#cannot BELIEVE the way my hands shook. i dropped my shotgun in game and i saw this dude LUMBERING at me

[heckahecker]

this axeman got my hands SHAKING got me LITERALLY dropping ammo and guns and shells for my grenade launcher while this big mf is stomping towards me got me in the corner like

#personal #I WAS ALL GOOD UP UNTIL I DROPPED TO THE FLOOR #AND HE SAID ‘OH LET ME JOIN YOU.’ AND DROPPED DOWN WITH ME #cannot BELIEVE the way my hands shook. i dropped my shotgun in game and i saw this dude LUMBERING at me #and i turned tail and RAN left my weapon behind and everything 😭😭😭 #anyways i’m so grateful the update for saints&sinners 2 did NOT delete my save #because apparently that was and still is a big issue 😷 but the quality is MUCH better and no crashing so far

[darling-i-read-it]

Lucas Baker

Part 4

RE7 Rewrite Masterlist

Ethan Winters x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: spoilers for re7, violence, injuries, blood, gross rotted stuff, marguerites boss battle so gross sack thing, bugs, injuries

Author’s Note: this is a shorter part but it has the meat in it lol. I’m getting to the end of this game already! Ethan dude. Ethan.

Summary: Going through Lucas’s party, fighting Jack and having to pick between Zoe and Mia.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator. Some of these lines are directly from the game so they may sound familiar.

(not my gif)

You and Ethan didn’t talk about the kiss. You walked through the house, finding the last two key cards and watching another tape in relative silence. It wasn’t that the silence was bad. It was actually very comfortable. You laughed at each other like school children. He teased you like the two of you had been married for years.

You may be in a nightmare of a situation but at least you were in it together.

Ethan put the blue keycard in and you put the red one in. It opened up the door that was to the left of the trailer. You pushed it open.

“Are you ready for a party?” he asked. You scoffed.

“You’ve never seen me at a party Winters. It is an event,” you said smiling. He rolled his eyes and walked inside, holding his gun up. He looked around quietly, walking up the stairs. In neon splattering letters it read ‘Let’s Play’. “I’m sick of this guy already,” you muttered.

“I’m sick of this situation.” You pushed open the door inside and there was a chair and a TV hooked up.

“Is this another video? Because if I wanted to watch a movie I would have stayed home.” Ethan sat down on the chair. You stood behind him but he patted the arm of the chair. You rolled your eyes and sat down beside him. You pushed the VHS tape in.

Lucas showed up. He looked gross. He set up the camera and waved at the camera.

“Ethan! Oooo and pretty Y/N! Hold on, hold on, I got something to show you.” He showed the D-series head over the camera. Damn thing was too much trouble for what it was worth. “You know what Zoe wants with this? She thinks it's special! No Ethan that ain’t special. This is special.” He was shaking as he raised his hand in front of the camera and took a fingernail off with pliers. You winced. “You see, not everyone wants to turn back the clock! What? What Eveline? I’m just trying to show him!” You rolled your eyes and stood up. He said some more stuff but the gist of it was that he had the head. The TV blew up, knocking Ethan back. He scrambled up and brushed off his clothing.

“You’re right. He is a dick.”

You gestured to the door.

“It is time to get this over with.”

“I cannot agree more.”

====

You made your way through the booby traps that Lucas had set out for the two of you. You were sick and tired of his games. When you arrived at the key code, you were ready to kill the guy with your bare hands but no, he made you look around for the code and then return with it.

It was the same room you had seen on the tape, which meant you knew how to do it. Jokes on Lucas.

You dropped off all of your weapons and went inside. It was a dimly lit room. You grabbed Ethan’s hand, knowing that Lucas was watching. You came up close to him, whispering into his ear.

“You remember the pass code?” you asked.

“Yes I do and I do not want it carved in my arm,” he muttered. You nodded and patted his back.

“Go on.”

He walked forward and lit the candle that was there with the stove. He burned the rope to the door and walked inside, putting in the code. Loser. With the wheel he was able to go back around to the cake, you turned off the water and he went through, placing the candle on the cake perfectly.

“Motherfucker!” Lucas yelled over the intercom. “You were supposed to die!” Suddenly a stick of dynamite was tossed into the room. You ran over and picked it up, throwing it through the wall. Ethan pulled you back and practically shielded you with his body in order to make sure the blast didn’t get to you.

The wall blew, revealing a pathway.

“Fuck you Lucas!” you yelled. You walked through the bits of fire and came to a chair that was still spinning. You scoffed. “That was easy.”

“Well we make quite a team.” Ethan opened up the case that was on the table and revealed the D-series head. You refrained from pumping your fist in the air.

“We do don’t we? Look at us. We’ve both lived this far. We killed Jack and Marguerite. Lucas ran in fear. We’re going to get out of here,” you whispered.

“Don’t jinx us.”

“My bad.” He grabbed your hand and showed you the head. You looked down at it, wondering what it had been when it was alive.

“We did do pretty good.”

“It ain’t over yet Winters,” you muttered. “Let’s get our stuff and go get Zoe and Mia. Then we can leave this damn place.”

He nodded. You turned around, trying to slip your hand away from him. Instead of that he moved you around smoothly, kissing you. He pulled away gently, causing you to still reach forward for his touch.

“Calm down,” he muttered. “Or you’re gonna get us killed when we’re this close.”

“Alright, alright.” You turned around, breathing evenly again. “Is this better? Are you happy?” Ethan nodded and gestured for you to go back to where you had both left your things.

===

You walked across some confusing docks before making it to a larger house. Some sort of boat house or something.

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get out of here?” he asked, opening up the door.

“Nap. For seven years. Don’t wake me.”

“I’ll try my best.”

Tied to a window and pillar, Zoe and Mia sat on the ground looking weak. You walked up to Mia who looked up at you. You tried to hide your disdain as you knelt down and cut the rope off of her.

“Zoe-” Ethan started.

“Not now. We don’t have time. Do you have both ingredients?” You nodded and Ethan cut her out. You handed her the arm while Ethan handed her the head. “Good. There’s enough for two.” She turned around and knelt down, mixing it together.

“So after you make the serum, what’s next?” Ethan asked.

“There’s a boat outside. We’ll take it through the swamp. But neither of us will get very far without the serum.” Ethan took them both from her. She started to protest but suddenly something crashed from behind you.

A large black goop monster crawled through the walls.

“Zoe, get back to the house!” it said in a distorted voice. “I will deal with them!”

“Jack!” you yelled. You cocked your shotgun. “If I have to fight you one more time I will cut each of your limbs to pieces!” you yelled, walking up to him. Ethan admired your readiness as he scrambled to hide the serum before following you.

At this point, fighting Jack was somewhat of a habit. You and Ethan shot at his weak points, going around in circles to make sure he would stay dead. He collapsed to the ground but you weren’t about to let that stop you.

You held your gun up to him as you started to back away. Ethan watched as the mold made Jack picked stirred alive and picked you up, making you scream.

“Come on little girl! You’ll never be her mommy!” he screamed. You fumbled for your gun but before you could get there Jack started to shake. He dropped you. Ethan was standing to your side, an empty vial of serum in his hand.

“What did you do?” you breathed.

“What I had to do in order to save you,” he said. Your eyes went wide but Zoe broke your thoughts.

“Are you two alright?” Ethan nodded, walking up to you. “Come on. Mia’s waiting for us.”

You stumbled out onto the dock. Your fatigue was getting to you. Your shoulder throbbed. You weren’t doing good. Ethan didn’t look much better. Ethan and you leaned against each other as you walked onto the dock. Mia waited by the boat. The night was still dark but the air by the water was fresher. You were really thirsty.

“I had to use one of them. There’s only one left,” Ethan explained. Mia turned around quickly. She walked up to the two of you, looking at the lone vial in Ethan’s hands.

“There’s only one left? There can’t be just one left. What the hell are we gonna do now?” Mia looked shaken. She and Zoe stood next to each other and between them was only one vial and Ethan had it. You crossed your arms over your chest.

Ethan looked over at you. You shrugged a bit and he walked away from Mia and Zoe up to you. The vial was between you.

The question hung in the air. You almost had a whole conversation without saying anything. You both knew it. On one hand, Mia was his wife and your friend. You may wanna fight her but you didn’t want her dead. You barely knew Zoe. But Zoe knew the way out. You grabbed the vial from his hand. He looked grateful.

You walked over to Zoe and injected her with the serum.

Mia gasped.

“I’m sorry Mia it’s just Zoe knows the way out,” Ethan said quickly. “She can guide us to safety.” Mia shook her head.

“You’re my husband...my best friend!” She pursed her lips. “I’m staying here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said.

“My place is here. With her,” Mia said, backing away. Zoe got in the boat. You followed her. Ethan lingered for a moment and then got in beside you.

“We’ll be back for you,” he said.

The boat zoomed away, leaving Mia back in the darkness. You felt bad. But you had to believe you could come back for her, that you could save her later. Zoe looked grateful. Ethan steered the boat away. You took a deep breath and watched his face. He looked calm. Conflicted. All of the above.

Final Part

#ethan winters x reader #ethan winters imagines #resident evil imagines

[overwatchfanficbyevelyn]

The Phantom of the Overwatch Part Two

Everything was blurry and bright, but he could see shapes. There was movement in front of him, almost reaching for him. He felt a warm touch around his hand, pulling him towards its source. Layers of light peach and gold were surrounded by sweet sounds of gentle laughter, and slowly things began to focus. He saw her eyes first, deep blue and full of life, happy and loving. Her face came into focus, revealing her radiant smile. Her blonde hair gently drifted around her face, the soft waves catching the warm light and throwing it back even brighter. She looked at him, smiling and pulling him closer. He wrapped his arms around her waist, the breeze pushing her hair into his face. He could feel it tickling his cheeks as she leaned towards him, her arms slipping up and wrapping behind his neck. He watched her face, so close, so happy. She opened her mouth, and he leaned closer, listening for whatever she was going to say…. BANG! Reaper woke suddenly, the dream melting as his eyes opened. BANG! It sounded again. Reaper grumbled as he stood, making his way down the hall of the Talon Checkpoint house. BANG! It sounded again, this time behind the door. He took a deep breath, opening the door, “What the hell are--” Reaper quickly vaporized, his body becoming an indestructible mist as a high-heeled boot came flying towards his face, flying through and hitting the door behind him. Angela stood in a cell in front of him, the red separation barrier flickering before filling in again. Reaper noticed slight damage to the wall inside the cell, and a few items that had been thrown through the barrier at the wall. Angela pressed her hand against the barrier looking at him, a sad expression rising to the surface of her face. Reaper stared angrily back at her, ready to dodge the other boot already in her hand. “Gabriel? Wh-what happened to you?” Her eyes were red and watery, and her voice strained. “I told you not to call me that.” His voice sounded angry and rough, his eyes glowing red as he crossed his arms. “What do you want?” Angela's expression darkened and she turned her head away slightly, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “What happened! Where have you been? I looked everywhere for you, for days after you and Jack disappeared!” He rushed her, eyes beaming red with furry, “DON'T YOU DARE SAY HIS NAME!” He screamed, slamming his fist against the barrier, Angela jumping backwards. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you.” She cautiously approached him, putting her hand directly across from his fist. Reaper grumbled angrily, moving his fist and backing away. He reached over to a cupboard, pulling out a small loaf of bread before tossing it to her. She scrambled forward to catch it, and Reaper turned for the door. “Wait!” Angela raced towards the end of her cell after him, almost dropping the bread. He stopped, not turning around and silent. “Please don't go! Gabriel, please just talk to me!” His posture somehow grew more tense than before, and she could hear him breath in sharply, “No, like I said before, I killed Reyes a long time ago! And as soon as I get the chance I'll kill you and every other Overwatch agent I can find.” Reaper stormed out of the room ignoring her protests and slamming the door behind him. He paced back and forth, anger pulsing through him. He stopped at the computer, pulling up the surveillance of the holding cells. He watched as she paced her cell looking over her shoulder at the door. She sat in the corner and buried her face in her arms. He could see her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. He felt the urge to go back in, to go and hold her and tell her it was okay. No. He couldn't do that, he hated Overwatch and had vowed to kill every last agent. But he hadn't thought about her. In fact he had intentionally avoided it all these years, convincing himself it would be easy or she had already died. But seeing her now, locked up and crying felt… wrong. He shook his head, he had not felt anything for so long, and he was being ridiculous. She was nothing to him. The surveillance was interrupted, an incoming transmission flashing on the screen. Reaper grumbled a little, answering the call begrudgingly, “What.” He heard a laugh on the other end before Sombra's familiar voice came through the transmission, “How'd your reunion with your little friend go?” She jeered, snickering even more. Reaper ignored her comment, “Did you reach the checkpoint?” Sombra sighed, “Yes, in fact we made it early. I even had time to do some digging. Do you think it's strange that your little fly wasn't surprised to see you alive?” Reaper rolled his eyes and sighed, “Seemed pretty damn shocked to me.” She laughed at his answer, clearly pleased. “Well maybe your condition shocked her, but you are talking to the 'Angel of Mercy’ here.” “Sombra, what are you getting at, I'm not in the mood for your stupid games. And even at Overwatch's peak she never had the technology to bring completely dead people back. She was shocked to see me alive, period.” Sombra laughed almost mockingly, “Well maybe you should ask her how your friend Jack is doing? Maybe then you'll realize you got the shorter end of the deal.” Reaper stiffened, rage rushing over him again, “What are you talking about?!” He demanded, “Nothing, nothing at all! Anyway, just thought I'd let you know we made it! Have fun babysitting! Boop!” Sombra ended the call before he had a chance to ask any further questions, “Sombra! Dammit Sombra, you little snake!” Reaper turned around and rushed for the door to the holding cells, kicking it open and stopping inches away from the barrier. “Where is he!” Angela jumped, standing and cautiously walking towards the barrier, “What are you talking about, what's wrong?” She asked, the urgency in his voice scaring her. “Where is Soldier 76! Is he alive? Where is that BASTARD!” Angela took a couple steps back, feeling herself begin to shake, “Gabriel, I-I don't think I should tell you that….” “So he is alive! Why! How did I not notice this!” He began to pace frantically, one hand on his shotgun, the other clenched in a fist at his side. “Gabriel, calm down, everything is okay!” He spun around to face her, “You! This is all your fault! You saved him before he died and left me to rot!” Angela stopped, her heart sinking at the accusation. “What? No! Gabriel, no one could get inside! You two were tearing the place apart, and when the fires started and headquarters blew up, we all tried to get to you! We spent days looking for you, and we just happened to find Jack first! And--” “And what, just assumed the worst and tried to save him?!” Angela felt herself getting angry now, she had to hold herself back from yelling at him, “No, Gabriel, Jack was dead. After we found his body I spent days looking for you, any sign or even piece of you! Reinhardt and Ana had to rip me off the rubble and force me to stop looking!” Reaper rolled his eyes, and held onto his gun tightly. “Gabriel, I didn't just leave you! And only after they made me give up did I try and help Jack! I thought that if I could save him then maybe somehow if I found you I could save you too!” Reaper punched the cupboard, the metal door sinking in and the top hinge snapping. “I'm sure that's why you did it, to save me!” He replied sarcastically, “You always took his side, always!” “I did not!” Angela yelled, her temper growing harder and harder to control, “I always supported you, and tried to talk Jack down to seeing your side of things just as much as I tried making you see things his way!” “Ya? Well you never supported me when I needed it most, you left me in the end!” Angela grabbed her uneaten loaf of bread, throwing it at him in frustration, “That's what you think?! I tried to reason with BOTH of you! But neither of you would listen to me or anyone else! You were both too stubborn and selfish to work things out! You guys have always been terrible at listening to me, and how do you think that made me feel? Watching my two best friends try and kill each other!” “Your two best friends? He was always your favorite, don't lie to me! You two were always with each other, on missions, at headquarters, everywhere! Sometimes being with you guys made me feel invisible!” Reaper yelled, more emotion pouring into his voice with every word. “Ya? Well whose fault is that! When I first met you and Jack, you always ran off and left us, sometimes you refused to even talk to me or go on missions with me! You made ME feel invisible!” Angela tried to hold back her tears, her hurt and anger mixing together as she tried to calm down. “What other choice did I have! You were Jack's, I couldn't just take you from my best friend!” Reaper yelled at her, slamming his fist against the barrier. Angela stopped, her hands tightening into clenched fists. “Excuse me? Did you say I was 'Jack's’?” Reaper stopped, confused, but still angry. “You know what I'm talking about.” He said, standing his ground. Angela reached down, taking her boot off and swinging at him through the barrier, “I was not 'HIS’! Never ever! How dare either of you assume I belonged to, or was the property of anyone! I cannot even begin to describe how that makes me feel! How DARE you!” She threw the boot as hard as she could, sending it flying past his face, barely missing him. “You weren't his 'property’, he just called dibs on you, so I wasn't allowed to have feelings for you because he already did!” Reaper tried to clarify. “Oh he had dibs on me?! And that's better?! What is wrong with you two?! I'm not some animal you can call 'dibs’ on and adopt! I knew Jack liked me, but I never once returned his affection, and he knew that! I even told Jack that I had loved YOU since the day we met!” Reaper stopped, fists still clenched, “You expect me to believe you loved me, and that he knew about it? So you're saying that my closest friend took Overwatch from me, and that if he couldn't have you then no one could?” Angela began to sob, falling to the ground, “I don't know. All I know is that Gabriel did die. And Jack. But they died the moment they turned on each other, and on Overwatch. So just go, I don't want to talk to you anymore.” Angela held her knees and hid her face in her arms, crying. “You make the rules now?” He said, his tone harsh and angry. “Just go, Reaper. Go and leave me alone.” She got up, moving to the back of her cell away from him. He stopped, a sudden wave of guilt and pain hitting him like a bomb. She had called him Reaper and not… Gabriel. That's what he wanted though wasn't it? He even said so himself, Gabriel Reyes had died years ago. Reaper turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him. He walked down the hall and to his private room, and even though he was the only one there besides his prisoner, he locked the door. He sat on the edge of the bed, thinking. Why did it hurt so much, her calling him Reaper? That's who he was now. And had she really loved him? He stood up, walking over to the bathroom sink and turning on the water. He reached up and took off his mask, splashing cold water across his face. Reaching for a towel, he looked up at his reflection. His red eyes, and burnt, deformed face. For the first time in a long time, he saw the sadness in his own eyes, and looked over his torn and tarnished face. “No. She could never love me. Not now.”

#Evelyn Michaelis #phantom of the overwatch #overwatch #overwatch fanfiction #Angela Ziegler #Mercy #overwatch Mercy #Reaper #Gabriel Reyes #mercykill #mercykill fancic #mercy×reaper #reaper×mercy #overwatchfanficbyevelyn #part two

[cheekymuse]

It’s getting worse.

Every day, things seem to get worse. It’s more violence, more hatred, more death. And I don’t understand. I don’t understand how this became the world we live in. I have always known there was hatred in the world, but never before has it felt so close to our shores; never before has it actually penetrated our bubble that is the “American dream.”

Mass shootings seem to have started the avalanche. Kids with guns stalking their school hallways looking for victims. Disillusioned war veterans; mentally unstable young adults; police officers; and then white supremacists.

And here’s what I don’t get: isn’t the purpose of surviving history, of going through the war and death and famine and plague and dictators and assassinations and the arms race, isn’t the point of all that not to repeat the same mistakes? What more proof do we need than the Holocaust that a regime of hate fueled by white men who feel threatened will lead us down a dark path? What more proof do we need that nuclear war is not the way to go then the pictures of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in ruins, shadows of bodies flash frozen in time? What more proof do we need that suppressing women, minorities, gays and lesbians will lead to more discrimination, more hate than the burka-clad women in the Middle East or the Midwestern middle-schooler who tried to hang himself because of his sexual orientation?

If we are only going to repeat the same mistakes, cycle through the same fighting, the same name-calling, the same hate-filled rhetoric, than what is the point?

The list of things I don’t understand could easily fit an encyclopedia’s worth of pages. It would sit on the shelf next to the list of things I don’t know and things I feel. Warped shelves bending under the weight of it all; of all the things that I don’t know.

What I realize is that there is a fundamental divide between myself, and those who think like me, and the others who are simply fueling other peoples’ fear with hate speech and lies. And that divide is this: I believe everyone has the unalienable right to live his or her life however they want. I believe that people of color are not less than simply because of pigmentation. I believe that women know what is best for their bodies because it is their body.

I believe in everyone’s right to exist.

And I do not believe that the existence of others is a threat to me.

I do not believe that differences are a threat. I do not believe that ideas are a threat. I do not believe that thinking and speech are threats. I do not believe that freedom is a threat. I do not believe civil disobedience is a threat. I do not believe that your existence, his existence, her existence, their existence is a threat.

The threat lies in the misinformation being spread, in the ideas and history that is NOT being taught in classrooms. The threat lies in the widening divide between upper and middle and lower class, between the haves and the have-nots. The threat lies in calling someone ‘other’ just because they are different, in encouraging violence just because you don’t understand. The threat lies in isolation from each other and our ideas so that ‘they’ become more and more mysterious and soon ‘they’ is frightening – the bogeyman who lurks under your bed or in your closet. The old lady in the scary house at the end of the street who never throws errant Frisbees back. The old guy who lives alone and never leaves his house.

I’m a straight white girl from a middle class family; I know I have had it far easier than many, many other people throughout this country and the world. But what I don’t understand is how people who have had it easier than me – you know, the rich white males – how those people have grown up to become unsympathetic dictators who feel entitled to governing everything in the free world – including women’s bodies, people’s marriages and public restrooms. These men speak of entitlement with derision; entitlement is for those people, the lazy ones who don’t want to do any work, who think that everything in life should just be handed to them; that they should always get their way. 

No, that’s you. You are the entitled ones. 

I am angry and I am mad and I am sad. I feel helpless and hopeless and genuinely worry what is coming next. It feels as if everyday there is another revelation that is worst than the last and still no one has stepped up and said “Enough!” I was naïve, I realize that now, to think that a man’s misdeeds, some criminal, some simply vulgar would preclude him from holding office. Because he is a man – a rich, white man. Imagine that.

I am tired too, and I haven’t even done the fighting. I’ve done a lot of hand wringing and venting and tweeting, but not the fighting. And I realize that I am part of the problem. But it feels too big. It feels too final. It feels too hateful.

I don’t have children and I am grateful. I could not explain this to them. I wouldn’t know how; I can’t explain it to myself. I don’t understand how we got here (to be clear, I understand the logic of how we got here, I don’t understand how the hate got this bad). I cannot fathom the notion that there are some people who wake up every day and ask, “What freedoms can I regulate? How can I prevent women from having control? How can I stop minorities from achieving equality? How can I prevent people from going to the bathroom?”

I honestly do not understand hatred. And I am not some Pollyanna, I know that people will disagree and think differently and have different opinions and you know what? THAT’S OKAY.

It’s okay to disagree, it’s okay to discuss, it’s okay to shrug your shoulders and say “Nah.”

You know what is not an okay response to any of those things? Violence, hatred, genocide, persecution.

The people in charge now believe what they believe on the same level that I hold my convictions. As much as I believe that hating someone for the color of their skin is wrong, they believe it’s totally justified. As much as I believe that a woman’s right to choose should only belong to the woman, they believe that it should not. As much as I believe that unchecked gun ownership is a very real threat to society, they believe the absence of guns would be worse.

Who knows how long people have been fighting wars; certainly since the dawn of recorded history. There was probably a caveman at one point who picked up a rock and hurled it as his neighbor because he stole all the good meat off the mastodon or something. And since this need to fight seems to be intrinsic, we have come up with all kinds of reasons to justify it: religion, race, ethnicity, land, oil, money. And we have invented even more destructive ways to kill each other. Rocks progressed to sticks which progressed to bows and arrows, then muskets, shotguns, semi-automatic weapons, land mines and nuclear bombs.

The Cold War was one long game of chicken, and it ended, not because somebody flinched, but because people on both sides of the conflict realized that dropping nuclear bombs on each other wouldn’t solve any problem. So both sides put the cover back over the red button and shook on it – I won’t drop mine if you don’t drop yours. In this instance, it appeared cooler heads prevailed.

What happens when the person in charge of the red button is a hot head? Someone who can’t see past his own ego to consider anyone else’s state of existence. Someone who thinks Twitter is a better use of his time than intelligence briefings. Someone who seems awfully cozy with one of our sworn enemies (okay, now ally, but it’s fine, red line).

I don’t have any answers and I think that’s what bothers me the most. I am simply angry and anxious and apoplectic day in and day out. Some days I get lucky and I feel numb. Yeah, lucky to be numb.

I suffer from depression and anxiety and at my darkest moments, I always trudged forward holding onto the hope that things would get better. Maybe they wouldn’t get better for me, but better for the world, better for the country. Things could never be as bad as my chemically imbalanced brain believed them to be. I feel that hope fading now, I find it very difficult to look on any new day with a sense of hope, of awe, of wonder. Instead, I just feel helpless, because it’s hopeless.

#stateoftheworld #ftlauderdale #peotus