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heartofether · 3 years

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Episode 13 - Dog with a Bone TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts, or go to our “Listen” page if you’re on desktop.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

[INCREASINGLY SLOWLY] Please state your message.

[THEME SONG PLAYS.]

VAL

Three-eyed Frog Presents: The Heart of Ether.

[THEME SONG FADES TO A STOP.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[INT. AGENTS MAY AND JUNES’ COMPANY VEHICLE, DRIVING INTO DAUGHTLER, WASHINGTON, MIDDAY.]

[THE TWO ARE HEARD DRIVING THROUGH THE TOWN.]

AGENT MAY

This is the audio log of Operation Saturn, phase 1.2. Investigation taking place in Daughtler, Washington, 2019. Set to last for two months minimum. This is day one. Conducted by Agents May and June. All recordings are legal property of the Harper Foundation. Any unauthorized access to these recordings will result in—

AGENT JUNE

[OVERLAPPING] Does Daughtler know no God? That church is crumbling like a communion wafer!

AGENT MAY

Agent June.

AGENT JUNE

I’m just saying! You’d think for a place of worship, they’d take better care of it. Basic maintenance, maybe a new paint job.

AGENT MAY

Well, I guess the people of Daughtler aren’t particularly religious.

AGENT JUNE

Oh, not that I care. I’m an atheist. Raised in a Catholic household, which went about as well as—

AGENT MAY

Look, in the future, could you please avoid speaking over me when we’re recording important information?

AGENT JUNE

What important information? We just got here.

AGENT MAY

Well, if we’re going to be constantly on the record, I would like to maintain some level of professionalism.

AGENT JUNE

Ahh. Hate to break it to you, bud, but if you expect me to shut up for this whole mission, I think you will be greatly disappointed. I am, you see, constantly burdened by great ideas—trust me, it’s exhausting.

AGENT MAY

[SARCASTIC] I’m sure it is.

AGENT JUNE

[AFTER A BRIEF PAUSE, HE SNORTS A LAUGH.] DVD rentals? Dude, who’s renting DVDs in the digital era of pirating—I mean, uh, legally buying and streaming everything online?

AGENT MAY

[DEADPAN] Nice catch.

AGENT JUNE

Anyways, where are we heading first? I’m guessing the motel?

AGENT MAY

Actually, we’re going to make a quick detour. Stop somewhere for a quick interview.

AGENT JUNE

[HE GROANS.] Seriously, dude? We have so much time to do that kind of stuff. Can’t we just, you know, relax for our first day? Settle into Weird Town, USA?

AGENT MAY

I’d like to start this mission off on a good foot. It would be valuable to meet some of the residents, see what they’re like. Besides, this particular individual is important enough that by establishing a relationship early on, it may be beneficial in the long run.

AGENT JUNE

Ugh, fine. Who is our person of the hour, then?

AGENT MAY

Actually, it’s less about the person and more about where they’re living.

[A BEAT.]

AGENT JUNE

Yeah, dude. Obviously. They’re living in Daughtler, Washington. You know, the place we’re investigating?

AGENT MAY

[OVERLAPPING] I mean their house.

Agent June, please, please tell me you know who Bernard Kelly Valencia is.

AGENT JUNE

Obviously, dude! That’s like asking a chemistry student if they know what an electron is. [THEN, UNDER HIS BREATH] Actually, I failed chemistry, so maybe that isn’t the best analogy.

But yeah. Bernard Kelly Valencia. Super weird dude that the entire town was kinda freaked by. Supposedly was well-known among the Ether community for his vast range of research conducted with Dorothy Wood. Nobody actually knows where all that work went after he and Dorothy died, though.

AGENT MAY

Actually, it’s possible some of it was left behind in his own house.

AGENT JUNE

Wait, seriously? Didn’t all of his belongings go to his son afterwards?

AGENT MAY

According to the original house plans, there’s an attic. His son, after leaving the house once and for all, never mentioned there being anything in the attic. This could mean it was just empty, but that fact would have to have been noted at some point. His son was thorough in his complaints about clearing his father’s house, from what we could find. It’s possible nobody ever even bothered to look up there.

AGENT JUNE

So you think he had something in his attic that just never got found?

AGENT MAY

That’s what the Foundation believes.

AGENT JUNE

Alrighty, then. That’s not too bad. We just break into a dead guy’s house and pillage through his attic. I mean, how hard can that be?

AGENT MAY

It’s not that simple. There’s a new tenant living there.

AGENT JUNE

Ahh, I see. Do you think they know?

AGENT MAY

Perhaps. There was a recent missing person report linked to the house—an inspector who the landlord sent out to investigate a supposed mold problem.

AGENT JUNE

Classic.

AGENT MAY

Which leads us to believe that the new tenant is at least familiar with Ether—assuming the mold problem was of supernatural origin, which is probable due to the house’s location and the report filed by the landlord describing the mold: yellow, with an odd scent.

AGENT JUNE

So, what’s our plan? Are we just going to go and ask to search the house?

AGENT MAY

Unfortunately, the Foundation couldn’t acquire a formal search warrant. We’ll have to convince the new tenant to let us in of their own free will.

AGENT JUNE

Who is this person, anyways?

AGENT MAY

Her name is Irene Gray. She’s twenty-one years old. Works as forestry aid.

AGENT JUNE

Do we know anything else about her?

AGENT MAY

Let’s just say the mold inspector isn’t the only missing persons case she’s connected to. Four years ago, an 18-year-old girl named Rosemary Quinn went missing. Officials think it’s likely she ran away. Irene Gray was Rosemary’s girlfriend. The police’s interview with Irene states that the two of them had planned on running away together not long after the date Rosemary had gone missing.

AGENT JUNE

Way to rat your girlfriend out like that.

AGENT MAY

She could have been desperate for any sort of lead, even if that meant getting herself and Rosemary in trouble. And she did get in trouble, I believe, though not with the law, per say. Irene couldn’t have known where Rosemary had gone, though. She was so emotionally devastated after the event, there was little chance she was faking it or lying to cover for Rosemary. She actually started therapy not long after.

AGENT JUNE

So, why does it matter? Did they ever find Rosemary?

AGENT MAY

Unfortunately, no. The official record states that the last place she was potentially seen was a local animal shelter, where she dropped off her cat, whose name she said was Sage. This, however, does not sync up with reports from her family claiming the cat’s name was Sir Griffin the Third, which led to some uncertainty. They had a difficult time tracking her after that, though. All they had to go off of was one potential gas station siting, but all that resulted in was another dead end.

AGENT JUNE

Uh, you still haven’t explained why any of this matters.

AGENT MAY

[FRUSTRATED] Could you just be patient for one— [HE HUFFS A SIGH.]

Look, it’s important because it’s unlikely Irene Gray will let us explore her house if we just ask nicely.

AGENT JUNE

So, we have to use bait?

AGENT MAY

It could be a mutually beneficial relationship, is what I’m saying. We both have something the other wants.

AGENT JUNE

Wait, does the Foundation, like, know what happened to that girl?

AGENT MAY

Not quite, but, potentially. I’ll show you what we have once we stop the car.

AGENT JUNE

Great! This should be interesting.

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] I’m sure it will be.

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[INT. IRENE GRAY’S HOUSE, MIDDAY.]

[IRENE IS ON A PHONE CALL WITH ADEN. ON HIS END OF THE LINE, THERE IS THE LOOPING SOUND OF A BROKEN FAX MACHINE ATTEMPTING, BUT FAILING, TO PROCESS PAPER.]

IRENE

It’s a fax machine. How do you not know how to use a fax machine? I’ve literally watched you do it before.

ADEN

Well, I thought I knew! And I mean, come on, how come you get to judge me when you can’t even use your phone properly?

IRENE

Oh, my god—Aden, it’s my day off. Can’t you just look it up?

ADEN

I don’t know how to describe the problem in a way a search engine will understand. It’s too—you know—specific.

IRENE

Ask someone there, then. Carol and Julia probably know better than I do.

ADEN

Julia’s sick, and Carol’s on some important phone call. Look, I just—if we have to replace this thing and it’s my fault, I’m going to freak out—

IRENE

Okay, wait until Carol gets off the phone and then—

ADEN

[WORRIED] What if it sets on fire or something?

IRENE

[FRUSTRATED] It won’t! It’s probably just jammed.

ADEN

But what if it does?

IRENE

[SNAPPING] Jeez, dude, just go find the manual! Why are you calling me?

ADEN

[PANICKED, STUTTERING] Because I’m panicking, alright? Look, ever, ever since the mold incident, I’ve been so scared constantly of everything. Every tiny thing that happens feels like it’s the end of the world, especially because that dude’s van went missing and it’s like you guys are just constantly waiting for the police to just show up at your door—

IRENE

[HER TONE SOFTENS, GROWING SYMPATHETIC] Oh, Aden—

ADEN

[CONT.] —and you and Carol almost died, and I did nothing. Okay? I sat in my office and talked to the knitted cat on my desk while I had a panic attack and did nothing.

I just want to find some way to, to do good, to fix something, but instead I think I ruined the fax machine and now I’m just failing you and Carol, again.

IRENE

[CHOOSING HER WORDS CAREFULLY] Hey. Look, I—I’m sorry I snapped. It’s not…it’s not that big of a deal.

ADEN

[COMING DOWN, GUILTILY] No, no, you’re right. I shouldn’t have called you on your day off.

IRENE

It’s fine. Seriously, don’t worry about it. Do you need me to go down there and look at it?

ADEN

No, don’t. I’m kinda starting to calm down, and I think if I can’t find the manual, I’ll just wait until Carol gets off the phone.

IRENE

That’s a good idea.

[A BEAT.] Um, if you need a distraction or anything, we can still talk for a bit. I know how anxiety can be.

ADEN

[SINCERE] That means a lot, Irene. Thank you.

IRENE

Of course.

Is there anything in particular you want to talk about?

ADEN

[A BEAT, THEN, HESITANT] I actually have a question. I’ve been thinking about it for a bit, but if it’s too personal, you don’t have to answer.

IRENE

I mean, I think you’ve already seen me at some pretty low points, so…

ADEN

[HE CHUCKLES.] Alright.

[CAREFULLY] You said you had a girlfriend who went missing.

IRENE

[A BEAT.] Yup.

ADEN

What was her name?

IRENE

[A HESITANT BEAT.] Rose. Er, you may have seen the name Rosemary Quinn at some point, but it was years ago.

ADEN

Yeah, I don’t remember. Sorry.

IRENE

It’s fine.

ADEN

What happened to her?

[THERE’S A PAUSE.]

IRENE

[GRIM] We never found out.

For a long time, I’ve thought that she just decided she was sick of her life as it was. Ran away to start a new one without telling anyone where she went. It would have made sense—she had planned on doing it for a while. Even took cash from her savings out in chunks so nobody would be able to track her card when she did. Her mother simply wrote this off as poorly thought-out impulse purchases.

We had planned our entire future together, though, and for her to just throw it out didn’t make sense, it—well… [SHE TRAILS OFF.]

ADEN

I’m sorry.

IRENE

I thought it was her mom at first, though. Grace Quinn. [SHE SAYS THE NAME WITH VENOM.]

They investigated Grace for domestic abuse. Believed Rose ran away to escape a dangerous situation. Upon Rose not answering her bedroom door, Grace, well…broke it down. Rose had locked it before she went out the window, and her mother just—decimated the doorknob to get in. At least, that’s what the police report says.

ADEN

Jeez.

IRENE

Without the child there, however, it was difficult to prove any abuse. I had some texts. Her aunts had a couple of anecdotes. That was all, though. Grace refused to admit to anything, of course.

ADEN

[HESITANT] Was there? Um, was there abuse?

IRENE

[A BEAT.] Yeah.

ADEN

I’m so sorry.

IRENE

It was rarely ever physical, but it definitely happened.

ADEN

I mean, if Rose was trying to escape something, I hope she was safe in the end.

IRENE

[PAUSE, THEN, SOFTLY, ALMOST SAD] I do, too.

[A BEAT.] That wasn’t all, though. Grace acted really strange afterwards. When police asked what had happened the night before, she said she couldn’t remember. Seriously, she didn’t have any concrete details. She said she had just woken up that morning and Rose was gone, but her story kept changing in little ways. It was disorienting.

She seemed…paranoid. Jumpy. Confused, even. Angry, but her anger wasn’t directed anywhere. I might have felt bad for her if just the thought of her hadn’t made my blood boil. I mean, I imagine your daughter going missing has gotta have some sort of effect on you, even if you’re not on good terms with her.

Grace wasn’t entirely there, though. Looking back, it’s a lot more clear. I…know some things, I didn’t know back then. I just, I wonder what was really wrong with her. I haven’t talked to her in years. Certainly not about to start now.

ADEN

I mean, I kinda sympathize with her, but also, she doesn’t sound like a great person.

IRENE

Oh no, she’s horrible. I know I should feel some remorse for all the awful things I’ve said about her, but I don’t. Not really.

When Rose first went missing, I became blinded by rage. I screamed at Grace when I saw her. Cursed in her face. Said it was all her fault, because I was—well, I was scared, and I had no other explanation. My dad had to drag me away before I attacked her.

ADEN

Jeez, Irene.

IRENE

I’m obviously better about my anger management now. Therapy at least did that for me.

ADEN

I mean, I get it. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you.

IRENE

Yeah. Um, yeah. [IT SOUNDS LIKE THERE’S SOMETHING ELSE SHE WANTS TO SAY.]

Thanks, Aden.

ADEN

Of course. If you…I mean, I know it’s been a while, but you can always talk to me about it. I’ve said that before, but, y’know.

IRENE

I appreciate it.

[A PAUSE.]

ADEN

I think Carol’s call ended.

IRENE

[TEASING] And did the fax machine catch on fire?

ADEN

[HE LAUGHS.] No. No, it did not.

[IRENE LAUGHS. ANOTHER PAUSE.]

IRENE

[MORE SERIOUS] Aden?

ADEN

Yeah?

IRENE

I’m…I’m working on something. It’s a personal project.

ADEN

[CAUGHT OFF GUARD] Oh. Okay.

IRENE

I don’t think I can tell you what it’s about, but…just so you know. I mean, I trust you, so.

ADEN

That’s—um, that’s fine. Uh, let me know if I can help at all?

IRENE

Sure. I’ll talk to you later.

[AS THEY SPEAK, THERE’S APPROACHING FOOTSTEPS ON ADEN’S END OF THE LINE.]

ADEN

You, too. Thank you again for talking.

IRENE

Not a problem. Bye.

ADEN

Talk to you soon!

CAROL

[IN THE DISTANCE] What did you do to the damn—?

[PHONE BEEP AS ADEN HANGS UP. IRENE SIGHS.]

IRENE

[CONFUSED] Oh, uh. Didn’t realize my phone was recording. [MUTTERS] When did that start? Guess I turned it on at some point.

[A BEAT.] Well, Rose. I’m talking to you now. Not just some figment of you in my head, but, you.

I know you’re going to hear these. I don’t know when, but you will. Of course you will.

[A BEAT.] Only problem is, I’m kind of at a dead end. My only lead so far is a mysterious recording that popped up on my laptop with no explanation. I have no idea how any of those files got there. Do I just have to wait until whatever weird force that gives them to me decides to throw one my way?

It’s like gambling at that point. I don’t know when I’ll get something or if what I find will be helpful or not. I mean, hell, I could get a new file on my computer and it’ll just be some voicemail I sent you sophomore year about baking brownies. Who knows what I’ll find or when I’ll find it?

I have to figure out something more reliable. Maybe figure out where the recordings are coming from, and if I can use whatever it is to my advantage. Or, I don’t know, Phoebe is coming over at some point to look in my attic. Maybe I should just—

[THERE’S A KNOCK AT THE FRONT DOOR.]

IRENE

…huh. Wasn’t expecting anyone.

[IRENE IS HEARD GETTING UP AND WALKING TOWARDS THE DOOR. AS SHE APPROACHES, THE AGENT'S MUFFLED ARGUING IS HEARD, GROWING LOUDER AS SHE GROWS NEAR.]

AGENT JUNE

[MUFFLED] I'm just saying, it could be pretty cool, you know? I'm all like, "Ooh, ahh, no, tell us what we wanna know, and you're like—"

AGENT MAY

[MUFFLED, OVERLAPPING ] June, you're too impressionable by all of these movies that you watch.

[IRENE OPENS THE DOOR, BUT THEY CONTINUE AS IF SHE ISN'T THERE.]

AGENT JUNE

[CONT.] No, no, listen. It could be great, it could be great! We could like, stand back to back, and like, ooh, finger guns—

AGENT MAY

No, I'm not doing finger guns!

IRENE

[OVERLAPPING] Um, can I help you?

AGENT JUNE

[TO AGENT MAY] Okay, but just try it—

AGENT MAY

[HARSHLY CUTTING HIM OFF.] Yes, actually. Is this the residence of Irene Gray?

IRENE

[SKEPTICAL] Who’s asking?

[AGENT MAY IS HEARD FLASHING HIS BADGE.]

AGENT MAY

We’re Agents May and June of The Harper Foundation. We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.

IRENE

The hell is that?

AGENT JUNE

Ah, see, that’s the point: you’re not supposed to know. [A BEAT.] I mean, well, we do leave kind of cryptic ads in the local paper sometimes, but, still.

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] Agent June.

AGENT JUNE

What? I don’t choose to put those weird ads there!

IRENE

[UNIMPRESSED] …so, what, you’re secret agents?

AGENT MAY

If you’d like to call us that. May we come in?

IRENE

Why?

AGENT MAY

We just need to ask you about a few things. I promise it won’t be long.

IRENE

…are you going to, what, search my house?

AGENT JUNE

You got something to hide?

IRENE

[DEFENSIVE] No! I’m sorry that I value my privacy.

AGENT MAY

We’re not searching your house right now. This will be much easier for all of us if you comply, Ms. Gray.

IRENE

[SHE THINKS FOR A MOMENT, THEN, DISGRUNTLED] Fine.

AGENT MAY

Thank you.

[IRENE IS HEARD LEADING THE AGENTS INTO HER HOUSE, CLOSING THE DOOR BEHIND THEM. THEIR FOOTSTEPS ARE HEARD AS THEY ENTER.]

AGENT JUNE

It’s a nice place you got here. Oh, wow, did you paint that yourself?

IRENE

It was a gift.

AGENT JUNE

Ah, gotcha, gotcha.

[THERE’S A PAUSE AS THEY STOP WALKING.]

IRENE

Well? Take a seat. Be my guest.

[AGENTS MAY AND JUNE ARE HEARD SITTING AT THE TABLE. THERE ARE TWO LOUD THUNKING NOISES, AS IF SOMEONE IS HITTING THE TABLE.]

AGENT MAY

Agent June, take your feet off the table.

AGENT JUNE

Sorry, sorry.

[SHUFFLING NOISES AS AGENT JUNE MOVES HIS FEET.]

IRENE

Can I get you both anything to drink?

AGENT JUNE

There are your manners!

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] You’re one to talk.

AGENT JUNE

Whatcha got?

IRENE

Um, water? I could make coffee? I also have lemonade in the fridge, but that’s for emergencies.

[A PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

I think I’m in the mood for an emergency lemonade. You, Agent May?

AGENT MAY

I’m fine, thanks.

[AS THEY CONTINUE THE CONVERSATION, IRENE IS HEARD GRABBING THE LEMONADE OUT OF THE FRIDGE, TAKING A GLASS FROM THE CUPBOARD, AND POURING JUNE'S DRINK.]

AGENT MAY

How long have you lived here, Ms. Gray?

IRENE

Not long. I moved here for work.

AGENT MAY

And what do you do?

IRENE

[HASTILY] I’m an engineer.

AGENT JUNE

Mm! Enjoying the area so far?

IRENE

It’s nice. The people are friendly.

[SHE SETS AGENT JUNE’S LEMONADE DOWN ON THE TABLE.]

AGENT JUNE

Much obliged.

[HE TAKES A DRINK LOUDLY. IRENE SITS DOWN ACROSS FROM THE TWO OF THEM.]

IRENE

…well? You said you had questions.

AGENT MAY

We’re here to ask you about a missing person.

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

IRENE

Which one?

AGENT MAY

Which one are you thinking of?

IRENE

[SHE PAUSES.] Are you talking about Rosemary Quinn?

AGENT MAY

[A TENTATIVE PAUSE.] You and Rosemary were close, correct?

IRENE

Why do you care?

AGENT MAY

I’m asking a question. An answer would be nice.

IRENE

[HESITANT] I knew Rose, yeah.

AGENT MAY

When was the last time you saw her?

IRENE

Um, it was two days before her disappearance, I believe?

Look, this should all be on her file. I don’t see the need to recount this all to you unless they’ve opened the case again. Hell, you’re not even cops, are you?

AGENT JUNE

Oh, don’t be that way, Irene. I know this case isn’t as recent as the other one you’re involved with, but you should be able to remember, right?

IRENE

The—

[THERE'S A LOW, EERIE INSTRUMENTAL AS IRENE'S BLOOD RUNS COLD.]

IRENE

[BLUFFING] What other case?

[AGENT MAY SLIDES A PIECE OF PAPER ACROSS THE TABLE.]

AGENT MAY

You were the last person to see this man, correct?

IRENE

I, um, I don’t know him, no.

AGENT JUNE

You’re not as good at lying as you think you are, you know.

[HE'S HEARD FLIPPING OVER A PIECE OF PAPER TO EXAMINE IT.]

AGENT JUNE

[CONT.] I mean, why lie to us about your job, anyways? There’s no shame in being a forestry aid. I’m sure it’s a lovely profession.

IRENE

Who the hell are you people?

AGENT MAY

Relax, Irene. The Harper Foundation has already taken care of his vehicle and rerouted the case so it doesn’t trace back to you. Investigators will come up with a dead-end soon enough, and nobody will know what you did.

AGENT JUNE

You’re welcome for that.

IRENE

I— [THEN, GUILTILY] I didn’t kill him.

AGENT MAY

I’m sure you didn’t. That’s not important right now. We’re just trying to give you a nudge in the right direction so maybe then you’ll be inclined to tell us the truth.

IRENE

Why? What do you want from me?

AGENT MAY

If you’d give me a moment to speak, then I can explain.

[IRENE HUFFS A SIGH, BUT LETS AGENT MAY SPEAK. HE FLIPS OPEN A FOLDER.]

AGENT MAY

Are you aware of this house’s previous tenant?

IRENE

You mean Bernard Kelly Valencia? His reputation precedes him, but I never knew the guy.

AGENT MAY

That’s correct. We believe he left something behind after he died, however. Something that could be incredibly beneficial for the Foundation. Have you found anything like that?

[IRENE STAYS SILENT.]

AGENT JUNE

[WHISPERS TO AGENT MAY] I think she’s trying to plead the fifth.

AGENT MAY

We expected such stubbornness. We’re not asking you for this for free, you know. We believe we may also have something that would be beneficial for you.

IRENE

And, what is that, exactly?

AGENT MAY

I’m glad you asked.

[HE'S HEARD HANDING A PAPER TO IRENE. MYSTERIOUS MUSIC BEGINS PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND.]

AGENT MAY

Sometime in July, the same year Rosemary Quinn disappeared, a dusty yellow bicycle was found in the middle of nowhere in Oregon. It appeared to have had a broken piece in the front where a basket was supposed to be attached. It was never brought to the police, so unfortunately, it could never be examined as possible evidence.

AGENT JUNE

Hiker who found it posted about it on Twitter, though. The guy didn’t have many followers, so it never got traction.

AGENT MAY

This photo was taken not too far from Bent. If this is Rosemary’s bicycle, it could mean that we have a possible travel path for her after her disappearance.

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

Oh, that was quite the shift in your expression, Irene. Have we struck a nerve? [MELODRAMATIC] I guess young love tends to leave such sore, open wounds, doesn’t it?

AGENT MAY

If you let us look at whatever it is Mr. Valencia left behind, we can help you find Rosemary Quinn. It may take some time, but we believe we can determine what happened to her. We just need your help.

[THE MUSIC STOPS. THERE'S A LONG PAUSE.]

IRENE

Get out.

[SHE'S HEARD GETTING OUT OF HER CHAIR.]

AGENT JUNE

Wh—hey!

IRENE

[GROWING MORE UPSET] Get out, I said. Get out!

[AS SHE SPEAKS, SHE'S HEARD PHYSICALLY GRABBING THE AGENTS AND PUSHING THEM OUT OF HER HOUSE. WHILE SHE'S AT IT, SHE GRABS THEIR FOLDERS AS WELL, THOUGH ONE PAPER STAYS BEHIND.]

AGENT JUNE

Hey, no, stop! You can't just grab our things like that! Please.

AGENT MAY

[OVERLAPPING, STUTTERING] Hey—!

[BOTH AGENTS STUMBLE OUTSIDE. IRENE IS HEARD THROWING THEIR PAPERS OUT THE DOOR.]

AGENT JUNE

Woah!

AGENT MAY

That's confidential information, you can't keep that in your house—

[SHE CUTS HIM OFF BY SLAMMING THE DOOR. THERE'S A PAUSE AS SHE BEGINS PACING THE FLOOR.]

IRENE

Who the hell do they think they are? Do they think I’m just some sort of—some sort of tool for them to use? Do they think they can dangle Rose over my head like I’m a dog with a bone, all over some—

[SHE PICKS THE PICTURE UP OFF THE TABLE, STOPPING HER PACING]

IRENE

Some picture of a bicycle?

[THERE’S A PAUSE AS IRENE STARES AT THE PHOTO, BEGINNING TO CALM DOWN.]

IRENE

[CAUTIOUS HOPE.] Is this really your bike, Rose? Why would you tear the basket off? You loved that basket. [WANDERING INTO DAYDREAM TERRITORY] You’d put flowers I got you in it and then ride around your block. Said it made you feel like you were in a painting.

[A BEAT.] Maybe I shouldn’t have kicked them—

[THERE’S ANOTHER KNOCK AT THE DOOR. IRENE STORMS BACK OVER TO IT.]

IRENE

[YELLING] I told you to get out! I’m not some stupid—

[SHE OPENS THE DOOR, AND REALIZES IT'S NOT THE AGENTS.]

IRENE

[EMBARRASSED] …dog.

TEEN

Well, I sure hope you’re not.

IRENE

[AWKWARDLY] Um, hi. Sorry, it’s just, someone else was just over and—

TEEN

Those two dudes? Yeah, they didn’t look very happy. That one guy, the one who had his tie undone for some reason, he had to chase one of the papers down the street. It was really funny.

IRENE

You were watching?

TEEN

Well, I didn’t realize you had a line going out your door of people waiting to talk to you.

IRENE

[DEADPAN] I’m new to the famous life.

TEEN

You’ll get used to it, I’m sure.

IRENE

Well, are you here to interview me and talk about my darkest secrets?

TEEN

That would be cool, wouldn’t it?

IRENE

[DISGRUNTLED] Not after the day I’ve had.

TEEN

Well, you see, I’ve actually been dying to meet you. My mom told me about you, said she met you at the store. I don’t know if you remember her, but from what she told me, it sounds like maybe you could use a bit of help.

IRENE

Your m— [IN SHOCKED AWE] Oh my god, are you the meat lady’s kid?

AVERY

Actually, my name is Avery.

Wanna grab lunch sometime?

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

Today's quote is: "Most of the people are homesick anyway, and a little lonely, and they hide themselves in their hair and are turned into flowers."

Tove Jansson in Sculptor's Daughter, 1968.

[A PAUSE AS A HOLLOW NOISE BEGINS TO GROW IN THE BACKGROUND, FOLLOWED BY STATIC.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

[SLOWLY, AS IF STRAINED] Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can feel it—

[THE VOICE IS CUT OFF BY STATIC.]

[OUTRO MUSIC & CREDITS PLAY.]

[AN EXTENDED PIANO VERSION OF THE NIGHT POST’S OPENING THEME PLAYS IN THE BACKGROUND.]

NIGHT POST PROMO

Hello there, citizen. You’ve lived in Gilt City for a while now. Maybe you’ve wondered, when you wake in the morning and retrieve the letters tucked neatly into your postbox, just where your mail comes from. It comes from the Night Post, of course. Those faithful couriers deliver it while you’re sleeping--all the better that they stay out of sight, and keep the unseemly strangeness that follows them out of our city, in the Skelter, where it belongs.

Ahem. If, for some reason, you’d like to know more about Gilt City’s conscripted couriers and the burden that chose them, their secret hopes and fears, the ancient, untamed threats that hound them on their nocturnal journeys--you have only to listen. The Night Post is a supernatural audio drama by an all-LGBT team, delivered weekly, in dead of night, to wherever you listen to podcasts.

Find answers at nightpostpod.com.

#heart of ether transcripts

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cowboypossume · 4 years

Text

so i reread keeper of the lost cities and here’s my fresh input:

a note before we begin: you know how people fake throw up at things on tik tok? this book is the reason i now unironically do that.

dex and fitz really have the enemies to lovers troupe going for them and i’m ok with it. i really am.

so do sophie and biana at the beginning but it fizzes out so a better description is enimies to friends to lovers

marhella and stina give me such power top energy i cannot express how much i think that contributes to people not liking them

speaking of stina i wish sophie didn’t just immediately hop onto the bandwagon of “oh she’s evil” without investing further, especially with how much she is written as a ‘good’ person (which i can and will defend to the day i die that good people don’t exist but that’s for a different day).

there’s way too much heteronormativity and Patriarchical Ideas mushed into the book. like three hole pages of a 488 page book of teenagers being like “oooooo girls like guys and guys like girls” only for della to join in. not to mention the amount of times keefe is the reason for those ideas because he’s teasing like “oh fitz has a girlfriend”

keefe and fitz didn’t have as many bonding moments™️ in this book as i remember, but they stil know each other really well, have comfortability around each other, and would make a 10/10 best friends to lovers troupe.

oh my god s o many crushes i swear. like two teenagers of the opposite gender really can’t not like each other apperantly

i miss read a line and really thought there was cannon sexism for me to do a whole ass rant about in the notes part of my analyzation but n o p e

but we do have classism, sexist stereotypes, and the fact that there’s been SO many characters who’ve spoken and ✨🌺far too many of them are white🌺✨

oh also: no ones disabled. which annoys me because their society is described as ‘euptopic’ almost implying that it’s something that makes people problematic, which,,,, no

ok a side note on the society, i understand that the story’s message (kinda) is that things that seem perfect are probably deeply flawed, but something tergan said stuck with me. on a page i can’t remember at the moment he says something like “[the black swan exists] in a society that doesn’t have rebels”, which it suck with me bc that’s boarderline dystopic if it’s not there already. it’s one thing for laws not to be broken, but when you think your society is so perfect despite it having obvious flaws and you think that no one rebels, then i really hate to break it to you, you have a massive rebellion about to occur; it’s just scented as foul under your resplendent nose.

please stop flirting. i get its part of teenagers being teens but i swear if i read “s/he realeased a breath” or “their heart fluttered” or literally ANYTHING like that god no.

yall. i missed dex. he actually has more role in this book than ‘you can gadget and we need one’ and oh boy i really missed him. he’s a BEAN and deserves better.

hole’s said everyone deserves better and i absolutely agree so we’re adding that note here.

if you do what i did and read this book out loud to one of your best friends who has no clue anything about this weird fandom and give fitz a really deep voice for no reason it’s comdy GOLD.

i really think i’m reading too much into this point but iggy seems,,,, symbolic to me?

like ok with humans, sophie didn’t ‘fit in’, right? like she grew up hearing things like “why can’t you be normal like your sister” (which i can do a whole other rant about how that will affect her for the rest of her life just a s k)

not to mention looking really different from her family and graduating high school at age twelve

but you know who never judged her?

m a r t y

so anyway sophie meets this teal-eyed, movie star smiled wonder boy who takes away her entire knowledge of everything she’s known while taking away her family too

and it turns out even in a place of weirdos she still manages to be the exception to everything

and she doesn’t have the comfort to hear what people are really thinking about her anymore (which as i said before say the word and i’ll deadass write a whole speech about how everything she heard will completely fuck up every relationship she has) which unfortunately means that she grew used to confirming people didn’t like her but now she doesn’t have that

she has to adapt to this new space and feel like she’s always felt, like an outcast in a place that was accepting, but yet again, she the exception to everything

but about halfway through the book she starts to become more comfortable around grady and edaline and that’s when iggy comes in

she finds him while cleaning garbage, and grady compliments her. they have a bonding moment and it’s because of this t h i n g. and then sophie actually feels proud not only does she take up a room, but she did something

and her new parents are proud of her

so she finally feels like she BELONGS because she helped out at the place where she lives/they work

to me it seems iggy is kinda a manifesto of the world building and character development that happens in this book

i think the plot/character arc is fixated a little too much on how different sophie is. like, i get it, she’s exception to everything, but the plot really didn’t need her to be that quirky. yes, she’s different, but there’s a lot more to the plot and her character than how different she is.

also, i had to reread pages a lot bc i needed an exact paragraph number and,,,, it’s really paced like a fanfic

some questions i have about the society is:

it’s established that they use books, physical papers, etc., and the only thing i remember about trees is the speech alden gave her about how she doesn’t know the name of their most popular tree, and the fact that people become trees when they die. even then i don’t think the second one is in this book. never o n c e do i remember something about planting trees that aren’t dead elf’s, so do they feel the affects of deforestation and that jazz?? like if they use trees, will they run out of them? can they??? and do they use the coffins of elf’s for paper??

this is more of a rant than a question, but here it goes anyway. in foxfire, students have a testing system very similar to the one in america: a huge test at the end of the year determines the future of a student. that in of itself doesn’t sound too drastic, right? well,,,,, not necessarily. several studies have shown that tests in general, but especially these types, don’t work. despite how good or bad of a teacher i think my past and current teachers have been, every single one of them hates this system that we have in place. they know it’s an unfair assessment that does it’s damnist to make you fail, and they’re trying so hard to denounce it. however, that doesn’t happen at all in the lost cities. in fact, most of the teachers pride themselves on failing students. so if elf’s are in such an advanced society, why do tests still exist? especially in an environment where the consequences are far greater than just staying back a grade.

so sophie’s figuring out that major problems exist in the world the elf’s created, right? i wonder if more society structured problems exist more than ‘oh bad people do things and the law justifies which is what’. like, as i’ve previously stated, there’s sexist stereotypes presented (like girls like dresses and guys don’t), but does sexism still exist? does racism exist? it’s established that poverty isn’t a thing because of the fund elf’s have at birth and their limited usage of money (which if you understand please explain bc i don’t really get how they buy stuff but still don’t use money) but if someone gets shipped off to exile, do they lose their money? is it possible for elf’s to starve to death because they can’t afford food? do they pay for food?? if they did starve who would they call? because someone on this website, who’s post i tried to find but i couldn’t so if y’all know what i’m talking about please link it, brought up a good point that elwin is a school physician, he shouldn’t be dealing with the near-death experiences sophie has, so who would they turn to? especially if they don’t have access to foxfire because they got exciled??

is therapy a thing in this world? sophie and dex could really benefit from it, yet mental health has only been brought up when someone went insane, which REALLY shows how little they think about it.

that perfectly transitions into my next point: sophie and dex’s trauma. i really don’t get the vibe that there was much thought going into their kidnapping, other than sophie needed something to trigger her inflecting ability and establish the black swan are on the good side, which really sucks because wow trauma doesn’t happen lightly. and the fact that it happened seems rushed to me, but i’ll come back to that. but anyway, their trauma doesn’t get developed that deeply in this book because it wasn’t given the space to. they were beaten, tortured, starved, gagged, and who even knows what else for t e n d a y s, only for them to find them again, repeat the process, but someone saves them and dumps them into an illegal city and they both nearly die from dehydration, coldness, and lack of concentration, and you’re telling me after three days of conscious of bed rest sophie wants to get her failing out of school over with? ma’am, it takes more time than that to adjust to THAT alone, not to mention the realization that “hey your entire life is fake because people genetically altered you to be their weapon in a war so much bigger than yourself” that was recently dumped on her. like,,,, you really expect me to think that three days is what made her feel prepared and CONFIDENT? no sir. i don’t buy it.

coming back to it being rushed: the book starts out slow and then really hits the ground running and doesn’t stop. so much more stuff happens in the second half of the book than the first and it never gets fully developed it feels like. in the first half sophie moves away but gets a new family and struggles a bit but adapts, fires maybe but hey don’t worry about it, dex hates fitz, fitz is ✨d r e a m y ✨ but our main girl doesn’t like him like that, right?, stina’s a bitch, and sophie is a quirky girl and telepath but can’t tell anyone. pretty basic stuff, not too plot intensive. the second half though: sophie almost fails her midterms but doesn’t, grady and elaine want to unadopt her (which that’s never really explained as to why they do that but ok) fires exist in san degio but they’re fine but they’re actually a rebel elf so..., sophie accidentally breaks a law but it was an accident so it’s fine, update on the fires: sophie burns herself trying to get the evidence that it’s a rebel elf and it works, she’s the moon lark and basically a weapon bc no one knows her well enough to evaluate her safety, sophie and dex get kidnapped but fitz can now transmit to her and she has two new abilities so it’s all good, trauma doesn’t exist except for nightmare you can fix with sedatives, sophie doesn’t fail out of school, and yayyy her family doesn’t want her remove their adoption. there’s probably a lot more that i missed, it’s just that’s a LOT of stuff crammed into a little bit further than the second half of the book that really could have been devolped or explore further instead of forcing into less than 244 pages, ya know?

fitz’s eyes are mentioned seven times, the first time being on page TWO of the novel

his smile is mentioned three times

alden says “no reason to worry” five times, he writes it once, and sophie points out he says it a lot so he chances it slightly to something like ‘don’t stress about it’ so i didn’t count those though i should have

speaking of alden, in this book he’s absolutely creepy, but something that stands out to me is how much he calls sophie girl. i didn’t count it, but he said “that’s a good girl” to sophie too many times for it to be normal especially when you consider how he doesn’t do it to anyone else.

i kinda forgot i was annotating for sophie’s anxious habit of pulling out her eyelashes so i got she did it twice, but i highly doubt that number

but i will keep adding to this when i actually do the words with my annotations.

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kinetic-elaboration · 3 years

Text

September 10: Friday

I just had this feeling this morning like I didn’t want to go to work and eh... that was probably right. Nothing really bad happened, I just felt very strongly that I did NOT want to be there.

My coworker wanted to talk to me at like 8:30 in the morning (you know those silly little ‘don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee’ signs?? literally do not talk to me before 9:30 EARLIEST) and I was supremely incoherent. Then later a different coworker essentially took out his bad mood on my department including on me personally, and it was... dumb. I got his point but I’m just, as I tried to explain to others later, unkeen on being talked to about actions I took under others’ explicit instructions. Also, in part because of that, in part because I thought he was semi-unreasonable, and in part because I just truly didn’t want to do what he was asking/telling me to do, I did not really budge on the issue. Which was very awkward because as I said I did get his point. And of course the issue is SOMETHING DUMB which is always how it is. All of these fights are 100% shit that would sound idiotic if you tried to explain it to someone else, which is why I’m vaguing right now.

And the nametags thing came up on Teams (thanks @ the same coworker), and the only good thing about that is that the director explicitly said she was against the idea so I feel pretty confident that it won’t be mandated. Also I could detect some panic in other people about it. I do NOT like the way this is being handled AT ALL. Plus it’s just the hill I’ve decided to die on (because I think I can win--so I guess it’s better to say this is the hill I’m going to defeat my enemies on) so I gotta get annoyed at it. I refrained from contributing to the conversation but I did like the director’s anti-nametag post, which I think gets my point across.

Also I felt like I spent a lot of time doing not much, to be honest. Still didn’t go to stupid compact shelving. Devoted too much time to the crap in the above paragraphs. Talked to BL over in admin and heard some more unflattering stories about a particular administrator. Like, incredibly unflattering. Which is stuff I do want to know but it contributes to the overall Mood of the day, which again is ‘I don’t want to be here.’

I took a very late lunch, and that in turn contributed to me not paying enough attention to the time and leaving late.OH AND I got 3 important emails in the last ten minutes of the day. Two were very expected because they were coming from the West Coast but the last was like.. do not make me deal with this right now.

I didn’t deal with almost any of it but I did get so distracted that I left about five minutes late, and so I missed the bus. I wasn’t too upset about it since the weather was nice anyway and I didn’t mind spending some time downtown. But I did waste time trying to see if I could catch said bus, and then more time trying to go to my favorite coffee shop, which had closed at 5. But since it was 5:15, there were still people inside (cleaning up, which is fair) and people outside (drinking coffees they’d bought before 5 I’m sure, also fair), and the sign said hours were until 7 so I spent a few confused, embarrassing moments going ????? what is the truth?

So ultimately I went to a different cafe, a newish one that opened in 2019 I think. I’ve always avoided it in part because the floor is very loud and in part because I felt like I was cheating on my main place lol. (Not that I never get coffee anywhere else... just that this place is so close to my usual place, I always feel like, if I’m in the area, I might as well go to said usual place.) I did find the inside very disorienting. The pattern of the floor is just truly A Lot. They did have these weird teacup ornaments hanging from the ceiling though. I got an iced latte, which was fine, and this delicious spinach and feta pastry. I feel like I should stop by more often for baked goods. I settled outside with what I’d gotten, mostly because of the floor, partly because it actually was nice out, and partly because I’m not currently comfortable with indoor dining, even in places with almost no one in them.

I only had like 25 minutes to kill at that point, but it was nice. I had a notebook with me and I did a teeny bit of planning on the Southern Gothic AU (still behind on this!!). Mostly I listened to the conversation next to me. I couldn’t entirely help it; the girl’s voice was carrying. She was talking to her guy friend about some recent issues they’d been having in their friendship. I was honestly...kind of impressed with them? I could mostly hear her--he was talking too but his voice didn’t carry as much--but it just overall sounded like a really open, emotionally honest, generally calm talk. Like certainly there were strong emotions in play (not exactly going to judge whether they were “warranted” given the apparent facts of the dispute, since I just ranted about a disagreement over something so dumb I don’t even want to name it in public) but they were just... expressing feelings that were difficult, and expressing displeasure with others’ actions, without yelling or being passive aggressive, etc. I mean even that they’d picked this time and place to meet specifically to discuss it I thought was commendable. And they were definitely friends, not bf/gf, because the disagreement involved his girlfriend (once referred to as his “partner”...sorry lol I judged that a LITTLE since they looked like they were maybe 21 years old--partner in WHAT??). The girl mentioned her therapist, which put a lot of her tone and vocabulary into perspective. Not necessarily in a bad way, I mean, it seemed to be working? But as someone who has never been to therapy, but is self-taught, so to speak, in gauging and describing my own feelings, I could... discern a sort of purposeful vocabulary that almost sounded scripted. I wrote down some specific quotes but I don’t want to put them in a public place. I’ll draw my respecting-strangers’-privacy line in the sand there. But a lot of, like “when you do x, it makes me feel y” kind of controlled explanations.

Anyway, I got very invested in that. Partly for future writing purposes, partly out of curiosity and partly because... I don’t know that I could have that kind of conversation NOW and I’m fairly sure I could not have when I was in college. I mean.... I don’t know... I’ve blocked out a lot of the pretentious/serious/about-our-feelings talks I did have. And what sticks out now are all the times I didn’t do that--all of the many, many issues with TA38... Even the way B and I have literally NEVER acknowledged the handful of times we hooked up in 2009.

You’re never gonna sound COOL talking about your emotions, your wants and your needs; it’s always gonna sound, imo, like a Therapy Script. And I don’t even always think you gotta have those talks. After graduation, R and I literally had this exchange where we said ‘well we both made mistakes last year, and we could try to untangle it now, but it’s just gonna bring up a lot of bad feelings. It’s done now anyway. Blanket apologies given, blanket acceptance of apologies, let’s move on.” And we did and it was fine. But if we’d had better conversations while we were living together, that would have been a different situation.

All of which is of course complicated for me personally because I am extremely conflict-averse. EXTREMELY.

Anyway, I ran into BL at the bus stop and we talked a bit there and on the bus, which was fine but kinda exhausting tbqh especially because of the topic of conversation. I got home at 6:30 and must have crawled immediately into bed and gone to sleep, but I barely remember it at all. Woke up at 10:30 and had no idea what time it was or what day it was or what I was doing.

Had dinner and then somehow went down a rabbit hole that started... somewhere?? and ended with me looking up my childhood home on Google Earth, which you KNOW is the sign of a mentally stable person who is doing just fine okay.

Now it’s the absolutely disgusting hour of 2:30 in the morning... Idk I wanted to go out tomorrow and take advantage of the nice weather but we’ll see how that goes. The thing is I feel like I need a full day to sleep but I only have two (2) days and in that time I gotta do laundry, cook for the week, preferably write one (1) whole chapter of this fic, and possibly also go on the aforementioned excursion. Which is a lot for me. It doesn’t really... fit.

Everything’s just so much all the time and so on.

#the year 2021 #2021: rl #real dear diary moment here

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florenceandthemachine · 4 years

Text

that original lifeline

chapter 3 / 4 - “there’s a hole where your heart lies” - 3.5k

in which things get worse before they can get better, even if they don’t get better.

read on AO3

“Firefighter Diaz, do you copy?”

Eddie tried to smile as he grabbed the mic hanging from his shoulder, but judging by Buck’s face, it was little more than a grimace. “Five by five, Cap. Over.”

“Alright, Chimney, report?”

“So... you’re sure none of them can see you?”

While there really were no ideal times for Eddie and Buck to talk in the station, the radio check proved to be as good a moment as any—sure enough, Eddie was already tuning out the static that was Hen making fun of Chim for his coffee order (not that he blamed her).

It felt… weird, to say the least, to be back at work less than twenty four hours after his son had lobbed the second biggest bombshell Eddie had ever had to deal with right into his lap, but after the theatrics they had gone to the night prior to try and act like everything was fine, Eddie didn’t have the energy for another weird day in him.

“Honestly, Eddie, I don’t know. You being able to see me, that’s already rare, but not impossible. But Chris seeing me? There are no records of a guardian being seen by anyone other than his or her charge—none. Honestly, the only way I can tell I’m still not here is because the rest of your team hasn’t tried to say hello.”

And thank fuck for that. Eddie had absolutely no idea how he would explain away Buck’s presence if the others started to see him, or at least, no idea how he would explain it and not wind up in a straight jacket. Like he could sense Eddie’s frustration (which, he probably could), Buck punched his shoulder lightly, smiling.

“But they haven’t, so stop worrying, Eds. I’ll figure something out, okay?”

Eddie only let out a laugh, looking up as the siren started to wail, only barely louder than Hen and Chim’s bickering. Going for his gear, he looked up to Buck before climbing the truck, voice pitched low. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

It was a missing kid.

Eddie hated missing kids.

It didn’t matter that his son was in school, it didn’t matter that the kid was three years younger than his own, it didn’t matter that he had a mother and sister all waiting for him to turn up—in the back of Eddie’s mind, right at the corner of his vision, his traitorous brain tried its very hardest to supply all the ways that Chris could go missing.

Even when he more or less found Hayden, it was a hollow victory; Eddie couldn’t see how it was anything close to a win when the kid was still trapped in a pipe forty feet below the ground, unable to do more than move his head. It was all he could do to ignore the low level of terror that pushed through his own stomach, and how fucking helpless he felt while they had to wait—for hours, fucking hours—to get a drill up and ready to go.

He had gotten close to having to step away more than once throughout the day, and now, the night, the only thing anchoring him to the present was Buck’s hand, on his shoulder, gripping his arm, pressing against his side. Chris was right, Eddie thought, Buck would be a good firefighter—he was calm under pressure, for one, and right now he deserved all the credit for keeping Eddie’s head on straight, especially when he stepped up to take the palm mic from a mom who was pushed well beyond her breaking point.

Yeah, Eddie could relate to that.

“Hey Hayden, my name is Eddie. I’m a firefighter, here with your mother and a whole lot of other people.”

He felt Buck’s hand on his shoulder again, and he took a breath, steeling himself.

“We’re all working to get you out of there, so stay calm, okay? It might get a little... noisy. Don’t be scared. We’ll be there soon.”

His smile was thin as he handed the radio mic back to Chim, swallowing heavily as he excused himself, making his way into the house easily. The mother had wasted no time in telling them to help themselves to anything that they had needed, and Eddie made a beeline into the bathroom, gripping the sink as he hunched over and tried to get a grip on his breathing.

He really hated missing kids.

“Eddie, you’re okay.”

Buck. Of course Buck was there, hand on his back, rubbing in small circles. “Chris is okay, he’s still in school, Carla is bringing him to Abuela’s after, and you know you’re going to get bombarded with pictures.”

He was right, of course he was right, but that didn’t make it suck any less. Eddie opened his mouth to respond before motion in the mirror caught his eye—the house was still full of cops, firefighters, and now, drill operators. Buck didn’t seem to mind, though, smiling at Eddie’s reflection anyway.

“You want me to go check on him? It might take me a bit to track him down properly, but—“

Eddie shook his head sharply, moving to grip the hand Buck had on his forearm. God, no, he couldn’t imagine being alone right now, couldn’t imagine the idea of sending Buck away to settle his own paranoia. He would be fine. He just needed to splash some water on his face and move on.

He did splash some water on his face, more frequently as the night dragged on. Those were the only moments that he let go of Buck’s hand, but that was a whole other story. Buck remained silent about it, after all, even if Eddie caught him smiling a few times as they watched the drill go down. He wasn’t even sure when it had started to rain—the 118 had basically been blocked off from all other calls until they could finish their day here. Eddie was getting antsy; honestly, the fact that Eddie was unwilling to let go of the hand of his guardian angel said more about his abandonment issues (after being on both sides of that story) than an hour of therapy could bring up.

Buck’s presence was always welcome, of course, but it could only do so much to calm Eddie’s nerves. The longer the night dragged on, the more Eddie felt like he had to do something, had to step up, and Buck started looking at him like he was about to do something incredibly stupid.

Which, well...

“Cap, I’ll go in.”

“Edmundo.” He had never heard Buck use his full name before, had never heard the other sound so pleading; but while it definitely was enough to get him to pause, it would take more to get him to stop. “I was talking to him on the radio. He knows my voice. It makes sense.”

“Like fuck it does.” Buck snapped behind him, but Eddie couldn’t turn around to gauge his reaction even if he wanted to.

“Suit me up. I’m going down.”

It was almost too easy to pretend that Buck wasn’t mad at him while he was getting ready, strapping on oxygen tanks and harnesses, was easy to pretend that the only reason Buck hadn’t smacked him upside the head was because they weren’t alone, but Eddie knew that was all it was.

Before he knew it—far too soon, honestly—he was ready to sink into the fucking earth.

Unfortunately, it didn’t occur to Eddie that going down alone really and truly meant that he would be going down alone. He had gotten painfully used to Buck being within arms distance of him, no matter where he was, so when he poised himself over the hole, strapped to a rope as wide around as his thumb—

“I can’t go down with you, Eddie.”

—well, he at least had an excuse as to why his face fell.

“No one can see me, but… but I still take up space. I can’t go down with you, what if there’s no room? What if I block you in, or block you from getting to the kid?” Buck sounded completely fucking wrecked, and Eddie swallowed as he looked around, painfully aware of all the eyes on him when all he wanted to do was bail out. He couldn’t do this on his own. He fucking couldn’t.

“Alright, Cap. Let’s go.”

He felt the winch start to wind up as Buck moved forward, and it was killing him to have to fight off any responses when Buck leaned forward and kissed his forehead, the brief contact sending a warmth through his bones that he wasn’t entirely sure was related to Buck’s angelic being.

“For good luck.”

Honestly, Eddie really needed to rethink what constituted ‘rock bottom’. Sure, okay, cutting his own rope had been stupid, but he hadn’t given it a second thought—if he had been pulled out, the kid would have drowned. Hell, Eddie was close to that himself, taking several hits off of the tank Bobby had given him whenever he needed a breath that didn’t taste like mud or metal.

“This is Diaz.”

Because he stayed down there, he was able pull the kid out of the pipe and at the very least, give him some freedom to take a deep breath in the tiny little aquifer that Eddie had dug into.

“Can anyone hear me? This is Eddie.”

He was absolutely clinging to that justification, too. Sure, he had no way of knowing how fast the water would rise, but the water in the pipe had surpassed where the kid was before Chim had made his appearance. Eddie cut his rope, the kid got to live. Hooray.

“I’m alive. I’m still alive down here!”

Handing the kid off to Chim had been cake. It probably didn’t hurt that when Eddie looked up through the hole, all he saw was light. Somehow, knowing that Buck was going to be pissed off at him gave Eddie hope.

“I’m still alive down here!”

And then the drill had collapsed, and any light, any hope that Eddie had, had been snuffed out just like that.

“Anyone?”

There was nothing. No light, no sound, nothing. Eddie went from the sound of pounding rain and muffled shouts to inky blackness and the sound of his own racing heart, and he couldn’t do much more than shout, hands dug into the dirt beneath him as he started to shake.

He had gambled it all—everything he had, his life, his job, his family, and he had lost. His family, fuck, how was Chris supposed to handle this so soon after Shannon’s death? How could Eddie have done this, how could he have stepped forward when he had so much of his own shit at risk, how—

“…idiotic, arrogant asshole…”

Eddie had to shy away from a sudden burst of light behind him long before he heard any words, covering his eyes with a gloved hand.

“Buck?”

“…completely moronic, you—you cut your own fucking line, Eddie! What the fuck were you thinking, you could have been crushed—“

“Buck.”

Eddie hated how weak he sounded, but he couldn’t bring himself to particularly care—not when the result was Buck’s hands on his shoulders, the light dimming enough that Eddie could see properly. Buck was pissed, no doubt about it, but the emotions took a side step to a look of concern, of worry, and just like that Eddie was gone, voice tight as tears carved new tracks in the mud on his cheeks.

“I’m—I’m so fucking sorry, I’m so sorry I put you in this situation and—and Chris, god, I’m such a terrible father, and—“

“Woah, woah, calm down, we’re not going to go down that road right now.”

It took some awkward repositioning on Buck’s part but they were both able to face one another, water lapping at their legs as it slowly rose. “You’re reckless, sure, but you’re not an idiot. Being stuck down here doesn’t make you stupid, as much as I hate to admit it. Now, what do we know?” Buck’s tone was bitter, but there was no mistaking the earnest truth in his voice, and Eddie felt his face crumple when Buck looked back to him.

“Well, we’re... about thirty five feet down. One primary entrance and exit point, now blocked by the drill. There’s no radio communications, no way to send a message, and if I had to guess, no way my GPS is picking up anything.” Eddie said, smacking the useless unit on his wrist. “The water is rising, slower than it was before now that the pipe is mostly flooded, but it’s still rising, and I.... I really hope you have some magic up your sleeve.” Eddie’s voice was mostly joking, but the look that Buck shot him quickly crushed any shadow of humor he was reaching for.

“I mean, the fire truck was easy. It’s a movable thing, it’s not fixed, it’s small in the grand scheme of things, but this... Eddie, even if I could move enough earth to get you out of here, I’d be just as likely to crush you. There has to be another way out.” Buck said, his hand easily bringing Eddie in closer, tendrils of warmth creeping under his wetsuit.

There wasn’t, and every soldiers sense in Eddie’s body was urging him to scream that truth at the top of his lungs until Buck understood it, but they had come too far for him to break down now.

Well, to break down again.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Eddie asked after a long moment, face buried in Buck’s shoulder, Buck’s returning sigh more of an attempt at some levity than anything else.

“Because you’re an asshole with free will, and I can’t stop that. Your specific blend free will is just a little more self sacrificing than others.”

Eddie gave a short laugh, the sound weak and mostly humorless, allowing himself to settle into a moment of silence.

It was easy enough to be quiet when he wasn’t alone with the sound of his own breathing—Buck was still holding him close, his body alight, and Eddie let his breathing time to the pulses radiating off of Buck’s taller frame. The light seemed to dance along the walls of the cave, bouncing and refracting off the water, sinking beneath the murky depths. Buck’s focus seemed to stray to the water as Eddie felt his mind wander, but it was different now—the panic of the moment had given way to a heavy fog, starting to dull just the edge of his senses.

Honestly, the moment was kind of... peaceful.

It might even have been pretty, Eddie thought, his brain becoming a little more addled as he burned through the pocket of oxygen they had in their hidey hole.

Maybe this wouldn’t be a bad way to die after all. As long as he suffocated before he drowned, anyway.

“Buck, I need you to listen for a second.”

His words were slow, spoken between splashes of nasty water as he turned to look at Buck, who was still intently focused on the water, which was easily lapping at their shoulders.

“Eddie, shut up.”

“You—you have to tell Chris—“

“No.”

“Buck, I can’t, I—“

“No, Eddie, you don’t get to tap out right now. This is my job, it’s my fucking job, and I am very, very good at what I do. Even if my fucking charge cut his own fucking lifeline.” Buck snapped, voice deadly calm, and Eddie flinched back. “Now, I think—I think I have a plan. How’s that tank that Bobby gave you?”

A brief glance at his wrist confirmed what he already knew. “It’s yellow. Two minutes, tops.”

“That’s all I need. Come on, put the mouthpiece in. Close your eyes until I let you go, then we’re gonna have to swim for it, okay?”

“Buck…”

“Now, Edmundo.”

If Eddie had the energy, he might have felt afraid in the moment, but when he looked back at Buck all he saw was angel—in the semi-sacreligious, biblical sense. The glow under his skin, which had been growing all evening, was almost blinding now, the very air cracking around him. His eyes were alight like coals and his skin seemed to match the temperature as he grabbed Eddie, arms around his waist. Eddie hardly had the time to put his mouthpiece in before Buck slid them under the water, and then they were off.

The deeper they went, the more Eddie found himself wishing he had suffocated—especially if drowning was the only other option. He could feel everything, every rock scraping against his suit, every tear at his harness, and the pressure, fuck, the pressure, he couldn’t tell if his ears had popped or if the drums just burst entirely. He kept his eyes shut, as he promised, but by that point Buck was so bright that his flimsy eyelids couldn’t keep the light out, and it was all he could do to keep his breathing steady.

If he had dared to peek, he probably would have seen the indicator on his wrist start to blink red, but it wasn’t like that mattered. The air in his mouth had gone stale as soon as Buck let him go, eyes snapping open, trying to tell which way was up as he started to kick wildly. He made quick work of everything weighing him down—the harness, the helmet, the tank, the air long since bad anyway.

He could only barely register Buck’s light in the murky water, legs moving sluggishly beneath him, a stream of frustrated bubbles leaving his lips. His legs were starting to give out, each kick toward the surface weaker than the last, darkness creeping in around the edges of his vision even with the lake being lit up like a beacon.

Suddenly, Eddie was eleven again, and Buck was pulling him out of the swimming hole behind his parents house—only now, he wasn’t sure if he could make it, wasn’t sure if he would be able to surface before the darkness ripped his vision away.

He choked out another mouthful of bubbles as the water around him pulsed with light, and with a sharp tug around his waist he was suddenly launched forward, the cold water slicing across his cheeks like liquid daggers. The closest thing he could compare it to was being thrown from the truck, after the bomb had gone off—one moment, he was choking on his own exhalation, the next, he was hitting the shore, hard, sputtering and coughing even as he continued to drag himself away from the water.

Somehow, the worst part of all of this was the fucking rain—relentlessly pounding down on him, drowning out the sound of his own ragged breathing, his footsteps, he couldn’t even hear Buck stumble behind him anymore. His attempts at encouragement had just turned into ragged sounds, barely there words as he struggled to suck in another breath, blindly staggering away from the water and toward the steady pulse of red lights.

Back toward home.

Eddie could hardly believe it.

He wasn’t sure if it was the last kick of adrenaline or the afterglow of Buck’s warmth holding him up, but he started moving faster, feet scrabbling for purchase on the slick terrain as he stumbled. His breathing had started to become ragged as he dragged himself along, but he still felt his heart start to pound as he heard voices—Bobby’s voice, the familiar tone of orders being barked out, vaguely hearing his own name over the roar of the rain.

They hadn’t given up on him.

He heard more than he felt the moment his legs finally gave out, stumbling face first into the huddle of first responders, the burning feel to his skin finally ebbing into something more pleasant, more bearable, even as the rain started to sink into his bones. He wasn’t in great shape, to say the least; the only reason he remained upright for even a moment was because of the quick thinking of his teammates, reaching out for him as he stumbled.

“I’m—I’m pretty cold.” He got out as he went down, the sudden loss of warmth from Buck’s hands forcing him to focus on the present, even as the touch lingered, skin warm where Buck had pushed him forward.

Things moved pretty quickly after that. He was half pulled, half walked into the nearest rig, foil blankets tight around his shoulders as an oxygen mask was forced over his face and a blood pressure cuff started to cut off circulation to his arm.

He couldn’t tell where Buck was anymore, and how was that even possible? Buck had lit up the tiny-ass cave they were stuck in like a beacon, he had made the entire lake glow like a lighthouse, he had burned like—

Like a flame, Eddie realized, burning itself out.

No sooner did he make that connection did his entire body go cold, the lingering warmth from Buck’s touch snuffed out like a candle, and Eddie felt a noise he couldn’t own up to rip itself free from his throat as he started to shiver.

Fuck.

“Hen, he’s—he’s gone, fuck, I have to—“

“Eddie, stop, we got the kid, he’s okay, you—Eddie!”

His entire body was shaking as he tossed his mask aside and tore himself from her grip, making it only a few steps before he fell to the ground, tears mixing with mud as he cracked his nails trying to dig. “No! No, no, I can’t leave him—I have to get him, he’s—no, fuck, no!”

He only vaguely registered Hen calling for help over the sound of his own crying, voice broken as he continued to wail, the noises coming from his body sounding like something ripped from the depths of hell. Suddenly multiple sets of hands were pulling him back, wrapping him in shock blankets, strapping him to lie down on what he thought was a backboard.

There was already darkness starting to creep in at the edges of his vision, even as his eyes spun wildly in his skull, taking in Bosko, Hen, Chim, Bobby, Kinard...

No sandy hair. No pink lips. No blue eyes.

It wasn’t the first time he couldn’t see Buck, but this was different. He could still feel him, could still feel his presence, the good that he put into the world, and now…

He was gone.

Buck was gone.

And as Eddie finally gave in and passed out, blackness swirling out from the corners of his vision, he thought he would never be warm again.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #evaneddie #911 #hurt/comfort #Eddie begins #guardianangel!Buck #fic #buddiefic #911fic #evaneddiefic #flospeaks

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soulvomit · 4 years

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Because of how I was brought up with regard to emotions, I had very, very poor emotional regulation for a lot of my early life. I was also basically just left to emotionally fend for myself in a lot of ways. My parents basically couldn’t deal with emotions, and didn’t teach me to deal with them, and my going from this school to that school to homeschool to that other school to homeschool again didn’t help, because I didn’t really get to practice this stuff with other kids, either.

Basically I was taught that I had to internalize all of my feelings, so I had two modes, Vulcan and Tornado (when the emotions couldn’t be internalized anymore). The problem is, by the time the emotions hit, they were just a seemingly unprovoked rage tantrum or a cry fest, sometimes triggered by some emotional content in a movie, or something weird that my brain had latched onto that didn’t even make sense to me. There was a period when I was 8 where pictures of orchids would set off crying jags. I don’t understand why. I didn’t understand why then, either.

I just had all of these random emotions that I didn’t understand, I didn’t even know what they connected to, and because I couldn’t make sense of my feelings - I couldn’t even tell you what I wanted, because I was conditioned to just name off practical considerations or “logical” reasons I SHOULD want a particular thing. (And it’s for this reason that I stayed in shitty relationships, or even stayed with people I didn’t love. I didn’t like my ex husband that much, but I couldn’t even admit this to myself. I had all kinds of rationalizations for why I should marry him anyway just because HE was interested. But tbh, I didn’t like him that much, and I never did.)

When I started questioning my sexuality, the biggest reason my mom couldn’t wrap her mind around this is because of her mindset that personal fulfillment is NOT WHY WOMEN GET MARRIED. And the problem is - sexuality and gender identity are ALL ABOUT YOUR PERSONAL FEELINGS. And in her mind, this was a reason that gay and trans people were actually invalid. I tried to talk to her about my feelings for other women, but what came up was, “feelings aren’t why people get married.”

And when I questioned my gender, she also couldn’t wrap her mind around that, either. “But ALL women have those feelings!” You just perform whatever role has been assigned to you, PERIOD, that’s how you are a good person, or you are letting multiple people down. And your gender isn’t just your identity, it also comes bundled with specific DUTIES. (The irony is that I would not have been able to be with my fiance if I had not learned to accept that People Partner Because FEELINGS. I had to go through “wait... it’s okay to be gay” to unravel that tangled mess. Identifying as gay for as long as I did, was partly about making a stand that MY PERSONAL FEELINGS MATTER. And once I acknowledged that same sex relationships - which exist largely because of FEELINGS - were okay... eventually, I fell in love with a man who was not someone my mother would have picked out for me. But this was only possible because of my having internalized the idea that MARRYING FOR LOVE was okay in the first place.)

So basically, this is the soup I was swimming in when I was struggling to learn emotions. It doesn’t help that I grew up in a household where the whole idea of feelings, was basically disregarded. (I wonder if it’s this way with other people whose parents are poor, or in survivor mode, or who are from more traditionalist/”old world” families). I was expected to put my feelings aside and expected to have the emotional skills of an adult. And also, my mom has a lot of deep-seated stuff about how personal growth and fulfillment are ONLY FOR MEN. (She actually has a lot of resentment over this.) She believes most advice about being happy as an individual, or how to succeed in the world, only applies to men. But she also internalizes the Judging Voice of ancestors who believed this or that was women’s duties and that doing anything else, for a woman, meant shirking her primary assigned duties. It’s about half unconscious but sometimes she will blurt out something that actually indicates that she believes this.

I learned to control my emotions via directly manipulating my brain chemistry. This is how I stopped being a “crybaby” - there are a couple of different methods. In the short term, I dealt with overwhelm and feeling the tears or rage coming on in public, by doing a particular exercise that I made up. When I was 12, I had taken a brief class in t’ai chi, and we did breathing stuff and “glowing green ball” visualization. Inspired by that and by the Vulcan people from Star Trek, I made up an exercise to suppress my emotions where I would do breathing exercises then steeple all my fingertips together like Mr. Spock and imagine a glowing green ball in my hands. All of my emotions would go into the ball. My thoughts would slow down and I would return to an emotionless space. The other thing I did, had to do with my maladaptive daydreaming. I would project my emotions onto fictional characters - often unconsciously (I didn’t know WHY I was drawn to particular images, I just was). I would replay scenarios in my head that took place between fictional characters. I was especially addicted to romantic scenarios and imagery. Being obsessed with romantic couples felt like a deeply shameworthy hidden “kink” and the less I could talk about it openly (believe it or not, it’s fanfic culture that brought this out into the open), the more obsessed I was.

One of the problems I had was how much I was used to using my maladaptive daydreaming scripts to cope with shit going on in my real world instead of just... fixing that shit. The funny thing is that my school psychologists recognized that this was what my daydreaming was, when I was a child, but my parents didn’t really acknowledge it; I was actually rewarded for both my obsessive interests and my daydreaming as a child, because both of them meant that I was being undemanding. I was coached, however, not to talk about these things with other people. They were okay to do at home.

I also had trichotillomania, and when I was in a period of doing lots of group therapy in my early 30s - I discovered what my “trigger” was, I discovered that it related to feeling abandoned and empty. And just like that, that’s when I finally stopped doing it - I learned to recognize the feelings that triggered my trich, instead of jumping right into doing the trich things. I had been learning how to just sit with my feelings. And at some point, I started using my “centering” method (the breathing thing with the glowing ball) to quiet my mind down and sit with my emotions, and to reduce my stress levels, instead of using it to suppress my emotions. My emotional landscape was like this... “I don’t know how I’m feeling. All I know is that I’m pulling my hair a lot and daydreaming a lot. Also, I had a meltdown at work but I don’t know why. Also, I got irrationally angry at so-and-so because they offended me personally.” (And my offense was connected, generally, to my emotionality being triggered.) But over time, and with lots of learning and new skills, I learned... that the fact that I wanted to do a particular unproductive or self-destructive thing, was indication that I was feeling something. And this meant that I was not to act out, but that I was to sit with my feelings and ask myself what I was feeling.

I had to learn to start validating myself, and seeing my own feelings as valid. The funny thing is, I parsed to lots of people as being unemotional. I could not have emotional conversations with my partners; stuff about emotions made me dissociate or check out. I felt horribly confronted whenever asked about my feelings. (Honestly, this is a big reason I had begun preferring male friends. We didn’t talk overmuch about feelings.) This comes from a background in which I was often shamed for my feelings.

The turning point for a lot of this was in my early 30s.

This is about the time when I was doing Landmark Forum, when I was in group therapy, when I was going to Adult Children of Alcoholics (to try to repair my relationship with my dad, who is an Adult Child; alcoholic-adjacent coping mechanisms can persist generations after the last alcoholic in the family has died.) I was in a shit ton of therapy for years. I was in a bunch of support groups, but most importantly, they weren’t 100% filled with peers who validated me 100% of the time. In fact - looking for “safe spaces” full of only my own peers, had been what had held me back. What was actually beneficial to me was being in spaces that had people who were older and further along in their recovery than me, people who had better coping skills than I did, and learning to be present when people bitched me out instead of just automatically “shields up” and spacing out when I got confronted about stuff.

I also was doing a SHIT TON of journaling and blogging and writing in spaces such as message forums and mailing lists (Tumblr sort of picked up where the forums left off.)

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (5/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/N: It’s been a day, my friends, and when it’s been a day I like to give you guys chapters earlier than I expected. But also because I’m sitting on chapters and want to get to the good stuff! Our favorite duo really start to interact from now on, so the slow burn you guys are feeling is speeding up!!!

As always, thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke❤️

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

Tag list: @royalswan @shey-starsfury @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @emmas-storybook @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera@jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @galaxyzxstark @qualitycoffeethings @thejollyroger-writer

-/-

“How hot is it in Texas right now?”

“Hotter than here, but not all that bad. Seventies, I think.”

“Well, that’s probably because that weird heat wave is over, and it’s back to being fifty degrees outside.”

“True,” Ruby sighs, pulling a dress out of Emma’s closet. “You should wear this dress. It makes your ass look fantastic.”

“No one sees my ass.” She walks over to Ruby and grabs the red dress anyways, folding it up since she knows that it won’t wrinkle. She pulls up the weather app on her phone, scrolling through the thirty cities she has saved, and finds the week’s forecast for Houston, seeing that the high is indeed mostly going to be mid-seventies. That’s good. That’s far better than it is when they have to travel during the summer. “Should I bring heels or embrace flats for the week?”

“Bring your nude pair.” Ruby chunks them at the bed, about two feet away from taking Emma’s eye out. “Oh, and the turquoise if you’re going to wear that green pencil skirt.”

“You just want to borrow them if we go out, don’t you?”

Ruby pulls her turquoise pumps out of her closet, which really needs to be organized but that’s a story for another time, and tosses them on the bed before she grabs several more shirts and pants for Emma. “You know me so well, even if we mostly go out in Texas simply to eat their food.”

“Ugh,” she groans just thinking about it. “If we’re going to do that, I need to bring looser clothing. I don’t want everyone to think I’m pregnant when it’s just a food baby.”

“I bet you everyone would think it’s Jones’s baby.”

Her eyes cut over to Ruby as she picks up her turquoise heels and places them on her striped chair. How can someone be both the worst and the best friend? “For that, I’m not bringing these heels.”

“You’re evil.”

“You shouldn’t be mean to me if you want to borrow my shoes.”

“Being mean is kind of in her wheelhouse,” Graham adds in as he pokes his head through her bedroom door, eyes glancing over the mess that’s currently happening. He’s totally judging. “Do you two realize that your flight is at six in the morning, and you’re up at two in the morning packing?”

“Do you realize that it’s two in the morning, and you have to take us to the airport at four?” Graham rolls his eyes before Ruby walks toward him and presses up on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck and slide her lips over his. “Thank you for doing that, by the way.”

He presses down to kiss her once more. “You’re going to be gone for three days. I’m going to miss you.”

“Cheesy,” Emma grumbles, tossing a rolled-up sock at the back of Ruby’s head. They’ve really got to stop throwing clothes. She’s never going to be able to find anything. “Can’t you two go make out in your room or something?”

“I kind of like that idea.”

“Me too. Ems, pack the damn turquoise shoes and some spanx so that you can eat and people won’t think you’re having Jones’s baby.”

“Wait, what?” Graham mutters. “You’re having Jones’s baby?”

“No one is having anyone’s baby, and it better stay that way. Use protection.”

“Pack the shoes.”

“I still don’t understand what’s going on.”

“You’re not supposed to, babe,” Ruby laughs, backing Graham out of the room and pulling Emma’s door shut behind her.

Those two are ridiculous, and if she didn’t love them so much, living with them would be nearly impossible. Seriously.

Emma gets an hour of sleep after she finishes packing (thanks late night games and early morning flights), and she’s basically a zombie as she and Ruby load into the back of Graham’s squad car as he drives them to JFK. She knows that it takes awhile to get there, but she’s pretty sure that she slept the whole time because before she even realizes it, she and Ruby are checking into their flight at the kiosk and going through security. It’s the emptiest she’s ever seen the place, and she would know. She spends far too much time in airports for her job.

When the team travels, she travels. Most of the time. Some trips she doesn’t work, and it’s glorious.

It used to not be that way. She’d only travel for the games that were actually shown on ESPN or sometimes Fox, but now that ESPN has an entire online streaming service, she’s traveling nine games out of ten and working all home games. It’s exhausting, to a point, but she has a hell of a lot of travel miles and rewards programs that she gets to keep even though the network pays for her flights and hotels. Sometimes that means she gets six am flights when she doesn’t have to be in Houston until seven in the evening, but it’s not always that bad.

And one day she’s going to use those points to travel to Italy or something.

Pasta would be really good right now.

So would coffee, but if she has coffee, she won’t sleep on the plane. And sleeping on the plane is kind of important if she wants to not look like a zombie tonight. Her face may look like a zombie, but at least her ass will look great.

She doesn’t want anyone to comment on the state of her ass. She’s the only one allowed to do that.

Okay, she’s lost her mind.

-/-

The Yankees win their sixth game of the season that night.

She eats the best barbecue sandwich she’s ever had, and a clip of her eating ends up on Sports Center.

Sometimes she wonders if people actually watch baseball for the game or if they simply watch because there’s always something weird going on in the crowd.

The sandwich was worth it.

-/-

Emma’s feet hit against the treadmill as Queen blares in her headphones and a tennis match in Monte Carlo plays on the television in front of her, Rafael Nadal sliding back and forth on the clay as he absolutely dominates his opponent. If every athlete was as good as Rafa is on clay, they’d all be dominant, but that’s likely a story for another day.

She’s got twenty-three minutes left on her run, especially since she’s going at a slow pace with a slight incline, but she can already feel the incline starting to kill her, her calves burning the slightest bit with each step that she takes. Her face is red, her hairline slicked back with sweat, and she can already tell that getting her sports bra off is going to be an impossible task. She gets that it’s for the support and all, but there should really be an easier way for her to free her boobs from their confines.

Free the boob.

Unless she’s running or walking down stairs or doing anything more than some light walking.

Her phone buzzes on the machine, and the man on the treadmill looks over at her like he’s annoyed by the fact that her phone made some kind of noise. It’s not her fault that he didn’t bring any headphones, and really, if he’s so bothered by her, he can move two treadmills down. This hotel gym is plenty big enough.

Ruth: I saw you eating a sandwich on TV last night! That’s too funny!

Ruth: I hope you’re having fun!

Ruth: I miss you, sweetie!!!

For Ruth to be sixty-five, she has a fantastic grip on technology. She knows that it’s because she and David have taught her how to text and find clips of their segments and articles online, but still. She knows how to use emojis and gifs and even has an Instagram, which is only slightly terrifying most of the time. But she knows it’s simply to keep up with she and David’s lives since they don’t always tell her everything.

Okay, that’s mostly her.

But David has a much better relationship with Ruth, which makes sense considering she’s his mother. She’s Emma’s…quasi mother. She’s never been too sure how to go about it. Calling David her brother is much easier than calling Ruth her mom, and she knows it’s because the word mom has more heavy meaning behind it.

Emma: It was a good sandwich! Only a little time for fun since I’m here for work. I miss you too!

Ruth: There’s always time for fun!

Ruth: David and MM are driving up to visit me next weekend for the holidays. Are you coming too?

Emma: I don’t get vacation days like David does, so I’ll be in LA. I wish I could.

Her music stops between songs, and she hears the roar of the crowd on the television, seeing that the match just ended, and her treadmill starts to slow down, the time ticking down past five minutes so that it’s time for her to cool down with a slow walk while she keeps texting Ruth about the fact that she’s working over Easter weekend. She pretty much doesn’t have days off, except for days the team has off, until the season is over in October. Or early November. It depends. And then she’s back working in the office writing articles and doing prep work and occasionally having to suffer through covering basketball.

Bills must be paid, but at what cost to her having to listen to sneakers squeaking?

Ruth never seems to understand that because she thinks that she and David have the same job even though David has never once been on camera. He’s behind the scenes all the way.

When her treadmill time officially runs out, she steps off and gathers her things before finding a towel to wipe down the handles from where she touched them. Angry man is still eyeing her as she cleans up, and she seriously hopes that he is not going to be there tomorrow.

If he is, maybe he’ll be happier.

She doubts it.

He seems to just be one of those people who is particularly unpleasant all the time.

Sweat sticks to her skin as she walks through the hotel hallways, casually airing out her tank top and wiping sweat back into her hair to get it off of her face, and she very nearly walks up the stairs to go back to she and Ruby’s room when she sees people milling around the dining room with breakfast on their plates.

Breakfast would be good.

Mostly water. And coffee. She’s not entirely sure if she’s recovered from her lack of sleep yesterday, which made her question her sanity when her alarm went off for the gym this morning, but she knew if she didn’t work out then, she wouldn’t work out at all. And she needs that push of adrenaline and endorphins.

Grabbing a plate from the buffet line, she walks through and fills her plate with fruit and scrambled eggs, even if she knows they’re from a bag and not a shell, and a half of a waffle from the waffle maker. She always loves when they have those at hotels. Good continental breakfasts are her jam…especially if they have jam.

“Got enough toppings there?”

Emma nearly drops her plate when she hears his voice, and when she twists her head to the side, she sees Killian Jones standing next to her, his own plate full of food in his hand. Seriously. Why is she always running into him when she’s eating?

And sweaty.

“Not enough if you ask me.”

He adjusts his hat, a Vanderbilt one that is very obviously a decade old. “I was asking you.”

“I like toppings,” she sighs, putting some more fruit onto her waffle before grabbing the whipped cream can and spraying some of it onto her food. Her workout is yelling at her for this. “What’s the point of a waffle if you’re not going to load it down with toppings?”

“I’m more of a pancake man myself.” He reaches into the buffet and grabs a yogurt, which is definitely not a waffle or pancake. “But considering I’m playing tonight, I’m supposed to be watching what I eat.”

“You have an entire plate of eggs.”

“Protein, Swan, protein. You would know all about that with all that barbecue you ate last night.”

Just let her sink into a hole right now and never come back up. The internet is ruining her life.

“Weren’t you supposed to be tracking Roseman’s pitches last night or something?”

She turns on her heel and walks away from the buffet to a table, knowing that Killian is walking behind her. They have the weirdest relationship. It doesn’t even feel right to call it that, but they’re somewhere between a working relationship and reluctant friends, and the fact that he’s placing his plate down on the table across from hers makes her lean more toward reluctant friends who see each other occasionally enough to have a bit of a rapport.

Her life gets weirder every day.

Killian Jones has one brave set of balls.

Baseball, testicles, whatever. Both work. At least, she thinks.

“You can eat right after you work out?” he questions, twisting the knob on one coffee machine while she does it with the other, the promise of caffeine already invigorating her.

“How do you know I was working out?”

He raises a brow before his eyes look over her, lingering a second too long at her breasts, before a slow smile creeps from one side of his lips to another that has her stomach twisting inside. “Well, it’s not because of your outfit. People dress more like they’re working out when they’re not every day, but the sweat still soaked into your clothes and in your hair are kind of a dead giveaway. Your face is flushed as well.”

“Observant.”

“I try, but it’s easy when you’re an open book.”

Totally not acknowledging that one.

She twists the knob on the machine and reaches over for the hazelnut creamer while Killian simply puts the top on his. He drinks black coffee? That’s disgusting. “Black coffee? Do you not have taste buds?”

He shrugs. “I don’t like to drink my calories. You want a water?”

She nods her head, and he grabs two bottles before following her to sit back down at her booth like it’s totally normal for them to be sharing a meal together. They’ve done it before, but that’s because she was working with him. It was not because they’re staying at the same hotel and happened to run into each other at the buffet.

Weird.

But she’s not about to be bitchy and ask him to leave when she has no reason to other than her own reluctance to talk to people before noon.

They sit in semi-awkward silence as they work through their plates. She definitely overloaded her waffle, but she would never admit that after earlier. That would be admitting defeat, and she doesn’t take too kindly to admitting defeat. Killian eats at lightning speed, scarfing down eggs and sausage, his yogurt untouched, and she wonders what it must be like to be a professional athlete and eat more than the average human being, even if it’s not all good food like pizza and onion rings and loaded down waffles filled with chocolate chips.

Her phone buzzes on the table, and she leans over to read the text from Ruth still trying to convince her to come home for the weekend when she’s already explained that she cannot.

“Boyfriend?”

“Huh?” she hums, texting a message before looking up and seeing Killian staring down at her, his eyes shaded under his cap. She’s so distracted by the fact that he asked her if she was talking to her boyfriend that she doesn’t pay attention to her answer. “Oh, no boyfriend. It’s my…um, quasi mom.”

“Quasi mom?”

Shit. She should have just said Mom. Maybe she’s a little flustered by all of this.

“She was my foster mom,” Emma explains, stuffing some eggs into her own mouth to give her some more time to talk, “when I was a teenager, but we’re still in touch because her son, David, is kind of like this big brother to me. I work with him and am close to his wife and kid and all.”

That was word vomit that she should not have shared. That is not information that she should just give out, and yet here she is. Obviously, all of the blood hasn’t returned to her brain since her run. Hopefully it’ll all come back soon so she can stop looking like an idiot with a messed up past who shares too much at a breakfast.

“David Nolan, right?”

“Y-yeah. How do you know that?”

He shrugs his right shoulder before taking another forkful of eggs, chewing and smiling in a way that reminds her of that scene in Thor where Chris Hemsworth is in the diner and throws the mug down asking for another one. Why the hell did they dye his eyebrows and his beard in that movie? That was a mistake.

“Ariel, my manager, is super hands on with me. She’s talkative, like extremely, and she shares all kinds of information that I never need to know. So, I’ve heard a bunch of random shit that I literally never need to know about. David sends her a hell of a lot of emails that I get forwarded.”

“So, do you just know my entire life story then?”

“If you’re entire life story involves you liking pretzels and waffles, and being asked out by a jackass on live television, then yeah.”

She barks out a laugh, her lips curving upward, and reaches down to take a sip of her coffee. “I mean, that’s it. There’s nothing else to know about me.”

“You sure about that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The smile on his lips fall into a straight line, his gaze intense, and he lifts the bill of his hat up before adjusting it back down. “Perhaps I would.”

“So, nosy,” she starts, still a little annoyed that he asked if she had a boyfriend and most definitely trying to lighten the conversation up again, “I’m going to be very self-indulgent and ask if you liked your segment. I want a more truthful answer than the one I got in the hallway.”

His lips curve up, pretty much taking up his entire face, and she can see the crinkle of his eyes as his long lashes land on his cheeks before opening back up to show his baby blues. Damn his eyes are blue. How is that even possible? Maybe they’re contacts or something.

No, that would be ridiculous.

“I freaking loved it. I mean, it was great. It was so simple, you know? You didn’t try to create some other angle, didn’t try to paint me as anything other than a normal guy. I really appreciate that. You have no idea,” he chuckles, reaching up to scratch beneath his ear. Is he nervous? Why the hell is he nervous? “I saw afterward, your cohost, he was a bit of a dick, wasn’t he? I know we talked about it a bit, but it seems like you just…well, it seems like the shit show is never ending for you.”

That is – that is not what she was expecting at all. She figured his apology was a one and done and that she’d never hear about it again.

“With my friends,” she starts, tapping her nail against the table, “I don’t mind. It’s funny. It’s something we can joke about, that I, myself, joke about, but when it happens in my professional life, it pisses me off. So many men have seen me as a joke in the past, have tried to tear me down that way, and it’s not something I like having to deal with now. I mean, it’s not like I can go off on them. That’s a great way for me to lose my job because I’m no longer,” she holds her fingers up and does air quotes, “likable.”

Killian lets out a low whistle as her heart hammers in her chest, her annoyance at this whole thing making her cheeks heat. It’s all so dumb, and really, she should hate him for it. She doesn’t though. She’s not always his biggest fan, but he apologized and obviously feels actual remorse. How was he supposed to know it would be like this?

And if she knows all of this to be true, why does she still get slightly irked by him sometimes?

Is that just because she’s so damn stubborn herself?

“Is there anything I can do to make it better for you? I mean, I put you into this situation. The very least I can do is try to get you out of it.”

“Nah, there’s nothing you can do more than treat me like a professional and go on as if you didn’t make an ass out of the both of us with millions of people watching.”

“I think I can do that. However I can’t promise not to keep making an ass out of myself though. My brother tells me it’s my natural state of being.”

“Your brother sounds like a smart man.”

“He likes to think so. His patients sure as hell hopes that he is.”

“I mean, I would hope so. Does he get to come to a lot of games?”

“He and Elsa and the girls try to make it to some of them, but it usually depends on if Liam is on call or if the game is too late, so it interferes with the girls’ bedtimes and school. But no matter what I always have a string of texts waiting for me afterwards.”

“They sound great. Your nieces are so cute. Like, adorable. When you posted that photo of the two of them wearing your jersey, my heart melted. That was cute, twenty-nine.”

“Twenty-nine?”

“Your number,” she says slowly, looking him over.

“Aye, I know. It’s just that I’m not used to being called that.”

“Oh, sorry.” She covers her mouth and takes a sip of her coffee. She’s never going to finish her food if they keep talking like this. “I call most of you guys by your numbers half the time. It’s faster, sometimes, for our stat-keepers. It’s a force of habit from back before the Yankees had names on their jerseys.”

“I like it,” he smiles. “You ever play any sports?”

“Nothing official. Why?”

“Just looking to see if you have a number I can call you, love.”

“Ooh, for a second I thought you were going to ask for my number, so that was a nice save.”

“Well, I mean, I could,” he shrugs, flashing that winning smile again.

“Not going to happen, twenty-nine.”

“Damn, I thought I’d stumbled myself into something. I guess that’s strike two for me.”

“Do you always speak in baseball puns?”

“Says the woman who made a joke about oral sex using a baseball pun.”

“Never claimed that I didn’t use them. I’m a fan of a good pun. If you can make it a clever innuendo, all the better.”

“I do love a good innuendo.”

“Yeah, I can tell with the whole tall, dark, and broody thing that you’ve got going on half the time before you whip out a smirk and do that thing with your eyebrows.”

“Why, Swan,” he sighs, waggling those damn eyebrows, “have you been watching me?”

“It’s literally my job.” He does his eyebrows again, and she flicks an apple chunk at him. “Shut it, twenty-nine.”

They sit in the booth and talk, the both of them going through two cups of coffee, before Killian gets a call that he needs to be on the bus to Minute Maid Park, which they both agree is an awful name for a stadium. It’s on the tip of her tongue to start naming off other awful names and major sponsors, but she doesn’t, holding that back as he gathers their plates and walks over to put them all in the bin, his mind seemingly having switched from casual conversation to baseball. She wonders how often he does something like that, just turning everything off to focus on his job.

She can do the same.

“So, Swan,” he sighs as they both walk toward the lobby, Killian to get on the bus and for her to walk toward the elevators, “you going to be around to interview me tonight when I walk off the field?”

“Only if my producer thinks that we need an interview from you.”

“Does this mean I need to play a damn good game?”

“Or a really bad one.”

“I’ll try for one of those.”

“Okay,” she laughs, backing away from him as she sees Scarlet and Fisher walk down into the lobby, “break a leg then.”

He raises a brow. “I’m not sure if that works in sports.”

“Guess you’ll be the first to try it out.”

Emma raises her hand to wave to him, before turning on her heel and walking toward the elevator, her mind trying to piece together all of the elements of her morning while her heart keeps beating like she’s still on the treadmill and not like she’s been sitting in a booth eating for the past two hours.

What the hell just happened?

When she gets back to her room, she quietly opens the door, not knowing if Ruby is awake or not yet, but as soon as she’s inside the room she sees Ruby sitting on the floor with her laptop in front of her with some kind of hair tutorial video on the screen. And whatever it is, Ruby is not succeeding at it, which is pretty much an impossibility with how good Ruby is with hair.

“What’d you do? Run to Manhattan and back? You’ve been gone for forever.”

Putting her phone and hotel key down on the dresser, she slides down onto the floor to sit with Ruby. Her legs are starting to ache, and she desperately needs a shower. She got a look at herself in the mirror in the elevator, and damn does she look rough.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Well, I woke up when you got up because you’re not quiet,” she huffs, tugging at her braid, “and then I woke up an hour ago. You’ve been gone for, like, three hours.”

“I spent a long time at the gym.” That’s not a lie, not really, but it’s not exactly the full truth. She’s not sure why she’s not being honest with Ruby, but it’s…it’s just what her brain has apparently decided on. That breakfast didn’t mean anything, right? So why would she hide it? Probably so no more jokes will be made about them. Yeah, that’s it. That has to be it. “And then I ate breakfast.”

“And you didn’t bring me anything?”

“Not supposed to take the food out of the restaurant area.”

“You could have stolen a banana.”

“Sorry?”

Ruby groans, twists her hair into another braid as the video ends, and then closes her laptop before looking at her, her eyes scanning over her outfit. “Let’s go get something from a café or something. What was that place we went to last time we were here?”

“Snooze, maybe?”

“Yes,” she hums, falling back against the floor before she very obviously remembers her slightly okay braided hair, “let’s go there.”

“I just ate, Rubes.”

“You can keep me company while I eat, and then we’ll go shopping before we have to come back and get ready for work.”

“Can I at least take a shower first?”

“I would prefer if you didn’t smell, so yeah.”

Emma reaches forward and slaps Ruby’s shoulder before getting up. “You’re the worst.”

“But I’m your best friend.”

“Unfortunately.”

“No, very fortunately.”

“Will you do my hair for tonight’s game?” she asks as she strips out of her tank top, sweat having practically dried it to her skin.

“If you let me wear your turquoise pumps.”

“You were going to wear them anyways.”

“Semantics.” Ruby waves her away. “Go take a shower. I’m starving, and I will absolutely perish if I don’t have food in my stomach in the next hour.”

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan #captain swan fic

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two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat · 4 years

Text

CW: transphobia, homophobia. Also pretty long and I'm on mobile so I cant put a read more thing on it.

Ok so this is kind of a personal post so if you don't wanna hear about some of my personal drama, just scroll along. But I feel like I need to get this shit on record somewhere since I don't have the screenshots of the texts this is concerning anymore.

So a little over a year ago, I told the person who'd been my best friend, we'll call her E, since I was about 9 that I didnt want to be friends with her anymore. More on that later.

Back in senior year of high school I started thinking I might be Bi. I brought this up to E and she was super dismissive right off that bat. Saying that I wasnt, sounding like she was trying to console me. Like being Bi was this awful thing that I needed to worry about.

Well fast forward about a year and a half and I went up to my college with her so I could do new student orientation since I was starting the next semester. This is when the fact that I was Bi sort of smacked me in the face because the girl doing my orientation was super hot. I immediately knew I wouldnt be telling E that.

Fast forward to march of 2017. Its spring break. I've reconnected with my high school friends. I've never felt the need to hide my sexuality from them and they were instantly nothing but supportive of me. We never really hung out outside of school back in high school (or in elementary school either in Eric's case.) I start realizing that I've been having more fun with them then I ever did with E. And I finally had people to geek out about sciencey stuff with because E doesnt believe in science but eric LOVES science. It was nice.

Well a couple weeks after spring break me and Es mutual friend Althea asked me to drive her to the shelter so she could get her boyfriends cat fixed (it's way cheaper there then at the vet) and spent the day hanging out with her because she WAS planning to walk back there to pick up the cat afterwards and I was like "uh no. I'm not gonna make you walk across town by yourself." So I finally got to meet her boyfriend. Well that afternoon E came and picked me up to go up to the KU campus to get some more bus passes to go to our college in KC because our school was out of bus passes and didnt know when theyd get more.

Here's when I kinda started to realize I should maybe get out of this friendship. On the way to campus E starts telling me about her day at school and how "theres a girl that used to be a guy in one of my teachers other classes. It's making me uncomfortable."

Me: "that sounds like a you problem, E."

Now I knew she kind of thought that way already. She may not have said shit like that around our other friends but I had to hear it a lot. But because I'm pretty nonconfrontational and she was my only close friend outside of school and I was terrified of being alone, I usually just ignored it or politely debated her about it but generally just agreed to disagree. This was the first time I ever decided to speak up to her about it. Unfortunately I couldnt say much cuz her mom was the one driving us and i knew she agreed with everything E said.

But I'd been hanging out with althea and her boyfriend (who just so happened to be trans) all morning so suddenly having to hear E talk about how uncomfortable trans people make her got me more fired up than usual.

After this I slowly started distancing myself from her. I'd been hoping for a few years that she'd grow up and accept that not everyone is like her and try to be more open minded and accepting of people. Apparently that wasnt happening.

I stopped responding to her texts as often. I was trying to think of a way to talk to her about it but all my past friendships that fell apart, did so naturally and on a silent mutual agreement. So I was half hoping that would happen. Pretty stupid. Dont recommend. Just be straight with people.

After a few months of me only answering her texts every once in a while, she decided to start calling me multiple times a week. Often while I was at work. Sometimes from her mom and sisters phones when I wouldnt answer from her number. Idk y she thought that would work. She knows I hate talking on the phone.

I still didnt know what to say to her. I probably should've just told her I needed some space and she might've backed off for awhile so I could figure it out. But subway stressed me tf out. And i have no idea how you're supposed to end a relationship with your best friend of over 10 years.

(Also some of my other reasons for not wanting to be friends with her were specifically because of althea and I didnt want althea to get dragged into it. Unfortunately it ended up happening anyways. But basically back in highschool, if we were planning for all four of us (me, e, althea, and nikki) to get together, and nikki would have something come up, E would tell althea our get together was cancelled but would still have me come over and then made me promise not to say anything to althea about it.)

Around march or april of last year I blocked her family's numbers. This is when they started showing up at my work. The first time it happened I had a long ass line and was helping my coworker get through it before I left. Her sister came in by herself and just asked how I was doing but left pretty quick after she got her sandwich since it was busy. A couple more times they came and just parked outside like they were waiting for me to get off my shift but ended up leaving. The last time it happened E came in while I was there alone and I really didnt wanna have THAT conversation while i was at work alone and her crazy overprotective mom was out in the car waiting for her. So i made her sandwich very quickly so i could get her out as fast as I could.

I was planning on finally talking to her around the end of april but was still having trouble figuring out what to say.

Unfortunately any plan I had to let her down easy was sort of thrown out the window on may 13th of last year.

My mom texted me that morning about how she got a weird call from Es aunt. On her work phone. This is basically how that call went:

"IS THIS OLIVIAS MOM?????"

My mom, suddenly worried it's my work and something happened to me, "Yes?"

"Why isnt olivia talking to E anymore?"

"............I dont know."

So that kind of crossed a line for me. It really freaked my mom out.

I'm bad at articulating my thoughts when I'm mad or stressed out tho. So my friend Alice ended up writing out the text for me and I read through it to make sure it was ok.

Basically it said "I'm sorry but I dont think we can be friends anymore. The way you talk about the LGBT+ community makes me extremely uncomfortable, especially seeing as I am bisexual and have several friends in the community. The way you used to exclude althea from hanging out with us because you think shes annoying and then expect me to lie to her about it makes me uncomfortable. It was inappropriate to show up at my work unannounced to corner me into talking to you when I needed space. And it was even more inappropriate for your relatives to call my mom at work. I'm sorry I didnt say something sooner but I'm tired of pretending I'm ok with everything you've said over the years."

Then her mom texts me. I dont remember all of it but the gist was "you're a horrible person. E never judged you or anyone else (sure, miss "gay people are gross. I can see how conversion therapy might work." Totally isnt judging anyone and 100% cares about the lgbt+ community.) The only reason she did those things is because she was worried about you."

Then E left me a voicemail that I couldnt understand at all cuz she was crying and I felt terrible even tho everyone was telling me I shouldn't. Now I probably should've taken out the part about althea because it effectively threw my "not wanting to get althea involved" plan out the window. Honestly what really pissed me off about this next part both made me pissed at E but also at myself. E removed herself from the group chat I had with her, nikki, and althea. Blocked althea on Facebook and blocked her number. Didnt bother to explain why. I still feel terrible about this even tho althea has told me many times that it's fine and if she'd had to pick a side she wouldve picked mine. But I still felt like she at least deserved an explanation.

Alice told me to screenshot the texts. I almost didn't cuz I just wanted to forget about all this. But I did.

Anyways life moved on. Eric got a new phone and gave me his beat up galaxy s7. I stuck my s6 into a drawer and let it die and forgot about it.

Then on new years I got a call from althea. Not weird at all. She calls me every major holiday and birthday. Shes done this every year since junior year of high school.

Normal phone call at first. But then she says that her mom has been talking to E's mom. Apparently E's mom told altheas mom that I told E that althea hates her and thinks shes a terrible person and that's why E hasnt been talking to althea. Althea of course didnt believe that but wanted me know about it. This prompted me to try and charge up my old phone and get the screenshots off of it. I had it plugged in for a couple of days and it never turned back on. So that's out apparently.

That's also why I felt the need to get all of this written down. It may not be as great as having the actual screenshots but I'm bad at articulating my thoughts when confronted so I want to have something written down in case any of this comes up again.

#cw: transphobia #cw: homophobia #i needed to get this out while i could actually put it into words #this is the first time in a while that i actually can #personal #homophobia #transphobia #i never post stuff like this so hopefully im tagging it right

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freebooter4ever · 4 years

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my dad group texted my brother and i, highly unusual, and i think jordan was weirded out too cause his response was equally short and confused. on the list of things my little brother and i have never discussed, our dad’s relative interest or lack there of in our lives is pretty high. dad’s been messaging me since october, asking about stuff like where my next living plans are (which he has never done since i first moved out age eighteen), and i’ve only been vaguely responding to the point blank questions cause its just. so. weird. i think my grandpa’s death has shaken dad’s worldview a bit more than he’s been letting on.

he alienated my brother and i pretty much immediately after his secretive marriage to the bottle blonde rich bitch when i was 22. he kicked my brother out as soon as jordan turned 18, and when i discovered this by coming home one summer and seeing jordan wasnt in the house, i got so fucking mad that it was the first time i ever had a full out screaming match at my dad. and apparently this display of anger was when rich bitch decided she didn’t like me (probably valid, but also ironic because pretty much from birth it was known in my entire extended family that dad and i were almost identical personality wise, and both of us have tempers where we will not get mad at anything but frustration will build up and up until on the rare blue moon it boils over, and oh boy. watch out. those moments were the only times i was ever scared of my dad as a kid and i think it only happened twice in my entire life)(if she thinks im crazy when im angry, she should see my dad)

but i was crazy mad because while i was lucky enough to be put in therapy due to attempting to starve myself into non existence at age 13 (many many sessions of ‘family’ therapy with me in the center of a long couch silently trying to pretend i was invisible and my mom two feet away at one end and dad on the opposite end of the couch, and my mom doing all the talking, ranting and raving about how im starving myself to punish her. and then the therapist kicking both my parents out and trying to convince me to say a few words, and her finally getting me to realize that how my mom treated me was not normal and not something i needed to put up with if it made me sad and scared, and then the therapist realizing that i was still too sad and scared to confront it, and her and i coming up with a compromise where we would tell my mom that i was just ‘really attached’ to dad’s house and it wasnt that i was terrified of living with my mom or liked my dad better, it was that i just really liked living in one place instead of out of a suitcase and moving every week), and so had both the therapist and my dad supporting me when at fourteen i finally said enough was enough and demanded that my dad get full custody so i didnt have to spend every other week with my abusive mother anymore - while i got out of that situation, my brother didnt. i tried, he knew that it was my decision to live full time with dad and i made it clear he could do the same, but just as it was a given that i was identical to dad’s personality, my brother was identical to mom’s so i think he was more attached to her than i was. either way, he always refused and insisted on continuing to live between both of them. after i hit driving age, my dad transferred responsibility to me for shuttling my brother to and from my dad’s house to my mom’s apartment. dad’d lock himself in his room, or go to the gym, and i’d turn on an endless rotation of star wars movies for jordan and i to watch before i had to take him to his next week’s place (phantom menace was our favorite cause darth maul was just cool ok, dont judge).

anyway, the last day i ever stayed at my moms house, my brother was there. and i must have been twenty or twenty one because he would have only been around seventeen. but even at seventeen he was well over six foot five cause he got all the height in the family which was totally not fair but thats besides the point. so while i was there my mom flew into one of her alcohol induced rages, and took it all out on my brother. i had intellectually figured that all the anger my mom used to take out on me had then transferred to my brother once i stopped living there every other week, but up until that point i hadn’t actually seen it. she started shoving him, and punching him, and not enough so it would hurt much, because as i said he was well over six feet and she was barely five six, so he could pretty well block any thing she dished out. but he was cornered, and he looked scared. and i was hiding useless on the stairwell, crying, and begging mom to stop. and it only stopped cause jordan managed to slip out the front door and once he escaped mom went back into the kitchen, still yelling and angry. and i took the chance to grab my school bag and leave in solidarity. and my brother and i stood there awkwardly on the porch, me still crying, and him smoking and trying to look cool and not like he just got chased out of the apartment by a woman half his size. and i promised him we wouldnt go back until she calmed down, and that she was being unreasonable and he didnt deserve any of it, and id figure out somewhere to go. and we started walking down the sidewalk, but not together because we were never that close. he wandered off somewhere to smoke. and that’s as far as i remember.

this day came up in conversation with my grandma in the months after grandpa’s death, during one of our many three am can’t sleep conversations in grandma’s kitchen (grandma would wake up, i’d hear her get out of bed and wake up too. she’d make herself tea and eat some graham crackers and we’d sit together at the table feeling the third empty chair like an ache). grandma brought it up, because apparently, even though i cant remember this at all, i had my no/kia brick phone in my school bag (a minor miracle because i hated carrying around cell phones for the longest time), and i actually called grandma. and grandpa and her came to pick me up, and they found me sitting on a wall a block away from my mom’s apartment, and then we drove around till we found jordan, and then we all went back to my grandparent’s house. after bringing this up, grandma then, completely unprompted, told me something that child me thought about regularly - she said that even though her mom died when she was 8, leaving her to help raise her two younger siblings, grandma thought in some ways it was easier than what my brother and i went through with the divorce and my mom leaving. i used to regularly - not wish my mom dead, exactly - but wish i could pretend she was dead, rather than her just not being there anymore. especially since, when i was suddenly thrown into being her sole emotional and physical punching bag now that dad wasn’t filling the role anymore, a lot of the times being around her post divorce was not a good thing. (I cut off all contact with my mom finally at age 25 and haven’t looked back)

so yeah, i was fucking pissed that i had worked so hard to try to mitigate the damage i caused by leaving jordan alone with my mom for pretty much the entirety of my high school years...only to have my dad kick him out barely a few years after i left for college and thus putting my brother at my mom’s mercy. ostensibly my dad kicked my brother out because of his drug addictions, but my brother was the most mild mannered addict i’ve ever known. the worst thing he ever did was steal a couple hundred dollars from me, but he never got violent, he never got angry. other people got angry at him. my aunt once tried to fight him in a hospital elevator because he sold my cousin heroin or meth or some shit and my cousin ended up impaling a knife in his chest in front of my grandma, which is a whole nother story. but jordan was only nineteen when that happened. my cousin? thirty six. and a long time violent and angry drug addict with a record (he threw a book at his professor’s head and got kicked out of grad school while on cocaine once, which is how he ended up back in washington state and needing a new drug dealer - hence my brother suddenly getting involved) (same cousin later flew into a drug fueled rage in his forties and almost beat his girlfriend to death) (my brother was long since clean by then and had nothing to do with our cousin getting drugs at that point)

all this to say my dad’s rich bitch new wife didn’t think a drug addict and mentally ill artist fit into her picture perfect family, so dad started making it clear we were not welcome at family functions unless we complied with very strict rules. ironically, jordan was let back into the fold first partially because i can hold a grudge for a very long time and i was very very terrified of my mom and dad was the sane stable one and i had trusted him to take care of everything even without me there and dad had failed pretty spectacularly at that. im still bitter at my dad for his secret marriage and subsequent moving into her million dollar mansion and throwing my brother out. but also partially because jordan started following all of dad’s rules, got himself cleaned up (he moved in with his girlfriend, and i think being out of mom’s house had a lot to do with getting over his addictions), started studying computer science, found a really good software engineering job, suddenly dad approved of him. i also partially antagonized rich bitch wife by doing silly things like wearing black leather pants and the most provocative clothes i owned whenever i went over to their house. rich bitch was a very simple narrow minded person with a lot of prejudices. i imagine i was not seen as a good influence on her two younger daughters. and eventually they stopped seeing me altogether. even when i was living in washington for all of 2017 - the only time i ever saw dad was when he’d come visit my grandparents alone. the day before i took grandma on the train to move to ohio, we were supposed to all have dinner together at our family’s favorite place to eat out - crossroads mall - and the rich bitch refused to show up. that’s how petty she is. she also is so dumb she’s under the delusion that kids get into drugs if they don’t have dogs (????) so that’s why she forced my dad to get a dog for her spoiled brat youngest when the girl went into high school. my dad dislikes animals, so i will say one of the highlights of this marriage is seeing my dad become a dog person. the rich bitch and her daughters mostly ignore the dog, but my dad is so attached to max that he even lets the little puppy sit in his lap while driving. anyway, anyone who thinks dogs are the sole answer to preventing drug addictions can go to hell.

yeah, blah blah blah, to sum up its WEIRD for my dad to suddenly be texting my brother and i unprompted, and asking me about my life and my plans. i dont really know how to deal. i miss him. he was always the closest person in my life to the point where even when i moved away for college, i still assumed after i graduated i’d just move back in with dad so it was only four years being gone, cause why would i ever want to live anywhere else?. i kept thinking if i could hit some level of success that he would approve of, that maybe eventually i could become somebody his rich bitch wife would associate with. but that never happened, obviously.

#journal shit #christmas is family time right????

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curlyshyy · 5 years

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New Apartment and the same anxious energy with a while lotta guilt and regret :) (A short story by me)

I love that when I’m too lazy and sad to pull out a journal I can come on here cuz no one looks at this shit. Why do I event still have a tumblr?

The last two nights have been rough for me, as I think new happy events trigger my brain into being sad and hating myself? Of course it’s nights where I’ve had to open the bar at 9 AM the next morning. I suppose that’s the first reason I hadn’t been able to sleep. I hate my job low-key. I once loved Alamo Drafthouse. Adored it even. Then moved to this shit hole in Norrh Richland Hills which is the furthest from the Alamo way, and I’m not valued. I feel like a fuck up everyday. In a lot of ways I am. I’m functioning with severe anxiety and most people don’t know or understand. I do stupid things when I’m having a panic attack, and these managers judge me hard. But here’s the thing I know in my heart, even when I hate myself, I’m a good worker, I’m kind, and will do anything for my coworkers and will eventually get really good at this job.im dedicated to say the least. I think that’s what matters most but for now they just see me as a fuck up, slow learner. I work my ass off though and they don’t see it. If I could work every second of everyday. Ifthis shit hole wasn’t trying to cut everyone’s hours cuz they’re not making any money, i’d work myself into physical exhaustion, like I’m so good at doing. Thats the only thing I can feel. It’s my only escape and I hate being there. This is a little dramatic. My life has been improving, and yes I know I need therapy. We been knew. My ass was anxious at 5 years old. Anxiety is truly hell, I wish I’d just force myself to hurry up and get help, and I wish I wasn’t poor. I wish my mom had saw how fucked I was and made me get help as a kid, but she did the best she could. Could blame the bitch but like, she has a hard enough time accepting and coping with her own mental illness. She hardly acknowledges it. That must be hard to lie to yourself everyday, and say that you just have to choose happiness.

The reason the last two nights have been shit is cuz I stayed up dreading going to work and being there all day and I hate the fuck out of mornings and waking up before noon. Which is why I like closing and usually have night shifts. Since the fucks cut my hours I gotta take what I can get though. I need a constant distraction at night cuz my brain is literally scary as fuck. I can’t even tell anyone about 95% of it. It’s so terrifying. So I usually distract myself with my phone. But I was like “hey, brain I know we’re anxious af and sad, but can we go to sleep?” To which my brain replied : “Remember this event from two years ago? Haha you’re a terrible person.” Then my body physically stiffend, I felt physically ill and my head ached and all I could do was think about past mistakes and everything that makes me a failure and bad person. Typical manageable anxiety for me at this fucking point, I’m just not gonna be able to sleep and I know it. Then I remember an old friend, I used to work with at Chili’s. Javi. Literally one of the very slim parts of the things that I don’t block out and cringe hard about when it comes to chili’s, are our times together. I block that shit hard. I mean just thinking about me in this time frame is enough to make me believe I’m terrible. I wasn’t right. I regret literally everything about chili’s. That place is a nightmare and probably what hell is going to look like when I arrive. anyways god damn. Javi is this sweet kind angel. We were all struggling at this mother fucking chili’s let me tell you. My dumb ass had just come back from vid con (2017) How did I afford that? I spent my rent money. Also I couldn’t afford to eat for like a week. But YouTube was and still is the only thing in this world that makes my brain feel calm. It’s a safe place for me. And I was dumb as shit. Anyway my dumb ass was already starving before Vidcon and could barely afford rent. :) cuz chili’s doesn’t pay well. So I was real fucked when rent came up and literally considered myself lucky when I found a packet of cheezits lying around, cuz that was a good meal to me at the time. I guess I’m telling my coworkers this and busting my ass all night bussing peoples tables and helping out as a hostess which of course paid jack shit. And I know I’m about to go home fucked another night, and Javi, pulls out the $165 dollars he made that night, and hands it to me. The boy had bills, and worked all night too. Who would ever be so kind-hearted to do such a thing. I of course refused, cuz what the fuck. He insisted. I said I was going to cry and he said “aw don’t cry Sheyenne, or I’ll cry too.” And hugged me. I was also super numb and depressed and wanted to be with Hannah so much, and honestly I don’t feel like I was my best self. I look at that person and I don’t feel like it was me. But I used it to pay rent. Still wasn’t eating and he even bought me food one day. Literal angel. I don’t know or remember if I expressed enough gratefulness. I don’t know if I was capable of expressing it. A couple months later he’s about to move to Idaho, and we have a goodbye dinner, and I figure this is a good time to repay him. I give him $100 which is all I could really do at the time, and try to tell him I think he’s one of the best people I’ve ever met. He leaves, and I think we only ever talked one time after that, and I offered to buy him pizZa but never did for some reason? We never really talked again. I alwyas momentarily remember him, but I really have chili’s and the person I was in 2017 so far blocked that I really can’t remember that shit. It’s so hazy. There isn’t a full day I can remember. Just tiny bits and pieces. For some reason two nights ago I remembered him vividly. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I felt panic and guilty as fuck. Paralyizying guilt. I felt like I should never deserve to enjoy anything ever again in my entire life. I felt terrible. I felt like if he ever struggled to make it or eat, then I should’ve been there for him. I stalked his fb, cuz I needed to know he was okay.

He doesn’t use social media too much. His mom however posts about him a lot. Which confused me because I know they have a strained relationship, and he could have a lot of help from his mom, but I think he resented the help, because they didn’t always get along? I don’t know how fucked she was to him though. What fb told me was she paid for him to come every few months. He has a new girlfriend that he seems very happy with, he seems happy in general. He’s smiling in pics. But that’s social media. At best pictures his moms posting. I felt like I needed to know or I was going to have a breakdown. I don’t have his phone number for some reason, so I snapped him a long message. Usually I’d feel crazy to reach out especially when we Weren’t that close but I just needed to. I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t sleep. Then opened at work. The shake machine of course was fucked and I had to put it back together correctly only after shake mix poured everywhere. That’s just my life. Me doing something out of panic, and then having to redo it after looking like a dumb bitch. I truly learn from fucking up. I’m wired so fucking wrong. He finally responds once I’m off work. I read it. It’s not what I need to hear but it’s decent, and proves he doesn’t hate me. He tells me he’s good, but working at Taco Bell, and I know he’s still struggling which makes me sad, but I guess I’ve been struggling to, so I shouldn’t hold myself accountable for not reaching out. I’ve been so poor, and me and Hannah are just now catching up, and taking a breather after 2 years of struggling. I let my mind rest though because he’s alive and he’s eating and has a girlfriend and family who are looking out for him. Until the next night when I should be exhausted from no sleep. The guilt starts eating away at me again. I feel like I shoukdve sent him more money,but after a while I stopped thinking about it because of all that I was going through and that made me feel selfish. I felt that I owed him for my entire life. Maybe I blocked out how much he and his kinda gesture meant to me because anything regarding chili’s, is so far removed, and maybe that super vivid memory, is what I needed to remind me. I’ve also been struggling heavily with my mental health and off and on numb most of the time, so it is possible that I wasn’t as grateful as I could’ve been or at least didn’t properly show gratefulness. So I once again reached out and also sent $20. I really went for it this time. I said I literally need to know you’re okay and happy, and for you to know how special you are and sorry if this sounds crazy dog. Like I must’ve seemed fucking insane but I needed him to know. I don’t know why it was physically paining me so much. Maybe because of all the roommates and so called friends who disappeared without paying rent and left me fucked with no second thought of how I’d eat tomorrow. I just couldn’t bare to think that, He was out there roughing it, maybe Skiping a meal, (like Hannah and I’ve had to so so many times thanks to people who literally could give a fuck less.) After he was there when I needed help. He ended up telling me he didn’t need money, and that he did what he did because he was my fiend, and he even apologized that I didn’t have any friends at the time that would’ve helped me the way he did. He apologized. He told me that I deserved it. That really calmed me. I guess I forgot the good that I did because I just remember the bad. I guess I didn’t think about the positive effects I had on him. That I must’ve done something right for someone to care so deeply that they just handed me that kind of money, after a long shift. He saw that, and maybe he felt he owed me in a weird way. I still feel like I owe him. I wish I’d talked to him sooner. Genuinely good people are hard to find. Who tf would do what he did? Seriously. I am so glad I reached out though.

It worries me though. How small past events can trigger me so hard. It’s a snowball effect. Anxious about work, life, who I am, past mistakes, and it’s paralyzing and hurts my entire body and keeps me from sleep and makes me feel undeserving of a good life or any enjoyment. I really need to get help because it’s getting to an unmanageable point, like it was after I graduated 3 years ago. It scares me that so many past memories are blocked expect for bad ones and bits and pieces. It scares me that, there has never been a completely care free 100% happy period of my life, that lasted longer than a couple days, and now as an adult it’s an even shorter amount of time. Genuine happiness is rare and make men feel pointless. I’m empty most of the time and want things and have the capacity to work hard and achieve them but also feel that I don’t deserve them. I am capable of happiness and some days, I do feel genuinely happy even if it doesn’t last the whole day. My family and Hannah still have a lasting impact on me and even when I’m an unfeeling zombie, I still know love, and numbness makes it hard to feel but somehow not entirely impossible. Little bits of light get through the cracks, and in some ways I’ve gotten better at managing my brain, and I truly don’t want to die or think I deserve to like I once did. The guilt attacks and fears of being bad, and some how accidentally hurting someone emotionally or physically, still fuck my head up because I could never hurt anyone intentionally and feel guilt for any small pains caused alwyas. I wish I could take back many wrong words and hurtful actions done and said to loved ones, but I can’t but it’s okay because they forgive me, so I can forgive myself too. I have to let go of the past.

This really creeped in again because I started to feel excited about a fresh start and our apartment. My brain tries to tell me I don’t deserve it. I deserve to decorate with Hannah, and to allow myself happiness so that I can be happy and enjoy life and be a better girlfriend. I also need to get a new job that doesn’t make me feel like the scum of the earth.

A part from that all I’m feeling a lot better. I’m off tomorrow. I watched Phil’s new video and it made me feel hopeful, proud and nostalgic. YouTube and the youtubers that have been the stand ins for the lack of friends, have comforted me, inspired me, and put my brain to rest, and assured me I’m not as weird and alone as I think I am. That’s why I want to do YouTube. It’s a tough though. Editing takes a lot of time and I want to make things I’m proud of. I want to make music even though I’m bit a musician, I want to keep writing and actually read again like free 12 year old me did. I read and wrote so much then. I want to be that me again. I want to reach other people and help them feel less alone, I want to make a difference and I want to not feel like a failure. I just need to get past all of this guilt and I really think this is the start of that, and my journey to creating.

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silversunshine2012 · 5 years

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About Self Harm

For those who either want to help a friend/family member/etc who self harms and wants to stop, or if you yourself are trying to find ways to stop but don’t fully understand why or what helps or why you’re feeling this way or whatever. This is for you.

So. If you don’t know why some people with depression self harm, this, as someone with personal first hand experience, is the only way i know how to explain it

So there are a few different reasons but these three were always my main go-to’s when i was in that place.

Imagine you’re drowning. Or that you’re in a void. And in that void there is nothing put pain and fear and loneliness and the desperate need for sleep. But you can’t sleep. And even though good and bad things are going on around you, there’s a wall separating you from those things. So, you know you should feel happy or sad or angry or whatever, but you don’t. So.. Hey. Physical pain is better than nothing right? And for me it felt like an adrenaline rush. Or just.. All of the sudden there was something to feel that didn’t feel forced or fake for others’ sake. And it was addicting.

How i would describe this one to those that understand the feeling (usually trying to help and pin point what the feeling is so that i can help them not harm themselves) usually ends up being, “i feel like shit and yet i feel nothing which makes me feel worse because it also doesn't bc i /cant/ /fucking/ /feel/”

Another reason was that I felt like a failure. For me personally i never felt like i was punishing myself though. For me personally it always felt like an escape from my own mind badgering me over and over again about how pathetic and stupid and worthless and all those other things i was starting to believe i truly was.

This one I usually explain like this, “i'm a shit person i should just die in a hole.. *****.. you're my only friend..” (i sensor this for both our sakes, so that they can insert whatever they use to self harm instead of simply saying what i used primarily, and so that neither of us has to read a word that is a trigger for one or both of us)

The third reason, and this one became more prevalent as i began to actively try not to harm myself, was that as the scars began to fade (and to those of you who think they never will, most do. Yes there are deeper ones that may never completely disappear, but they do fade) I felt guilty about it. I felt guilty because I was trying to forget a person who so desperately just wanted to be seen, and remembered, and missed. I felt like I was betraying myself, my own trust. Like I was abandoning myself. Or even just that I felt that it was part of the new routine now. Or at least, that was what i told myself when I didn’t feel like getting too deep into it.

However, especially after i started actively fighting the urges, it was usually a weird amalgamation of all of those. (And as i write I’m realizing more and more little details about why like how when I felt guilty for not doing it, I felt like a shit person. And again. What was the go-to “friend” when i felt like a shit person? Exactly. Which of course made not wanting to anymore even harder, and just added to the whole dynamic and mess of emotions that didn’t even feel fully real anyway.)

So, what helped me the most, especially when it was one of those amalgamation ones, was to do an amalgamation of alternatives.

Depending on how dire the urge to feel or remember or see something physical and just have a little evidence of my past self, etc. If that urge was too strong to wait, I would change the order. But my go-to was usually this:

(for me 1 and 2 were interchangeable)

1. Distract yourself. Go on a walk outside, get some water, walk away and get out of your current surroundings, take a bath, go in the restroom and just splash some water on your face. You can craft or do something fun like reading or whatever. Just something to get your mind off of it and onto something better.

2. If you can, and you don’t want to distract yourself because it makes you feel worse for ignoring a problem you know is there and you don’t want to keep doing that because you know that just makes things worse when you’re trying to GET BETTER FFS. Then go to a quiet spot and just start writing. Write down everything you feel, that you think you should feel, like this is legit your time to be as existential as you want. All that existential crisis shit you do when you feel numb? Yeah. Do that. Write it all down and get inside your own head and just, get it out. Even if you don’t think you can write it how you want it? Just keep writing. Either until you think you understand it all a little better, or just feel better because you got it just.. OUT yknow? You aren’t going to share this with anyone so go ahead and write literally anything and everything. If you really /reeaally/ want, later you can show someone you trust if you think they will be able to help or you want them to understand things better.

a. Drawing also works. Just do something that gets out what you feel inside in some way.

3. If that doesn’t help, or you can’t do that because you have a limited amount of time to yourself at that exact moment and you physically can’t push it down any longer because you think you’ll explode in front of your friends, coworkers, boss, parents, etc.

a. Grab some ice and run it across where you would normally hurt yourself. It wont have the same warm buzzy burn or sharp sting or any of those, but it burns in its own way.

b. Grab some pens. Red works great, for obvious reasons, but blue and black also do too for different poetic reasons like blue for robot veins and black for the black that you always described your soul as only semi-jokingly or the void you’re trying to get out of but not leave the little kid behind still trapped there in the process. Pens are great because you can use different pressures and write words and all these other things. You can even trace your veins which not only helps but looks badass when you’re done

These usually helped me the most. No. This is not a fully comprehensive list of alternatives. If I can find one again I will link it in here somewhere.* However, I wanted to help and show that I understand and you’re not alone if you feel this way and things can get better. It’ll take some time and a lot of patience and work on your part and a lot of support from family, friends, and loved ones. But it can and will get better eventually.

And don’t feel like you can’t come to anyone. Trust me. I know how hard it is. Especially when you feel like you don’t want to drag them all down with you because you care about them too much to let them be swallowed up by the same abyss of fear and pain and tears that you’re in when they tried to save you and pull you out.

But listen to me for a sec, okay? Like really listen. If they truly care about you? They will be there. They may not know how to help. They may not know what you’re going through fully. But they will try their best to be there for you and try to get you help or just be an ear to listen. Let them help. Don’t be alone. Don’t choose to be alone. Get help. Surround yourself with the people who love you and care about you because I can Guarantee they exist. And if the people you love help you by helping you find a therapist, take your therapist’s advice seriously. Engage. Don’t just let this pass by. Everyone likely needs at least a little therapy, so take advantage of it. You’re not weird or brain damaged or crazy by being there. You’re admitting you need help. And that’s the first step to getting some.

And to those of you who want to help but don’t know how, just listen first. Please don’t judge. Don’t make them feel bad for coming to you, because it took a shit ton of courage for them to do so. Listen to them. Really listen. If you’re in a position to help them find a therapist or something, and maybe even help them pay for it, that’s great! And if you’re the one taking them home from therapy sessions? Don’t badger them until they tell you everything they told their therapist. That’s what a therapist is for. Don’t push them. They’ll tell you things when they’re ready, or maybe just not at all. And that’s okay. It’s nothing against you personally. But a therapist is trained and knows the brain and people in a way that can help far better than you can. Also, they don’t have to see this therapist outside of therapy, and if they do, they need to get another therapist or not see them outside of therapy. Because that can completely defeat the whole purpose.

And for those of you who can’t actually talk to anyone about this because of safety reasons or anything else like that. I’ll put a link to hotlines and chatrooms that can help for an immediate one-time help.

And remember. Asking for help does not make you useless or pathetic or stupid or needy or any of those things. You are trying to get better. Realizing that you’re having urges to self harm again and actively trying to fight it and fight the part of you that still wants to or says it’s easier. Is. Ficking. Huge. It’s an enormous step in the right direction. Towards healing. But urges come and go. Don't let the crazy bitch in the back of ur mind telling you getting help is bad or that this is who you are and it'll never change, win. Don't let them take part of you with them when they crawl back in that hole in ur mind where ur trying to bury them for good. Don’t let them take that kid that just wants to be seen and remembered down with them when they go back. Who you were and who you are are two totally different people. Yes they're the same in many ways. but they're different. child you, five year old you? you when you didn't know any better? you when you thought you were going to grow up to be a superhero? You before you found out your sexuality or gender or lack thereof? Yes. They were all you. But only were. Not are. Who you are now is the pieces from all those people you were that you choose to take with you

But don’t forget that while that bastard in your head you think of as a villain for now is buried, the malevolent being you tell to fuck off when those self deprecating thoughts come in, and the one you call your depression and all of that, they’re still in there. Even while they’re buried they’re still there. And they will come back out. But they come out to help both of you heal. They need healing too. And with time, and support and help and trust and love and patience and work. You both will slowly heal together, and someday you can even visit every once in a while to help those after you going through the same shit you went through. And you can know that what you went through wasn’t for nothing. Because you make sure of it.

Alternatives

Self

Harming

Suicide Prevention chat

More hotlines

More hotlines worldwide

Crisis as well as suicide hotlines

#important #alternatives to self harm #healthier alternatives #you're not alone #please spread this around #..this honestly took a lot of blood sweat and tears from my own life and just vomited it all on paper and now on the internet #i hope this helps #depression #self harm #basically this is my life story #..or at least a piece of it

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hauntedcloset-blog1 · 6 years

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Something Macabre Something || Eddie and Reza

In which Eddie’s honest with both Reza and himself, Reza deals with feelings that are not appreciated, and the two decide to go on an adventure.

So much had happened in the past week and Eddie was currently still reeling from it. His encounter with Owen had left him having unpredictable mood swings and no one he could talk to. He felt more alone than usual, which was saying something. He missed Reza, but was forced to wonder if that bridge had been burned. After receiving the text from Reza that read, “ 'just leaving macabre, we'll find someplace less gross to meet “ a surge of hope rushed through him. Waiting any longer to see Reza would have been torture, so he sent him a response that insisted Macabre was fine and he was already out the door. Once he arrived, he entered the club to begin looking for his friend. Most of the patrons looked like they were straight out of Anne Rice novels, though Eddie wasn’t here for people-watching. As he scanned the crowd, someone bumped into him. Eddie turned to see who had collided with and noticed that they were munching on what looked like a very real human finger. “Oh, what the fuck.”

Meeting at Macabre was a shit idea, Reza was fully aware of that fact. He'd mostly just caved because he didn't want to argue about more things with Eddie; his mind was already brimming over with shit he needed to say and scolding the medium about how shitty macabre was... it didn't even reach the top five of the list. So he reluctantly hung around, wishing he had a change of clothes out of his very 2016-Reza outfit, designed to make him blend in and not arouse suspicion. Complete with eyeliner (though that was mostly smudged off. He hoped). Eventually he'd been forced outside for a smoke if only to escape the music making him queasy, returning inside and checking his phone as he did. No reply from Eddie yet... strange, Reza would have figured they should have met up outside to avoid -- exactly what was happening a few feet away. Pushing his way through the crowd before the vamp with the finger (real charming) switched it out for Eddie's neck, Reza was quick to grab his friend and physically push him in a different direction. "Come on," he muttered, not giving Eddie a chance to stop until they reached the slightly more quiet area of chairs, people to drunk to dance and feedings happening in the corner. Yeah, this was just a fucking great place to be.

It wasn’t until arriving at Macabre that Eddie realized how painfully aware of his own neck he could be. His shoulders raised defensively and he nearly gasped when he felt Reza’s hands on him. It was truly good to hear his voice again even if there was some annoyance in the mix. A small smile formed as he walked with Reza, making the decision to allow himself to begin to feel safe in spite of the fact that they had just reached the corner of Macabre where humans went to waste away. “Sorry, about... that.” Nerves were evident in his voice, a side effect of the past week. “I’ve heard stories about this place but, uh, didn’t expect anything quite like that.” Eddie eyed Reza for a moment, distracted by what he was currently wearing, but also very much aware of the fact that he pulled it off. The prolonged awareness of Reza’s physical form made Eddie give in to an urge he’d had for a while. He took a step closer and wrapped his arms around Reza’s mid-section. “Sorry, I’m a fucking idiot.”

"Yeah, well the stories are usually true around here so don't do anything stupid. Or more stupid," Reza added the last part as an afterthought because Eddie had definitely crossed the line of doing stupid things, to a point of the vampire judging him. It wasn't like Reza had the perfect track record necessary to be judging Eddie's choices of people to... hang with. Sociopathic drug dealing vampire probably ranked in a similar place to psychopathic slayer but... still. Starting to squirm under the gaze, a part of him having hoped that Eddie would just let the stupid outfit slide. Apparently not and apparently, he wasn't going to let 'staring' be enough to unnerve Reza. There was no preventing the way Reza's whole body tensed up in response to the hug, jaw clenching. "I'll forgive you if you just tone down the touching," he gritted out, even though he would have easily been able to push Eddie off. And push him over to the other side of the club for that matter but the guy had been hurt enough.

The wind had been knocked out of him by the overwhelmingly negative response he’d received from Reza. His arms retreated back to his sides as the illusion of safety that Reza’s presence had brought evaporated. “Sorry.” The music seemed louder than before and Eddie was beginning to feel less and less welcome. It occurred to him that this may have been the last thing Reza wanted. He hadn’t seemed to keen on talking in general, maybe he’d only agree to meet Eddie to be cordial. It hurt, there was no getting past that, but he knew that he only had himself to blame. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just... good to see you, I think.”

The hurt on Eddie's face made it look like he'd been slapped full force but Reza was finding it hard to reassure him, still reeling from the warmth and unexpected element of the hug. Not to mention that hugging felt almost... worse than the kiss way back, mostly because between the two, Eddie had (presumably) done more than just kissing to test the waters of his sexuality. "It's good to see you too, didn't expect you back in one piece." It slipped out, all the pent up frustration rolling off his tongue now that the he couldn't backspace every salty thing that came into his head. "Sorry, just... let's sit." Picking a table as far away from the corner of feeding as possible, filled with more memories than Reza cared to recall, he could still smell the faint scent of blood wafting over through the booze and sweat. "Are you okay?" he finally managed to ask, voice genuine once he'd put aside the odd feeling of anger, awkwardness and something that tickled just like jealousy.

It seemed strange to Eddie, the way Reza was reacting, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. “That makes two of us.” He responded as the disgust that had made it’s home inside of him grew just a bit more. A lot of retrospection had followed the night he’d spent with Owen which had thrown a wrench in his usually stable mood. At times, he wanted nothing more than to go back to Owen’s and do it all again, but sometimes he just hated himself. Not only had he fumbled and ended up literally sleeping with the enemy, but this meant that he was actually gay. There was no covering it up anymore. He wasn’t gonna end up with a wife and two kids, a mortgage, and pre-picked cemetery lot. That future had never truly enticed Eddie, but it didn’t scare him as much as this new one. Acting on auto-pilot, he sat across from Reza and nearly laughed at his question. “Fuck no.” He said with a laugh that was betrayed by the fact that he looked like he could burst into tears at any moment. “I... I think I ruined my own life, actually.”

An honest answer. Reza wasn't sure whether he'd wanted the classic 'I'm fine' lie so they could pretend things weren't shit, or not. But the answer doubled with the pained look Eddie was sporting had Reza waving something that looked mostly nonsensical over to the bar but had a very specific meaning. Just one beer because this conversation wasn't going to happen like this; despite Reza's multiple therapy session, he had no way of clearly communicating about this whatsoever. "Yeah, been there. Multiple times, actually." He sighed; someone as dysfunctional as him really shouldn't be giving anyone advice right now, especially not considering their short but very weird history. "You wanna... talk about it?" Just in time, the two beers were placed on the table, the smell making Reza's stomach flip with disgust and excitement; a bad combo.

Cue the violins, Eddie felt like he was going to have a mental breakdown in a public setting. “And I managed to fuck you over while fucking myself over. I am, truly, a word-class fuck up.” The club felt more crowded than it had previously. “And the thing is-- I wanted it. I did.” Speaking on this subject was clearly putting a strain on Eddie, but he had needed to stop holding it all in. “Now I feel fucking empty most of the time, more alone than usual, and yet... I wanna do it again. Not necessarily with... him, I just...” He trailed off for a moment, taking a drink of beer to give himself courage. Though he’d claimed that he hadn’t only been hoping of doing what he’d done with Owen once more, the slayer had been on his mind almost constantly. “So, yeah, secret’s out. I’m gay and I am egregiously fucked up about it.” There was snark embedded into his words but even that couldn’t mask the fact that he was currently holding back an onslaught of tears.

Well, he hadn't need much prodding... Reza sunk back in his seat, guilt seeping in because he'd left Eddie on his own to deal with all of that because he'd been selfishly angry at... what? The slayer? Or the fact that Eddie had in no minor way been more open to a stranger than he had with Reza? Maybe it was as simple as not wanting to watch Eddie go through the same shit Reza had back then because just hearing the desperate way the medium spoke... it was enough to make half of Reza's beer vanish pretty quickly. "My first kiss with a guy was in here. And he bit me as well and I thought it was fucking amazing. Until I got home and had to face my dad and felt like the scum of the earth so... what I'm trying to say is I know how you feel and I'm sorry for snapping at you." Rubbing at his face, fingers smudging with black, he continued. "I mean, I really thought I could take on a slayer myself, what a dumbass. Which shouldn't have been the fucking point anyway but rather that you... I don't know, that you were okay, or whatever." The glass was raised again to silence his rambling because was this even helping? Reza had no fucking idea. "To sum up, uhm... it's okay that you're gay. Obviously. Even more okay that you're fucked up over it." Less okay that you let a slayer fuck you but we all make mistakes. Yeah, no. Eddie was one mean comment away from crumbling, it seemed.

The apology had not been something Eddie was expecting, but it felt amazing to receive. But the worst wasn’t over. Reza knew about his actions and accepted them, but something told Eddie that he wouldn’t react the same way to his feelings. Owen had burrowed his way into Eddie’s brain and even he knew that was a slippery slope to something much worse. So, he chose not to tell Reza about how badly he wanted to message the slayer or to just show up at his house unannounced and lacking motives other than just wanting to see him. Things that Owen had said seemed to have tattooed themselves in the folds of his brain. He’d find himself laughing or smiling to himself until he realized how fucked he was; then all he felt was dread. Eddie’s eyes carefully watched as Reza wiped away at his makeup, choosing to fixate on his friend rather than become overwhelmed by the crowd. “You’re really important to me, okay?” He’d glazed over what Reza said mostly in the name of self-preservation. “I don’t know why the universe decided it was time for you to pay your dues and saddled you with me, but I’m glad it did. So, I don’t really care what you did, I’m just happy you’re here. Kinda thought I’d lost you for a second there.”

"Nah, someone still has to chaperone you around Ashkent so you don't get yourself killed," Reza muttered into his beer, trying to brush aside the complete absurdity of this whole situation. Wondering what the hell it looked like to an outsider - probably the worst date in history. Or an apology date, for that matter. Which made sense, considering the sinking gut feeling Reza had, making him feel cheated on. Not in the soul wrenching, heart stopping way he'd felt when he'd actually been cheated on (which would have been a really weird reaction so thank fuck for that) but still shit. In accordance to all that, it probably wasn't too much of a surprise when the unnecessary question slipped out. It had only needed a nudge from a single beer, empty glass getting abandoned on the table. "So what exactly did you do?"

Eddie had been carefully taking a sip of his beer when his brain registered Reza’s question. He nearly choked but managed to recover after shooting his friend an almost horrified expression. “What did I do?” He stalled, wondering if he should actually unleash the gory details. “I mean, we didn’t-- we didn’t go all the way or anything.” Suddenly, he felt like he was in high school again. He wondered how long it would for Reza to ask if ‘like-liked’ Owen. “We just...” Every word that came to mind was vulgar; he didn’t want to subject his friend to that. In an odd way, he felt like he had wronged Reza by acting on such urges. Even if Owen wasn’t a slayer, there would still be guilt. “Well, first he...you know, oral.” He wasn’t even speaking in complete sentences. “And then I returned the favor.” Eddie was bright red.

Reza was painfully aware of how shitty the question had been, the point proven by Eddie almost choking. Despite that, there wasn't a real urge to retract the question while the other man stalled. He could have; just brushed it off as an impulse thing, they could have talked about literally anything else but alas. This weird drive to know what had happened wasn't really explainable, at least not further than just morbid curiosity and perhaps forcing Eddie to say these things out loud. Which he did and Reza finally regretted asking. "Hmm," came the eloquent response, hand wrapping tightly around the empty glass - not too tightly, he'd learned from his accident with Reed. "Interesting." What the fuck was he even saying? As unnecessary as the first question had been, Reza found a second one popping into his mind. One that he actually knew he needed the answer to. "Did he make you?" Reza asked the bottom of his glass, not watching Eddie but hearing the way his heart was hammering away. This couldn't be what the medium had wanted out of this little pow-wow but there was no avoiding the subject. Reza felt personally involved and aside from that, he didn't want Eddie making the same mistakes he had.

It became apparent to Eddie that Reza had become an expert at shocking him. The events of the night spent at Owen’s flashed before his eyes as he analyzed every choice he had made. The corner of his heart that had latched onto Owen was appalled, it wanted Reza to know that Owen would never do anything like that to Eddie. Though, if Eddie were to be completely honest, he wasn’t entirely sure what Owen was capable of. “No, he didn’t make me.” Eddie spoke slowly, not able to will himself to make eye contact. “No, I-- I wanted it. I think I even made the first actual move,” omitting wandering hands at least, “and I... enjoyed it even if it was a little strange. He wouldn’t...” Eddie sighed. “Well, he didn’t.”

"Well, that's... good." Not very convincing, even though it was obviously good that Eddie had been making his own decisions. Even though the fact that Eddie had willingly made those shit decisions was making Reza's stomach churn. This was Bridget and Veronica all over again, only Veronica hadn't literally threatened to kill him. At least she'd somewhat cared that Reza hadn't murdered anyone yet. "See, this is why I didn't want to talk about my whole thing with Noah because it's weird. Right? This feels pretty fucking weird to me at least," Reza rambled. His head was starting to hurt but at least the mention of Noah was like a tiny weight lifting, reminding him of the chance he still might just have. Granted that he wasn't out here getting... well, fucking jealous to say it as is, at his friend sleeping around. "Like I wanna say I'm happy for you but that guy's not any better than the pricks I work for so... maybe we can settle on me definitely not hating you?"

Guilt squeezed Eddie’s heart as a grim reminder that it hadn’t gone anywhere. “It’s weird.” He agreed with a slight nod. “I think that’s mostly my fault. I mean, needless to say that my choice making skills are questionable at best. I guess this’ll just be another installment of what happens when you follow people that don’t really want you around.” Sadness swirled in his stomach which prompted him to finally finish off his beer. “I don’t expect you to be happy for me, I’m not even sure if I’m happy for me yet. But, and maybe I shouldn’t say this, I am still unbelievably grateful that you were one of my firsts at least. I think about that conversation we had about what life would have been like if we’d gone to high school together and it probably would have been a hot fucking mess, but thinking about it usually makes me smile or whatever. Though, I would be the fucking worst white knight.”

Seeing Eddie down his beer had Reza waving for a second round, almost out of pure instinct. It wasn't the best idea but he'd be careful. He knew he could be, now that he actually had something (or someone) to lose from being a fuck up. "I want you around," Reza mumbled, brushing off just how much he meant that statement and latching onto Eddie's follow up train of thought. "I'm kinda glad we didn't, to be honest. You would have just been another straight guy for me to be in denial about crushing on and on top of that, you would have had to deal with me like this." Reza gestured to the 'even darker than usual' ensemble, over the top amount of rings, complete with a stupid belt buckle and studded army boots and honestly, he should have just gone full out and thrown a fucking colored streak into his hair. At least he wasn't wearing a full length trenchcoat like... well, an alarming amount of people in here. "So, yeah. You would have been a shitty white knight and I would have denied ever needing a fucking rescue." And a saving grace, in the form of two more beers.

For a moment, a stupidly happy grin appeared on Eddie’s face. Verbal conformation that he was wanted coupled with Reza reeling him back to reality. He almost felt normal again. “For what it’s worth,” Eddie shrugged as a playful expression emerged on his face, “you kinda pull it off at least. And I’m only saying ‘kinda’ so I don’t fully embarrass myself.” He sipped at his beer. “Being a white knight sounds exhausting anyway.”

Alright, they could do this. Just have a normal conversation, two guys drinking beers and not talking about oral sex with slayers (or thinking about it, fucking stop). "Don't be turning into a fucking liar for my benefit, Ghost Whisperer," Reza chuckled, metal clinking against the glass as his hands wrapped around it. "Yeah, it probably is. Not to mention that it's mostly fucking impossible. I mean, white knight? Wouldn't that mean you'd have to be like... perfect? I think a morally ambiguous gray knight is definitely more up my alley and also, I don't fucking know where I'm going with this so fucking cheers." Clinking his glass against Eddie's before taking a few sips, Reza ignored the shit taste in lieu of the comfort. Which he wasn't going to get used to again.

Eddie grinned at the nickname he’d received from Reza. It was odd to hear his abilities talked about in such a cavalier manner, but it was nice. “Mostly, I think you just have to see yourself as perfect, which is probably why it seems so impossible for us.” He punctuated his statement with a laugh though it was an honest remark. Eddie’s only source of self-esteem came from his looks which he worked on endlessly. Anything was just another bullet point on the list of things he hated about himself.

"Yeah, let's promise to never go there," Reza scoffed. Seeing yourself as perfect wasn't a quality Reza admired and there were plenty of people who fit that description dancing around in here. His eyes wandered around the club for a little too long, regretting just how well he knew this place. "I think I've spent too much time here." Drowning the pathetic statement with some beer, Reza tried and failed to ignore the wistful looks their table was starting to get - or Eddie, more specifically. Just another blood bag in a lot of the vamp's eyes. Reza was getting squirmy. "Hey, didn't you say you wanted me to show you arund a few places in Ashkent?"

Perfection had been something that Eddie aimed to achieve for years. It was only now that he was slowly beginning to settle into himself that what he once saw as inadequacy was actually individuality. He’d only said that he was gay out loud once, but the admission was already starting to have an effect on his brain chemistry. It felt like he’d finally shrugged the weight of the world off his shoulders even if he was painfully aware that his struggle came without an expiration date. Eddie perked up when Reza mentioned that he’d spent too much time in Macabre. He wasn’t quite ready to part ways, so the question that soon followed brought an immense grin to Eddie’s face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

#touchofchatzy #c: reza #something macabre something

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6ad6ro · 6 years

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let's talk about this idea of incels for a sec. i'm gonna do my best to not make a single insulting remark here. and i'm oversimplifying gender and sexuality like crazy since incels tend to be cis men. so anyways incels are ppl (men) who wanna have sex, but believe women just won't let them, right? they feel somehow their personalities make them incompatible with girls. okay.

most ppl? just view that rejection as a period of loneliness rather than defining themselves by it. when you grow up, you realise that most ppl want romantic partners. or at least an emotionally comparable variant. it's rly not hard to meet ppl. you just get out there. be nice n considerate. honest. accept things don't always work out and realise it's not the world against you. you just keep looking. meet people and let things happen naturally.

TLDR: incels are just toxic, extremist versions of the guys who used to bring up "friendzoning", and fz was never real. girls don't actually have an easier time dating than guys. it isn't women doing this to you, but rather the fault of patriarchy and the dudes in charge. you can change! just stop with this silliness because it's making things way worse for you!

i'm not particularly attractive, especially now that i'm older. i don't have a lot of money. i'm rly not interesting. i have a ton of personality baggage and flaws. hell, i'm agoraphobic and sorta like a western hikikomori. it's rly hard for me to meet people even online. and yet, when i DO get out there? i wind up in relationships or flings or flirty friendships. bc that's just how it works.

you have to meet ppl and develop a relationship to have... the physical parts of a relationship. life isn't porn. or harem anime. people have brains and feelings. and everybody has preferences. that person who you think is perfect for you? maybe they just weren't looking for someone like you. it isn't cruel of them to have their own opinions.

i mean honestly i don't think a single one of you incels would fuck just anybody. you guys have preferences too. are you sure if you didn’t open your eyes a bit wider that you couldn’t find someone? bc there are tons and tons of lonely ppl out there! the majority of ppl, actually. it's insane how many ppl are out there, right at this moment, who wish they had a sexual partner. go find them! be willing to have broader preferences! stop looking for someone who is "perfect" and look for someone who you can just be happy with!

okay so fine you say "well i'm ugly from societies standards". but... then why are you going after people who follow society's standards. as someone who constantly feels outcast in your life, shouldn’t that experience SHOW you that popular societal opinions are mostly frivolous? standards of beauty are fake? so if someone rejects you purely on that front (and this is a stretch bc everyone has valid personal pref), why isn't that a GOOD thing to you!? you aren't wasting your time on someone who harshly judges you based on unimportant things! you're filtering incompatible ppl out that way! it's all very natural.

okay lastly... i'm gonna bring up a part that could make me look bad. but i wanna be rly honest here. so women? do seem like they have an easier time meeting men. SEEM is the key word here, bc they actually don't. not really.

but girls who are willing to severely fall into the gender roles that patriarchal society forces upon them? yeah. they do. as long as they're fairly "attractive". and willing to spend a ton of time TRYING to be attractive. ESP if they're a bit aggressive themselves. thanks to awful patriarchy, typical gender roles have men chasing women like predators after prey. i won't get into ALL the extensive, rapey issues that involves bc that isn't my point here.

tho i mean how is that any different than a guy doing similar role stuff like "working out/making money/acting cool"?? if you really wanna meet the kinds of girls who fall into typical gender roles, you gotta do the same thing? i don't think this will make ppl happy... but if you wanna play games with ppl, you gotta play within the same dumb rules!

but back to my point, girls that let themselves be chased easily find themselves with guys more often. bc in patriarchy typically the guy has to initiate. girls like that are being reactive. so from a naive male perspective, it can look like "they get any guy they want". no. they're just saying yes to the guys they like of whatever pool of guys who are going after them. if they aren't chasing guys directly, how can they be directly rejected out of the gate?

let's look at it this way: a guy chases after 20 girls he kinda likes over a few years. 5 respond positively back. it prob seems like he only has 25% success w women and is usually failing, right? whereas a girl gets hit on by 20 guys over the same period, but says yes to 5 of them. so she's getting an "100% success rate" there, since she only wanted that 5. she wasn't chasing anyone. to guys it looks like they WORK for women, but women just win the lottery with guys? no. absolutely wrong. that is objectively incorrect.

you aren't incorporating all the guys they rly want. or how often they just "go with it". how often do you hear stories of girls wanting a guy and winding up w their friend instead? girls actually typically play within a pool of disappointment rather than chasing ideals. it's not literally disappointment tho? it's just being realistic. they play with the cards they're dealt.

there are TONS of girls who don't wanna spend so much of their lives playing that game tho. who DON'T wanna live within the confines of being a trophy. or if they aren't naturally lucky enough to be "pretty" by default, who aren't willing to spend 75% of their day compensating for that. those girls? aren't surrounded by guys. often single. often lonely until they get older and find someone they're mutually compatible with. bc that's another thing most guys don't see?

the only girls "worth" going after are the "appealing/easy" prey. or "white whales" where they just hope they'll get lucky. men aren't aggressively going after the chubby girl who wears reg clothes and doesn't actively try to look "sexy". they aren't drawn to girls who aren't giving them that playful "come get me" attitude. to them, they see that girl as "just a friend". or a " last resort". or "maybe a lesbian". it's fucking gross.

you might be like "well i know girls like that who have TONS of sex so"... have you seen the levels of desperation stereotypically "unattractive" girls like that have to stoop too? let me tell you, i meet these girl's bf and they're often total scumbags. they're scraping the bottom if the barrel. are you sure these girls haven't stooped to total desperation due to so many years of being overlooked when they acted normally? or ask yourself, were they ever TRULY "unattractive/unappealing" in the first place? u sure you don't just have weird standards??

btw can i point out? the tradeoff? the utter lack of power and choice girls have in this system? girls have to be born pretty and actively attractive with a sexy personality at all times. guys just need to have a moderate amount of money and be occasionally considerate. girls have to be sex objects whereas guys can be just people. bald, fat, somewhat unattractive guys are seen as normal but if a girl looked like that? she'd be perceived as a monster.

as a male working within gender roles you have the freedom to go after as many girls as you want without issue or disrespect. nobody is gonna call you a "slut" for trying to meet many girls. the list goes on and on. why are you mad at girls when you were "born winning"? you are more likely to live a happier life being alone than a girl would constantly being with someone. you should be grateful you aren't them... not mad at them.

but anyways... all this stuff? is super gross. weird toxic shit. it makes sense you would be lonely and angry when you don't wanna play by these rules. or change yourself to be more "appealing". but... why are you getting mad at girls?!?!? why blame women?? shouldn't you be mad at the source? patriarchy. society. gender roles. capitalism. look at who's running the show. bc it isn't the women you're mad at. or "the sjws". it's men in power.

you're seeing your lawn die in the summer sun and getting mad at the grass for daring to dry out. so you go out and stomp on the lawn. instead of using that anger and that energy to water it or give it shade. what are you thinking!? use that "logic" you guys are so proud of and actually try and solve the issue instead of throwing a moral temper tantrum. you talk about girls "bein so overly emotional" but what the heck do you think you're doing here right now?? stop trying to find an easy cheat solution and FIX the problem!

nobody should resort to violence about this stuff, but if you WERE gonna get violent, why isn't it at the people who structured your sexual prison? rather than the girls you wanna convince to fuck you? do you really want a world where girls fuck you out of fear? bc that's rape. would YOU be happy being raped? don't wish for an even rapier world. don't be so stupid and naive. rapey patriarchy is the cause of all your issues to begin with. this is the exact opposite if what you want.

honestly this incel thing just seems like an extremist offshot of the old "friend zone" argument. very similar to how gamergate warped into literal alt-right nazis. it's gross and absurd and you depressed, confused guys are being manipulated. you aren't thinking. please seek therapy or a wider perspective? if you hate feeling lonely and ashamed, why would you wear that shame like a badge of honor? just stop. spread happiness instead and you'll start to receive it back. you can change! it's that simple! it's okay!!!

#long #incel talk #rape mention in readmore #this is horribly written srry

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punkscowardschampions · 5 years

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Rio & Nancy

Rio: If you wanna head home 'fore nan and granddad are ready, you can always have a lift back with us Nancy: Thanks Nancy: I'm in no rush though Rio: Having a good time then? Nancy: Sure Nancy: It's not a classroom, I'll take it Rio: Yeah, I bet you're buzzing Nancy: You mean you can't tell? Well, that's devastating Nancy: I reckoned on it being so obvious, like Rio: I mean, your poker face ain't all that, babe, if you wanna be real about it Nancy: More of a resting bitch, I know Nancy: The good news must not have sunk in yet Rio: Give it a few Nancy: Yeah Rio: Anyway, can't do anything about it now Rio: May as well enjoy your summer Nancy: Like I said, I already am Nancy: Aside from the prospect of going home Rio: 👍 Rio: How bad can it be Rio: he's taken one for the team Nancy: No, he's made sure exams mean more than they did before Nancy: and made me the focus since he's a less than safe convo topic Rio: Well, your family's inability to communicate is longstanding and not my fault so I'm not gonna take the blame for it, nor is my baby Rio: Sorry, like Nancy: I didn't ask Nancy: It's not my fault that his fall from grace makes me their poster child for success now either, I definitely never asked for that Rio: If you're going to feel so sorry for yourself, don't be surprised when people feel it for you in return Rio: Oddly enough our decision to have a child wasn't exactly about you Nancy: I'm only surprised the pity party isn't full already Nancy: My brother tends to take up a lot of space Rio: Please Rio: We've got no reason to be sorry, either definition Rio: we're happy, if you lot wanna be miserable then the party is all yours Nancy: Does he know that? Does he feel it? 'Cause he sounded like he wanted me to be sorry for him many times over when we last spoke Rio: Like I said, you're all crap at communicating Rio: but thanks Nancy: Yeah, and he's one of the worst Nancy: If I feel sorry for anything, it's for you, for that much, like Rio: Fuck off Rio: I don't need your pity Nancy: Don't tell me to fuck off Rio: Why not? You've seen fit to talk to me how you please Nancy: 'Cause you're judging my communication skills like its your job, for one thing Nancy: And for another, I haven't said anything like that to you, ever Rio: You said in as few words as possible that you don't think Buster really wants our baby, implying that I don't know him and we don't talk, whilst you were at it Rio: but no Rio: the f bomb in response, so much worse, Jesus Nancy: No I haven't Nancy: All I've said to him is that his timing is ridiculous and when was the last time we even spoke, me and you? Before exams probably so Rio: What does it matter to you, or your parents for that matter Rio: He's still going to Uni, he's still doing everything they want Nancy: I don't care what they want Nancy: I care about him and how hard it's gonna be Nancy: I won't be here to help either of you, not even in the same country, so excuse me for being worried Rio: When ain't life? Rio: You can't let that stop you from doing what you want Nancy: You don't need to make it harder on yourself, Jesus Rio: Well that ain't how it's going to be, or how we see it Nancy: It's easy for him to see it that way when he never admits that he needs help or that anything could possibly be a struggle in the slightest Nancy: He's just perfect and everything will be, end of story Rio: I help him Rio: and I know that, I knew that before this even started Nancy: I know you do and you know I love you, yeah? I'm not saying this to be a bitch to you Rio: I know Rio: but I don't get why you can't translate your worry into supporting him, that is literally all he needs from you Rio: instead of the constant barage of questions Nancy: because I'm scared for him and he scares me Nancy: how little he thinks about anything Nancy: He just wants and he gets and I'm the only one who cares if it'll work out or not Nancy: you know that's what he's always been like Rio: It's going to work out Rio: even if you wanna talk worst case scenarios, we have to get divorced, yeah Rio: he'll still have the kid, I'm not that bitch Nancy: I hope it does Nancy: Genuinely Nancy: You know that Rio: I think I do Rio: but you don't always show it Rio: I know it's a lot Rio: but it's hard for him when none of you seem happy for him or even say it's alright, like Rio: why do you think he can't admit he needs help, when has he got it? Nancy: Do you? 'Cause when you got together I had to re-evaluate everything I thought I knew about him and you Nancy: He says he's loved you since he was a kid, I was there, I have almost the same memories Nancy: But I don't Nancy: at all Rio: Why does it matter? We were all kids Nancy: 'Cause all this time he was so unhappy and I didn't know, okay Nancy: I didn't do anything Rio: None of us did Rio: He didn't want you to know, anyone Rio: you can't take blame for it like you wilfully ignored cries for help but he's trying now Rio: he needs you now, okay Nancy: I'm trying too Nancy: I just Nancy: I don't know him, if I ever did Nancy: How am I meant to know what to do? Rio: You did Rio: You were close then, just because you didn't know this one thing doesn't mean you weren't Rio: You wouldn't tell him about every crush you had, especially if you felt shame about being gay or there was another reason you knew he could judge you for it, you know? Rio: Just, try and be nice to each other, simple and as stupid as it sounds Rio: that's all you gotta do in this world though Nancy: You can say wanting to fuck my teacher, that's pretty shameful, babe Nancy: Lord, did you really have to do the one thing that scares me most to test me Nancy: Babies are terrifying Rio: Well you know, I assume you weren't child thirsting after your reception teacher like 👌👌👌 nice cardigan miss Rio: Nah Rio: they're just people Rio: I guess that's kinda the problem though Nancy: Hey, she was cute! And very attentive Nancy: Well, not to be dramatic and turn this into a therapy session but the last time I was properly excited for a baby to be born, he died Nancy: And now we don't talk about him Rio: That isn't going to happen again Rio: and you could talk to Buster about him Rio: he's thinking about him too Nancy: Does he talk about him to you? Rio: Yeah, a little Rio: we're going to give the baby his name as a middle Nancy: Really? Rio: I should say we don't know it's a boy yet, we just think it is Rio: but I won't say 'if not, the next one' and freak you out further, like Nancy: Go ahead, I'm just out here openly crying at the beach Rio: I'm sorry Rio: you can use my ugly dress as a hankie if you wanna Nancy: It's not that bad Rio: It's years old 'cos everything I own now would leave no need to announce this Rio: tempting but probably not Nancy: You should have come to me, my wardrobe runneth over Nancy: Literally, I need to have such a huge clear out before uni starts Rio: You planning to reinvent yourself as a minimalist? 😏 Rio: local charity shops gonna be a goldmine, like Nancy: Reinvent myself, yeah, as that, no Nancy: I get it, not tempting to come over when I'm being a bitch Nancy: I'm sorry you have to suffer that dress as a result, babe Rio: Well you know, or we could say I was giving you space and time Rio: politer Rio: I'm not even sure it was ever mine Rio: maybe it was yours, the ultimately bitchery to get it out of my system Nancy: Not to be that bitch or lesbian stereotype, okay, but what's under it? Can you not just remove it now the secret's out? Nancy: Be you again Rio: 😂 Rio: Still got it, babe Rio: I guess I can now Rio: It's weird Nancy: Do it for my brother if not me Nancy: You think I need to sort my face, look at his right now Rio: Poor boy Rio: at least I didn't straighten my hair, then he'd really be devastated Nancy: 😂 Nancy: I wish you had, I'd have taken so many pics to post and tag him in Rio: 😏 Pure evil, like Nancy: Genetically, sorry Nancy: Not saying you should watch The Omen again or anything but Rio: 😲 How rude Rio: but if I remember correctly that fucker was adopted so it would've been more cutting to come at me with Rosemary's Baby, like Rio: slacking Nancy: Oops, horror movies not really my forte Rio: You should reconsider Rio: yeah the bitch always dies, but she's usually half-naked beforehand, like Nancy: Are you gonna put your arm around me when it gets scary though? I think not Rio: You know I would you just ain't vibing 💔 Nancy: Lies! I just told you to strip Rio: True enough Rio: There's hope yet then Nancy: I'm sorry for being a bitch this whole time Nancy: I've missed you, it feels like exams lasted years Rio: I know, it was stressful and I weren't even taking them so God knows how you lot survived Rio: How do you feel about them, genuinely? Nancy: I know you love him, but how much of a prick was he during his, like 1-10? To make me feel better Nancy: I feel bad but like, I always do about that stuff so Nancy: It doesn't mean anything Rio: Oh, 11, for sure 😏 Rio: no, it was hard though, he was stressed as fuck Rio: you'll have done what you needed to do, I know Nancy: At least you could play the pregnancy card, like DO NOT STRESS ME, BOY Nancy: I basically had to shut myself away to get the same effect Rio: I feel it, Junior looks like this is his first time seeing sunlight in years, he hasn't taken his sunglasses off Rio: know they're prescription but come on Rio: as for the pregnancy card, great for getting out of arguments you've probably caused being a crazy bitch, like Nancy: I don't think he remembers who any of us are 😂 Nancy: It's not too late to have some actual fun today, is it? Nancy: You need it too, Buster said you've been pretty sick Nancy: He's dramatic, but still Rio: Of course not Rio: Someone suggested going to the pub to celebrate but as I'm the one with the baby I can make sure they choose somewhere nice with a decent cocktail list and beer garden, not a grotty old man pub, like Rio: Just morning sickness but it was pretty shitty and lonely when he was at School and so was Indie Rio: but fingers crossed I'm over that now so Nancy: We have to do something about that dress first Nancy: Come with me before we go anywhere else Nancy: I will save you Rio: 🙌 Rio: If you take me near a maternity section, we will brawl Nancy: God no Nancy: I'd burst into flames Rio: 😂 Rio: You remembered suncream today though, yeah? Nancy: Yes, mum Nancy: Maternity clothes are actually disgusting and I'm not letting it happen to you Nancy: Or my niece or nephew, how embarrassing to look back on Rio: It's just not necessary either Rio: do you know how big most clothes go these days like Nancy: Thank you! Like be more creative than that Nancy: If you wear a smock I'm disowning you Nancy: I don't care if you're having twins in a heatwave Rio: You'll be glad to know it ain't, unless one of them was hiding real stealth, but I'd be much bigger, pretty sure Nancy: Yeah, you'd need more than that dress to hide behind, right? Mum was such a ridiculous size with us, the pics are actually like something out of a scary movie Nancy: Say what you like about her, and do, but she always looked good Rio: Honestly, poor bitch Rio: Feel her small girl pain in a way you can never Rio: feeling like a human ball some days and it is just the one Nancy: Why do you think I'm not taking you to a maternity section, they'd think I was the one with a baby on board Nancy: No offense but kill me Rio: Oh bitch no Rio: like, is daddy excited or terrified, Nance? Rio: straight girl bants Nancy: I nearly threw up in my mouth Nancy: Not morning sickness, sorry lads Rio: You keep down your breakfast if you getting in my car, thank you very much Nancy: Such a mum 😏

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thiswasasuperterribleidea · 6 years

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Guess what my therapist said...

So earlier I mentioned “I fell in love with a black guy.” I said it like that to be kinda funny… to get the point that my parents were racist across… The fact is he wasn’t just a black guy. The fact is, it didn’t matter to me that he was black AT ALL. I couldn’t always say that though, and I’m not sure if I ever even acted like it didn’t matter to me… My mind was pretty weak prior to this experience, and people got in my head a lot easier than they can now. Especially my parents. They had me thinking that I was wrong for falling in love with someone that didn’t look like me. They had me thinking other people and other parents were looking at me and judging me for being a little white girl with a black guy. I don’t think one can understand the seriousness of this situation until they are in it. It really fucks with the mind. I remember one of the first dates Darren took me on was to get icecream. I love icecream. Strawberry. I think he’ll always think of me when Strawberry icecream is around. It was the middle of the day. We both left our weird jobs early to spend the day together. (We would do this so that I didn’t have to lie to my parents about where I was. I was still living at home, and if they thought I was working, they wouldn’t give me shit about my whereabouts. It’s so hard to accept that the people who brought you into the world are so incredibly selfish and toxic to your happiness.)

… Anyway, It was the middle of the day, and most normal people were at work. We were eating our ice cream outside, and I remember looking around anxiously. There was an old couple, probably in their 70′s and I was convinced they were staring at me. Judging me. I was nervous, and anxious. My parents had officially gotten into my head. Bringing up this memory makes me cringe. I am so ashamed of myself for ever letting them make me question my own beliefs for a second. I was a 23 year old woman and I knew my rights from wrong. So why was I doubting something I was so sure of? That was the only time I ever had a doubt about what I was doing. I went home that night and realized my parents were 100 percent dead fucking wrong. Wrong for thinking that way, and wrong for making me question thinking that way. It didn’t matter in any way to me what color his skin was. He wasn’t just some black guy, he was just MY guy. And I truthfully wanted everyone to know. After this day I began to take my guard down. I fell in love with him for him. I knew the challenges I was going to have to put up with from my parents to be with him, but it didn’t matter. I thought he was absolutely perfect. I had never been so attracted to a person in my life. Physically or personality wise. He was so genuine and honest. He was so thoughtful, so selfless. Our physical connection was indescribable. The sex was out of this world. But that wasn’t what kept me around. He was close to his family, he had great values, he made me laugh and smile more than anyone I knew. I was never on my phone before him, and he had me glued to it. I didn’t want to find that in anyone else. It didn’t take me long to think that he was one of the greatest people I have ever met, and he was worth all the upcoming struggles to me.

While that was the only time I ever had a doubt…Unfortunately I can’t say it was the only time I acted with doubt. With my parents the people who’s love and support I thought I needed most threatening to kick me out of their house if I was seen with him…I was actually scared to be seen with him because I didn’t know what I would do if word got back to my parents. I’m not sure how to even describe this internal struggle. I don’t have the words. I could stare at this screen all night and still not describe it right. Even though it was a terrible conversation to have, I let Darren know my parents’ feelings. I can’t even imagine what it must have felt like for him to hear that... I don’t even know how I had the heart to tell him or how I told him…there’s no way I handled it right… I was so concerned with how I was struggling… I never wondered how he was struggling. The poor kid… he had feelings too. But we fell in love anyway on some Romeo and Juliet shit…

Looking back at old conversations after a breakup is horrible… probably the worst idea in the whole world. (I’ve actually had many worse ideas I’ll tell ya later) …but I will remember this conversation forever. He said: “I get it. You’ve said it a million times. “Your parents win”. In my mind, I don’t know that your parents win in 2 months, 3, 7 or tomorrow. So call it hope or whatever you want, but you aren’t going to get me to view this as a waste of time or that I should be with someone easier, because that’s not how my brain works. So please stop trying to get me to say we should end this, because I wont”. ...well he definitely went and found someone easier lol pretty quick too... but that’s a story for later too.. But do you have any idea what that’s like reading now? Tonight? Typing it back in this post?… Him caring about me so much in that moment. Not quitting on me then when it would have been easiest to, feelings so strong, not having any intention to quit on me…and then me acting so toxic, pushing him so fucking far away so that he quit anyway…How did I let someone with those feelings take a complete 360…

The thing was, we weren’t as public as I wanted to be. While I had no doubts or guilt or felt anything negative about our situation… my actions weren’t matching up with my feelings. At the time I felt it wasn’t something either of us could control. Now I realize how entirely wrong I was. It was completely in MY control. Yes, I was scared of my parents, but the way I acted was almost as if I didn’t know what I believed in myself. I was dating Darren and telling him how much I loved him and wanted to be with him, but my actions were showing the opposite. I was sneaking around, lying about my whereabouts, not posting cute boyfriend pictures on instagram, waiting in the car at Walmart while he ran in to grab something in fear of running into my parents friends…I was horrible. How did he even stick around as long as he did? My heart is breaking in new ways for him just thinking about putting him through those feelings. I didn’t ever do a damn thing to let him know that I wanted nothing more but to be seen holding his hand. To be all over social media. I did nothing to let him know I supported him. I did nothing to show him he wasn’t my black boyfriend… but that he was just my boyfriend. I started therapy guys. Guess what my therapist told me the #1 reason my relationship failed was…

I was so caught up with my fucking parents that I wasn’t giving Darren the love and support I needed to be giving as his girlfriend. And he was too sweet to ever mention it.

I am here to make one thing clear. Something that I learned way too late to help remove the noose strangling my relationship… I am not my parents. And you are not your parents. My failure to better publicly stand up for my boyfriend and our relationship was the root of what caused me to lose the first love of my life. It was my first insecurity.

Guess what the even better news is… he’s gone and all my parents want for me is to be with someone that makes me happy. Black White whatever. Funny how the world works isn’t it? ...not quite.

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jess-oh · 6 years

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Thoughts from the sky 12/18/17

There are two people sitting behind me and I’m really glad that they’re getting along so well but they’ve been talking nonstop since the beginning of this flight and honestly, it sucks! I also don’t know how I actually fell asleep earlier with them talking? The guy isn’t too bad but the lady directly behind me has no gauge for how loud she actually is and it’s crazy.

Anyway, I haven’t actually written in a while. I got really busy and I just didn’t bother ever getting back into it. But I do want to recommit to this. Honestly, I’m really nervous about coming back home. I love my family and I love Jeanne, Lauren, Jude, Cat, Keylee, and Edgar and I’m really excited to see them again. They’ve been there for me through thick and thin and they means the world to me. But Jeanne and Lauren aren’t very involved at Sa-Rang. And I don’t know where God is rn in my UBMS crew’s lives. It’s just hard. Because even though I love them so much, it isn’t enough. They can’t always be there for me and I don’t want to force them into that either.

For Sa-Rang, I tend to hangout with the same people. I probably the closest to Judy and Jennifer of those who are actually involved. But they’ve got their own peeps too and I don’t want to burden them. We don’t actually talk that often throughout the year. Grace An, too. In fact, Grace An actually does care about me. I feel like Jen and Judy are just pitying me. And whether or not that’s true, it’s how I feel and it sucks.

——

I’m supposed to land in LA around 8:44pm PST. It’s currently 7:53pm CST. I wish I had less than an hour left but it’s more like 2.5 hours left. I gotta find some more ways to kill time. The people behind me stopped talking but a baby in front of me started crying. WE’LL SEE

———

I really crave affection and acceptance from others and I don’t think that’s weird. I think I love Lauren and Jeanne so much bc they’re actually so invested in my life and care about what I’m going through and that’s so hard to find other times. I try to talk to Andrew but sometimes it just feels like he’s trying to get rid of me instead of actually listening to me. I tried to vent the other day but he just kept saying, “You’re too hard on yourself,” and leaving it at that. Okay, well, what does that mean???

It’s really nice going through my old things. I just looked at some old yearbook spreads that I forgot I saved and some good memories came back to me. Prior to this, I was feeling discouraged by my transcripts. It’s definitely something that I feel a lot of shame for. And it’s a part that I want to stay buried in the past. I wasn’t a very good student in high school and I failed at least one or two classes a year and I never felt good enough for my family and it sucked. But looking at my old spreads, it reminded me of the good times I had in yearbook too. I remembered some particular moments when I saw the “Camp Sophs’mores” spread. I remembered how Andrew was in charge of the doing the title and tried to put my face in the “O” and how I felt so embarrassed and insisted that he change it! I remember how relieved I felt when he actually spelled the title wrong and had to change everything. I remember how I recently cut my hair at the time and how short it was. I remembered how Anthony tricked me into getting into the photo bar. I remembered how that photo of me was the bane of my existence. I remember how overdramatic I acted but how much fun it was to just be with everyone. I miss that time a lot. I remember how I confided in Anthony that I loved yearbook so much because I felt like I could just feel free to be my weird self and it didn’t matter because everyone else was just as weird or weirder than me. And I remember how he laughed and said that Tim was just the same. I remember how afraid I became of Tim. I remember how deathly afraid I became of him because he came to symbolize yearbook for me. And all the bad parts about it. He became the face of yearbook in my mind. And whenever I saw him, I remembered how desperate I felt, how shitty I felt all the time, how I never felt good enough, how I felt the need to self harm myself, how I felt trapped and depressed and suicidal. How suicide doesn’t mean pulling the trigger on a gun. It means not getting out of the way when there was a chance of your life ending. It meant hoping that something bad would happen to you. It meant, for me, that I was so tired of living and just wanted to die. I wanted to just stop existing because it was too tiring and too hard to continue living. I just wanted the pain to stop. I wanted to get back in control and for me, that was dying and giving up. It was ending it all and escaping the pain of it all.

Maybe that’s why I have such a hard time with church. Because it was a place where I felt like I had to put on a pretty face and pretend that everything was okay when it wasn’t. I could always say that I could’ve tried harder than I did. But the bottom line is I didn’t. I didn’t trust them. And it wasn’t just because it was them. It was because I felt like I couldn’t trust anyone. I felt so alone. When people meet me, I always wonder what they think of me. Especially recently, I bet they thought I grew up in a super supportive community with loving parents and a place to just grow and thrive. And I really wish that I did. I wish I had that picture perfect family growing up. But I didn’t. And if only they knew… man. If only I could show them how miserable I felt. Every. Single. Day. How much I wanted to die and just escape it all. How much I felt like screaming but no sound would come out of my throat. How much I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs but knew that I couldn’t. How much I wanted to go to therapy and seek help but couldn’t because I was afraid of how my family would judge me. I was so ruled by my fear and felt trapped and like I couldn’t escape my situation. And that’s when I started self harming. Because I felt so out of options. And I needed to feel like I was still alive. Like I was still human. So I started cutting into my skin. Deeper. And Deeper. And deeper still. And it was all because I just felt so desperate and out of options.

It’s easy to put down things and people that you don’t understand. And I don’t know if anyone else was depressed but I think I was the most evidently so. I felt like I was carrying the world’s weight on my back, constantly. And maybe everyone else grew up in a good community with loving friends and parents that stood by their side through thick and thin. And I didn’t have that. I had people that was constantly judging me. I had people that didn’t understand my depression. That stabbed me in the back. That used me to get ahead and left me behind once they were done with me. And it hurt. And it sucked. But I got up. Each time, I got up. And I tried again. And I tried even harder. And I kept going. And now I’m here.

I think Jason really does care about me. And it does make me feel kind of bad thinking about him. I want the best for him and I don’t want him ever feel depressed or bad about himself. I think I’m just constantly reminded of when we were up in Evanston and I literally could have died. But I didn’t. Because he grabbed my shirt and pulled me back. He totally could’ve just let me go but he didn’t. He saw a car coming when I didn’t. And made the executive decision to go after me. He pulled me back and prevented me from dying. And proceeded to scold me a lot after that, haha. He told me to be more careful and I tried to just shrug it off but honestly, I didn’t really feel like I was in my own skin that day. And maybe a part of me did want to die. Maybe a part of me did want to get hit and just be done with it all and no longer uncomfortable. But the worry and concern in his voice and eyes made all the difference. I was in a state of shock. But it made me feel like I mattered. And just thinking about how he would react if he found out that I had been self harming again…it makes me feel really good about myself. Like my life is worth saving. He would actually be worried about me and my life. He would actually take the time to stop what he was doing and see if I was okay. I was really upset at the start of this week for a lot of different reasons. And even though he couldn’t tell that I was trying to push him away, he still just wanted to let me know that he was here for me and that I wasn’t alone. He could see me. And I wanted to be defensive and say that I wasn’t depressed but really? Am I really not depressed in the least? Really??? Anyway, I decided to just accept it and move on. I neither confirmed nor denied my depression but I was also a little surprised by that conclusion.

I just read through some posts in the white elephant/potluck event and I am excited. I am. And I’m also over James. I think it was something that I struggled with for a long time but I really forgot about him this year. I barely ever brought him up in conversation and when I did, it felt awkward. So goodbye, James. You caused me a lot of pain but I’m over it now. I’m over it.

I’m over it.

I’m supposed to meet with P. Josh when I come back to Chicago and I’m actually pretty nervous about it? I think I’m afraid that I’ll get triggered by a memory from high school and start spontaneously crying and I really don’t want to. I want him to trust him and see me for me as I am now. I remember sometimes from high school when I was just suddenly start crying for what seemed like no reason at all. I would literally just have overactive tear glands and I would have a stream of water come down my face. And I would try and reassure my current company that it was fine and that I was fine and honestly wasn’t sure why I was crying so much. And I’m afraid that that’s going to happen when I talk to Josh. We’ll be in mid conversation and I’ll just suddenly start crying. And he’ll ask if I’m okay and I’ll try and reassure him that I’m fine when I’m not and just keep lying to myself that everything is okay when it isn’t and I don’t want to present that image to him. I want him to believe that I’m okay and that there’s nothing wrong with me. But there will be. Man. I think I need to pray about serving again. Because I have gotten a lot better at being open about my faith in public. I’ve worn my church gear out in public whether I was going on errands or just going to class. I’ve been a lot more comfortable with just discussing the topic of religion in a much more comfortable way in public and in fact, I felt empowered by it. So I’ve been doing a lot better recently but I know that I still feel so much fear in my heart sometimes and it’s scary and it sucks sometimes. And I don’t want to drag people down with me. I want to lead people and show them to rightfully rely on God during times of trouble and hardship instead of themselves. And rn, I tend to try and bear the burden of the world on my own shoulders to avoid the guilt of relying too much on others and being too dependent on them. And I do think that I’m really afraid that that will happen again. That I’ll be too dependent on others instead of trying to figure things out for myself. And no one deserves to feel trapped in that situation. I think that’s the position I’m in with my sister right now. But yeah, I want people to know that they can rely on God in all situations and places and even though I can’t emotionally always be there for everyone right now, I want to get to that place and just really compassionately love upon my fellow brothers and sisters. Freshmen and upperclassmen alike. But I’m not there yet and I want to get there. But first, I think I need to come to terms with my own issues and accept that I need to learn to rely on God more because I’m not there yet. I need to accept this for myself before I can start preaching to the choir.

#reflection #thoughts from the sky

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