the business. She loved getting into a character, finding out what makes them click, and fully emerging herself in whatever film she’s in. At the moment, she was promoting her new film, and being the lead, she had gone on a few talk show’s by herself, but they never failed to make her sick to her stomach. Having no one to turn to when it gets awkward, even not having body heat by her side in front of a live audience and a professional host made her body rack with goosebumps.

“Miss L/N?” 

Her head turned towards the door of the dressing room she had been sitting in for 15 minutes alone, trying to get her nerves down. “Yes?’ She responded flashing a forced smile to the assistant standing in the door way. “They’re ready for you.” She nodded her head and stood up, brushing the non-existent dust off her long dress and tumbled a bit on her heels to follow the assistant that was already walking towards the side stage. 

They instructed her to wait until her name was called, then walk onto stage and take a seat and have the show progress. So Y/N stood there, biting her bottom lip that was coated with clear gloss and her arms crossed around her waist, her heel covered toe tapping the floor in anticipation. 

“Now welcome our very special, and gorgeous guest, Y/N L/N!” She heard Jimmy Kimmel announce and took a short breath before stepping through the automatically opening curtains. She smiled and waved at the people sitting in the audience, happy to see people supporting her, and greeted Jimmy before taking a seat on the loveseat closest to his desk.

“Y/N! Welcome, how are you feeling tonight?” He flashed a comforting smile at her. 

She chuckled a bit due to her inability to not laugh in uncomfortable situations. “I’ll be honest with you Jimmy,” She said, adjusting herself in the seat. “M’ pretty nervous.”

“Nervous?” He asked. “Now, why would 2 time Emmy Nominee Miss Y/N L/N be nervous?” Jimmy teased.

Her eyes fell to the floor and her cheeks heated up before looking back at him. “Because,” She dragged out. “It’s always nerve-racking being on live TV.”

He just nodded and made a joke about feeling the same even though he does this every week.

“How are you feeling tonight?” She asked.

He smiled before resting his arms on his desk. “I’m feeling good, I have a surprise for you later, but I’m supposed to ask the questions now, will you let me?”

“Of course I will.” She smiled back.

Y/N met Jimmy the first year she really became “famous” and he had always been her favorite late-night talk show host just because he was never invasive or creepy. Her standards for hosts were quite low at this point. They continued on, promoting her new movie and such before he settled back in his seat. 

“So.” He said.

“So.” She said back, raising a brow.

“I hate to ask you this, but I honestly am curious myself,” He began, and her anxiety creeped up just a bit. “Now, we dug through your old interviews, and it seems in every single one, when asked if you had a celebrity crush, your answer was Harry Styles?”

She simply nodded, her cheeks heating up again, and a small smile creeping onto her face at his name. 

“I see that smile, Y/N.” Jimmy said, and she let out a laugh, her smile now wide.

“So, do you mind telling us why you like him so much, or should I say love him so much?” His brow raised.

Y/N laughed a bit more, just at her nerves, and took a breath. “Um, he’s always been such an inspiration for me to actually chase my career, I mean I knew him from when he was on X-Factor to be honest. Binged that show all the time when I was in middle school and to see a boy just 2 years older than me just go straight into being in one of the biggest boy-bands in the world was insane. He’s just so passionate about what he does and I admire him for that. Uh- from what I can tell he’s just very charming, sweet, funny, caring, and…” She trailed off her rant, biting her bottom lip just a tad.

“And?”

“He’s incredibly attractive.” She finished a smile on her face as she glanced at the floor again.

“Understandable. I think he’s a good looking man myself, met him a few times and got flustered,” Jimmy jokes before looking at Y/N. “What if I told you he was the surprise I had for you?”

Her brows furrow as she looks at the man sitting across from her. “What? Do you mean like a video-” She feels a tap on her shoulder. 

Y/N turns around, still massively confused, and then she sees him.

Harry standing in a simple black suit and white button up, only a few of the buttons actually buttoned and her jaw drops. “Hello.” He says, smiling at her.

Her eyes are wide and she looks like a dear in headlights before her face falls into her hands, elbows resting on her knees, her breath erratic. “No, this isn’t- no. He’s not here.” She says into her hands and the crowd laughs. Everyone laughs. 

“M’a bit offended you think I’m not really here, love.” Harry grins, and she pulls her face out of her shaking hands to see him.

She opens her mouth to say something and nothing comes out. 

Harry Styles, her celebrity crush since the ripe age of 14, a crush thats lasted 8 years being 22 now, and she’s only seen him on screens her entire life. “Fuck.” Was all she can say. He laughs a bit at her starstruck appearance and turns to Jimmy. “She’s not normally like this, right?”

“Right.” The host jokes, looking back at the girl on the couch, and his smile diminishes a bit. Her eyes are watering and she’s trying to keep her composure but her bottom lip is trembling and Jimmy’s now worried he’s about to have a sobbing woman on live TV.

“You okay Y/N?” Jimmy asks and her head quickly turns to him and then back to Harry. “I-fuck, I’m sorry.” She tries to laugh it off. Tries not to think about how the man she’s loved even before she knew what love truly was, was standing in front of her right now. 

“Don’t be sorry.” Harry says, slightly frowning but trying to keep a happy face. He’s standing in front of a girl he’s adored ever since he watched her first movie, for Christs sake, and she’s silently about to break down in front of him, because of him. 

Before he can even properly introduce himself, she’s standing on her heels, wobbling a bit, and looking up at him. “Can I hug you?” She mouths, not wanting her question to be picked up on the mic on the back of her dress and before her mouth even closes he’s stepping towards her, big arms wrapping around her waist. Her arms find their way around his chest and her head is resting on his shoulder and her eyes are squeezed shut and she’s mouthing “Oh my fucking god. Oh my god.” Without realizing she’s facing the audience who laugh at her inability to not fangirl. His head dips as he hugs her, reveling in her touch, and then she’s pulling away, remembering they’re on live TV and she can give him a proper hug backstage after this is over when they don’t have to worry about appearances. 

She’s still reeling when his hands slide off her waist and he sticks his hand out and says “It’s so nice to meet you.” She takes his calloused hand in hers and says “Same to you.” Blinking away unshed tears.

“Shall we sit then?” He asks and she looks at Jimmy admiring the moment before back at Harry. “You’re staying?” She blurts out before shutting her mouth abruptly. 

“If you want me too.” He grins that grin she’s always been infatuated by and she nods, maybe too quickly. “Of course I do- yes,” She coughs. “Yeah, uh, please, let’s.”

They both plant themselves on the loveseat, Y/N taking the spot in which she was before and Harry sitting on the other end, keeping a distance between the two. She recomposes herself and sits up. Harry looks at her for a moment before looking back at Jimmy. 

“How are y’Jimmy?” He asks.

“I’m doing well, proud of myself for inviting you, you’re the one person I’ve seen make Y/N go absolutely speechless here,” Jimmy jokes and Y/N groans and smiles, leaning her top half on the arm of the chair, her face in her hands before sitting back up. “How about you, Harry?”

“M’doing well, was very excited to see Y/N here and I’d hopefully say it’s the same for her.” He smiles looking at her, dimples flashing.

“Yeah!” Her voice squeaks. “You’re right. It’s the same for me. I-” She cut’s herself off from saying she’s shitting her pants at the moment. Figuratively, of course, but it’s not very appropriate. She still can’t believe this. Twitter is going to have a field day talking about how flustered Y/N was at this moment.  

“Have something you want to say, Y/N? To Harry, more specifically?” Jimmy asks.

“Um,” She begins, locking eyes with Harry. “Did you hear, what I said, um, before you walked out here?” 

The green eyed man nods. 

Her hands start shaking again and she awkwardly laughs. “I’m sorry you heard that.” She apologizes. 

“Why are you apologizing?” Harry asks her, tilting his head and Y/N was going to pass out. “I’m glad you think all those things about me, plus, it’s a nice ego booster to hear that you think I’m ‘incredibly attractive’.” He chuckles a bit, but truthfully he was happy his celebrity crush feels the same way about him.

She just laughs back and mumbles a “Thanks.” Before Jimmy starts up a conversation about whatever was going on at the moment.

Jimmy and Harry start talking about something and Y/N nods her head and laughs when it’s appropriate but she couldn’t process anything. Her hands were interlocked, shaking in her lap, and all she could feel was Harry. Harry sitting next to her, Harry breathing next to her, Harry waving his hands around while he spoke in front of her. It was all too much. 

Suddenly his knee lightly knocked against her own. She abruptly turned to look at him, but he was still looking at Jimmy. So she assumed it was a mistake, until it happened again, and this time when her eyes looked to him, his met her’s and he gently and subtly moved closer to their thighs were touching. Y/N let the leg that was crossed over her other relax and fall to the couch, only her ankles crossed, and she swore she could hear his breath stop for a moment, but it was too quiet to be sure.

A few moments after they both had gained the courage to barely revel in each others touch, Jimmy was ending the show. Y/N doesn’t remember what she said or did before the camera cut off, she vaguely remembers waving to the audience but she’s not completely sure. 

And then it’s over- just like that.

“This was so fun Jimmy, thank you for inviting me on.” Harry said, standing up (reluctantly) and going to give Jimmy a hug. Y/N on the other hand was watching the interaction and it all hit her like a wave again. Harry fucking Styles was standing in front of her. The men both turn to her as she stands up and she gives a weak smile and mumbles “I forgot I needed to text my assistant, m’sorry I’ll be back.” before speed walking behind the curtain and booking it to her dressing room. She quickly flips the “Do Not Disturb” side of the sign on the door to show and closes the door behind her, her breathing accelerating. 

She barely makes it to the couch before bursting out in tears.

Y/N couldn’t really put a finger on whether or not they were tears of joy, sadness, embarrassment, or a combination of all 3. She’s pretty sure it’s the latter though. She slips her heels off and lies on the couch, her hands over her face with not so silent cries as she tries to calm herself. 

Meanwhile, both Harry and Jimmy sensed that Y/N wasn’t just going to text her assistant. “Do you think- do you think I said something maybe?” Harry quietly asks the late night host as they walk behind the curtain and into a quieter hallway backstage. Jimmy simply shakes his head before locking eyes with Harry. “Have you seen any of the videos where she talks about you, Harry?”

He shakes his head no and the older man pulls out his phone, doing a quick scroll of his email before finding video file and opening it. “A couple of interns here made this combination of all the times she talked about you in her interviews.”We were gonna play it as you were coming out but her manager said it would be too embarrassing.” Was the only preface Jimmy gave before clicking play.

Y/N stood in an elegant emerald colored gown just off the red carpet, all done up for her first big movie premiere. An interviewer stands in front of her, holding a mic that the woman was moving between herself and Y/N. “So Miss L/N, we need some juicy secrets from the “It-Girl” herself. Who’s your celebrity crush?” Y/N looks at the floor, a shy smile on her face as the quietly says “Harry Styles.” The interviewer’s eyes widen and she chuckles a bit. “I feel you honey, what do you like most about him?” Y/N purses her lips slightly before speaking again. “Um, everything? I think he has a really good heart.” The interviewer makes a joke about how she likes his eyes instead and Y/N laughs, but anyone could tell it was forced. 

The screen begins to play another clip. 

Y/N is sitting on a couch with her co-stars of a movie she did a year ago, dressed in a classy blush colored suit, and they’re all playing a game with some other talk show host. “Let’s see who knows Y/N the best now, shall we?” The host asks, and looks down at the cards in his hand. “Who is her celebrity crush?” And almost immediately all of her friends were jotting down their answers on a white board. “That was fast,” The host laughs, as does everyone else. “Okay everyone, flip it around.” ‘Harry Styles’ was written on every single board. “Oh my god.” She smiles wide out of embarrassment and puts her face in her hands. 

It reminds Harry of what she did when she first saw him.

“Y/N! Looks like you’re absolutely smitten with Harry Styles, aren’t you?” The host asks, and before she could even open her mouth, a co-star of hers was already speaking. “She’d play his songs in her trailer in the morning, full volume, and sing them as loud as she could. It was a good way to wake us all up.” He jokes, and everyone laughs at that. “Whenever he’d post a photo on instagram, or tweet something, I’d see tears in her eyes.” Another co-star speaks up. The audience laughs again and she looks to them. ‘I’m serious! Y/N absolutely adores him.” By this time Y/N’s face was out of her hands and she was sinking into the couch. “Are you embarrassed, Y/N/?” The host jokes “Of course not, well I didn’t want to get absolutely exposed, but I’m not embarrassed to be a fan, could never be embarrassed to be a fan of him, he’s… he’s amazing.”

The phone then fades into yet another clip.

This time, Y/N is sitting in a stool, doing the Wired Autocomplete Interview, and she tears off the second paper of the question, “Is Y/N L/N…” . “Is Y/N L/N,” she reads and the paper catches after the word “dating” is revealed. She looks up at the screen, a twinkle in her eyes as she shoots a close-mouthed smile at the camera. She turns back to the board and rips the paper off, struggling a bit and laughing, until it’s revealed. “Is Y/n L/N dating… Harry Styles”  She bursts out laughing, her free hand clutching her stomach.

Harry frowns a but at this, and he didn’t feel like thinking more about why.

 “Um,” She begins, “Sorry, I just- do I really talk about him, that much? S’a bit concerning.” She mumbles to herself. “Yeah, no, I’m not dating Harry Styles, he would never. Though, I like how people think it could be a possibility, thats quite funny. I’ll take the… hidden compliment, is that even the right phrase?”

The screen goes to another clip but Jimmy pauses it there and turns off his phone, turning to Harry. “You didn’t do anything Harry, it’s just you being here, she’s probably overwhelmed and-“

“Mr. Kimmel? Jones needs you.” Someone calls out to him down the hall and Jimmy slips his phone in this pocket and sighs. “Sorry, gotta handle this, thank you, for coming.”

“It’s okay,” Harry assures him, “Thanks for having me.” And at that Jimmy rushes down the hall in search of Jones, and Harry stands in the same spot

Harry knows how much he means to his fans, he’s seen them sob at concerts, break down at meet and greets, and when they tell him how much they love him when they run into him on the street. He knows this. But this felt different, for some reason. Maybe it was the burning feeling in his chest when she laughed off how he would never be with her, for what particular reason he has no clue (or just doesn’t want to address it), or how he couldn’t help but pop a dimple when he heard she loves his music. He wasn’t sure.

What he was sure of though, is that he needed to speak to her again, hug her for longer, actually get to know Y/N. So he walked into the main back room, walking down different halls until he came across the one that read “Dressing Room #4” and Y/N’s name scribbled in messy handwriting on the white board underneath. He knocked a little rhythm, and waited.

Y/N was still crying, to put it lightly. Maybe hyperventilating was the right word, because she was breathing quite fast, and there was a steady stream of tears flowing down her cheeks. She heard the knocks and attempted to calm herself down a bit, yelling out a “One second!” Before wiping under her eyes and walking to open the door. “Eliana,” She began, ready to wave her assistant way (not that she didn’t adore her, but Y/N needed to be alone before talking about everything), “Can you come back in like 15 minutes, I’m sorry I just need to-”

Her mouth closed when she saw Harry outside of her door, his small smile quickly fading into a frown as he took in her state. “Y/N I wanted to- are you okay?” He asked, stepping a bit closer, trying not to push any boundaries. When she didn’t respond and he saw her bottom lip quiver a bit, his chest clenched. “Can I come in? Can we talk?” He gently asked, eyes running over her puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks, and disheveled appearance. 

She nodded and he walked in, and she gently shut the door behind him. He turned around to look at her and when his eyes met her’s, she couldn’t take it anymore. She let out a gut-wrenching sob and her face fell in her hands as she shook her head. “I-I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” She choked out and he stepped towards her, his hand coming to rest on her elbow. “Y/N, please, don’t apologize.” And without thinking he took the last step towards her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her firmly, one of his hands cradling the back of her head. Her hands fell from her face and she held him back, arms wrapping tightly around his torso yet again.

As she cried into his chest, he mumbled a soft, “Breathe for me, love.”, and she tried to get her breathing to match his own deep breathes. “I’m sorry,” Y/N says for the millionth time. “I told you to stop apologizing, Y/N, you haven’t done anything wrong.” He frowns to himself, that burning feeling in his chest again. She reluctantly pulls away, and his hands remain on her arms as her own come up to wipe the tears flowing out of her eyes. 

“You didn’t sign up to be here and have to deal with a crying fan, Harry.” Y/N sighs, finally looking up at him. 

“Hey, I came because I wanted to see you, I’ve seen your movies and I think everything you’re absolutely incredible at what you do, and when Jimmy called asking if I could come to surprise you I jumped at the chance to finally meet you. I know what I signed up for.” He says, his thumbs rubbing the skin of her arms gently.

At his words she let out another sob, her shaking hands coming up to cover her face for a moment yet again. Harry’s eyes widened, he was telling the honest truth, and he didn’t think he said anything wrong. Y/N however, was seeing in person, how king he truly was, and it was just another reality check that the Harry she’s loved for so long really is the same in real life; it was too much to handle. “Thank you,” She sniffles, looking up at him again, meeting his piercing green eyes. “I just, I’ve adored you for years, still do, and I never thought I’d meet you, even after I started getting ‘known’, I always thought you were like, too perfect to be real, and now you’re here and you’re real, and y’know when you meet a celebrity who seems so sweet in interviews and all that but they turn out to be an absolute prick? It’s not like that, you’re the same person I’ve loved over a screen, I- you’ve been my inspiration for fucking years and I don’t know. It’s just a lot.” 

Now her hands were on his arms and they stood there for a moment, just looking at each other.

“M’not perfect, Y/N.” Harry says softly. Y/n chuckles a bit, glancing to the side before meeting his eyes yet again. “I know, I know the ‘nobody’s perfect’ crap, but if you’re insistent on it, then I think you’re the closest thing there is to perfect, Harry.”

His cheeks turn pink at her confession, and a small smile weaves its way onto his face. “Thank you,” He finally says, before bringing her into another hug, this time her arms wrapped around his neck, and he bends down a bit to hold her tighter. “For everything you said, seriously, you’ve got no idea how much it means t’me.” He admits, still reveling in her touch. She slowly pulls away, noting in her head that he never seems to be the one to let go first. “Of course, wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.” She smiles weakly, still drained from all the emotions flowing through her. He just smiles at that, before his hand drags down her arm and he hold her hand, wordlessly pulling her over to sit on the couch. 

He doesn’t let go of her hand as they sit quite close facing each other. “Do y’wanna hear a secret? It might make you feel better.” He suggests, cursing himself for being willing to do anything to see her smile fully. “I wish I could lie and say that it’s something I wouldn’t know, but I think I know a bit too much about you.” She says, letting out a small laugh, and he does too. “I promise you don’t know this.” He mumbles.

“Okay, go for it.” She says, holding his hand a bit tighter. 

“Well, after you bolted here, Jimmy showed me a few of your interviews, and I wanted to tell you that you’re my celebrity crush too.”

Her jaw drops and her eyes widen, a face that looks eerily similar to when she saw him for the first time just an hour prior. “You saw my interviews?” She gasps, her voice cracking at the embarrassment of him seeing her shamelessly confessing her love for him about a million times. It was safe to say she didn’t hear the rest of his confession.

“That’s what you’re focusing on here?” Harry laughs and raises a brow at Y/N.

“What else is there to focus on,” She groans, taking her hand out of his and burying her face into her hands yet again. “I can’t believe Jimmy showed you that, I’m never coming on this show again.” 

Harry grins, a dimple popping as he gently wraps his arms around her wrists, pulling her hands off her face. “Did y’hear what I said after that?” He asks softly, his eyes bring into her own. She shakes her head “no” in response and he takes a quick breath before telling her yet again. 

“I said, you’re my celebrity crush too. I’ve watched everything you’ve been in and I think y’are absolutely amazing, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t think you’re beautiful, inside and out.”

Y/N’s jaw drops for the thousandth time that night. 

 “You’re fucking with me.” She deadpans, her face blank and mind swimming with emotions.

He frowns and squeezes her hands. “M’not, swear to you.”

She shakes her head in denial. There’s no way she was Harry Style’s celebrity crush. Not in a million years would she ever think those words would be spoken, much less even thought of.

“You don’t believe me?” Harry asks, his head tilting a bit to the side.

“I believe tha you’re just too nice and you feel bad for me, so that’s why you’re telling me this.” Y/N admits to him, a sad smile on her face.

“Really?” He asks, letting go of her hands and bringing one of his own to his pocket. 

“Really. I appreciate it, I do, but you don’t have to try and make me feel less humiliated, I think we’ve already passed the point of no return.” Y/N says, laughing a bit.

“Mmm, okay,” He smirks. “Well that just won’t do. May I have your number?” 

She raises a brow as he pushes his phone into her hands, already pulled up on a new contact. She types in her number and “#1 fan” in the name and hand the phone back to him. Harry laughs when he sees the contact name and saves it to his phone, then putting it back in his pocket. 

“What was that?” 

“What was what?” Harry muses, a teasing glint in his eye.

She purses her lips. “Why did you just ask for my number?”

“So I can contact you of course,” Harry smiles. “How else am I supposed to set up another date with you?”

“Another?” Y/N questions, her lips turning up.

“’m a gentleman of course, would never ask you out on a first date over the phone,” Harry calmly explains. “So would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner tomorrow night?”

Y/n hesitates, unsure if this was still an ask out of pity. “You can meet me at my house, of course if you’re comfortable, and I’ll order us takeout to eat on my porch.” He continues, getting more exciting as he imagines how the date would go. 

“What makes you think I’d say yes?” She teases and his mouth gapes. 

“Oh fuck off.”

#I just used jimmy cause I didn't feel like making my own host up lolz #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles #harrys styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #im literally half asleep but I needed to post this tonight #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n

[xingqiu-irl]

i really really like chibedo aaaaaa they're so cute

i keep daydreaming about them in my genshin hs au ahahshdh

like albedo has like no friends and is quiet and childe is like. popular. and in a class they have assigned seats next to each other or smthn and childe keeps trying to talk to albedo but albedo is still quiet, but everyday chulde learns just a bit more about albedo and before he even knows it they're good friends; albedo's only other friend is sucrose and even then they're not the closest? so childe is like “woo im your second ever friend!!” and albedo is just like. yeah, sure ok.”

most of the time during their conversations childe does the speaking, but sometimes albedo will chime in with their own stuff. it's only really when the two are alone does albedo speak a lot, and most of the time it's rambling about things they're learning. childe finds it all the more intriguing, how they can ramble on and on about things they've studied and things they're learning and how childe could find it all so interesting. childe wasn't stupid, not by a long shot, but he never found science or math or anything “stem” related all that interesting. yet when albedo just went on and on about those subjects— he’d listen on so intently. and albedo would always help out childe if he needed it, always make sure he was passing his classes just fine while not being too hard on him.

they met when they were juniors, and got close. they stayed just as close around the summer too. if you saw childe, albedo was probably with him. if you saw albedo in the halls, guess who was right next to them? childe. it wasn't often you'd see them separated. and it wasn't often you'd see anything but a neutral expression on albedos face except when they were talking to childe, where a small smile always seemed to creep onto their lips. the duo didn't have arguments or fights ever— sometimes it seemed like they never even had disagreements. albedo was never one to share their opinions on anything and even when childe said his opinions it was like they always agreed.

senior year was a little different though. they both were a little busier, trying to plan out what they'd do after high school. albedo seemed to have it cut out clear, even with certain universities offering them scholarships. they knew what they wanted to do, who they wanted to be, and yet childe had barely any idea of what he wanted to do. there were so many options and he just didnt know—late one night while he was over at albedos, just sort of idly sitting on their bed while albedo quietly read something next to him, leaning into his side ever so slightly, childe let out a breathy sigh. his gaze fixated on the ground, “how did you figure out what you'd wanted to do for the rest of your life?” was all childe asked. and a few moments later he felt albedo sit up a bit more, no longer leaning into his side and leaving a bit of warmth there. his blue eyes glanced towards the other, his gaze still fixated downwards. albedo gave a light shrug, not saying a word for a few moments, “I don't know. I suppose I've only ever been good in two fields, so I went with my best one. I didn't have much of another choice really.”

ah. that didn't help much at all did it? childe didn't really have something he excelled in like albedo. he wasn't good at one particular field like albedo. he didn't have his life set out and planned for him like albedo. and in that moment, maybe he felt just a slight tinge of resentment and jealousy. albedo already knew what they wanted to do, who they wanted to be, exactly how to get there- and it was all just practically handed to them because they were always good in that subject. they were too good in every subject. childe sighed, clearing his throat afterwards. “right, that makes sense,” childe mumbled, quieter than usual. quieter than albedo's ever heard. “im sorta jealous of you, ahah. you have your life set out, planned, handed to you even. i have no clue what i want to do, im not particularly the best at anything.” childe added an awkward chuckle at the end, slightly embarrassed.

“jealous?” albedo questioned, their head turning to fully look at childe, a brief quirked. they almost seemed upset at the implication that childe of all people was jealous of them. “youre great at many things, childe. you have some traits i wish i had. you're charismatic, charming even. you can make friends, talk to people like it's nothing? I can't, childe. you don't have to be absolutely sure on your life just yet, alright? please, don't be jealous of me.” albedo narrowed their eyes, and the two were making eye contact. childe blinked, and he felt for maybe the first time in his life something he'd label as actual love.

and over the months he only felt his love grow stronger. every time albedo would place a hand on his back, every time albedo would say something reassuring, the times they'd stay up way late at night just talking about whatever came up, it made childe pin all the more harder. albedo would spare a glance while they were sitting in class. childe could feel his heart skip a beat or something, and he tried paying attention but he just couldn't stop thinking about the other. these emotions, feelings, christ they were going to be the death of him, huh?

he'd invited albedo to hangout somewhere outside of their home. usually if he wanted to hangout with albedo it'd have to be at albedo's house. but now here they were, late at night in some random park. it was dimly lit, as the only real lighting came from unevenly spaced lamp posts you'd see every once in a while in the park and the street lamps from the road. it was just bright enough for childe to make out albedos features, all of their wonderful features. he stared, stared for far longer than he should've, than he was allowed to. albedo glanced over, moving a piece of hair just slightly out of their eyes. “is something wrong?” albedo questioned, though it was quiet, their voice as soft as ever.

“no, im just... admiring you,” childe let out with a awkward laugh following it, “youre amazing, albedo, i really like you,” childe confessed with a small sigh and another awkward chuckle. he'd hoped albedo understood what he meant, that this wasn't platonic. childe already felt like his face was burning up after confessing now, and he might just die if he had to elaborate.

albedo stared at childe, their face blank and mouth slightly ajar. they tried to find the words, to find what to say. their expression morphed into a perplexed one. emotions was certainly not something they were good at childe could seem so in touch with his emotions. albedo was not. they rarely tried to express how they felt, yet childe could surely express himself so casually. albedo didnt know what to say, how to feel, surely they felt the same way but they really weren't sure they could put it into proper words. “give me some time to think.” that's what albedo said. truthfully, they knew it wasn't the thing to say, they knew they felt the exact same way childe did. but now they had to figure out how to put that into words. childe looked disappointed. albedo internally sighed. they hated seeing childe upset, and now they were the reason. great. well now albedo would have to say something, to fix the situation. “er... i didn't know what to say, sorry,” they began, “i feel the same way, i think,” they looked down. staring at the ground, face far more red than it's ever been.

they didn't know what to do. neither did childe. but for now the just remained quiet. childe broke the silence, “uh, let's figure things out tomorrow, ill walk you home.” childe offered, grinning and trying to lighten the mood up a bit. albedo glanced up, making brief eye contact and nodding. they knew tomorrow was certainly going to be something. but for now, they could just enjoy the few moments left they had tonight with childe.

ok yeah i got really carried away on what was supposed to be a short au desc but, it's ok! ehhehsbxb i just thought this was cute and ive been daydreaming abt it all day so i thought i might as well ramble on tumblr sjdbfbdb

#long post #xingqiu.txt #chibedo #tartaglia #childe #albedo #genshin impact albedo #genshin albedo #genshin impact childe #genshin childe #xingqius aus.exe #aaaaa i love them #childe x albedo #albedo x childe

[justcallmenikki7]

Namjoon: BTS!Twilight!Headcanon

Summary: The first headcanon in the BTS!Twilight!Au! You are getting a glimpse at the pack leader, Kim Namjoon!

Warnings: Slight angst, mentions of death, Namjoon having a little rough patch.

W.C.: 1.2k

Note: Lmao. okay so this is a whole new world to me when it comes to headcanons, so please be patient with me! Once all of the boys are all posted, then my requests will open up and you can ask each member and their imprint one shots and stuff!

So anyways, here is the Pack Leader -> Namjoon

-        Basically Sam Ulely

-        Very firm and serious

-        But can be a big goof whenever he wants

-        The first to transform into his wolf form (hint at sam)

-        Truthfully, he hates being a wolf and in the pack cause he lost every chance of going to college and becoming a philosopher and a scientist.

-        But, once Seokjin changed, he felt better because he had someone who felt the same way. (Quil).

-        Even though Namjoon kind of likes being a wolf since he can transform into one and connect with his inner self and spirit, he hates the thought of killing someone.

-        The first time Namjoon took down a vampire, he cried and wanted to kill himself.

-        Despite a vampire killing a person, and he is against that, he believes that they were made for reason and is doing what their internal self does.

-        But that thought did not last for long once he watched a vampire drain the blood from his baby sister right in front of him to get back at him.

-        After that, he killed the vampire and accepted the fact that vampires are no good and deserve to die.

-        Knowing that there are the ‘vegan’ vampire, he is curious but is still prejudice in a way.

-        He does want to meet them to learn about them, but the angry side of him that holds hatred towards the cold ones still overpowers his emotions.

-        His grandfather has said that they are kind, but that does not mean he trusts them.

-        So when the other six change, Namjoon feels like he could be a ‘normal person’ again.

-        Namjoon kind of has depression, but its mainly from the change and his sister dying. But the pack really helps his depression and since there’s the pack link – everyone is able to check on each other and there is always opened communication.

-        BUT

-        Even with the pack link, they do have the ability to block off certain thoughts that they don’t want everyone else to hear, but since they are very opened with one another and trust each other, they do not see it a reason why to block off their thoughts

-        Namjoon is obviously the father in the friendship (Jin is the mom, obvs)

-        So with his smartness he helps the maknae line with homework

-        Also is very considerate and allows them to focus on their schooling

-        (Has Yoongi Jin and Hope to run borders hfkjdhfdsjfdsocns)

-        (Yoongi hates him for it cuz he prioritizes his sleep)

-        Namjoon also lives with his grandfather, his parents having been killed in an accident when he was 12 and his sister 8

-        Btw, there is none of that alpha crap like with Sam and Jacob – plz, we’re mature here

-        To twist it up

-        Namjoon is the same age as he is in real life, along with the boys

-        But namjoon transforms before everyone else because of his Alpha gene, then everyone transforms in the order of their position in the pack

-        I am so bad at these

Wolf Descriptions:

-        His wolf is Jacobs color and size.

-        His wolfs name is Apollo

-        Apollo only takes over in fights or when he is becoming protective of their imprint.

-        Apollo connects with their imprint through touch and when Namjoon allows Apollo to take over mentally (like fronting with an alter ego)

-        Okay, in a way, this is like a split au, but not

-        You with me?

-        Oh yeah, the wolves are the same height like they are in Twilight. I don’t know how tall that is, but the boys wolves are all taller than you.

-        I am not good at this headcanon thingy, so ummmm, what else do I need to add??

-        Oof, okay, end of this – if more information comes up with requests/asks, ill make a comment at the beginning of each

Imprint Information:

-        As for wolf – it is more intense than it is made out in the actual twilight books/movies

-        You are the soulmate, and you are soulmates with Namjoon and the boys

-        Namjoon, putting it lightly, will die for you

-        (They all would, but we is on Namjoon’s part rn)

-        You are the other half to Namjoon – his equal

-        Literally when he first saw you, he almost tripped over a pebble and face planted into the sidewalk

-        I will make one shots for each boy on the meeting of their imprint (you)

-        Basically, being namjoon’s imprint means being the now mom of the group (Jin is severely salty)

-        Nah, you didn’t get attacked by Namjoon like Sam’s imprint in Twilight, but you did witness and almost get hurt (will be in a one shot)

-        I see as in imprints, the boys imprint on someone who is like them, but their legit better half

-        So, what I mean by this is that you are the saving grace in Namjoon’s life

-        You help his depression by talking and being there for him

-        Such as, you literally calm him by being beside him

-        It helps his wolf and him knowing that you’re beside him

-        Like that mafia reaction I made a while back about you being the boys safe haven?

-        Yes, its like this but 100000x more intense due to the bond

-        When yall fight (which is rarely), the both of you feel emotions way higher

-        Even though he’s an alpha, that doesn’t mean that the imprint is any different than the others.

-        Imprinting in this is the same, even though they all have a different position in the pack

-        Im just lazy and don’t see the need to make any more additions.

-        BUT

-        You are two years younger than him (23)

-        But you guys are literally leaders,

-        The boys look up to you for guidance – especially when they meet their imprints (lmao poor Jungkook and Yoongi)

-        When Namjoon is stressed they come to you because they know that they wont get an alpha look when they have questions

-        THEY’RE VVV PROTECTIVE OF YOU

-        Like, it’s funny

-        Especially the maknae line

-        When you go out when it’s like during the Eclipse era in twilight, and Namjoon is busy with boarders and such he sends Jungkook out with you

-        And when a guy comes up to you

-        PROTECTIVE KOOKIE

-        Basically the boys will be the Hall Monitors on Steroids and will S C A R E anyone (especially male or someone who seems suspicious) who comes up to you

-        The pack make fun of the guys in the pack link

-        You and Namjoon love reading together

-        With the imprint thingy, whenever you and namjoon touch one another, it is like a medicine for you both cause there’s this power thingy where it brings automatic relaxation to the body

-        Pretty dope

-        Wait it’s basically dope

-        *silence*

-        Im sorry im lame

-        Anyways, it is like imprinting in the books

-        It is just … yeah

-        I suck at these

-        ONTO THE NEXT PACK MEMBER

#bts imagine #bts drabble #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts angst #bts!twilight!au #bts headcanons #bts reaction #Kim Namjoon #Kim Namjoon imagine #Kim Namjoon angst #Kim Namjoon reaction #Kim Namjoon fluff #Kim Namjoon drabble #Kim Namjoon scenario #Kim Namjoon x reader #Kim Namjoon x you #kim seokjin #jeon jungkook #min yoongi #kim taehyung #park jimin #jung hoseok #bts rm #bts j-hope #bts v #bts jeon jungguk #bts suga #bts agust d #bts jin

[dreamswanderintobears]

Lasting Impacts of Media

In this reflection, my topic is a blend of personal reflection and readdressing the impacts of the media culture you grew up in. My posts throughout the class haven't been wholly consistent or on a single theme, but most of them have some degree of personal reflection. It's always tough to look critically back on your past and judge yourself by a more modern standard or readdress what you thought of as normal. Growing up, I lived a very illiberal life as an upper-middle-class white boy in the South, and confronting that isn't an easy task. Through this class and the commonplace book project, I've had the chance to once again look back at myself and my surroundings critically. From dwelling on my childhood and questioning the narrow worldview, I grew up in and how it's followed me in life. It even comes down to the media I consumed regularly and the way it impacts my worldview. Changing something so monumental isn't a five-step program to success; it's adaption and understanding wrapped around an effort to be better for everyone around you. Was my worldview wrong when I was young? No, I don't believe it was, but my worldview only included that white perspective, which left me incredibly ill-informed. This issue isn't a new one for me, it's one I started delving into back in High School, but this class helped me be critical about myself in a way I'd not taken enough time to do. I was able to look back at how I was raised and reevaluate the impact of my upbringing.

One of the significant aspects of my life that this class has given me a lot to think about is the early media I consumed as a child. In the TedTalk by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, she says, 'I wrote exactly the kinds of stories I was reading: All my characters were white and blue-eyed, they played in the show, they ate apples, and they talked a lot about the weather, how lovely it was that the sun had come out.' about how all the characters in her stories were white because all the stories she'd read had white main characters, so her writing reflected that. Already in this semester, I've spoken about how I've come to realize I read books in a very similar way. Looking back, the most diverse main character I grew up with was an actual cat; I'm referring to the Warrior Cats books; outside of those books, most of the stories had main characters that read as white to me; Percy Jackson, Ranger's Apprentice, Harry Potter, Ender's Game. Greek Mythology was also a significant aspect of my life as a child, yet every time I looked at a greek god, they were white. The books I'd pick up in the library would be full of pale gods and goddesses that only reflected my ignorance back at me. That kind of constant exposure impacts a child, and by the time I'd start to watch movies, it seemed wholly normal to me for everyone in a film to be dominated by white actors. I looked at Star Wars and saw no fault in the white-dominated film or Harry Potter and the three white leads. So, when I first heard the term white-washing it seemed silly, even illogical to me. To the point where I was resistant against the topic as many uninformed people tend to be. At that point in time, it was normal for me to see a white lead in nearly every movie. There's no one case that I think back on as the turning point for me in my life, but I know it came in High School, where I left the South to head north to a boarding school. There, I interacted with more liberal thinkers, and by that point, movies were beginning to shift towards inclusion. Making it easier for me to start picking up shows with a more diverse set of characters and breaking the view of 'normal' I'd grown up with. At that point, I wasn't fully aware of how my view of the world was changing, but looking back in this class has given me the personal understanding to grasp that. Already, I've spoken about the media I consume, its white-washing, and how that impacted me, that was then; what about now? Earlier in the semester, I made a post about the diversity of Audible's narrators. In High School, I made the switch from regular reading to audiobooks, and the narrators were never something I'd thought about even as I listened, but they introduced an element that added something for me to grasp and build a mental picture around. Audible isn't always perfect with their narrators, sometimes they're simply awful for the book they're reading, but it's when Audible gets it right that the story shines because it's not your internal voice building the story; it's a narrator who embodies the story and works their hardest to embrace the emotion and thought put into the story by the author. I've mentioned it before in one of my other posts, but for me, I listened to the books for class, and I know my experience with the books would be lessened by reading them on my own. Some narrators don't need to do much, they can read a story in their own voice, and it sounds perfect; other narrators bring every element of themselves to the table, including voices and accents some have learned in their acting career. It gives the character's stories a literal voice and emotional weight as the narrators lend their own emotions to a story. The movies and shows I watch in a week have drastically changed; culturally, we've moved away from white-washing, so it's far easier to slide into a new show with a diverse cast. Shows like the Expanse show a far more diverse version of the future than what appeared not ten years ago. Popular franchises like Star Trek and Star Wars have moved towards better diversity, though there's still room for them to grow. There are still white-dominated shows like the Crown, but there are no stereotypical depictions of other races. Some moments highlight the diversity of the Commonwealth, and the show goes into other issues like mental health and gender in politics. Or take the stageplay, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child; for some fans, it's accepted that Hermione is black and not white like in the movies. That fact was realized on stage when Noma Dumezweni played Hermione in 2016 for the first and subsequent productions of the Cursed Child. Not every tv show or movie gets the chance to reinvent itself or casually rewrite the past to create inclusion where there was none. Where things change the most is when you take the time to reread books with a different worldview. Personally, when I listen to Harry Potter now, my mental images of the characters are radically different; they read as other people from the characters we see in the movies. Sometimes, it's worth going back to an old book you once read to reread the book and see if it reads the same way. Post after post, I've exposed little bits about myself and my own experiences with the topics we're covering in class. By the end, you might be wondering what am I getting at by outing myself like this? Truthfully, there's nothing I can gain by throwing myself out there, but maybe if I can get my readers thinking, they'll go back and reevaluate themselves, and they can gain something. Their reevaluation might not benefit me in any way, but I'd hope they might grow as a person and better understand the impacts of their childhood on their own day-to-day life. We, as humans, have this habit of neglecting our past; we'll leave it behind and forget about it without taking the time to evaluate it and leaving it to impact our daily lives again and again in subtle ways.  It's not until classes like this that students find themselves prompted to look back or move out of their comfort zone. By doing so, they might gain insights into themselves or, at the very least, come out of the class with a better understanding of the world around them.

[shyung-shoes]

tagged by the absolutely wonderful @kyunsies <3333 (i didnt know u changed ur url till this post!! its v cute!!)

20 questions!!

1. what do you prefer to be called name wise?

my full name is jillian but everyone calls me jill (except my family, especially my mom) i love nicknames tho but have never really had one beyond jill so if u give me a nickname ill die

2. when is your birthday?

aug 28

3. where do you live

east coast babyyyy

4. three things u are doing right now?

procrastinating on an assignment, watching a drama (while you were sleeping), and ignoring the basket of laundry i need to put away

5. four fandoms that have piqued your interest right now?

apink, gwsn, astro, april!! im still very new to all these groups tho so if anyone has any content/music recs, please lemme know :D

6. how's this pandemic been treating you?

it was a lot harder at first w/ the sudden transition from college to home. i was super happy at school and it was rough on my brain to be back home. but now ive adapted more and am doing better! i cant wait to go back to school though god

7. a song u cant stop listening to right now?

gonna reveal the extremes of my music taste but uh after the bloom (alone) by gwsn and bonfire by childish gambino. also without me by eminem. idk i think ive been feeling very angry/annoyed so rap is just a good way to get it out. and ive been fuckin so hard w/ gwsn’s discography that i had to put them on here

8. recommend a movie

tune in for love! truthfully, i prefer watching tv to movies but i watched this the other day and really enjoyed it! very cute and the ending was an actually satisfying ambiguous ending which is rare i think. its on netflix :P

9. how old are u?

18- im almost always the baby among my friends :// and i think im the baby on here a lot too

10. school, university, occupation, other?

im a rising sophomore in college and currently working as a dance teacher and waiting to hear back about an internship that’s actually in my field (event managment)

11. do u prefer heat or cold?

cold! i run hot naturally so i overheat super easily and i hate that feeling of sweating and being lightheaded. winter fashion also is much more my speed with boots and big jackets and darker lip colors

12. name one fact others may not know about u

im in a sorority! i think one or two people may know on here but i dont talk a lot about it. gamma phi baby (also @kyunsies youre only 4′11?? a baby!!)

13. are u shy?

i wouldnt call myself shy, im just anxious so im much more quiet when i meet someone for the first couple times. once im comfy w/ someone, my personality really comes out for all its dramatic glory

14. do u have preferred pronouns?

she/her

15. biggest pet peeve?

almost all my pet peeves have to do w/ eating lolol cause i get really bad anxiety and sensory overload from things like chewing sounds. so when people eat with their mouths open or let their silverware scrape across their teeth frustrates the hell out of me. the last one feels very specific but it irritates me yeet

16. what is your favorite ‘dere’ type?

tsundere or dandere i guess?? when a character starts to open bc of their love interest... i love it. ESPECIALLY when that character then becomes more open w/ other people because of their love. this also probably explains my natural tendency to love scorpios i think

17. rate your life 1-10, 1 being rlly crappy and 10 being the best it could ever be

i think im a solid 7 rn! which is honestly a lot better than i wouldve given it a month ago so thats a plus. im struggling w/ some mental health things rn but honestly, im pretty content with the way things seem to be unfolding for me

18. what’s your main blog?

this one! its not my actual main blog but this is the only one i use, tumblr just wont let me make this my main bc its dumb

19. list your side blogs and wha they’re used for?

i had a voltron side blog back in 2017? i think? but i havent watched the show in years bc its problematic as fuck i just didnt realize it back then

20. is there anything u think people need to know about u before becoming friends with u?

i am an extremely inconsistent responder- i am the epitome of the will respond in 2 seconds or 2 days thing but i will always respond to your message at some point. if this is about friends irl, its that i always have an earbud in and thats not an exaggeration- listening to music always makes me less anxious so i constantly just have an earbud in in case i feel myself get jittery. so i promise i am paying attention even if it doesnt look like it- im top tier at being able to pay attention to a song and a conversation

ill tag... @wennjunhui @leexchan @iiasha @lovechwe @1of1orbit @agemnor(theres ofc no pressure!!! <33)

#thank u for the tag!!! #i love games like this #v fun v fun #tagged

[lucysweatslove]

There is something to be said about starting over.

Truthfully, though, I’m not sure what it is. My story is not new or unique; I’m just a woman in her mid-20s trying to figure out how to be herself again, or what that ever would look like. Few paths are linear, or even with one definitive trend. We start, we stop, we remodel and backtrack or go in an entirely different direction. I came back to tumblr for two reasons: 1, I really believe blogs are helpful in my planning, recording, and motivation for any part of my life, and 2, I tried a few other types of blogs and didn’t like them. Tumblr was where I got my life in order when I went to college. I made connections with people who helped me, in various ways, connect the dots in my own life as I became an adult. And then, for some reason, it stopped being that space. I could blame this change on politics, and honestly, deep in my mind, I do. Even prior to Trump taking office, or his campaign, tumblr’s focus shifted heavily to politics and the state of the world’s affairs. Understandable, and I harbor no ill will to those using their platforms to speak about what they believe to be right, but that shift took over my feed. Instead of positivity, I felt anger and desperation. Facebook, school, or work were places for politics- tumblr was my place without it. Tumblr was my place to work on my own health, inside and out, ignoring the health of our society. I could not- and still can’t- focus on my health while being bombarded with reminders of the degradation of the world. I don’t remember when exactly I stopped being on Tumblr for good, but it wasn’t recently. In the years since then, I didn’t have a place to hold on to my health, and I’ve deteriorated. I hate it. I don’t hate myself, nor do I hate the workings of my body, but I see myself and I am discouraged and disgusted. I try to do basic things, like body weight squats, that used to be easy activities, and I struggle. Some of this is related to age, some of it is related to health issues, and some of it is related simply to poorly managed stress. I have made numerous attempts now to get myself back to the health I was in 4-5 years ago. A previous post from 2018 on this very blog shows that off. In early 2019, I attempted a keto diet- which, even though I was very consistent with, did not “work” for me. I’ve started other blogs (which obviously failed), personal journaling, linking up with different food tracking apps, going to the gym more regularly, intuitive eating, even a well designed rewards program based off of the psychology and neuroscience of behavior modification and rewards- they all failed in the end (although the rewards program was wildly successful for the two months I did it, but after it ended and I went on a trip, it became too difficult to keep up). The problem with all of these attempts has been a lack of integration. Any attempt at in-person or even online but direct social support has been futile, and my attempts and feigning the idea of support or accountability (eg, a blog as I feel the “support” whether or not it is actually read) haven’t integrated what actually works best for me: numbers. I need all pieces to come together, and so far, I haven’t been able to do that. It’s like working on a large puzzle where the pieces continually go missing. You have one piece in your hand, but can’t find the piece it connects to, and when you finally do, the first piece mysteriously vanished. I think big parts of my difficulties the last two years especially have been medication and health. Right before I started this blog, I was started on a new antidepressant and anti anxiety med. This first made me REALLY sleepy, so as I was adjusting, I slept so much that I didn’t eat regularly. When that resolved, I thought I was doing fine on the medication, but without changing anything else, I experienced many side effects, including a 20 pound weight gain and a whole host of weird, systemic/somatic concerns (I was even lactating a small amount). I stayed on it because my anxiety seemed better, even though I felt all my emotions were dull. When this medication stopped working for my depression, I finally decided to switch it- and that was a process that lasted, no lie, over six months. I tried medication that gave me horrible heart palpitations, dizziness, tachycardia, and erratic blood pressure readings. I tried genetic testing. My psych moved practices. It was a mess. During this process, I tried multiple times to start going to the gym. There was ALWAYS something wrong. I would go consistently for two weeks, and then I would develop muscle spasms in my back. I couldn’t do yoga anymore because I developed a soft tissue injury in my left hand and could no longer put weight-bearing pressure on that hand. In early November, I developed an upper respiratory infection that lasted two months, required two courses of antibiotics, and still hasn’t fully resolved. But now I need to be determined. My honeymoon to Cancun is in 13 weeks, and every day now counts. While I can’t solve all my problems in a mere 91 days, nor will I have my “best body ever,” I am determined to be able to enjoy the beach vacation with my husband without letting my body, my insecurity, or my complete lack of fitness stop me. When is started paying attention to my diet, I was technically obese (just barely, but still). This number hit me hard. I remember crossing the line from normal weight to overweight and sobbing, so angry that I had let myself down. I remembered how awful I was treated by my peers the last time I had such a high weight. Now, I would love if I could reach that weight before my honeymoon. My “goal,” which I have entered into MyFitnessPal, is to lose 30 pounds starting from last week at 176.2; this would place me at 146.2 and a BMI just barely overweight. Would I love it to be lower? Yes. I would be overjoyed if I could lose even more weight. However, I don’t want to attempt anything unrealistic; if it happens, great! If not, I won’t be (too) disappointed. I have been too scared to measure my waist recently, or my hips or thighs, but I have a few linen dresses that I really want to fit in to, and while the scale is a great way to measure weight loss, I am really looking for more fat loss, improvement in how I look and feel, and to fit into clothing again- so as long as inches are going down, I’ll be happy with the weight loss too. As a disclaimer, for anybody reading this. Yes, 30 pounds in 14 weeks IS over 2 pounds a week, and it IS over 1% of my body weight per week as well (both of those values are typical suggested maximum rates). I’m not suggesting this particular weight loss goal to anybody, and my general/systemic health is constantly monitored. This last week included, I am being VERY conscious about keeping myself in good health throughout this process, and if I cannot reach a goal while maintaining my health, then the goal (in some part) will change so I CAN meet it healthfully.

#Journal #day 6 #starting over #weight loss

[gobigorgohome2016]

Taper Week 1 + Final Big Workout

I am in the home stretch, which is strange because I’m feeling very different from other marathon training cycles.  

Normally at this point, I am plotting out exactly what I am going to do as soon as I cross the finish line:  drink a beer, eat a burger, and not engage in any physical activity for a glorious 14 days.  Last year, the US half marathon championships couldn’t come soon enough.  Even on the starting line, all I could think about was covering 13.1 miles as quickly as possible solely so that I could take a break.  Definitely not the right mindset for running your best! 

Traditionally, taper has been hard for me.  Not from the standpoint of “taper crazies”  - I’m not going to lie, when people complain about running less I just don’t get it.  At the same time, my taper is relatively small.  I ran 108 miles for my peak week, and last week I ran 92 (which includes one day off).  When you track my 7 day stretch from Tuesday to Monday, I still covered 102 miles.  This week will be lower, though, coming in at 76.  It will be weird to only run once per day most of the week.  Actually, today was my first single run in weeks and I felt like I had infinitely more time on my hands!  Of course that means I was less productive, because the best way to get things done is to be really busy, amirite?  

I’m starting to wonder if my early season setbacks will have actually served a greater purpose.  I feel like the last few weeks have been a turning point in my fitness and that things are coming together.  About 4 weeks ago I was running a warm up and I thought to myself you need to just be okay with the fact this might not be a PR training cycle.  After I had that thought, I wound up running a better-than-expected workout and I feel like I’ve been on the up and up ever since.  I’m not sure I have ever made it to this point in training feeling as though my legs are still fresh.  

On Sunday I did what I love to do during taper:  I pored over my running logs and looked at data.  I love to look at my mileage totals.  Here is my mileage during the same 92 day periods leading up to each race:

Twin Cities:  1,019 miles Olympic Trials:  1,163 miles Pittsburgh:  1,147 miles

At the end of the day, I will have only run 16 fewer miles than I did in the 3 months leading up to the Trials.  That doesn’t tell the whole story, though.  That training window includes a 3 week period where I was dealing with a hamstring issue.  If we look at the final 6 weeks of training, the mileage totals are slightly different:

Twin Cities:  505 miles Olympic Trials: 554 miles Pittsburgh:  565 miles

I have definitely come on stronger the last few weeks whereas in past training, I have struggled during taper to have motivation to run.  At the end of the day, training and racing only produces more data, so it will be interesting for me to see how the increased mileage plays a role in the outcome.  

I’m in the process of reading Deena Kastor’s Let Your Mind Run.  This book could not have come out at a better time for me.  I like to read during taper.  Before Twin Cities, I read Once a Runner.  Before the Trials, I read Suzy Favor Hamilton’s Fast Girl.  

Deena’s positivity has helped me look at the last few months and reframe them.  At one point I truthfully wondered why I was bothering to run this marathon when it didn’t seem like I was going to be in my best shape.  I will be the first to admit that I struggle at times with perfectionism when it comes to running (seriously nothing else though.  sometimes I wonder how I graduated college).  Something that tremendously helped was when my coach reminded me this race doesn’t have to be perfect - it just has to be good, I’m already a pretty damn good runner.  

Deena’s book inspired me to reframe a lot of the negative thoughts that have been holding me back lately.  For instance, I have used one word to describe this training cycle:  setback.  I’m pretty sure I have uttered that word more times in the last 4 months than I have in my entire life.  Instead of thinking about the things that have hindered progress, why not think of them as things I have overcome?  At the end of the day, I have run a shit ton of miles after dealing with:

-a calf injury -a plantar injury -a hamstring injury -a badly infected blister -a couple illnesses -a post-tib issue -the worst case of eczema I’ve experienced in my 20′s -unmet expectations at races  -new food sensitivities that undoubtedly contributed to the previous 8 items on this list

I prevailed despite all of these things.  What’s so hard about a marathon after your toe doubles in size because it is infected and is so painful  you have to drive barefoot in the middle of winter because your shoe is applying too much painful pressure on your toe when you hit the gas pedal? 

Deena’s book is also helping me see the other things I do - the things that are easy to forget - that make me a better athlete.  Joe Vigil has a quote that there is no such thing as overtraining, just underresting.  I love that.  This training cycle I have made it a point to:

-nap at least 60 minutes every day  -eliminate foods that I know my body cannot tolerate (science is cool) -get a massage every 2 weeks -set up mental game sessions as needed -have increased contact with my coach -make dietitian appointments as needed -make visualization a priority -do daily yoga instead of one session per week -more core/lifting -practice race day [this training cycle I made it a point to practice getting up at 4 AM before a couple long run workouts so that I wasn’t in shock when I had to do it for the race]

There is no guarantee that any of these things are going to make a better runner; but, there was something that Des Linden said leading up to Boston that spoke to me:  I could live with myself if I didn’t win Boston.  I decided I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try.  (referring to her training)

If I don’t reach my ultimate goal of breaking 2:30 in the marathon, I’ll live.  But, as long as I am training I will have a hard time not doing everything in my power that I know will contribute to success.  I often think of my mom telling me in high school (when I was half-assing my assignments) “if it’s a job worth doing, it’s a job worth doing well.”    

The past week of workouts has been good.  I’m not sure where the notion came from that taper weeks are easy.  In reality, the lower mileage gives way to more intensity.  Here’s what my week looked like:

M:  off (first dasy off in 6 weeks!) T: AM:  4, PM:  12 mi total w/ 6 x mi @ marathon effort ending with a mile at half marathon effort W:  AM:  10, PM:  6 Th:  AM:  6 x 400 m @ mile race pace w/ full recovery, PM:  7 F:  AM:  10, PM:  5 Sa:  AM:  8, PM:  5 Su:  AM:  16 mi cut down finishing in 5:44; PM:  4 mi shake out

Total for the week was 92, and I’m really happy with how my legs felt during that cut down.  I remember that workout before Twin Cities and crawling through the shake out later in the day because my legs were trashed.  The biggest difference I have noticed during the past 4 or 5 weeks is that my legs are recovering really well.

Today was my last big workout, and it was actually one I have never done before!  The plan was 3 x 15:00 at threshold pace.  While there is little fitness to be gained at this point, I’m so glad I did this workout because it was a huge mental win.  

I went to the tow path for the workout, which is a crushed limestone path in Indy.  I figured 15:00 should be roughly 2.5 miles.  My plan was to do a 2.5 mi stretch, then a 2.5 mi loop through a neighborhood, then the 2.5 mi stretch back.  I did not account for how much rain we have had lately, and the tow path was a muddy, sloppy, puddle-dotted mess.  We also have had pretty cold weather, so today was quite the contrast with 60 degrees and 100% humidity / light rain.  Fun fact:  I have run in a sports bra and shorts once this year, and that was in February.  

My superhero running strength is that I’m really good at not going out too fast, and at progressively picking up the pace in workouts as I go.  Actually, when this doesn’t happen I generally know something might be wrong with me.  Today was not that day.  

My first mile of my first 15:00 was 5:49.  This is not my threshold pace on a perfect weather day, and it’s definitely not my threshold pace on wet, muddy, soggy ground when I am slipping and sliding everywhere.  My second mile was 5:46.  I wound up covering 2.57 mi in 15:00 minutes.  

My fatal flaw as a runner is that, when I see these splits, I feel as though I must continue getting faster.  not the point of this workout.  So, I convinced myself that I needed to slow down.  

My first mile was 5:52 of the second 15:00 tempo.  Honestly, my legs felt like garbage.  I was running through a neighborhood on completely soaked streets trying to make turns and I ran way too hard in my previous effort.  My quads felt like crap.  My 2nd mile was 6:00.  I panicked.  Quads are heavy + slowing down.  When was the last time I felt this way?  Oh, right, when I was anemic in the fall.  At 12:00 I just stopped running.  I contemplated calling it a day and jogging back to my car.  Actually, I convinced myself that was what I should do.  If my quads are heavy, why add extra strain?  Then I spiraled.  What if I feel this way during the marathon and just walk off the course?  

Finally I decided I was going to finish the workout no matter what, even if it meant running 6:30 pace.  I took a couple minutes to regroup and decided the final tempo would be 18:00, to account for the 3 that I missed when I cut the second one short.  I would start slow (closer to my actual threshold pace), and no matter what stick this one out.  First mile:  6:07.  Much better.  Second mile:  6:02.  3rd mile:  5:55.  So, I made a workout that wasn’t supposed to be hard much more difficult than it had to be.  

But, I’m happy that it happened that way.  It is very rare for me to have a bad day in practice.  It’s even rarer for me to stop.  I don’t get a lot of opportunities to practice bringing it back around and making the day successful.  Having at least one experience like this going into the marathon is important, because if there is anything we’ve learned in the past 10 days, it’s that you can think you’re going to drop out of a race at half way, then find yourself becoming the first American in 33 years to win the Boston marathon.  

[always-mimits]

Life (Idk how to title this)

My first real post is gonna be heavy. Just a warning. I'm finally going to write this post. I needed to wrap my head around it and distance myself from it slightly. Things like this honestly hit me harder than I like to admit, it’s hard for me to know someone I had so much love and respect for is gone. It’s even worse when it’s through cancer like Alan Rickman or suicide like so many, now including Chester Bennington. I’ve always had a love for Linkin Park, it honestly helped me through a lot of personal demons. So it’s even harder for me since his music helped me not do exactly what he ended up doing. This has got to open a much needed dialogue of mental health and the reality of depression. I know it’s not easy to try to truly understand something as complicated as depression when you have never experienced it, but it’s necessary for progress. You don’t have to understand every little thing about it, but what you must do is open your eyes to the truth that it isn’t something that can be fixed by smiling, putting up a front. The only thing that does is make it harder for people to hear your screams for help, they think you only want attention, when what you really want is someone to try to help you, have someone reach out to you. You might never understand the power of a simple interaction of care, but as someone that has depression, I know how beneficial it can be to have someone simply smile at you or compliment you. No that won’t cure of us of this illness, but it might help us hold on long enough to finally begin to heal and turn our life around. Depression isn’t fake, despite what people might think, if you haven’t learned that by now looking at all the beautiful people that have ended their lives thanks to this monster that is constantly belittling us, beating us down, I really don’t know how to get you to understand. Everyone keeps saying I had no idea, none of us were expecting it, but actually go back through their music and it’s not like he’s hiding his serious struggle within himself. No one likes to acknowledge the problem/truth until it’s too late. And that just worsens the pain for people like me, the ones that know the truth and try to get others to understand it. Depression is a real thing, it terrible and hard to handle, but with help we can all begin to heal and keep going forwards even while the beast that is depression is trying to pull us back and down. People tend to only see what they want to, so they will look past obvious struggles of others around them. I get it, I do, I’m not trying to offend anyone, or make it seem like it’s your fault, it isn’t but you could save a life, I just want you to realize that. It’s really important to try to see things from others point of views, that way you can understand more and just maybe try to help them. I know how easy it is to just walk by and ignore the person that is struggling, but what is easy isn’t always right. I want to impress upon you all the importance of doing the right thing in this situation, you could help someone hang on long enough to actually keep going. I’m not pretending to know everything or make it seem like a saint, I just want to make people see. I definitely have tried everything to help as many people as possible though. I’m the type of person that will bring all the struggling people together and try to help them build themselves up again. I grew up around it and I think that is part of the reason that I’m more than willing to bend over backwards to help others living with this and other really difficult illnesses. My brother and I both have had depression since we were young, so I’ve spent a lot of my time trying to help him keep his head above the water, though I’ve almost lost him at least twice that I know of. He’s my big brother, I can’t lose him, so seeing it in him helps me help myself and many others. I will never give up on someone, no matter the situation, I’ll try everything in my power to help in any way that I possibly can. Yes I do thing like this to help others, but it also helps me with my own depression, we all have different way of dealing with our depression, they’re not always healthy, but they’re our way of pushing forwards against the odds. I’m not condoning nor am I judging the way other people deal with their depression, I have no right to judge considering I use to cut myself and the only reason I can say I use to is that I haven’t done it in over a month. Thing are difficult there is no sugar coating it. This shit is hard and it takes a lot of work to keep going, but I promise the effort will be worth it. Things will suck, but things will also be amazing beyond belief, so you just have to find a way to keep going. There are a million ways to deal with it, you can be like me and help others, you can be like others and turn it into some form of art, you can find something that drives you, you can lean on people, or something else that might help you. I definitely don’t claim to have all the answers, no one ever does. But I promise that I’ll be by anyone’s side when they need me, no matter what it takes. I know the pain of going against this monster alone, I don’t want anyone to feel that way. You’re not alone, you are never alone, someone out there is supporting you, whether you know it or not. Any of you reading this need someone to talk to I will be there in a heartbeat. Another thing I want to say is there is either a stigma about actually taking medication to help or deciding it’s best for you not to take the medication. If you are one of the ones that feel like you need to take the medication, good for you, you do what’s best for you. Never let anyone tell you that it’s not okay to be taking care of yourself, you might only need it for a short period of time or you might need it for years to come, but either way that’s okay it’s your journey to recovery and no one can tell you how to take it. And alternatively if you feel like it’s better for you not to take medication, then that’s okay too. Some people don’t do better on the medication, other things might help them, like certain vitamins or exercise or other activities that may help you move forwards. Like I said before this is YOUR journey, you decide what’s best for you in the long run, you can listen to people’s advice, but in the end you're the one with the final say. As long as you’re trying to get better, you do you. Take care of yourself the way that works best for you, you might have to try a whole bunch of things until you find what works, but it’s worth the effort. Taking a step in the right direction is the first milestone on your trek to overcoming this beast that’s trying to drag you down. Don’t let it, it won’t be easy, but it’ll be more than worth it. There are people that care and want you to get better, and honestly I do care 100% I’m that person that really cares about anyone, unless they do something I can’t look past (which honestly isn’t much). Truthfully you need someone I’m always willing to talk. The door is always open I guess you can say. And to show you that it isn’t only my brother that I constantly try to help so you believe me when I say you can reach out to me. My bestfriend that I had all through middles school and half of high school until he left and cut ties, was severely depressed and many times came to me to talk him out of taking his life, I did it every time without fail, no matter what he did or how many fights we got into, truly I was always there for him and he knew it. Not once did I hesitate to care for him, even when we dated and he cheated on me with a close friend, nothing change the simple fact I would do anything to help him. Along with him and other friends I’ve had like him, my boyfriend is depressed, extremely so, I do worry for him. But I believe that together we can find a way for him to survive this last year that he has to spend in the place that makes him the most unhappy. After that we’ll find a way to keep the progress going. I knew getting into this relationship that he had depression, did I know how bad it was? No I did not, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m more in love with him than I thought possible. He is an amazing beautiful human being, being depressed doesn’t change that fact. It just adds more layers to the man I love. Never think that being depressed ruins you or your appeal, you are all beautiful human beings and you are worth the world and so much more. I know that’s hard to believe but it’s the truth. You are all incredible and I believe in you. You will find a way to get through this. You will overcome this. You will find a way to be happy. The depression might never fully leave you, but you definitely lessen its hold on you. There has already been so much loss and death, we don’t need anymore. Please reach out to someone, even if it’s me when you feel like ending it. I promise you it’s not worth it to end it all. There is still so much for you to accomplish and see. Don’t give up. Never give up, never surrender. You are beautiful incredible and needed. Keep that in mind please. People love you people care for you and people want you to survive this monster. Even if you don’t think that people do, they do, hell I do. I’m telling you the truth I’m more than willing to lend an ear or a shoulder to anyone that needs it. Please take me up on that if you need someone. I care about each and every one of you. I guess I should end this here, but just know I’m always here and I care about all of you.

#suicide #love #acceptance #help #reach out #chester bennington #beautiful

[annericanstudy-blog]

20.08.21 12:40 AM

Wow...long time no see (?) haha not sure if that’s appropriate tho. Apparently, it’s been 2-3 years since I opened my tumblr account. I was still a tired, meek nursing student back then. One thing I really owe from this tumblr account is I got to know about Quizlet here! Man, Quizlet literally saved my college life. I owe 90% of my grades to that app. Anyway now, I have already graduated from college, successfully passed the licensure exam, and now a licensed (yet unemployed) nurse! Wow, time sure flies fast. What felt like eternity somehow still ended. So I guess this corona pandemic will too, right?

I’m here writing at dawn because I have so many thoughts in my mind. Firstly, I’m really really getting depressed day by day of the effects of this pandemic. Not just in myself, or my sister, or my relatives and friends, but looking at my own country suffering so much when it was already suffering enough, just breaks my heart. This country may have been lacking in so many ways for so long now but I’ve always had hope and only thought of it getting better in the future. I never knew I’d witness my country get so beaten up like how I only just read about it in history books such as during the war and the like. It’s really saddening.

Secondly, I’m sad of its effect in my life. I know for sure every single one in this world is also struggling because of this pandemic. Some may even have it way worse. But I don’t know, I still keep feeling this way. Maybe it’s because I have already planned so so much for this year? Well, yea, I accept, it’s because of that. The year 2020 was supposed to be an examination year for me. It should’ve been the year of post studying hahaha. Me and my parents have planned about this for so long already. I was scheduled to take the NCLEX in the first half of the year and maybe the NMAT or other foreign nursing exams after. My ATT for the NCLEX has even been approved already and I was starting the review. But you know what’s fascinating? I’ve already felt uneasy when I was starting reviewing for the NCLEX. When I was in college, there were times where I’d get an uneasy feeling when I was studying or doing a requirement. Whenever I get this uneasy feeling, I tend to half ass what I’m doing. The next thing I know, the exam or deadline of the requirement has been moved to a later date! There has always been something about my gut feeling or instinct. Fast forward to early 2020 when I was reviewing for the NCLEX, I also kept getting the uneasy feeling while reviewing, which resulted to me not being as serious as when I studied for the PNLE. Mind you, the NCLEX is actually harder & a whole lot more expensive than the PNLE which means I have to pass it one time or I’d be guilty to face my parents. Which is why I was so anxious and kept wondering why I don’t feel serious about the NCLEX. I was too relaxed, I didn’t attend the day lectures, just took notes while doing the UWorld, and not even studying at home. I only studied for 2 hours a day which is a huge gap for my effort for the PNLE. And when this corona thing happened halting my NCLEX preparation, my actions made sense. I’d like to give props to my insticts tho! hahaha.

But still, I would’ve 100% preferred it if this corona thing didn’t happen and the NCLEX still pushed through. A huge burden would’ve been lifted by now. As I really prefer to do things immediately, just thinking about this unfinished NCLEX business stresses me out. Since we already paid half for the exam and also to the review academy, I can’t not take it in the future, as it’d be such a waste of money. Also, what bothers me the most is if I can still retain the knowledge. I stopped studying for months now because I only like to study with a deadline lol. I know it’s a bad mindset but I just can’t help it at the moment. Even though my ATT has already been approved, my parents won’t let me travel as long as there’s still coronavirus, and I agree with them. It’s too dangerous to travel. And since I’m guessing this pandemic would last at least a year, I’m now even considering working, which I’m not so happy about truthfully. My parents and I planned that I take all the examinations I can take prior to me working so that the information from nursing school would still be fresh. I liked the arrangement as well as I also still feel I’m not ready to work yet. Man, who really would’ve thought it wouldn’t go as planned. The verse Isaiah 55:8 really hit hard on me. I know that everything has a purpose, but as I’ve said, I just can’t stop feeling this way...

All this coronavirus thing and quarantine made me a think a lot, enough to keep me awake at night. I’ve been thinking so much about what career to pursue... aside from being a nurse or a doctor, I also came across the thought of being a flight attendant (lol!). I just can’t pick a career to choose among the three... I’m gonna write my pros and cons for each career. If I will be a nurse, I’d have to pursue it abroad, likely in New York, & I’d probably get a lot of money. Plus wow, to live in NY, what a dream. It’s also my dream to possess a US passport (lol! the little things) hahaha. Next, being a flight attendant, wow, the thought itself seems impossible as I don’t have enough of the physical qualities, but since I love travelling, I’m pretty sure I will enjoy the job for the rest of my life. It’s the career I can imagine doing for the rest of my life, the career I’m sure will make me happy. But I know that if I pursue either of these two careers, I will eventually regret not pursuing medicine. Becoming a doctor, getting that MD after my name has always been a dream to me as well. Having the license and capacity to treat other people, wow I really want to do it. I also want to bring honor to my family and also, so I can fully treat them whenever they have an illness. There’s just something about being a doctor to me. I’d say it’s the profession I respect and look up to the most. But also, if I become a doctor, I’m also scared that I will regret not taking the opportunity to live a better life abroad or travel around the world. Man, I really don’t know. But for now, given the circumstances that we can’t freely go around, I kind of want to study medicine at the moment. However, one issue for me is the financial aid as we’re not rich. Because of that, I keep getting thoughts of how medicine students in UST and other private medicine schools don’t realize how lucky they are. If we were just well off, I’d never hesitate about studying medicine. Wow, to study medicine in UST or ADMU or St. Lukes, what a dream. But still, I love my parents and I’m thankful still. Also, I now tell myself that if I won’t study medicine just because of my family’s financial capacity, then all the more I should do it! Because I know I will just regret it in the future if it’s because of money. I refuse to be a slave to money!

Anyway, it’s already been an hour since I’m writing. It’s already 1:48 AM. I was never the diary or journal type but it really felt so goooood to write down my thoughts while listening to my favorite playlist! Wish I do this for a long time. Good night ~

-anne, ph

[s-driesen]

time may change me (but i cant trace time)- chapter 3/6

Fourteen Fucks you Up- 8k words

Read on ao3

previous chapter / next chapter

Summary: At 14, Robbe pretends like he doesn't miss him. Like he's happy with the friends he has. It's not like he can help the pang in his chest whenever Sander locks eyes with him across the hall. Summer had come and gone, school is in full swing and Robbe's life is about to turn upside down. But, can even the most painful events have an upside?

Or: the one with emotional trauma, spray paint and Sander being dramatic

TW for possible domestic abuse, an uneducated perspective on mental illness and just a general bit of sadness.

Bro, you don't fucking watch her?'' Robbe was tired of hearing Moyo's voice by that point in the day ''YOU DON'T? Holy shit, I'm about to change your life....''

Truthfully, he'd stopped properly paying attention to his friends conversation as soon as they'd gotten out of the school gates. It was just easier for Robbe to withdraw back into his own head as Aaron started boasting that he'd figured out a way to load PornHub on his families (shared) iPad without his brother finding out. At first it had made him laugh, the pure glee on his friends face, but then Jens had started talking about the girl he'd watched the night before, and all at once Robbe's mood had turned sour. But, Moyo? He was always the one to take thing's a step too far by pulling out his phone, links at the ready, prepared to 'enlighten' the others on all things tits, ass and girls. Like he was some sort of unholy sex wizard. To Robbe it had gotten old really fast, he didn't understand the appeal, all the nudity only made him uncomfortable...That stuff was the opposite of exciting. But, so was his life. He pulled up his hood further, his earphones in his ears playing some shitty rap- the kind that he'd only listened to so he could fit in with the boys. Robbe told himself he liked it.

Just like the rap music, the appeal of coming back to school had faded super quickly. Within the first two months at least. And now it was nearly spring and Robbe just couldn't wait to get away from his shit-show of a social life. Moyo was still talking, Robbe heard him over the sound of his music, turning the screen of his phone to Aaron- who looked ultimately in awe of the pair of boobs open in his browser. Robbe picked up his pace. Becoming friends with a 'cool kid' (Jens' words NOT his) like Moyo at the start of the year would've made Robbe burst with excitement, but now? He was regretting not staying on his own. Or at least hanging with other people. People like Sander. Robbe wasn't going to lie- he'd been thinking about Sander a lot over the past couple of weeks. They'd stopped talking over the previous summer, never having a chance to see each other with Sander leaving without a word, a week into the holidays. He remained out of town, for an undisclosed reason, the entire six weeks they had off from school. No calls, no texts. Nothing. And then he'd shown up like nothing had happened within the first week of term. Robbe pretended like it didn't hurt him, of course, but he couldn't help his mind lighting up whenever they locked eyes in the schools hallways. There was always something slightly painful about how Sander would never say 'hi' like he used to. It ached seeing him laughing with his older, taller, scarily popular friends- the ones that Robbe would've never though Sander would've ended up hanging out with. The types who smoked and drank just for the hell of it.

"Robbe....ROBBE? Are you in there, mate?'' Moyo's grin was inappropriately big for a kid who'd had two science exams that day. Reluctantly, Robbe took his earphones out, lips pressed into a thin line, and began mentally preparing to see a picture of an ass he'd probably have to pretend to find hot ''Nappi? Valentina? Opinions?''

Jens was looking at Robbe now, slowing down to walk beside him, and suddenly it felt like he had to lie. Honestly, he had no clue who Nappi was, not even a slight inclination. And that felt kind of horrible momentarily, for a reason that Robbe didn't exactly understand.

''Yeah, she's like really fit...'' Robbe wasn't a good actor. So when Moyo's grin faltered momentarily, replaced with a flash of confusion, Robbe's gut twisted in embarrassment. He racked his brain, trying to think for a second, following up with ''She's the one with the blonde hair and tattoos right?''

Aaron and Moyo looked at each other for a drawn out second, before cracking up in Robbe's face. It was one of those kind of big wheezing, chest-aching, laughs. Moyo had tears in his eyes, and Aaron was patting him on the back as he hunched over. Jens even smirked slightly, clearly too nice to start laughing himself. Honestly, Robbe was so used to that sort of reaction that it didn't hurt anymore. His embarrassment was forcefully subdued, because stuff like that occured often enough for Robbe to know that they'd only laugh more if his ears started tinging red. Deep down he knew he should be angry, but he was too exhausted to act on it. Robbe was too scared of ending up alone to tell Moyo and his stupid grin and his stupid phone and his stupid music to just...fuck off.

He would've probably found it harder to repress his anger if it wasn't for the fact that they'd almost reached the bus stop, where Moyo and Aaron would break away from Robbe and Jens. They always waited, hovering under the shelter, until the pairs bus would pull up- the 'broers' just looking for an excuse to mess around before the school day officially ended. Usually, when he wasn't in the mood to endure the other guys,Robbe would make up some bullshit excuse as to why he couldn't wait with them, unfairly using his mother to create an non-existent doctors appointment. But, the sight of light brown hair and a leather jacket that looked way too big for the lanky frame it hung to, made Robbe stop under the tin roof.

Sander had grown over the summer, considerably taller. He looked more like a bean pole than he had before school had broken out. The sun, which had made a fleeting appearance the week prior, had clearly stuck to him too- his hair was tinted lighter, more caramel toned, like it had been when he was younger. Robbed presumed he'd caught sun on the apple's of his cheeks, as they looked flushed. All rosy with a slight patchiness. Maybe they were. Robbe forced himself not to pause on that thought. Instead, forcefully latching onto another thought train. Because, all at once it had become staggeringly obvious why Sander was so popular, so worshipped by those in his year group. He was pretty. Undeniably, pretty.

By then, Moyo had finally stopped laughing, only teasing Robbe slightly before getting distracted by Aaron bringing up some girl who had added him ''BY USERNAME GUYS! BY USERNAME?'' on Snapchat. The sheer loudness of the other boys voice had brought a gaze of attention that made Robbe slightly nervous. Sander was looking at them, alone and smaller-looking without his gaggle of friends, and Robbe was trying so hard not to look back that it hurt. Jens, ever observant and wise, had noticed of course, eyes flitting between the pair with a quirked eyebrow- Robbe pretended not to notice that too. He could already hear the onslaught of questions coming his way. The types of questions he didn't really have any answers to.

Only the sound of tyres hitting grit could make Robbe stop burning holes into the concrete with his eyes and even then he looked up reluctantly. The bus pulled up slowly, Aaron and Moyo stopped talking to dap Jens before the driver stopped at the curb. Moyo made a snide comment about Robbe 'doing his research' before he had to climb on, not even a word of goodbye, whilst Aaron continued talking to him- like a lap dog that pissed itself when it got too excited- about shit that really didn't matter. Robbe was ready to turn on his heels, to quick-walk down the street and into his house so he could play video games and drown out the mess in his head, when someone brushed past him. Sander mumbled an quiet apology, scooting around Robbe to follow Aaron onto the bus, before turning his head to regard the other boy. With a smile on his lips. It was small and brief, a mere quirk of the lips, but Robbe's brain stopped functioning for half a second. He had to remember how to smile back, and probably looked stupid and awkward when he did, by then Sander had turned back around before Robbe's face even relaxed. The hiss of the bus doors closing dropped him back into reality. A reality where a very confused, very suspicious Jens Stoffels was eyeing his best friend with a look that just screamed 'what the fuck was THAT?'. Robbe didn't know, and didn't want to stick around to figure out the answer, so he started walking like nothing weird had even occurred.

It took Jens approximately two whole minutes to ask.

''Do you two still talk?'' Robbe only shrugged in response, and for a split second Jens actually looked sad for him, like might leave the topic alone. Of course not. Instead, he paused, before saying ''Did you fall out or something? I thought you guys were really close...''

''Yeah, we were, I guess, but he just kind of stopped talking to me. Like, I don't even know why...'' Robbe glanced at Jens as they walked, slowly ambling down the road like they were suddenly all too aware of the brief distance before they'd have to split to walk to their respective houses. Jens still looked confused, and opened his mouth to speak before Robbe cut him off ''He went away over summer, no warning or anything. Didn't even say goodbye. I just went over to his house one day and his mum told me. He just...stopped speaking to me. Like, I'd message him and get left on read. But he'd still like my Instagram posts and stuff...''

''That's just fucking weird.'' Jens said exactly what Robbe had been thinking for the past nine or so months. He shook his head in clear exasperation before continuing with ''But he still seems friendly with you, right? IHave you tried speaking to him recently? Maybe he'll explain now that he's back, could've been some sort of...I don't know....Long vacation?''

Begrudgingly, Robbe shook his head. In his mind, a phone worked two ways and Robbe was far too stubborn to message Sander first. Sander had left him on his own after all. For better people. Like some sort of toy he'd grown bored of when he realised there were other, shinier things to play with. All whilst Robbe had been sucked into a group of assholes who still thought fart jokes were funny. There was an explanation as to why Sander never reached out to him, and for some reason Robbe thought that finding out what it was, would hurt him more. Even though he was achingly curious. Drifting apart from Sander was hard, it made Robbe hyper-aware of how quickly life could change. He'd only just accepted that him and Sander probably didn't counts as friends anymore but the fact that he might still not want to talk made Robbe feel ill- stressed beyond words. It wasn't like he didn't miss his company though.

Everything made him stressed recently. It was like he was standing on a sheet of thin glass, balancing his emotions- waiting for the moment when one of them would fall and shatter the surface. Recently, the glass was cracking. Especially with his mum. Marie wasn't well, she never had been and Robbe had only just realised that. Apparently, it wasn't normal for your mum to sleep for 16 hours some days and just not at all the next. Mums weren't meant to have mood swings so severe they'd give any normal person whiplash. Arguments between parents that ended up with glasses being thrown at the walls were the opposite of what was supposed to happen within a marriage. Robbe always knew his family was different, but the realisation fully hit after he spent a week with Jens' nuclear family. And ever since then the rock in the pit of his stomach started to whisper 'this isn't right' too loudly for Robbe to bear.

"You should text him" Jens brought Robbe back to reality, smiling gently, with a warmth that reached his eyes. The type of smile that Robbe loved a little too much. At that point on the road the paths separated, and Jens gave a short (wordless) salute before peeling away towards his house. Leaving Robbe, alone in the cold with Sander at the forefront of his mind and a lurking sense of self loathing coming back with vengeance. The rain started falling whilst Jens rounded the street corner, his back profile edging out of Robbe's view. Though he didn't feel the biting cold until his coat was sodden through. The quiet patter of the rain, it beat hammering against the concrete, seemed more soothing than home in that moment. ___

Robbe was making a sandwich when he found out his dad was leaving his mum.

It was such a normal day. He'd just gotten home from school and his stomach had been rumbling since third period, so when he bee lined for his fridge his hopes were high. School had offered him the same old shit; Aaron talking about tits he was never going to touch, Moyo being loud and rude, Jens being Jens. And Sander. Ignoring him for the most part, except for when he'd send Robbe one of those small smiles when they locked eyes across the atrium. His silences were deafening, Robbe hated lingering on them. When the bread tore after Robbe's heavy handed attempts to spread out the congealed jam, he gave up on neatness and just started eating from the cutting board, not even noticing the slow footsteps coming up behind him. His mother didn't even speak as she slid into the dining room chair. She only silently watched her son eat his poor excuse for a sandwich and dribble crumbs all over the counter-top. The wave of endearment she felt when he wiped his mouth on the back of his jumper's sleeve only stung. She dreaded this conversation. She dreaded what he'd think of her, what he would say. If he would leave. A flush of anxiety seeped into Marie's voice, soft-spoken and calm enough in her numbness,

"Robbe?"

He jumped of course, craning his neck whilst rapidly chewing. She could already see him creating excuses as to why he was snacking before dinner- time flashing behind his bright eyes. Mouth full of bread, Robbe mumbled a 'what?' before turning himself to face the dining table. He knew something was wrong straight away. Robbe wasn't stupid, he could read his mum like a book. She looked...tired. Tireder than usual, more downbeat and empty than mentally drained. She looked like how he'd been feeling for weeks. Fragile. Her glass was cracking. Marie drew small, timid, circles on the dining table with her finger, face blank but brain whirring, Robbe swore he could hear her think. All at once, the pit in his stomach grew heavier, the anxiety in his chest blossoming as it tore under the weight. Who knew that a few beats of silence could make someone clam up as quickly as Robbe had. Sandwich forgotten, he abandoned the mess on the counter, wiping his hands on his trousers before hesitantly approaching his shell of a mother.

"What's wrong?" He rephrased "What happened?" All of a sudden the house felt off. Like everything was slightly shifted to the left, like the walls were barer and people were watching through the windows. There was one stark emptiness that struck Robbe, after a moment of consideration. The TV wasn't on, there wasn't a coat on the back of the dining room chair he sat in. Robbe's dad wasn't home. He sat across from her then, the room feeling smaller and smaller by the second, like all the doors were bolted shut and it was summer again. Marie inhaled, a wet sounding, gasp-like, sob that bubbled on her lips and made Robbe wince. It's not like he hadn't seen her cry before, but this felt different and new. Because she wasn't upset. Marie was in pain. Strands of long, brown, hair clung to her wet cheeks, and the circles she drew on the table got faster and faster as she tried to say the words. The words that, deep down at the back of his mind, Robbe knew were coming. He'd been expecting them for the past year.

"He's gone. He's left. He took his things with him this morning."

"What...?" He'd heard what she'd said.

"Your dad. He's gone. We're getting a divorce, Robbe"

The glass, he'd been trying not to break, shattered. An almighty crash in his brain, like a fucking explosion that signalled the end of Robbe's own little world. An explosion he'd predicted months ago, but had been putting off preparing for. There weren't words that he could say to reassure his mum as she started wheezing, pushing out short sobs. Ones that sounded like they physically hurt to let out. He could only sit as the world went still, all numb and quiet- the room they sat in, was the only thing in existence for a minuscule moment. But, Marie started speaking again, through the sniffles and tears. Slowly, she reached across the table to take her sons limp hand- painfully grasping his fingers. Robbe couldn't look at her, his eyes burned a hole into the table, unable to move from the coffee ring stained into the wood; where his dad's mug had sat every night before he went to work.

''It's just us now, but that's okay, isn't it? I'll, I'll get a job, I'll start working and, and we'll be okay, right?'' Marie looked frantic, like Robbe was the parent and her the child, feverishly seeking reassurance from the weak. That question, was one he never answered. Because, frankly it was never going to be okay. The instability that his mother radiated was handled by Robbe's father. He was the one that would coax her to lay in bed when she wouldn't sit down. He was the one who'd clean up the pieces of broken glass and ceramic after an outburst. He was the one who would pick up her prescriptions and force her to take them. He'd do everything. In that moment, Robbe thought he was witnessing the death of his childhood. Selfishly, he wished then that he could leave too. His mothers grip tightened, like she knew he what Robbe was thinking, trembling with a tension that would leave marks. Marie hadn't stopped mumbling for the long few minutes that disappeared in what seemed like seconds. She was praying. Robbe wanted to cry, but no tears came. There was only a burning sensation in his chest, that paralysed his entire body. He felt that, if he moved, he would break into a thousands of tiny pieces onto the floor. As she ducked her head, a bible verse on her lips, Robbe came to a conclusion. That he was going to end up like his Dad. Catering to her every want and need, life revolving around beliefs he didn't care about, just so his mother could keep her shit together. The psychiatrist called Christianity her coping mechanism. It was one of the only things that kept her rooted in reality. But, Robbe knew he hated it from the moment she called him a sinner for growing his hair out a few years prior. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke again, and Robbe's chest clenched with anxiety just when she pleaded "Say a prayer with me. We don't need him. We never have. The only person we need is God..."

He couldn't do it. It felt so wrong, all of a sudden. And he knew exactly why. It made him sick looking his mother in the eyes as she prayed, knowing what he knew about himself, knowing that he resented her for a thing she couldn't change. So, Robbe turned into his dad. Confirming his hypothesis. He left. Bolting up from his seat, the chair legs scraping against the floor making a noise so loud that he felt it in his bones, Robbe twisted his hand from his mother's grip. All of a sudden, his cheeks felt hot, mottled red. Looking back, Robbe thinks that was the moment he started actually crying. That lingering mask of shame was tightening, and he couldn't stop his eyes from growing wet. Marie peered up at him from the table, startled- with eyes as big as saucers, shiny and questioning. Everything was too much, so Robbe did the only thing he could think of and ran. Like father, like son.

Quick-stepping out of the kitchen, he darted up to his room, fumbling on the incline so much that he had to brace himself from slipping by letting his hands brush the carpeted stairs. He shouldered open his bedroom door, without a plan, and grabbed the first jacket he saw- the brown one that he'd been refusing to wear ever since his Dad bought it form him. Fumbling, mind racing with the mantra of 'getoutgetoutgetout', Robbe panicked. Grabbing the cash in his bedside drawer, he shoved no more than twenty euros into his back pocket, feeling the hard outline of his phone alongside it. Only then did he become aware of his mum's yelling, she called his name, the desperation laced into her words made Robbe screw up his face in pain. But, right then, he couldn't be in that house. Sharing walls with the memories of when his family was happy, memories of times when his dad would look at his mum with such love that it made Robbe want to gag. Nothing like that was ever going to happen again. The love had faded and his dad had abandoned ship. Just like he was doing now. Deep down, Robbe knew he should probably hate his dad, for leaving him with his mum, piling onto him a responsibility that no child should have to bare. But he understood why. Robbe knew it wasn't his fault he left. If Marie didn't raise him, if Robbe had the option not to love her, then he'd run for the hills too.

"Where are you going?" Robbe was by the front door now, remorseful tears hot on his cheeks, as Marie lingered in the kitchen's entryway. She looked so scared, so confused, as Robbe slid on his shoes, frantically tying his laces.

"Jens'" He lied. In reality he had no idea. Jens' house seemed so far away.

"W-why?" Marie stammered "Robbe, why are you leaving? Wait, stop, slow down...Please, don't leave me here" 'Me'. That fucking word. It was always 'me, me, me' with Marie. Robbe slammed the door behind him as she said it, cutting her pleads off as he stepped onto the driveway. The door flew open behind him, hinges screaming, as he moved to unlock his bike from his garden's fence-post. Rusting, the lock jammed, he struggled to unlock it whilst Marie yelled for him, heavily sobbing, but not daring to inch closer. She had no shoes on, the gravel was cutting at her feet. So she just stood and wailed, toddler-like, trying to reason, but all Robbe could hear was the shell of a woman begging for something she'd break. After a second of hopelessly pulling on the chain, the bike lock clicked open. Robbe lifted himself onto his bike seat, freeing the wheel of the post. Marie gave one more sharp yell, something about him being 'just like his father', before Robbe pedalled away. Peeling out of his street and onto a tangle of roads, Robbe told himself that he wasn't a bad person for not looking back. Somehow, he didn't believe that lie, no matter how comforting it was.

It was on the cusp of evening when he stopped cycling. The sun set had taken all of the days minimal warmth with it. A breeze passed through the air, it stung Robbe's heated cheeks as he rode onwards- functioning on autopilot, legs pumping with a newfound adrenaline. Rounding a corner, he forced himself to stop, feeling safe and far enough from his mother's wails to finally breathe out. After a second of dog-like panting, he fumbled in his jean pocket for his phone, his shaking hands unlocking and tapping into the contacts menu, with a hint of hesitation. The need to not be alone was undeniably strong, but Robbe didn't know what company he wanted. Eyes hovering on Jens' name, he stared at the number like it was going to call itself. But, something inside of Robbe told him that Jens would never understand the situation he'd found himself in. Jens would probably let him stay the night and then ask his mother to prompt Robbe to leave in the morning. After all his nuclear family, with his mum who cooked dinner every night for a dad that called Jens' 'buddy' and did shit like teach him how to shave, blanketed Jens in the safety of naivety. It would be like talking to a billionaire about poverty- utterly futile, with area for misunderstanding that, in the mindset he was in, would send Robbe over the edge. So, panicking more, he scrolled further down his recent calls. Moyo and Aaron would be fucking useless, stereotypical boys who would steal beer from their dad's fridge and make Robbe play Fifa with them. They'd be too awkward to talk, too macho and everything that Robbe wasn't. No one else was even an option worth considering. All of the other numbers were classmates he only spoke to in order to bum answers to overdue homework. But then, Robbe reached the very bottom of his call. Eye's landing on a singular name, that was achingly familiar. One he hadn't bothered texting in more than a few months. Something in his brain seemed to click.

Sander picked up after a few anxious seconds. The sound of his voice, whispering a cautious 'Hey?', made Robbe start crying - flooded with a wave of relief. He'd actually picked up. It was like the reminder of Sander's existence made Robbe feel better, because even if his world was going to shit, he would still be there. Everything before that moment was null.

"Robbe? What's going on? Calm down-" Sander sounded more worried and confused than scared, as Robbe sniffled down the line, leaning against some randomer's garden wall more than a few streets from his home. It took him a minute to gain the composure to talk, as Sander waited- achingly patient and soothing. There was no hint of awkwardness. For a minute it was almost like they hadn't been giving each other radio silence for months on end.

"Sorry, sorry-" Robe breathed out a string of unnecessary apologies, only to be met with muttered reassurance, suddenly not knowing what words to actually say. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, stiff and uncooperative, a suffocating burden. So, Robbe just told Sander how it was, ever so blunt "My dad left my fucking mum."

"Where are you?" Sander asked after a beat, Robbe could hear him moving over the phone, like he was getting up from wherever he was sitting.

"Did you not hear what I said?" His voice cracked again, foot tapping a haphazard rhythm on the pavement. Robbe wiped his nose on the back of his jacket's sleeve.

"Yeah....Where are you? I'll come and meet you. We can go somewhere." Sander sounded serious, his voice low and quiet. Robbe had never heard him sound like that before, and for some reason it pushed away the anxiety that clouded the edges of Robbe's vision. It made him feel real, less fuzzy, more focused. It made him think clearer, as he tried to figure out where he was.

He realised after a minute of looking for a street sign, stammering the name down the phone. Sander gave an affirming hum as Robbe described the house he was stood outside of, not interrupting as he paused or struggled to form his words. The conversation almost didn't seem real. This morning, Robbe had been sat in maths class overthinking the smile Sander had given him as they'd passed one another on the way to school- to the point where he convinced himself that Sander found his existence annoying. Now they were planning a shitty rendezvous like nothing had ever happened between them. The day had turned into a nightmare gone hallucination.

And then when Sander actually showed up, in his stupidly big leather jacket with his mop of hair on that rusty bike that he'd had since he was twelve. Robbe tried not to think that, now, the day had morphed into a dream.

--

It had been twenty minutes and Sander hadn't said a word about Robbe's parents yet. They'd only exchanged a few words when he'd first pulled up, mostly a barrage of 'are you okay?''s and 'don't cry's' until Robbe had calmed down enough to breathe normally again. That was before the older boy cocked his head and mumbled 'come on', whilst he mounted his bike and took off down the road. Robbe followed blindly of course, too numb and tired and curious to protest or question. The only sound between them since was the metallic clank of whatever was in Sander's green shoulder bag. Even then, Robbe had only picked up on that noise as they'd rode away from the high-street, into a tangle of cul-de-sacs and housing estates.

"Where are we going?" He finally asked, speeding up so he could ride alongside Sander, sick to death of staring at the back of his head. To Robbe's surprise, Sander smiled at him despite the lingering silence, quirking his eyebrows as he pedalled.

"It's a surprise" Of course it was. Sander hadn't changed, still scarily spontaneous and desperately trying to maintain the 'mysterious edgelord' facade he'd began to put on just before he disappeared. The same facade that made him do stupid shit like shop lift and smoke with older kids that he didn't even know. Robbe still rolled his tired eyes though, cracking a smile for the first time in (what felt like) hours. As they had rode in silence, Robbe had had time to process what the fuck had just happened, to accept the events that led him to partake in a mystery bike ride with Sander Driesen. It didn't take him long, admittedly. Because Robbe had been waiting for his mum to sit him down like that ever since he'd seen a fleet of texts on his dads phone from a woman who definitely wasn't just a 'work friend'. It didn't make it hurt less though, even with the ample time to emotionally prepare, the idea of Robbe being left with his mother through all the ups and all the down scared him shitless. Though, he decided to not to dwell. Not that night. It was best for him to try and forget about the past hour. Because, Sander was with him for the first time in month. Speaking to him. Smiling at him. It didn't solve Robbe's issues, but he was a welcomed distraction.

Robbe shook his head in mock annoyance, as Sander pedalled faster down the street, hair flashing from brown to yellow under the streetlights. The sun had set fast, leaving the horizon to morph into a sweeping gradient of blue and orange, and in those moments (filled with hesitant grins and shy, but ultimately reassuring, glances) Robbe lost himself.

Eventually, Sander slowed to a stop, pulling into an unlit ginnel between two houses. He hopped off his bike, prompting Robbe to do the same, and walked it down the thin opening like nothing was afoot. Robbe had no idea where they were. Nervous excitement lined his stomach, drowning out a fear of the unknown. The estate they'd rode into was new to him, a neighbourhood of pristine houses with neat lawns and neater families. However, this passage was entirely different, Robbe realised, as it widened to reveal a spacious gap between the gardens of three or four houses. Morphing into, what could only be described as, a makeshift playground. It was a state, to say the least. The archaic play equipment- an array of slides and climbing frames- was vandalised beyond recognition and (to Robbe's uneasy eye) seemed fairly unsafe. But, nonetheless, there was something scarily timeless about it. The splashes of graffiti were organised, a combination of elaborate tags and stupid, obviously context-bound, doodles, covering everything from the knee high walls enclosing the small park to the entirety of a see-saw. Robbe couldn't help but admire the artwork, as Sander dropped his bike to rest on the cracked tarmac, heading for the stagnant swing-set.

The chain of the swing groaned as Sander plopped himself onto the seat, the metal tinkling whilst he idly rocked back and forth. He dropped his bag too, peeling it from his shoulder, and resting against the swing's framing. It took Robbe a long second to place his bike down, deciding to awkwardly rest it against the stiff round-a-bout.

"How did you even find this place?" Robbe mused, scoffing as he gingerly sat in the swing seat left swaying next to Sander, trying not to act like he was scared it would give out under his weight. The other boy shrugged nonchalantly, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket, a small, proud, smile upon his lips.

"I was bored one night and just decided to be nosy. I've had a lot of time to explore since I got back'' Got back. Even then, it stung to be reminded that Sander had left in the first place. Although, to Robbe, it was even more painful to remember that he'd gone without a word to the person he'd called a best friend. Robbe must've showed his discomfort, through the way his lips pressed into a thin line whilst his head ducked to stare at his shoes, because Sander lowered his voice- saying the words that Robbe hadn't expected him to say with such ease "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It was a completely last minute thing. That I was leaving for the summer. It was such a shitty thing to do..."

"It's okay, I get it" Robbe lied, trying to feign indifference, pushing the toe of his sneaker into the tarmac. In reality, Robbe wasn't just hurt at the fact that Sander had ditched town without a word. He'd been ignored the entire time too. No responses to his text messages, not a word of response to him comments on Instagram. Jens was right when he'd called Sander's behaviour fucking weird.

"It not okay though, is it?" Sander murmured, like it was something Robbe wasn't supposed to hear, tinged with exasperation. He looked ashamed, self-loathing creeping into his features with the slight shake of his head. Suddenly, Sander began digging through his jackets pockets, finally pulling out a battered packet of cigarettes. Probably stolen. He lit one without a word, ducking his head into the amber glow, and Robbe's stomach twisted at how much he enjoyed the sight. The sight of the boy he'd known since before he could remember doing something as adult as smoking made Robbe realise just how much times had changed. Sander's idea of being rebellious before he'd severed all contact with anything that reeked of 'home', was staying up past midnight. Now, he'd probably snuck out of his house to smoke cigarettes miles from home in a park that could be used as a crack den. Taking a drag and breathing out the smoke, Sander scrunched up his nose, before flicking ash onto the tarmac. Robbe only watched in guilty admiration, finding the quiet squeak of the swing set oddly calming. Sander spoke again after breathing out a second cloud of smoke, eyebrows furrowed "Aren't you going to ask me?"

"Ask you what?" Robbe knew the answer, he just didn't want to embarrass himself. So, he played dumb.

"Why I went." Robbe faked his surprise at Sander's bluntness, raising an eyebrow before he dove into denial- murmuring some soppy shit about how it was 'up to him' and how he 'didn't owe him anything'. But, even after the long break in contact, Sander could read Robbe like a book meant for elementary school kids. Like it was nothing. So, the soft start of a grin on his face, Sander reassured "I don't mind telling you, Robbe."

Robbe paused, he looked at him then, just to make sure Sander wasn't setting up a trap for his ridicule. Only to be met by soft and genuine eyes. His voice was gravelly, as he began the conversation he'd been rehearsing in his head for months "Why did you leave then?"

"Because Ross was" Sander quipped, like the conversation was scripted, pausing to take another drag.

Robbe had almost forgotten about Ross Driesen's existence, and upon his reminder, a lot of things started to make sense. Sander's older brother was a handful, to say the least. He was the type of guy media executives would make TV shows about. The lead singer of a crooning indie band who played late night gigs in damp basements and did suspicious things among a circle of even more suspicious people. A guy who abused hair dye and walked around like the dictionary definition of a cliche. To Robbe, a fourteen year old who watched Skins a little bit too early, Ross Driesen was one of the coolest people alive.On top of that, he was one of the kindest people Robbe had ever met, so open and caring- even to his little brother's best friend. And clearly, Sander thought the same. However in the eye's of their dad, Sander had explained to Robbe one day about a year ago, his oldest son was a burden that wasn't willing to work for shit. Though, Sander's dad was the unemployed one.

Sander's dad would say a lot of petty, hypocritical, shit like that. When Robbe used to eat at their house, Mr. Driesen would order him to sit up straight whilst hunched over his own meal. An asshole, completely. Like an authoritarian on the back burner, he insulted those slipping out of his control in hope's of making them stay, whilst not applying the rules he'd set for others to himself. Ross hated him, and because Ross hated him, Sander did too. Mrs. Driesen prenteded like she didn't notice the feud between the two sides of her family, playing PTA mum and posting her Facebook minion memes. It was a dire situation.

"Was it your dad?" Robbe asked, watching as Sander flicked his cigarette onto the ground, obviously growing tired of it after a couple of minutes, the cherry died as it met damp grit. He chewed slightly at his lip before nodding, leg pushing his body back and forth on the swing at a quicker pace.

"Yeah. I mean, it's not like they ever really got along..." He trailed off, like he was considering what to tell Robbe next. Sander's expression soured as he continued "Ross just got sick of him, and the drinking and his nagging. He'd been saving up for a while and then his friend offered him a room for like, half of the price it was supposed to be rented out for. So, you know, it just made sense for him to leave" Robbe watched his as Sander sighed, mentally a mile away, like he was remembering stuff he'd rather not. It hurt to see him like that, the tough facade cracking under the weight of recollection, so Robbe reached out- putting a careful hand on his shoulder and giving an awkward pat. Voice croaky, Sander added "And, I wasn't gonna go with him at first. Mostly, and I'm not just saying this because you're here, because of you. But then my dad found some, uh, stuff on my phone and the argument got out of hand, you know?"

"What kind of stuff?" Robbe pushed slightly, scrunching up his nose, not understanding what could be so bad. Sander just gave a dismissive shake of his head. Something about that implication made Robbe nervous. There was another drawn out silence, slightly solemn and worrisome, before the story continued.

"We left the night it happened and...Robbe, I felt so bad for just getting out of there without a goodbye. I couldn't bring myself to talk to you, in case you wouldn't forgive me for leaving. It's so fucking stupid, I know, but I was so scared. And then I came back for school, because Ross couldn't afford to keep both of us afloat, and...and I still ignored you. I shouldn't have done that, but you looked so happy with your friends-"

"It's okay, Sander." Robbe interjected as the other spiralled.

"But it fucking isn't though, you keep saying that" Sander huffed, voice raised loud enough that Robbe feared he would wake those sleeping in the surrounding houses. He swallowed roughly, wiping a hand down his face in frustration. Robbe could see how his eye's were glistening, wet, under the amber glow of the streetlights "Shit hasn't been easy for you either, right? It's not like I'm the only one with problems. I'm sat here, spinning you this sob story, when you just found out your fucking parents are getting a divorce like an hour ago? It's not okay."

Robbe couldn't help let out a small laugh at Sander's melodrama. Summoning gentle laughter to withhold from crying at the sheer loveliness of the boy sat on the adjacent swing. Because even if Sander was going through the hardest, most decrepit time of his life, he'd still try his best to act the hero, by blaming himself for not being able to take care of those he loved. He'd scrutinise the shit out of himself, a mess of self-loathing, in hopes of making others feel heard. Some things never really did change. Robbe realised then, looking into his wide and remorseful eyes, that him and Sander had never stopped being friends. If they had, Sander would've hung up the phone when Robbe called crying. He wouldn't have whisked him away to a secret hideaway across town (on a school night), before profusely apologising, refusing to accept an ounce of Robbe's forgiveness.

However, Sander was stubborn. What he wanted was for Robbe to push him away, display the anger he harboured towards himself. But Robbe could never do that. He dropped his arm from Sander's back and slowly stood up from the swing, feeling the other boys gaze on his profile as he made a show of looking around the small shit-hole of a playground. The only way to move on from woe with Sander was distraction. Always distraction. Over time, Robbe had perfected guiding his attention away from the stuff he shouldn't linger on, albeit he might've grown a little rusty. Before, it was 'let's go play Fifa' or 'I found this weird website' but Robbe felt shitty cat videos wouldn't do the job this time.

So, he settled on "What's in the bag then?" Nodding at the green canvas leaning against the rusted frame of the swing set.

"Seriously, you're just gonna brush past this?" Sander scoffed in disbelief, looking at Robbe with a face that screamed 'you're either stupid or brain-dead' "We aren't even gonna talk about your parents?"

"That would beat the purpose of calling up a distraction, right?" Robbe smiled, turning around from admiring one of the more elaborate tags on the flat back of a climbing frame. It was blue, fading into pink, something in French making a joke about love.

"So, I'm a distraction then?" Sander teased, smirking slyly- making Robbe's stomach dissolve into an army of butterflies. Of course, he ignored them. He only nodded dumbly, before Sander huffed and got up too, leaning down to open his bag "Unbelievable, Ijzerman's"

Robbe peered over Sanders shoulder, watching whilst he began pulling out battered cans of spray paint. The kind with peeling labels and top's that looked like they were about to fall off. Every single one was clearly very well used. And then it clicked.

"You did all of this? The art?" Sander had always been artistically inclined, but never to the extent of this. The pure intricacy of ever single piece covering the playground looked like something a licensed professional would come up with. Not a fifteen year old with too much spare time. But there was something so Sander about every tag, that just screamed it was all his. It suddenly made a lot of sense why he'd taken Robbe there.

"Yeah, of course. It's good practice" He mumbled, trying to hide his shyness at Robbe's stunned tone "No one ever checks here and the people in the houses like it so...I just come here when I need to get out" Sander hummed, standing up properly from his hunched position, nonchalantly passing Robbe a can. It was blue and felt nearly empty, and in all honestly Robbe had no clue what to do with it as Sander looked at him expectantly "What?"

"Well...I don't know what I'm doing, first of all"

"Seriously? You've never done this before?" Sander looked at him incredulously, incredibly sceptical all of a sudden. He bent down to pick up his own can of paint, a disturbingly bright yellow, weighing it in hands before reconsidering and swapping it for a mottled pink "Well...I thought with your 'skater boy' friends-" Robbe laughed and smacked him on the arm as Sander threw up a sloppy air quote "-That you wouldn't be new to tagging"

"You judged wrong, Driesen" Robbe grinned, cocking his head at the other boy, just as Sander wandered idly over to one of the higher walls enclosing the park. It was barer than the others, less crowded, coming up to about Robbe's middle, only dotted with a few runny outlines of smiley faces- one neon green and the other coal black. Sander ran a finger down the concrete, testing to see if it was wet from the day's previous rain fall, absentmindedly shaking the can in his hand. Pausing for thought, he crouched down to get a better angle, before spraying the brickwork. The nozzle hissed, too loud for Robbe's slight anxiety, whilst Sander buried his face into the crook of his elbow- mouth hiding from the paint's fumes under leather. His brow furrowed in concentration, like he was working on the magnum opus of his artistic career, free forearm resting idly on his knees to make the paint flow smoother. Robbe would've believed Sander was being serious, creating something beautiful, until a silly, childlike caricature of Robbe's face emerged on the wall after a minute or so of unrelenting spray. Verging on the edge of insulting, it showed his face with a shit-eating grin under a mop of pink curls. It was bad, crude and janky, but Robbe thought everything Sander did was amazing "That's so fucking cool"

"I bet it's like looking into a mirror, huh?" Sander laughed, stepping back and making a show of admiring his work, stroking an imaginary beard. The wet paint glimmered under the glow of the nearby streetlight, dripping into the pores of the brick. Robbe snorted.

"I don't look like that, you dick"

"Yeah, you do. I swear to god that looks EXACTLY like one of your school pictures" Sander folded his arms across his chest, sticking his chin up defiantly. Suddenly, the walking embodiment of smugness. And just like that, they fell back into a routine. Welcoming the barrage of banter and insults, the ones blanketed under laughter and boyish play. Spraying a messy flower onto the brickwork, next to his own head, Robbe realised how much he had missed Sander. It was overwhelming. He'd missed his teasing and those stupid jokes (the ones that made Robbe's ribs hurt). He'd missed the way he'd make a fool of himself just to see Robbe smile. In all honesty, Robbe didn't know how he'd coped without Sander being there, without his glowing personality and care. Even then, watching his cartoon face melt on the wall, Robbe wondered how he'd gone for months without hearing Sander's laugh. Just the sight of him throwing his head back and cackling like he'd just said the funniest thing in existence, made Robbe cheeks warm up. And for once he didn't feel shameful about it. Sander made him feel okay. Like the loud static of a broken TV set, he muffled all the issues of those surrounding him. He shouted over the elephants in the room, leg's crossed and waiting to be addressed, with stupid jokes and a alarmingly bright smile. Even if his effect was temporary, Robbe doubted he could ever go without it again. For he was as bright as the paint he sprayed on the wall, an attack of neon against Robbe's muted tone, the perfect combination of opposites. A blinding distraction.

Sander shook the can again, the pea rattling inside, before leaning down to add something else to their masterpiece. His low chuckle was masked by two short aerosol bursts. Robbe's view was blocked by Sander's broad shoulders, still drowning in leather, until he straightened up.

"I missed out your dimple" Sander said, shrugging like it was no big deal.

Robbe only grinned bashfully. Staring the the side of Sander's face. Wishing he'd stare back with the same amount of admiration, with the same knot of pleasant nerves in his stomach. That night, although born out of pain, was one of the best Robbe ever had.

-

Thanks for reading! feel free to follow me on Twitter @ s_driesen 

#wtfock #wtfock fanfic #sander x robbe #robbe x sander #skam remake #skam belgium #drijzermans #sobbe #rosander #drijzermans fic #sobbe fic #rosander fic #sander driesen #robbe ijzermans #wtfock season 3 #wtfock s3 #skam s3

[joebustillos]

JBB’s Final Thoughts Episode 28: Mr. Quinby’s Final Lesson: Perspective

Four paragraphs, the passing of a family member and this fellow educator’s final lesson: perspective.

MP3 Version: https://joebustillos.files.wordpress.com/2020/04/jbbsfinalthoughts_episode-28_mr-quinbys-final-lesson_perspective.mp3

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music: Social Blindness – 22K by Smart Sound Music

All images and screen grabs by Joe Bustillos ©2018 and ©2019

music: Angelique Kidjo clip by Paul Quinby, May 5, 2018

Images used in podcast:

JBB’s Final Thoughts Episode 28: Mr. Quinby’s Final Lesson: Perspective

1992-07-20 Quinby Camping – 25

2017-12-24_04_Xmas at Mom’s

2018-07-08_Summer-CA-Trip_Super-Mex-with-Mich-n-Paul

2018-05-13_01_Mother’s Day at Matt & Marty’s

1992-09-10 Laurel’s Naming Ceremony Day – 11

1992-09-10 Laurel’s Naming Ceremony Day – 10

2018-05-05 Paul Quinby at Angelique Kidjo concert at the theater at the Ace Hotel. Celebrate the good times

Show Script:

JBB’s Final Thoughts, episode28: Mr. Quinby’s Final Lesson: Perspective

Joe Bustillos here.

A week ago, following a very long battle with a respiratory illness my brother-in-law, Paul Quinby, passed away. He had been on a transplant list at UCLA but his illness lessened the chances of a good outcome and he was dropped from the program. He ended up in the ICU just before Thanksgiving. Over the following couple weeks he was visited by family and friends and was able to witness the wedding of his youngest daughter. I didn’t realize how little time he had left. He was moved to a comfort care facility and passed that night, December 8th at 9pm.

On December 4th he made a most amazing Facebook post titled, “Paul Quinby’s Circling the Drain Farewell Tour,”  briefly explaining the circumstances and then saying his goodbyes. Quote:

“I have not always been easy to understand or get along with. I have been often brusque and self-centered. If I have hurt you, I am truly sorry. For those with whom I have not gotten along, I hold no grudge or judgement. That would be a waste of time and energy, when time is short.”

Paul’s classroom was one of the places I did my pre-teacher observations when I began my teaching career (where he noted my need to balance my enthusiasm with classroom control!). So the following passage hits very close to home. Quote:

“If you had a seat as a student in my class, thank you. I hope you sometimes felt the thrill of understanding new things and exploring the world while you were part of our class’s learning family, and that you took that sense of wonder with you. And you should know that you have been my teachers, too, when I remembered to listen.”

When I first heard of Paul’s passing I commented that it was going to take me some time to process this, and apologies to anyone offended by this discussion, but this is one of the ways I think things though, online. I have to laugh, in that I was a real annoyance at times with my constant camera at family gatherings and online posting. That’s one area where I butted heads with Paul, so apologies… truthfully, I’m not sure why I’m always doing the photography thing, etc.

One of the things that I recognized in Paul’s final post is the resolve one may have when one can see the end. While my illness from 2012 to 2014 never reached anything close to a final stage, things were going downhill so quickly that I had to consider what was next as I lost the ability to walk. I don’t doubt that Paul went through all of the stages of anger and sadness and depression over and over again. When I faced my possible curtain call I cried and expressed my appreciation to my then-girlfriend, that if this was where my road was going to end, then it was a pretty good place to go. I was lucky. I got the treatment I needed. But I resolved to learn whatever it was that I could learn from this experience.

One thing that really amazed me about Paul’s post was that he encapsulated his farewell in four short paragraphs. That, my friends is having laser focus on the point of all of this. In the end, what are the important things, and more importantly how do we express them in our daily lives? We can say (and post) all kinds of things, but how do we actually conduct our lives both when we are alone and when we are working with our neighbors? How do we deal with the needs of the moment and experience any sense of the long view.

Growing up religious, one would think that it’s all about the long view, all about the final reward. Alas, my memories as a young Catholic and later Evangelical was mostly feeling all twisted up inside because my flawed humanity crushed me on a daily basis. I may have been forgiven and honestly wanted to do “better,” but there wasn’t a moment when I didn’t seem to be in some failure mode. That didn’t work. It was difficult to appreciate anything when I rarely had the sense of not being a failure. And lest it sound like I’ve gotten over all of that, I was just thinking how I’ve been so overwhelmed these past months by my own expectations for what should be happening in my classroom to the point of illness and exhaustion and how silly that would have seemed to Paul from his perspective. When you care about the day-to-day it can be too easy to see everything as day-to-day and begin to miss the point of it all. I’ve certainly had that experience this school year.

Paul’s passing reminds me of all the things we say are important and generally fail to have enough time for… But then who decides what “enough time” really is? It is what is what it is, and if you are lucky enough to have experienced long hugs from a loved one, the smile of another human briefly connecting with you, the tears of exhaustion and perseverance, and good conversation and a great beer with friends and strangers, what else is there?

Paul said, “So I think it’s time to reflect on the blessing of having spent an incredibly warm, fulfilling and exciting life, with much loved family and friends. You have enriched my life, and I am grateful to you all.”

Paul, I will miss the heated verbal battles, the honest confrontations, the shared meals, beers, and tequila shots and the sense of human connection.

And to you, my dear family, friends and passing online strangers, however you’ve had this in your life, for however much time you’ve had… that’s the point… that’s the perspective that we often lose in the day-to-day grind.

Happy holidays, tell those around you how much you love them. It’s important.

Thank you for spending this time with me at JBB’s Final Thoughts. If you want to continue to participate in my outer monologue you can subscribe to my blog at http://joebustillos.com, scroll to the bottom of the page, click on the FOLLOW button where it says “Follow Blog via Email” and enter your email address. You can also subscribe to my YouTube channel, just search for JBB’s Final Thoughts (and make sure it doesn’t auto-correct to “jobs final thoughts”… damn auto-correct!). Catch you later, enjoy.

JBB's Final Thoughts Episode 28: Mr. Quinby's Final Lesson: Perspective JBB’s Final Thoughts Episode 28: Mr. Quinby's Final Lesson: Perspective Four paragraphs, the passing of a family member and this fellow educator’s final lesson: perspective.

#family #featured #final lessons #jbbsfinalthoughts #jbbsfinalthoughts-podcast #jbbsfinalthoughts.com #joe bustillos video podcast #life #life and death #life issues #love #meaning #meaning of life #paul quinby #teaching #the meaning of life #what matters most

[devinsena]

Part 2: Rhetoric, And The Power It Holds On The Abortion Debate

This article is a continuation of a two-part series on rhetoric and the dangerous misuse of words by pro-abortion apologists. In it we will continue to discuss key terms and bring to light hidden agendas within pro-abortion arguments most people tend to miss. Rhetoric, or the use of words and phrases, is very powerful.

The misuse of rhetoric by changing the meaning of words, replacing words, or creating new words altogether is foundational to pro-abortion argumentation.

In Part I of this series on rhetoric, we learned the true significance of popular pro-abortion terminology, including the term “pro-choice.” In this second and final installment, we will continue exploring common “pro-choice” rhetoric and its effects on the abortion debate.

We will begin with a word which is well-known and well-loved all over the world: “baby.”

What comes to mind when you hear this word? What image do you see? A newborn cradled in the arms of his mother? An older infant crawling or toddling around? The Gerber Baby? Your own child, or the child of someone you know? Regardless of the particular image, most, if not all, of us have a positive reaction when we hear this word. We think of already-born children, and the thought of them makes us smile.

However, when it comes to children in the womb, society has the hardest time calling them “babies.” No, they are “fetuses,” “embryos,” and “zygotes.” We do not think of them as babies. When we talk about abortion, no one wants to admit it is the killing of a human baby.

Yet, think about the expectant mother or father who actually wants their child. Do you ever hear the mother who just learned she is pregnant call her friends and say, “I’m going to have a fetus!” or “I’m pregnant with an embryo!”

Of course not. But why not? Shouldn’t the terminology be consistent?

This use of euphemisms is particularly dangerous. Why does the abortion industry refuse to call a preborn human a baby? Why bring in so many alternate words? First we must examine the specific words used — “fetus,” “embryo,” and “zygote.” Are these accurate terms to describe a human in the womb? Technically, yes. They are scientific terms to describe different gestational stages inside the womb.

A zygote is a preborn human at the moment it exists, i.e., fertilization, the union of sperm and egg. “Embryo” and “fetus” describe a preborn human at a very early gestational stage. So, it is factual to use these terms to describe a child in the womb, but this does not make them accurate.

Our society has accepted the use of clinical, scientific terms to describe a preborn baby only when referring to an act of killing said baby. We resort to factual but cold terms. But are they even the most accurate? Think about when you had to dissect animals in school. How were you taught to refer to the animal dissected? You called them, for example, fetal pigs.

The term “fetal” is not a noun, it is an adjective. It is a descriptive term used to identify the animal in the earliest stages of development. So, if we are going to use more accurate rhetoric, babies in the womb are fetal humans, not fetuses.

Pro-abortionists’ insistence on using “scientific,” yet inaccurate, terminology to describe preborn humanity is an attempt to sterilize and in turn normalize the act of killing a human. If the preborn child were called a “baby,” or even a “human,” society would have a much harder time accepting abortion as “a woman’s right.”

In that light, let us consider the act of abortion itself. If a human child is killed outside the womb, we call it “infanticide,” “homicide,” or “murder.” If a large number are killed we call it “serial killing” or “genocide.” If the killing takes place inside the womb, we call it “abortion.” This is the term accepted by society. As pro-lifers, this is the term we should use; but we must not forget abortion is synonymous with infanticide and homicide.

A popular claim by those who promote the act of killing babies is abortions are “safer than pregnancy.” Safer. Safer for whom? Safer for the mother, they claim, because more women die in childbirth than from having abortions. Many pro-abortion activists who have had abortions themselves claim they stand by their decision because it empowered them and furthered their rights as women.

They claim abortion was the best way to preserve their lives. Consider the rhetoric used in these claims. By saying it is safer to have an abortion than to carry a child to term and deliver that child, pro-abortion activists are essentially saying the rights of the child are not equal to those of the mother — the mother’s rights to convenience are more important than the life of the defenseless child in the womb.

Rarely will you hear it put this way in mainstream abortion marketing. Think about it. When was the last time you saw an advertisement from an abortion clinic which read, “Come pay us to kill your child?” Never.

The abortion industry’s marketing campaign is based one hundred percent on misleading rhetoric in an attempt to deceive — a very successful attempt. Planned Parenthood presents itself as a “women’s healthcare provider” while performing over 300,000 abortions per year.

On some abortion websites the act of abortion is described as “gently taking the pregnancy tissue out of your uterus” — not “ripping apart a preborn child.” Notice it is not even called a “fetus” anymore. Instead it is mere “tissue,” implying abortion is akin to having one’s gallbladder removed.

The phrase “gently suction” is even more misleading. Former abortionist Anthony Levatino clarifies exactly what abortion by aspiration consists of. He explains, “the suction machine has the force of approximately ten to twenty times that of a normal household vacuum cleaner.” This is definitely not “gentle.”

Not only is a mass genocide of defenseless humans taking place, it is being downplayed to sound as innocent as possible. The number one cause of death in America — the elective abortion of preborn children — exists today because we as a nation have bought into the manipulation and lies instead of speaking truthfully.

Lest you think this use of rhetoric only applies to the act of abortion itself, let me assure you it does not. It is also used to justify the after-effects.

Millions of post-abortive women and men suffer as a result of abortion, and their voices are constantly silenced. They do not have a place in the public square to share their horrible experiences. We do not hear from the countless women who regret their abortions.

Many post-abortive parents look back on their abortions as the worst decisions they ever made. “They haunt me to this day,” post-abortive mothers share. “I still wonder what my child would have looked like.” “I still wonder how my child would have laughed.” “What kind of mom would I have been?” The amount of suffering these women are going through is incalculable, yet they are silenced for the sake of continuing this barbarity.

An industry which proclaims, “Shout your abortion,” locates the few women who, on the surface, claim to have no regrets, no suffering, and no ill effects as a result of abortion. Those women are given a platform in an attempt to normalize and justify the decision to abort.

This is a campaign designed and marketed to make us accept not only that the act of killing preborn humans is morally agreeable, but Mom and Dad are just fine afterwards. This is clearly not the case, yet many Americans accept it as truth.

America has swallowed the “pro-choice” movement, with all its dangerous rhetoric. We have accepted it as truth. The “pro-choice” movement is a rhetorical nightmare designed by pro-abortionist marketers to make a deadly act “empowering” and “righteous” when in reality, it is quite the opposite. This Leftist rhetoric has gone so far as to feed us the idea that truth is not necessarily true. They have introduced the deadly idea of moral relativism.

Have you ever heard someone say, “I don’t agree with abortion, but I’m not going to tell a woman what to do with her body”? Doesn’t that sound nice, tolerant, and accepting? Politicians use similar language all the time. Though it sounds agreeable, it is actually very dangerous.

If morality is relative, there is no absolute truth because everyone has their own. Saying you merely “disagree” with abortion and would never “tell a woman what to do with her body” completely mischaracterizes the act being committed.

As mentioned in Part 1, this is identical to saying you personally would not rape someone, but you think that others should be free to make the choice to do so. This is the same argument being made by the “pro-choice” movement. The movement itself deflects away from moral grounds. In reality, an act is right or wrong.

There is no middle ground when it comes to life and death, but pro-abortionists claim otherwise, and tell us the “truth” is whatever the mother says it is. We must realize that all rhetoric is designed to influence one way or another. There is no middle ground.

Perhaps the most dangerous result of this manipulative rhetoric is how it affects the Church — the greatest asset to the pro-life movement with the greatest opportunity to end abortion.

Christians hold the firm belief we are all created by God in His image, which gives us an indescribable value at the moment of conception. In modern society, the abortion debate has been intentionally labeled a “political issue.” Why? Because it keeps the Church out of it.

As devout, law-abiding Christians we often find ourselves stepping back when confronted with political issues because we think getting involved in politics is inconsistent with our call to spread the Gospel.

This could not be further from the truth. Not only is it an arguable duty of Christian Americans to engage in politics and culture to be the shining lights Jesus commands us to be, but regardless — abortion is simply not a political issue. It has become politicized, but it is ultimately a spiritual issue.

When a human life created in the image of God is taken, it automatically becomes a spiritual matter. It belongs in the Church more than any other place. It makes complete sense the Church would be the primary defender of life and treat the act of abortion for what it is.

Christians should not shy away from the fight, but approach head-on the twisted rhetoric to what the issue is really about: protecting the defenseless image-bearers of God.

There is one thing you should take away from this discussion on rhetoric. If we are believers; if we are a group of people who deeply care about words, and their usage, we must choose our words carefully.

We must constantly be aware and willing to study the rhetoric being presented to us. We must be willing to defend the truth, lovingly, compassionately, and gracefully, all while making sure we use the correct verbage. By doing this, we have the power to righteously expose the lies which have been sold to America for over 50 years.

You can find an expansive audio version on the topic of Rhetoric on The Human Element Show, a podcast by our friends at Human Coalition which combines incisive commentary and accessible apologetics to not only communicate the pro-life worldview, but also engage Americans in ending the abortion genocide in our lifetime.

source http://humandefenseinitiative.com/part-2-rhetoric-and-the-power-it-holds-on-the-abortion-debate/

#prolife Christian Bible LoveBoth abortion prochoice

[chrisoncinema]

The Year in Review: Top Ten Films of 2017

Well, we made it. We survived. Before getting into this list, I'd like to thank everyone who read, shared, or commented on one of my posts or videos this past year. It was a pretty monumental year for this blog and for my cinematic journey. I didn't go into 2017 with a plan to revive this blog but I'm happy I did. I ended up thinking about this very list for most of the year; giving me time to rediscover my love for movies and an excuse to watch way more movies than I otherwise would have. So let's get to the movies, shall we? This list is not a definitive, quantitative, or objective ranking of the films released this year. Rather, it is a rough sketch of the movies I enjoyed seeing the most. The movies that moved me, surprised me, or stuck with me. You can see my previous post for a listing of movies I missed and movies that didn't make it into my top ten. I hesitate to call these my ten "favorites" because, if you ask me in three months what my favorite movies from 2017 are, the list might look quite different. For today, though, I hope it provides something new, forgotten, or overlooked that you can take with you as we head into the new year. 10. It Comes At Night

In an apocalyptic near-future, a mixed-race family must protect their home and their health from foreign threats. Of all the horror movies I saw this year, It Comes at Night was the one I could never get out of my head. Whether director Trey Shults intended it or not, It Comes at Night became a meditation on many of the ills that plague America in 2017: from the failure of white saviors to a tribal and territorial fear of “the other.” What made the film feel special was its simplicity and focus. Shults was not interested in world-building or mythologizing. Without the visual formalism of The Killing of a Sacred Deer or the loaded narrative commentary found in Get Out and mother!, It Comes at Night is its own survival kit: stripped down to the bare essentials, without the fanfare or gloss of over-production. This is a movie with lace-up boots and dirt under its nails. A movie that, above all, feels like its about real characters who react uniquely to new conflicts and discoveries.

Joel Edgerton, whose face I admittedly often forget, gives one of his best performances. His family, played by Carmen Ejogo and Kelvin Harrison Jr. (who were both new to me) were standouts, and small parts by Riley Keough and Christopher Abbott (two of the greatest actors in the indie scene, Keough especially) round out the great cast. Throughout the movie I was reminded of Alien, another horror film that takes place in a claustrophobic environment, where it is just as interesting to watch all the characters converse as it is to see them get attacked by a giant space bug. Many people were let down by the absence of a horror they thought was implied in the title “It Comes at Night.” But, like Alien, they’re missing the trees for the forest. This is a human drama. What makes the film horrifying is its plausibility. Hell? Other people. What comes at night? Darkness, paranoia, emptiness. It doesn’t get scarier than that.

9. The Death of Louis XIV

Moving even smaller in scale, The Death of Louis XIV is a sad, funny, beautiful chamber-piece starring the one and only Jean-Pierre Léaud. Truthfully, a big part of what makes the film so enjoyable is the meta-narrative trip that comes with this casting. Léaud began his career at age 14 starring in one of the most influential films of the French New Wave, Francois Truffaut’s The 400 Blows. He is, quite literally, French cinema royalty and, though Léaud himself is only 73, this feels like his great swan song. As always, Léaud manages to be both funny and tragic; equal parts ornery and charming.

The film's lofty title may not seem like the most exciting or accessible subject matter but, while stuffiness abounds, there is simply too much to enjoy in this film to pass up and I’m shocked that more people aren’t talking about it. The cinematography is some of the best this year: every single shot looks like a candlelit oil painting. The blacks are endless, the reds are velvety, and the golds are radiant. Is the movie slow? Yes, absolutely. But I, for one, enjoyed drinking with the King, scheming with his advisers, and laughing at each new, ridiculous wig that appears on screen.

8. Lady Bird

As with every new work that seems to be receiving undue or hyperbolic praise, I was highly skeptical of Lady Bird before finally seeing it. So let’s start with all the ways I was right. This is a coming-of-age story and it contains all the usual suspects: a fast-talking, strong-willed protagonist who still has a lot to learn about how the world actually works; parents who just want the best for the protagonist who have trouble communicating with her and with each other; a quirky best friend who is briefly tossed aside while the protagonist tries to be popular; and a concluding event that reminds the protagonist of some little piece of wisdom that was dropped along the way. Despite all of this narrative predictability, there’s something undeniable about Lady Bird. It works because of the characters that writer/director Greta Gerwig has crafted. An incredibly gifted, funny performer in her own right, Gerwig understands that no relationship is black and white. The best scenes feature Saoirse Ronan’s titular Lady Bird and her mother, played by Laurie Metcalf. Though their relationship is often contentious, at a moment’s notice the two act like the best of friends. They are too similar to be compatible and yet it is this resemblance that keeps them together. If that’s not an accurate, human depiction of mother-daughter relationships, I don’t know what is. In the end, Lady Bird is endearing, warm, and human – genuinely funny and genuinely moving. Gerwig didn’t reinvent the coming-of-age dramedy, but she came close to perfecting it.

7. After the Storm

If you enjoyed the familial drama of Lady Bird, I highly recommend watching the criminally ignored Japanese film After the Storm. The movie centers on a dead-beat, divorced dad trying to reconnect with his young son and ex-wife – well, kind of trying. The film’s lead, Hiroshi Abe, is basically Gob Bluth from Arrested Development: he’s lazy and selfish but is able to skate by on his charm, social flexibility, and a bit of self-deprecation. Like Lady Bird, After the Storm is full of complex, three-dimensional characters, tenuous family dynamics, and lived-in wisdom that never feels hacky. Hirokazu Kore-eda shoots the film without pretension, keeping a careful eye on the little details of everyday life. It doesn’t have the pep of an American dramedy so many viewers might find their minds starting to wander but, like 2016’s Paterson or Kore-eda’s predecessor Yasujiro Ozu, After the Storm has a lot to offer if you’re in a receptive mood. Pair with tea and a rainy day (a monsoon, if you’ve got it).

6. Good Time

Good Time is a travelling carnival. It’s a fever-dream that feels familiar even though you never know exactly what you’re going to see. The music and lights are dizzying, the air is full of weed, sweat, and old cigarettes, and everyone is inexplicably dressed like it’s the 90s. Need I say more?

I didn’t know what to expect from Good Time having seen none of the Safdie Brothers’ earlier films, but I was intrigued by the trailer. The film did not disappoint. Beginning with a bank heist gone bad, Good Time is the story of two brothers played by Robert Pattinson and Benny Safdie. As many have noted, the film owes a lot to the 1970s cinema of Scorsese and Lumet but there’s an immediacy to the filming that feels unmistakably modern. Just when the gritty realism sinks in, the movie blasts into space thanks to a bold score from experimental producer Daniel Lopatin (aka Oneohtrix Point Never). It’s one of the best scores of the year, featuring a gut-wrenching, original song from Lopatin and Iggy Pop. The cinematography is equally manic: mid-winter greys mix with neon lights and vibrant reds. The Safdies keep their camera dangerously tight – detailing the desperation on a nearly-unrecognizable Robert Pattinson (and we’ll see him again before this list is over). Twilight? Never heard of it. You’re witnessing a movie star – a direct descendent of Pacino or De Niro. Good Time is grimy, thrilling, and occasionally very funny. Like all carnival rides, I went home feeling nauseous, head-pounding, and in need of a tetanus shot. 

5. Columbus

Columbus is a movie so personal to me that I can barely talk about it objectively – I kind of feel like I made it (but I can assure you I did not). The first feature by video essayist Koganada, Columbus is a movie about love, loss, and architecture so genuine it makes (500) Days of Summer look like the sloppy, insincere mess that it is. The film’s success is largely due to its two leads: Haley Lu Richardson, who I had never seen before but fell in love with immediately, and John Cho who is now, unarguably, a leading man. The third star of the film is modern architecture by the likes of Eliel and Eero Saarinen, I.M. Pei, and SOM.

Without giving away too much, Richardson’s Casey is a student who meets Cho’s Jin, a visitor to Columbus, Indiana: architectural mecca of the Midwest. Many of you don’t (and couldn’t) know that I went to school to study architecture. I, like Jin, skeptically engaged with bright, young minds like Casey and questioned what architecture really meant to culture, to a city, and to me. Why does architecture matter? That’s a question I’m still answering but I can tell you this: we need spaces of reflection, communion, and discourse. The best architecture provides that. Columbus is the proof. I’m so pleased that this film has made a number of year-end lists. It’s a little film about a simple story and, like the best architecture, I look forward to exploring it again.

4. Nocturama

Nocturama is perplexing, modern, and gripping from the first minute. Nocturama is the story of a small group of French radicals who plan a coordinated attack on Paris. Nocturama asks a lot of questions – Who are these people? How did they meet? Why did they choose to become terrorists? – but if you’re looking for answers, look elsewhere.

What makes Nocturamaso exciting is the immediate immersion in the intricacies of the plot. There is no Ocean’s Eleven-style voiceover guiding you through the plan, no diatribe or manifesto to take in, just the cold, hard act. Bertrand Bonello’s ensemble piece is a commentary on luxury, privilege, and the rebellious naiveté of youth. It’s also impossibly cool: our anti-heroes smoke, dance, and listen to pop music. They’re kids – just like the ones on your street, in your school, at your mall – and that’s what makes the film so challenging, scary, and dangerous. It’s easy to characterize terrorism as a foreign offense. Nocturama doesn’t want to be easy but if you’re not careful, it might seduce you. Nocturama lights a fuse and dares you to enjoy the flames. Either way, your palms will be sweating.

3. The Lost City of Z

I’ve been critical of James Gray’s big, melodramatic films in the past but with his most recent work, I finally got it. The Lost City of Z stars Charlie Hunnam – in what is far-and-away his best performance – as Percy Fawcett, a 20th century explorer searching the Amazon for the titular city of Z. It’s hard to describe exactly why this film works so well. Like the old epics of David Lean, we follow Fawcett from his humble beginnings as a promising, young military officer, we learn and struggle with him, we return with him, after his numerous expeditions, to see his family growing and changing.

The Lost City of Z offers a whole lot to take in and it’s a testament to the editing that this 141 minute voyage moves along as breezily as it does while also never feeling rushed. What helps keep the story going is breathtaking camera work by cinematographer Darius Khondji and a great cast that includes Sienna Miller, Robert Pattinson, Tom Holland, and Ian McDiarmid. Films like this don’t feel like they should exist anymore – The Lost City of Z is sprawling and beautiful but also quite smart: evoking questions of colonialism, masculinity, and the personal price of one’s work. It’s not perfect, but it’s a rare gem in a field of plastic.

2. Personal Shopper

Personal Shopper was one of the most unique theater-going experiences for me in 2017. It was a Wednesday evening when I spontaneously decided to drive half an hour to the only theater showing Olivier Assayas’ latest film. It was playing in a single auditorium – and a small one at that. I arrived early, as I always do, and waited for the few other moviegoers to trickle in. But they never did. And so I was treated to a personal screening of one of my favorite movies of the year. A movie that, rather fittingly, serves as a meditation for loneliness, isolation, and the vulnerability of predation.

Personal Shopper stars Kristen Stewart as a self-proclaimed medium trying to make contact with her deceased twin brother. Less of a horror film and more a dramatic character study, if you were ever doubtful of Stewart’s acting chops, this film should convince you. I was completely transfixed by her performance. She, and I say this without a hint of irony, is our James Dean. Sporting a leather jacket and a cool, androgynous demeanor, Stewart’s Maureen Cartwright is everyone who has ever slouched with hands stuffed deep in their pockets, anyone whose hands have shaken from an unexpected text message, anyone who’s had the eerie feeling of being watched by someone just out of reach. Personal Shopper is all about atmosphere: chilling, evocative, and sensual. I suppose I understand how people looking for plot-points found this film messy and inaccessible. As for me, though, I’ll be chasing the specter of that first screening. Going to the movies is a kind of séance and I’m thankful to Olivier Assayas for showing us a visionary Kristen Stewart.     

 1. Dunkirk

I know it’s basically a cliché to even talk about Christopher Nolan at this point, but this is where we find ourselves. NOLAN. BROS. FOREVER. Christopher Nolan doesn’t just make films as if each one is the last he’ll make. He makes films as if they’re the last film that will ever be made. Dunkirk is an absolute spectacle and it is, by far, Nolan’s best work to date.

As I’ve discussed before, Nolan came to prominence at the same time I was discovering film. I was in awe of The Dark Knight and Inception when they came out, but by the time The Dark Knight Rises and Interstellar were released, my fan-boy-dom had faded. Interstellar is a very good but very flawed movie. It wants so badly to capture the humanity of early Spielberg and the grandeur of Kubrick but, sadly, fails to reach either. Still, the best decision Nolan ever made was swapping out his longtime cinematographer Wally Pfister for Hoyte Van Hoytema. Van Hoytema, who has done great work with the likes of Tomas Alfredson and Spike Jonze, brought a much needed flair for richness to Nolan’s pragmatic sensibilities. With Dunkirk, finally, there is a rich screenplay to match.

It seems Nolan actually listened to the critics who, for years, decried his overly-expositional dialogue and choppy editing. Dunkirk, not unlike Kubrick’s 2001 is pure visual storytelling. The difference is that Nolan was still determined to tell an intimate, human story and, calling upon the cinema gods from Murnau to Hitchcock, he did it.

There was no cinematic experience more breathtaking this year than seeing Dunkirk in IMAX. The sound design is so fierce and the score is so relentless it felt like a deep tissue massage for my brain. I left the theater after each successive viewing feeling invigorated in a way no film has affected me before. Nolan has always tried to make films that could capture the attention and imagination of any viewer (that’s why it was so important for this film to have a PG-13 rating) and he finally did it. The structural experimentation that Nolan was known for from the start is used here to turn the entire film into one of his signature, cross-cut sequences: one long, thrilling crescendo. And he did it all, God bless him, in under two hours.

Nolan-mainstays Tom Hardy and Cillian Murphy are as cool as they’ve ever been, and seasoned pros Mark Rylance and Kenneth Branagh bring much-needed warmth and pathos, but the film belongs to the new faces that Nolan introduces: Fionn Whitehead, Aneurin Barnard, Tom Glynn-Carney, Barry Keoghan, and, of course, Harry Styles. They are the young men who have history thrust upon them – dropped into a giant, dangerous world with the weight of a nation on their shoulders. And they fail. They fail their mission and, occasionally, they fail each other. They return home distraught, ashamed, and confused.

“All we did was survive,” they say.

“That’s enough.”

Perseverance is noble. Support is bravery. Survival is victory. That’s Dunkirk’s message. It’s the one we needed this year.

[thechroniclife-blog]

Introducing Me.

Hi, and welcome to The Chronic Life - my new blog. I’ve always quite fancied setting up a blog dedicated to chronic illness and all of the antics that come with it, but I never have, but I decided that now was as good a time as any. 

I guess that I should probably get into the whole introductory factor of this post because I have the tendency to babble and ramble on about absolutely anything, everything and at the same time nothing and get carried away. As you can probably tell, and you’ll probably learn even more in future posts. 

Hi, my name is Phee (short for Phoebe), I’m a fifteen year old chronic illness fighter who has been sick for very nearly ten years and I’m also a Scorpio (if you care, which you probably don’t) which makes me an October baby! 

My chronic illness story started when I was five years old - I was always a very social, active, happy little tot, always laughing, smiling, loved making friends. I was a gymnast, a dancer and I was - and still am - an avid reader and lover of books. 

I started to get frequent ear infections, dizziness, tinnitus, nausea and a lot of earache and headaches, recurring in my left ear. Me and my mum spent most of years five through seven in doctors office upon doctors office, being told that I was just doing it for attention or that I was only trying to get time off school before we got lucky. 

One doctor, whom I shall forever owe my life too, listened. She spoke to us in confidence, and so we returned the favor, and I was diagnosed with a rare growth that had been eating away at my eardrum for the past two and a half years called a cholesteatoma. 

We were referred to a ENT (ear, nose & throat) specialist and was told that I needed surgery to remove the mass and rebuild my eardrum which was now completely collapsed. The specialist told me that a month or two longer without a diagnosis and a treatment plan, and I would have died. 

I was seven when I finally had the surgery to remove the mass and rebuild my eardrum, and we were so happy because we thought that this would mean that I could recuperate and then go back to my life of gymnastics, dancing and doing all of the things that I loved - but we were sorely wrong. 

Two weeks after my surgery, my health had declined dramatically, I was horrendously sick - exhausted all the time, in constant severe pain and just generally feeling completely and utterly crap. I had an infection in the wound from my surgery, but it was nothing that a course of antibiotics couldn’t fix, right? Wrong. 

We did the course of antibiotics, but I didn’t get better. We did another, and the only noticeable difference was the fact that I had gotten worse, which wasn’t exactly the desired difference we were hoping to see in my health. 

My family has had a long history of chronic illness, with my mum having lupus (among many other things) and my sister having chronic fatigue syndrome (or myalgic encephalomyelitis). My mum recognized the symptoms of CFS almost instantly, and so when my sister had an appointment with her specialist, she dragged me along with her and asked the specialist to check me out then and there, because this couldn’t go on any longer. 

And at the age of seven, I was officially diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome. But that wasn’t where it stopped. You know the saying ‘bad things come in twos’? Well, for me, it was more like bad things come in twos, threes, fours and fives (and the rest, too) as only six months after, I was diagnosed with thyroiditis. 

My thyroid had started to malfunction and was constantly going between being underactive and overactive, anything but the normal range really, and I had started to decline all over again. 

I ended up having to be pulled out of school, gymnastics training and stop doing all of the things that I enjoyed to focus on health and be a full-time sick person. I was always so determined that my being sick wasn’t going to become who I was and that I could still fulfill my life goals, but that’s hard when every movement is a worry about what payback you might get after doing it. 

At the age of nine, I was taking 15+ pills a day to survive, and by that time, I had started my period and things were getting even worse. 

Fast forward to 2013 - I had just started my first year in high school, and for once - my life was going to plan. I had been able to complete my first three weeks of school on a half day schedule, make new friends and have an actual life. But of course, everything was not as it seemed, because only four weeks in, the school was pushing me and pushing me to up my time - even though my body was suffering from what I was doing at the time - but they wouldn’t listen to reason, and so my time was upped, and my body reacted dramatically.

Things like this I always thought only happened in those dramatic movies about chronic illness, but somehow, it happened to me. One day, I woke up and I couldn’t sit myself up. My arms were too weak to support the weight of my body, they would spasm every single time I would try to pull myself up into the sitting position, before I would fall back down. 

And that was only the start of where I lost my independence. At the age of eleven, I became housebound, and when the rare occurrence ensued that I would leave my house, I was confined to a wheelchair, which burdened me with odd looks, whispers and being laughed at. 

My parents had to help me up into a sitting position, hold me up as I walked from the bed to the bathroom and back again, and when they weren’t there, I would roll myself out of bed, and quite literally drag myself there and back. 

My family members would have to wash me, clothe me, wash my hair, clean my teeth, brush my hair, feed me, cut up my food for me - they had to do everything for me - and I became destructively depressed. I lost all sense of who I was, what I loved, and I became this sad sack of potatoes who rarely left the house and spent most of her day in tears and hating life. 

Doctors would not listen to me, they would think I was lying or doing this to get out of school or that it was simply just depression and nothing else. 

I lost every single ounce of independence I had. I turned to self-harm, and slept most of the day away to escape my destructive thoughts and the severity of the pain that I was in. Being as sick as I was, the only joy that I would find throughout each day was watching TV - and that was a turning point in my life for me as TV shows made me some of my greatest and truest friends, who helped me stop hurting myself and start learning to handle my situation better than I was.

Towards the beginning of 2015, I had gotten out in my wheelchair for the first time in a long time - and I was subjected to four teenage boys laughing at me - and for me that was the final straw. I didn’t want to be in the chair anymore. I didn’t want my illness to rule my life anymore, and so I pushed myself. 

Pushing yourself with a chronic illness is always hit or miss. Most people find themselves worsening, but I was lucky and got marginally better, and I was able to leave my wheelchair behind, and gain the independence that I lost back. 

In the end of 2015 and the year of 2016, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, chronic migraines, chronic nausea, iron deficiency, underactive thyroid (which we were clarified with that it is now an entirely separate thing from my thyroiditis) and chronic pain syndrome. 

In 2017, I was diagnosed with brittle asthma and reynauds syndrome as well as having tested positive for all except one of the tests needed for a SLE lupus diagnosis. 

In many ways, I have gotten to the point where I am almost as bad as I was in 2013, but in many different ways. Then, it was the ME/CFS that ruled my life, now it is all of the other things. 

I take between thirty and forty pills daily to survive and to keep the pain as at bay as is possible (which, to be quite honest, isn’t much) and some days I still need the aid of a wheelchair. I am hard of hearing with 65% hearing loss in total and am aided by a hearing aid. But my illnesses and my disabilities aren’t something that I am ashamed of or something that I hate/hide.  

If I had a choice in the matter, of course I would choose not to be sick. But I don’t and I didn’t have a choice, and so I am taking it in my stride. And I’m choosing to see the light in the situation, because truthfully that is all you can do. You can choose to hate the world, be in denial and hate what the world has given you, or you can learn to live with what the world has given you, take it in your stride and try to see the good in the bad - which is what I have now chosen to do. It took me some time to get there, but I am there, and I am glad that I am. 

Without my chronic illnesses and disabilities, I wouldn’t have met so many of my best friends. I wouldn’t have stopped self-harming. I wouldn’t have had the support and courage provided from my friends that I met through being sick to get better. I wouldn’t be grateful for the little things even more than I am the big things. I wouldn’t be who I am today. 

Welcome to The Chronic Life, my journey of self-discovery, acceptance, awareness raising and finding good things in the bad. I hope you enjoy your stay and that you can take something good from this blog. Love and well wishes. 

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