#and just. god. that realization was equally as surprising as it was incredibly fucking validating

[thawingthoughts]

To All The Boys I’m Tired of Loving...

Does this shit get any easier?

Dear Tumblr, it’s me, Becca.

It’s been a while.

I’ve been hand journaling lately, but I feel like I have too many thoughts and emotions to be limited to the speed of my carpal tunnel. 

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I broke up with the person I thought was supposed to be the love of my life in July last year. It fucking sucked, but it was the best decision I’ve ever made without question. The life I lived in those months after was more life than I had lived in my 23 years prior. I went to a foreign country, I moved, I made better friends, lost bad ones, made moves in my career and, well, fell in love again?

Which brings me to today, another fucking shitty day.

Love doesn’t suck, but navigating relationships in your 20s does. 

Today I’ve spent the day crying my eyes out over a guy who technically was never my boyfriend. I genuinely never thought that would be me. Who the fuck am I right now? 

Anyway, let’s continue. 

In August 2018 I met a boy (because let’s face it if they’re under 30 they’re not a man) who wrecked my heart. Which, like I said who the fuck am I to let that happen?

He was too good to be true, and sure enough, he was. 

In our Pete Davidson / Ariana Grande pace of a relationship, we shared a lot of life, a lot of sex, and I think more love than either of us care to admit. Much like the famous duo though, I think we were both in a lovesick rebound. Saying that doesn’t discount the validity in the emotions of the relationship, but it does give justification for its exhilarating but devasting end.

Like a deadly car crash from street racing, things went from 100 to zero, quick.

I think at the end of it though, I put him on an unwarranted pedestal because of the trauma he experienced in his life. And that’s not fair to me. 

Yes, in that relationship I had a lot of guards up. I pursued something much bigger than I had ever anticipated. I fell harder than I thought I could fall, and I was so afraid of those emotions and if they were real. 

I let a man say all the things I wanted and needed to hear. Treated me like a fucking queen in a way I had never experienced before. Listened like no one I had ever met. stupidly handsome, passionate, funny, incredible in bed...the list can go on. 

But also, let’s call the bullshit where we can now. Rose-colored glasses off. 

He’s got demons I can’t help, especially if he has no desire to help himself. His personality tends to bleed politician in order to skate around truly expressing himself. He scapegoat’s bad communication with vague statements. He’s extremely intentional in the moment but has poor follow through. Literally runs away from a confrontational situation. 

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I remember after that first date though, that I thought I had met my match. And I was fucking terrified. Never in my life had I been on such an incredible first date. And no, that’s not to say that it was like a rom-com with these insane bells and whistles, but there was a chemistry between us like I had never felt before. 

We met like any millennial in 2018, on a dating app. I had zero expectations. His profile had no info and he was roughly my age, so the fact that I had swiped right...surprised I did honestly. 

I remember I half-ass dressed up for this date, almost canceling last minute until I realized the restaurant was right around the corner from my office. 

I enter the restaurant, late, huffing and puffing and hot in the August heat (lol it’s Portland so it’s probably only 80 something degrees). I see him there and he’s in this wonderful suit and I feel like a hot mess, quite literally. We were probably there for three hours? We hit every topic that makes me wet: feminism, how Portland is so white, our shared Latinx experiences, liberal politics, I don’t even remember what else. I just remember calling my mom on my way home saying I’m fucked. Saying why the hell did God put this person in my life at this moment when I made such a fucking loud declaration to the universe that I was not ready. 

He’s the only person I ever asked out on a second date. And that date was just as great as the first. We got dessert at my favorite place in town late at night after an extremely tough day at work. 

Next his ass helped me move apartments.

Then the following week we ended up at the movies watching such a heavy movie, both needing a drink afterward. Next thing I know it’s four in the morning and we’re parked in his car outside of the movie theater. We’ve already made a seven-eleven run for gum and water.

I, being the confrontational person I am, asked him what’s his deal. In my head how does a guy pursue a woman like this without wanting to seriously date? Because, per my mantra earlier, I was not trying to date. 

He told me his story, and it eerily mirrored mine. He and his partner of three years broke up that summer because of cheating. He was trying to get back in the game. He wasn’t looking for anything serious, but having a hard time navigating the app scene. He said a lot of girls said they felt like he wanted something serious because he was so nice, but that wasn’t the case. 

I, of course, felt instant relief and also that there was a storm destined for our future. 

We were in the same boat, hurray, but knowing the person I was and who I was actively trying so hard not to be, I was going to fall. Fucking hard.

And fucking hard I fell. 

We kissed that night. It was hands down one of the, if not the, best kiss of my life. I don’t know if it was the build-up at the time, my constant experience with men who suck at kissing, or my current raw emotions, but as of right now he can keep that title. 

The following night I ask him out to dinner and took him home. We hooked up and I was blown away. So of course, like any person who has been deprived of good sex for a long time, had him over for too many late nights during the work week. 

Were either of us getting quality sleep? No. Was it the most fun I had in a long time? Absolutely. 

Then all of a sudden we were spending a lot of time together. More than just late nights, more than just evening dates. We were sharing our work days and our work lives with one another. We’d sometimes get lunch together. He was taking me to events. I met his friends. He slept over 3-4 nights a week. We shared deep stuff going on in our lives.

That shit scared me. A lot. 

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I’d been a serial monogamous. Been in three three-year relationships. All so different from one another, but all-in-all, bad. None of them ended well. I was cheated on in every single one. 

The first one I was so god damn young that I can’t fault either of us at that time anymore. We’ve learned and grown and after probably more years than I’m proud of, I forgave him.

The second was a rebound from the first; it just happened to last three whole years. We were co-dependent in a way that was toxic for both of us, but we were just college kids who hadn’t ever been in truly healthy relationships before then. I don’t know if forgiveness is the right word in this one, but I’ve learned to let go of my baggage from it.

The third one...was a nightmare. It wasn’t at first and we had two beautiful years, but that last year was brutal. He lied to me. He cheated on me. He called me a cunt. He gaslit me. He harmed my growth when I became a more independent person...the list can go on. 

The point is, I hadn’t been lucky in love yet. I had a pattern of loving hard and not receiving that equal love back. Additionally, I hadn’t truly ever been my own person yet. Moving to Portland was my first big step into becoming my own person, and breaking up with ex #3 was my second. So unfolding myself to this new person, and potentially building a life with him in this city that I had built a life for myself, fucking terrified me. 

Because of all that, I was selfish. Selfish that was not in any way fair to him. I loved the way he made me feel, the way he treated me, the sex, etc., that I refused to address the relationship that was building between us. I didn’t want to lose what we had, but I was also too afraid to let him into a bigger part of my life and my plans. 

Where I was at in my process at that time was too focused on what if it doesn’t go according to plan? What if he breaks my heart? What happens when I get a job outside of Portland? 

I set that stage of what our relationship was because I wanted to control as much as I could of what was going to happen to me. I wanted to be as calculated as possible in order to not fall victim to my past mistakes. 

By the time I had decided to fully open up though, to be as vulnerable as he’d been with me, it was too late. 

Things had changed and I was too busy worrying about me to fully see that. 

I will take ownership of my selfishness in the situation. I will take ownership in my over communication but not the clearest communication. I will take ownership of the fact that I was not in the right place for something that could’ve been so beautiful. 

BUT - all that being said, there’s some ownership I wish he’d take. Like for letting me walk all over him like that. For not being more clear on his wants and needs. For not following through on his words and apologies. For not acknowledging that maybe he was just as not ready for this as I was. And lastly, for not letting me go when he should’ve. 

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For almost two whole months we played games. And I don’t play games. 

He gave me “what, do we go back to being strangers?” and “You’re such an important part of my life and I’m not ready to lose you.” 

At first, yes I said maybe we shouldn’t talk. A week later I changed my mind on that, and the second I did I let him know. After that, I tried to be as accommodating to his state of mind, his career, and his bandwidth. I was honestly fine because at that point I had accepted where he was and where I was, and I was willing to see what our next check-in would bring. 

When I was no longer fine was when that check-in came up and he blew me off. For the first time if felt like his actions and his words didn’t align, and that hurt. We were supposed to get coffee, and I stupidly was too excited for such a mundane hang out. It had been so long since I’d seen him, and at that point, I was just happy to hear about his life. To catch up. This person had been a part of my daily life for four months and then all of a sudden dropped off the face of the planet. 

When he never reached back out about coffee that day though, I felt such a change. This amazingly incredible person I had built up in my head - shattered. 

I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Give him a full day to respond. That night I did happen to go out with some friends I’d never really spent time with before. While I was out I ran into one of his friends, who seemed to know more about my relationship than I did at that moment. 

It felt like salt being poured on an open wound. 

The next day I confronted him via text, my least favorite platform. I expressed how upset I was with him, which was hard for me to do since this was my first time being truly angry / upset / disappointed in him. He sent me a very politically correct response but did offer to meet up that night to chat.

So we did. We drove around in his car for an hour because that’s about all the time he had. And I did appreciate every moment of that hour. 

He apologized in the way every person in a fight with someone they care about should apologize. He validated my feelings, told me I didn’t have to forgive him at that moment, took full ownership of the situation, and promised to do better.

The thing is though, he didn’t do better. a pattern formed before my eyes. 

After the conversation, I sent him a long text. All of me hated sending a text like that, but I knew I had thoughts I needed to get off my chest and there was no other way to do it given our circumstances. 

No response. Which I expected at that moment because I sent the message so late.

But then a day went by, and two days, and then a week, and then two weeks. 

Wow. 

How am I supposed to believe any of these sentiments - “what, do we go back to being strangers?” “You’re such an important part of my life and I’m not ready to lose you” - ring any truth when this is the way I keep being treated? 

So we come up on week two of no response, and I end up at an event put on by his work. My office sponsored a couple tables at the event, which I went on behalf of the office but also because I wanted to get the closure I felt I deserved at that point. 

I took a big risk praying that A: he’d want to talk to me, and B: offer me a ride home so that we can actually talk. My phone was dead, I hadn’t driven there, and all my coworkers left before the end of the event. 

A buzzed me took a giant sip of wine and walked over to his table at the end of the event boldly saying “are you gonna act like you didn’t see me tonight?” 

He flashed that god damn smile of his that gets me every time and gave me some runaround. I still don’t believe he didn’t see me. I digress.

I make the rounds I need to with him in order to get to my end goal, to actually having the sit-down conversation I needed. That was hard for me since the last time I did that with him we were  “together,” and I’m sure all of those people know no different. 

Shots were fired, jabs were made, but we made it that conversation I’d been desperately seeking. It wasn’t the conversation I wanted, but the one I needed. 

That shit hit cold; not only because it was the official ending of an era of my life, but also I felt I didn’t articulate myself the way I wish I had. Which I guess is why I’ve spent three hours in the middle of the night writing all this out. 

Afterthoughts of that night: 

I am done apologizing for my faults in the situation because I’ve done that more than deserved. 

I am tired of him using the excuse that he’s made it clear where he’s at mentally as a dismissal for his mishandling of me and my emotions in this situation. 

I don't know if we’ll ever see eye-to-eye on the above statement because of our communication styles and our defensive levels for ourselves.

I tried so hard to actively avoid getting hurt in this “situationship,” yet this just as painful and torturous as all my other serious breakups. 

I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry at but so concerned for someone at the same time. 

From a third-party viewpoint, it’s easy to objectively list out all the reasons this relationship would never work (there’s A LOT). Somehow those rationalizations don’t make this hurt any less, and that fucking sucks. 

I will never be able to listen to Miguel the same way. 

I do truly hope there is a point in our lives that we can be friends again. 

I’m done putting him on a pedestal, but he is the best person I’ve ever dated. I do genuinely hope the best for him because despite how fucked up this situation was/is, he’s a wonderful person at his core with his own demons to face. 

WHAT DID I LEARN THOUGH??

This has been hard to tap into, but I know it’s vital to think through in order to get over this situation. 

God’s timing is funny, but there’s a reason for everything. 

Do not use the apps unless you’re ready to pursue a relationship; they cause more emotional labor / drama than you want or need

That organic personality / sexual chemistry is essential. There’s a lot to work on in relationships, but that shouldn’t be one of them. 

You can’t start a relationship / situationship when you’re emotionally unavailable.

Work on the balance of being there for someone and being selfless to the point of self-sabotage. 

The date bar has been set - don’t settle for a man who can’t afford to treat you like you deserve to be treated (as a feminist I’m torn by this statement, but as a woman who loves to be romanced...whoops).

Continue to take your time with relationships. This one may have failed, but that wasn’t because of taking it slow. 

Being with someone who inherently understands your background and values in invaluable. 

The second you recognize a pattern, address it and move forward / get out. 

FINAL THOUGHTS

This was fucking rough. So fucking rough. 

I went through such a roller coaster of emotions today. For the first time in my life, I am the single friend of my core friend group. I’m also alone here in Portland and breaching a point where I’m about to outgrow my core friends in their life stages. 

Fuck, my baby girl is getting married soon. My brother is moving in with his girlfriend. And I’m over here wondering if the rest of my life is going to consist of a bad work/life balance, too much booze, bad dates, and worse sex? 

Also, if anything I’m so god damn afraid to open up to someone ever again. Because what if that person says their willing to wait because “I’m worth it” and then this happens, all over again. How many times do I have to go through this until I find the one?

Agh. Clearly, there’s still a lot to work through. And at least I’ve learned that despite this absolutely awful sex drought, the drought is better than giving a piece of yourself away to every shitty guy who wants to get in your pants on every dating app. 

Dating in Portland though? Slim pickings. Which make finding that spark with someone again feel almost like an impossible feat. 

Hopefully when I go to bed, this’ll all get a little easier. Day by day. Because time heals all wounds right? 

One of the worst expressions to an impatient person though. 

Alright, goodnight Internet. 

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P.S.

Who knows if I’ll ever be bold enough to send this to the man himself, but if I do, this is a raw emotional rendition of me and I hope you take that into consideration as you read it. 

Bye Rico, what we had was so special, but such a fucking mess. I’ll miss you quite terribly. 

[thats-so-sniffany]

There are several test we take throughout life, sometimes there is failure and sometimes there is success. But what happens when we pass a test and the last thing we feel like doing is celebrating? What if passing that test meant our lives change forever?

No, no, this was not how this was suppose to happen. The reality of the matter was not one that Kimberlina was ready to accept but her eyes could not look away. It was as if she was in a daze waiting to see her eyes were playing tricks on her. This was really happening. This absolutely changed everything. Kimber sat there on her couch in her loft in Vegas what felt like hours before realizing that it was no mistake, she was not delusional and she.... passed? Was that the name for it? She clearly did not fail. Hazel green hues peered down at her phone in her hand, pads of her fingers swiping across her screen as she did the pattern to unlock her phone. She had never been in this position before. Who did she call? Who did she tell?

First there was Juliet, her best friend, her soul friend, her life partner in everything. Juliet was the woman Kimberlina shared absolutely everything with. There was no secrets and she tended to be the person Kimber went to whether it was good or bad. They celebrated each other, they supported one another, they lifted each other up. There was a reason their bond was unlike any other friendship. Their love and loyalty to each other was one rare to find in this world between friends, maybe that was because they got being enemies out of the way as teens. From that point on they only grew together and never apart.

Then there was Lorenzo, dear Lorenzo. The man who made her butterflies flutter and tamed the wild of her heart while equally igniting it on fire. Even still... even still. Over the past year he had become someone she could tell anything to, he accepted her; the good, the bad and the bratty. Their relationship was heated, intense and to on lookers probably appeared toxic but that's because no one would ever understand the love the two of them shared. Not being together, now that was toxic. No matter what they were going through right, no matter how many miles apart they were or possibly not were; knowing him it would not surprise her if his ass was in Vegas too but he was her soulmate the person in life she wanted to share everything with. He had her back, he too much like Juliet celebrated her. Life had shown together they were unstoppable.

And there lied the problem. Telling Juliet or Lorenzo meant celebration. It meant they would be happy for her but she was unsure if she was happy for herself. Right now she felt like her entire life was up in the air and if she told anyone it would make all of this more real. She had not had time to fully process any of this and once she put this out there in the world it meant she could no longer question what sat before her eyes. Her mind was spinning a million miles a minute and as of right now she knew nothing other than she could tell no one. Not right now. Not ever...? No, no. Not ever, just not right now. Right now she needed to find her cool and stop hating herself for taking a pregnancy test. Whoever said ignorance was a bliss knew what they were talking about.

"How did this happen?" She bit her bottom lip nervously standing up from her white cushioned couch. Her eyes once again glancing at the words that red pregnant before beginning to pace back and forth in a manic state. "I mean I know how this happened, loads and loads of sex..." Her British accent laid heavy as she spoke to herself. It had a tendency to come out more when she was upset. "Amazing, incredible and leg quivering sex. Why in the bloody hell had God blessed that man with such an irresistible dick?" She groaned tossing her head back looking at the ceiling as she shook her fists in the air. "WHY?!" Truth was maybe she was not as shocked at the results but more shocked it had not happened sooner. She knew the risk, she knew the possibilities. It was not like they had exactly ever practiced safe sex. She has put all her faith in that stupid little pink pill. Kimberlina knew better. She was smarter than this. Her womb was not baby proof past experiences had showed her that. But she was not mum material. However, she knew Lorenzo thought differently which only validated her decision in not him immediately.

"I need a drink." The frantic vixen headed towards the kitchen without much thought grabbing a bottle of whiskey to calm her nerves. Her emotions were all over the place and she naturally did not have the most rash thoughts prior to being hormonal, now that impulsiveness was amplified. "A little of this will help me relax and I can think rationally about the fetus..." Shit! Fuck! Damn it! She could not drink, she was infected with life. She screamed in rage swiping the bottle off the counter. She had never learned coping mechanisms that did not involve alcohol or cocaine. Which made her come to another realization that at very minimum she had to be at least four weeks pregnant. Meaning all that partying in California while acting a fool and the extreme partying she had done in the short two days she had been back in Vegas there had been large amounts of alcohol and cocaine consumed. That only added to her already panic.

"This is why I never wanted one of you, children ruin lives." But was Kimber really that selfish? Did she really hate the idea of putting someone else's needs before her own? The fact she had not drunk even a sip of that alcohol now that she knew she was pregnant showed she was not as cold and cruel as she let people believe. Even if no one was watching, she displayed vulnerability, the ability to care. In that split second she had put her child first. But was it enough to make her a good mum?

To be continued...

[kantianbioethics]

Persona 5′s Critical Miss

There are critical moments in Persona 5. There are moments where it grasps, clutches, claws at becoming more than a a nice daydream in the sun, to become politically moving. No stranger to polemic, Persona 5 starts mad as hell and its rage stays constant even as it targets exponentially larger and larger evils in Japanese society. All the while, Atlus does everything in its power to make your vicarious vengeance upon them as slick and stylish as possible. Not only are you righteous, you are cool.

You're in shoot-outs with demons and executing their echo in the collective unconscious to serve own power, while at the same time your inbox is filled with messages of girls you should be so lucky to be with and your cat makes sure you get a good 8 hours of sleep every day throughout it all. Persona 5 is very much a power fantasy then, but it is a power fantasy meant for those most in need of power. It is a power fantasy for the young and disenfranchised,  most in need of the very idea that they could one day hold power, or already do. It's all incredibly exciting stuff, but even if it is after dozens of hours, the question does come:

Where is this all going?

Changing the hearts that have grown putrid and venomous for the good of all is incredibly satisfying and, in the palace heists the Phantom Thieves take on, almost undoubtedly just, but the thrill of it is just as much the product of its impossibility as its karmic delight. If we're not going to be fucking up the 1%'s mind palaces like some bottom-up psychic Batman, what can we mortal children do?

Questions about the Phantom Thieves' pursuit of justice continue to arise with talk of extra-judicial justice in the sixth palace. “Justice to those the law can't touch” becomes the motto of team-member Makoto and the Phantom Thieves by extension, but why is such justice necessary in the first place? Is it not because the systems we have in place have become corrupt and unjust? Are these tumors of society not the product of a cancerous societal immune system?

The palace owners blame society for putting the pressures on them that made them the way they are, spinning classic yarns of the exploited becoming the exploiter. As much as they are making excuses for their own awful behavior, they are still partly right to do so. Sae, for example, was shaped by the misogynistic, cutthroat environment of  her persecutor's office, Kaneshiro became ruthless to claw his way out of squalor, and even Madarame mentions the starving artists life he resents and many of us know too well as the source of distortion. Sae's image of the justice system as a fucking casino is an angry one, but in the context of Persona 5 it's a corruption of an otherwise just system by personal desire, rather than revealing an evil system for what it is and the palace owners its enforcers.

In the palace of Masayoshi Shido, the human mastermind of Persona 5, is some of the most scathing criticism Persona 5 has to offer. There,those that deserve to be saved (ie those he finds useful) can join him in a life of luxury while the rest of Japan drowns. His public persona as a man of the people is an unnecessary mask for his spiteful, cold-hearted, self. His true conduct is just a touch more honest and illegal than the leaders we are already blessed with. The more important fiction in his rise to power, is that it takes a genius conman for evil to take the reigns of power. Trump went in dick first, brain never, and he won our presidency. The reason for that, to be beyond brief, is that there were systems in place that allowed that to happen and people that had a vested interest in keeping those systems tipped in their favor, systems Persona 5 is afraid to do more than question.

In a surprising moment of clarity, Shido's confession of guilt for his many crimes is not enough to sway the fickle public of Persona 5's Japan. Having finally been confronted with, not just a bad person, but a person whose evil implicates everyone who voted for him and the very office he occupies, the public grasps for a more convenient truth and those vested interests I mentioned rush to make sure they find one. Shido was the biggest head, but he's still just one part of a hydra, and that vision of a life of luxury at the expense of everyone below is most certainly not one he held alone.

Here, in its final hours, Persona 5's Phantom Thieves finally, finally realize they have to change the structure of the world they live in. The structure they find is that of Mementos, the collective subway system of Tokyo's distortions, a non-manifestation of public ill will. Yet, although this structure and its ruler are both told to be the product of collective, human attitudes, there is no structural  output to match. Individuals go in to fuck about, they find a lonely room w/ a particularly ornery shadow to send back and exit again, one person changed. Now though, comes the idea to dismantle the structure all together, everyone's distortions undone at once.

Because, as insistent as Persona is on pointing out that people see the world differently, if in ways that might be equally valid, it does  imply that there is an objective or at least more pure truth to be reached for through these differing views. In this way the protagonists can come to understand their true selves in Persona 4 and the changing of hearts in 5 becomes less a Jungian overwrite by the phantom thieves than a long, hard look in the mirror they force on villains. This in turn allows the changing of lesser scoundrels in Mementos becomes morally permissible and the final confrontation between the phantom thieves and the collective consciousness of society to become a lot less authoritarian than it might feel in the moment. Instead of forcing a limited personal justice on the whole, the phantom thieves' aim is to wake Tokyo from its blind stupor. Persona 5 has the remarkable trust that pursuing the justice of its heroes, the disenfranchised, will lead the way to true justice.

What the phantom thieves hope to undo before Persona reveals its traditional antagonist from outside human form is national apathy, that cool malice that would rather see us drown than itself inconvenienced. If that were the final boss that would still be pretty cool. What is great about the persona series is that all its supernatural evils come from and are us, in the collective sense. This allows it the vocabulary to make nebulous concepts very concrete on one hand and the big scary figures cleverly polysemic at the same time: you're not just fighting a big moon monster, you're fighting depression and death and this dude you like quite a bit. I am not saying the series takes advantage of this as much as it could, but there is always at least the groundwork for some truly effective writing.

Long story shorter: the great cosmic evil behind the scenes at the end of every Persona game is kind of fucking great this time. First taking the shape of the holy grail, then the demiurge jaldaboth, a figure from gnostic Christianity that is said to have created this world as an artificial prison to take us from the true God and world. They show tyranny in its deceit, granting the wishes of the masses, and its truth as their jailor. They are a triumph of order, structure, power over the lives of the underprivileged, held up by the wishes of the masses trampling over their own freedom. They are the few goading the apathy of the many.

The grail fucks up the phantom thieves and pushes its vision for the world onto reality. As I said though, there is a truth in Persona 5, one the phantom thieves can see and the populace not yet. When the holy grail intrudes upon reality it is revealing the pure pursuit of order to be a hellscape, not just imposing its own image of order upon the world. In the climax of the final fight, the people of the world finally see their prison for the what it is and quite naturally decide to side with the party that doesn't look like an art deco kaiju. Yet, because the populace has been so fickle in the past, it plays more like a convenient set-up for a satanic spirit bomb than them finally rejecting the horrors of the system in which they live.

Said spirit bomb takes the form of a bullet with which you shoot the ancient definition of structural injustice and also sometimes, God, in the face. This is fucking awesome, but does not give us a real target or a real answer for our tribulations. What's missing is a tie to real world structures to the subconscious substrate of Mementos. Jaldaboth could be a representation of what order pursued over humanity leads to in the abstract sense, but also a more concrete symbol of that drive as responsible for the real evils of this world. Then it becomes a switch, not from real villains to fantasy, but from individual to structural evil, no longer hidden behind its impersonality thanks to the magic of metaphor. Otherwise, Jaldaboth becomes just another manipulator outside the system, the way the previous villains it now has no link to are coded. If our prison is the panopticon is the state, then that is something  we can struggle against; if our jail is the magical representation of our subconscious, then a bullet to the face of God remains as impossible a solution as it is a satisfying one.

To come out and say, “the institutions meant to help us live our lives are fucked up and we can do something about them” is a ballsy thing to say for a game as high-profile as Persona 5 is, but so much of Persona 5 already is that ballsy. Our heroes are already called the Phantom Thieves; there is already an implicit acknowledgment that illegal activity can be just. It is dishonest, intended or not, not to take that step.

It is especially frustrating, because the game seems to realize the emptiness of its climactic victory. In its denouement, it starts to prop up a real solution that does not rely on magical alter-egos. When the protagonist is jailed as a fall guy at the end of the game, the force of his charisma inspires your confidants into nothing less than social activism: gathering testimonies, searching for evidence, doing everything they can to overturn the ruling of an unjust system. The confidants that grant you metaphorical superpowers in the Palaces give you real leverage in this world. Persona 5 finally makes real the importance of your fellow man, not just to yourself, but to the world. The very act of being together lays the foundation for a force which can change the world for all of our good. We rally together, put pressure on our representatives, diminish their necessity where we can, shout the injustices from the rooftops, and dismantle the structures keeping misery in place.

The final insistence that one should live “free”, in context, should not be some naive assurance that the systems in which we live our lives do not affect us, but a promise to the youth that they can be undermined, fought against, changed.

If I have done my job in this article, I have made the need for it seem very vague. After all, all the bits and pieces for Persona 5 to be successful in the thing I am asking from it are in the game and written about as such. What I am missing though, is that lynchpin or at least for that lynchpin to be clear in the language the game uses. Persona 5 is not a subtle game and in becoming subtle to the point of muddling its message for the very thing tying them bits and bolts together is a disservice to what could have been a hugely impactful message on a huge audience.

It still looks cool as hell though.

#persona #persona 5 #p5 #video games #analysis

[5hfanfiction]

Family

Lauren’s POV

30 days. That’s how long I had to decide whether or not I wanted to remain married to my wife of 13 years.

She filed for divorce only 3 weeks ago. The trials had gone smoothly and all, we’d split everything. I’d take the house we have in Toronto, considering her job was most likely going to move her somewhere else, permanently.

The kids were going with me. All 6 of them would stay in Toronto at their same schools, in their same neighbourhood. Neither of us could bare to see our children struggle with starting over in a new city. It took a lot of convincing but my wife knew it’d be best they stay in their hometown.

She’d stay with us on weekends, all holidays, and any off-time her job let her have, provided she called me first to double check we’d be available.

I keep telling myself that I should be happy. My wife was getting what she wanted, to be free and off to make music and be a singer and go on tours. The moment I finished my vows, and put that ring on her finger, a promise had been made, to make sure she was always happy. However, every single fibre in my body knew that things would never be the same again, and that scared the shit out of me.

Usually, a couple would get a divorce when they realize they’re no longer in love with each other, but this was definitely not the case. I had no fucking say in my wife leaving me to pursue her career. We’ve never fought, neither of us ever cheated, neither of us are abusive, from what I’ve collected over the past years, we were the perfect couple, yet here I am, still scratching my head to find out why my wife has decided I am no longer what she needs.

“Are you coming to Luke’s play tonight?” my eldest daughter of thirteen years, Cameron, asked me, as she peeped her head through my bedroom door.

I totally forgot. Luke has his play tonight. He’d been practicing for his school’s production of The Little Mermaid ever since he saw the poster up in the hallways. Tonight, I had originally planned to stay at home, lock myself up in my bedroom and cry until I finally understood Camila’s reasoning for leaving me.

“It completely slipped my mind, what time does it start?”

“6pm, but Mama and I are heading off a bit earlier, to grab Luke some food, and calm him down before the show.”

“Oh, are you taking any of your siblings with you?”

“Actually,” she dragged out uncomfortably, “Mama was hoping you could take all of them, she said she wanted us to have some private time to talk about the divorce.”

My poor girl. Cameron’s been with us through everything. On the days Camila and I had university classes at the same time, and it was too short notice to drop her off at a babysitter or daycare, we took the then toddler to our lectures. She had lived with us for four years in our cramped, off campus apartment. When we decided to get married, the priest carried her while the ceremony took place. She’s our babygirl, no matter how old she gets.

“God, come here,” I whispered, pulling her into a tight embrace. “I know you don’t understand what’s happening or why it’s happening, and if I’m being honest, I don’t either. All I know is it doesn’t matter if your mama is off in Rome to produce an album or in London to write a song, I’m always going to be here for you. It’s always going to be me and you, you and me, always. Please don’t be too harsh on your mom tonight okay?”

“How can I not be harsh? She’s abandoning us!” she wailed.

“Camz, I get it, you have every fucking right to be mad, but just try,” I tried to calm her but I knew she was long gone.

There was a quick knock on the door, before my soon to be ex-wife stuck her face in.

“Since when was swearing in front of our children condoned? Ren are you ready to go? I want to be at least 30 minutes early.”

“Sure, let’s go, but please, stop calling me Ren!”

I understand how it’s easy to think it’s always been like this. As if it’s great that Camila’s leaving, since the kids clearly favoured me over her, you know, as if maybe Camila was some kind of step-mom that none of the kids could care less for. That was miles away from the truth.

The Jauregui-Cabello’s have always been a tight knit family. We had dinner together every single night, and all of us could talk to any of us about anything. We were just perfect. We were a family filled with love.

Camila read all the three younger ones a story every night, and she taught the three older ones how to play guitar and piano, how to skate, how to make great sandwiches. Camila and I played equal parts in our kids lives, which was the main reason the divorce was a surprise. I mean, is chasing a career that’d only last a couple years (considering Camila’s 31) a valid reason for leaving your wife and 6 kids?

Your wife and 6 fucking kids?

Originally, when we sat down and discussed the divorce, I told myself I’d stay calm, for the kids of course, but I’m no longer calm, I’m fucking pissed.

Soon, my anger had dissipated to sadness, followed by desperation. How in the world will I raise 6 kids without my Camz?

***

Cameron’s POV

“Now we can walk, now we can run, now we can stay all day in the sun. Just you and me, and I can be, part of your world.”

Amazing. The crowd was on their feet once the choir finished Part of Your World, the final song in their production. My Mama handed me a few roses to toss on stage, one of which purposely hit Luke in the stomach, followed by me screaming “That’s my little brother! Love you Lukey!”

Once the crowd settled, my family and I strolled into the foyer, talking with other kids parents as we waited for our little actors to come out from backstage.

The moment I saw the dark brown curls peeking out from the door leading to the behind the scenes action, I rushed over, encompassing my little brother in my trademark ‘I can’t breathe’ hug.

“You were the best Eric I’ve ever seen! And that fake kiss with you and Anna was perfect!”

“Thanks Cam, do you think Mom liked it?” he smiled cheekily.

“Of course she did!”

“But did, well- did Mama like it?”

My heart dropped.

The kid was so deep in denial with the divorce. I couldn’t blame him though, the only person who could see the divorce coming was Camila. That bitch. Three weeks ago, Camila was my mother and I loved her, I confided in her, I trusted her, and she turns around and leaves our family like this. God, I was so glad Mom had custody.

“Baby, you were amazing!” Speak of the devil. She smiled. It looked real, but at this point I really couldn’t decipher true from false.

“Lulu I am so proud of you, you worked so hard and the production was incredible. Maybe you’ll get me a ticket for your Broadway show someday?” That right there was how I determined who was the better parent. Luke’s eyes lit up at how my mom used his nickname, the proud and hard work card, and his love for theatre all in one.

I found myself trying to remember when Mama could do that, because I knew there were multiple times that she could make us happy using only her words. But her words lately haven’t necessarily put grins on our faces.

***

Luke’s POV

All you could hear were knives scraping against the roast beef or the plates. Occasionally, someone would take a sip of water, then, all you could hear were their gulps. Mama tried to strike up conversation with my younger siblings.

“So, CJ how was kindergarten today?”

“I made cookies with my class, and then hit a little boy for telling me it was yucky to have two moms, then I told him that soon I’d only have one.” the second youngest concluded, digging her face back into her dinner as if it were just another day.

“Okay, we’ll talk about that later, how about you LJ? Is grade two treating you well?”

“Well, we’re doing our butterflies unit right now and I saw one of the girls in my class step on the monarch butterfly we had in our little zoo. She gave me her mars bar so I wouldn’t tell.”

“Wow, alright, where did the mars bar go?” Mama asked, giggling a bit when Lauren Jr. rubbed her stomach and licked her lips.

“How about you Carter?”

He gave Mama a really, really, hard death glare before ignoring her completely. She tried again, but Carter just did the same thing, before picking up his dishes and washing them in the sink, not even bothering to excuse himself before giving Mom a kiss on the cheek and wishing us a goodnight, rushing up the stairs to his room.

“Carter!” Mama called, preparing to chase after him.

“Leave him alone Camila,”

“Excuse me? Cameron you cannot just start calling me by-”

“Don’t you see? None of us are happy anymore! You decided that being free and writing music was more important than your wife and kids! You’re disgusting and you’re tearing our family apart! Aren’t you guys sad?” Cam continued, gesturing to my siblings and I. We all slowly nodded our heads before Mom sent us up to our rooms. I stayed by the stairs, hoping to catch some of the inevitable argument.

***

“Cameron Ally Jauregui-Cabello! What on earth was that?”

“The fucking truth. I’ve been trying to protect them from the divorce but at the end of the day, you chose music over us and that hurts. It hurts all of us.”

“Lauren? Do you have anything to say?”

“Thank you, Camz, I wish I had an older sister like you when I was Luke’s age. Go to bed baby, you’ve got soccer practice tomorrow morning. I love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

I heard Cam’s footsteps approaching but before I could stand up to run to my room, she had already caught me, and intertwined our hands, leading me upstairs.

“Wanna sleep with me tonight bud?”

I nodded, before turning my attention to Carter’s bedroom opening, to ask if he could join us, which we obviously accepted, followed by LJ peeping out her head from her bedroom, asking the same thing.

We all crawled into Cam’s huge bed, and she sang to us a bit until we drifted off.

Give me reasons to believe, that you would do the same for me, and I would do it for you, baby I’m not moving on, I’ll love you long after you’re gone. For you, for you, you will never sleep alone, I’ll love you long after you’re gone, and long after you’re gone, gone, gone.

AN// ciao amigos. so i wrote this first chapter a reaaaallllyyyy long time ago (june) and decided to make it a series because i wanted to get back into writing. rereading the chapters i made back then, i realized how eerily similar the divorce situation is to camila leaving. so basically i’m a psychic who can unknowingly tell the future (camila leaving for music, the family/5H asking her to stay, camila being selfish and snakey, etc.) as we venture through this fictional journey, i just want to clear this up: i do not like camila. she’s a selfish human who is really good at playing the victim and making people feel bad for her, when in reality, she just used 5H to boost her career. i understand the whole “she was unhappy in 5H blah blah blah” she should’ve just said that, rather than making her team create multiple narratives to make her seem like the good guy. wattpad link: http://my.w.tt/UiNb/i8mmphRXAz -z

#UPDATE #series #AU #slash #camren #angst drama #family #submission