#i’m adult enough to admit this is one of my most toxic habits

[star-anise]

I read your post about trauma and I'm trying to make sense of my parents treatment of me as well as my own diagnoses. Is anxiety itself trauma? Or a result of trauma? Its the stress response itself not calming down. I think I was and am emotionally neglected. My parents are not sympathetic. I'm adhd anxiety depression my whole life. That post about learning new social situation techniques really resonated. What are the treatments for neglect? Besides plain old cbt and mindfulness and anti anxiety meds

Trigger warning: Child abuse, child neglect, emotional neglect

Anxiety can happen because of a wide variety of reasons, from medical to situational to genetic. It could happen out of the blue to a totally healthy adult. Or it might be a symptom of trauma and a bad childhood. PTSD used to be classified as a kind of anxiety disorder, but we now understand it's a lot more complicated.

I'm very sorry your family aren't sympathetic and don't get what's up with you. I want to make it very clear that it is not your fault that they aren't sympathetic.

It's not your fault for not explaining things clearly enough. It's not your fault for not being a more lovable child. It's not your fault for being emotional or oversensitive. It's not your fault for not communicating your needs in a way they can hear. Their treatment of you is not your fault.

That's important not just because it feels good to be absolved of blame. It's not a meaningless platitude. It's a nicer coating on what can sometimes be a very bleak truth. That truth is:

There is nothing you can do to make your family be sympathetic to you.

I am so, so, so sorry. You can spend your entire life turning backflips, you can learn interpretive dance, you can become the world's leading expert in your field, you can get hit by a car and find out you have cancer, you can be as sympathetic and understanding about their reasons for neglecting you as they could possibly want, you could do everything in your power to be a good child, and none of that will ever give you the power to make your parents be sympathetic to you and what you've been through.

Sometimes parents do learn and grow and change and work to repair the damage done while their kids were children. But that's because of their own issues and experiences and reasons, not because of anything their children have done. Many parents keep being oblivious and neglectful even when their children have become everything a parent could ever hope for.

Actually, an amazing number of my adult neurodivergent friends have had the absolutely excruciating experience of hearing their parents say, in essence, "Hey adult child! The other day someone I respect way more than you told me about [your condition], and I was astonished! They told me that thing you've been telling me for years, and it blew my mind. I now realize that this is a real part of your life! Wow, it sure would have made a difference if I'd done that thing you've been begging me to do for years now, huh? Hey, have you heard about this handy behavioural technique you've been doing every goddamn day of your adult life? It sounds like it would really help!"

Like, even if your parents ever Get It about your specific disorders and conditions, they're extremely likely to salvage their self-esteem by refusing to ever seriously acknowledge how much it's hurt that they've failed you.

And what that means is: You have to plan the rest of your life as if they will never be sympathetic.

That might mean never giving them any say over your medical care or personal life choices. It might mean not living with them, not turning to them when you need a supportive community, or not letting them play a large role in the lives of any children you yourself may have. It might mean having to build your own support network that doesn't include your family at all, because you can't count on them to care when you're in distress. It can really suck to have to keep giving up the dream that one day you'll be able to count on your family to nurture you emotionally, but I promise that it sucks less than being continually disappointed with no backup plan.

Researching emotional neglect can be really difficult because a lot of the best research psychology as a field has achieved on the topic comes from really extreme forms of neglect and abuse. Exactly the kind of neglect and abuse that society waves in the face of the "merely" emotionally neglected: "So what if you didn't get hugged enough! You had enough to eat, a roof over your head, and they never hit you! They weren't even mean or malicious! Stop whining!"

And... look, if you've just broken your legs and you're in a wheelchair, who would you rather learn about using a wheelchair from: someone who can easily walk everywhere all the time, or a double amputee who's been using a wheelchair for years? The first person can probably get around more easily, but the second one can tell you a lot more about the specific challenges and skills that will be central to this phase of your life.

That's the frame I propose for research: Your life might not have been as bad as the case studies you read (though it's probably worse than your family is willing to admit, because invalidation is itself a form of emotional neglect, and this is so common there's even a poem about it) but the issues they encounter and the skills they require are probably useful to you, too.

With that in mind, check out books about early childhood neglect and trauma like The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog by Bruce Perry, which talks about the parts of the brain and developmental stages that can be impaired by toxic stress in childhood, and the various forms of treatment that can address each one.

As far as CBT, remember to focus on behaviour, not just cognition. Reading about using touch to self-soothe is good, but less powerful than using that knowledge to find a blanket you love to touch, and wrapping yourself up in it whenever you're upset. Neglect means that you failed to get repeated, predictable experiences of being comforted. Healing therefore means getting that practice in as an adult: Creating thousands of daily, repetitive experiences of being cared about. Caring about yourself, and finding people who will care about you.

Maybe also give Dialectical Behaviour Therapy workbooks a try? They're designed for Borderline Personality Disorder, which can be seen as a specific subset of complex trauma. Like, if the effects of childhood abuse and neglect were a rainbow, BPD might be red-orange. But what makes DBT useful is that it has examined which skills and coping mechanisms vital to emotional health people with BPD most commonly weren't taught/never learned/need more practice on. The curriculum might not overlap completely with your own needs if you fall into the yellow, green, blue, or violet aspects of C-PTSD, but it's a good starting place when you're inventorying skills and habits you want to strengthen.

Good luck? I hope this helps!

#staranise original #trauma tw #child abuse tw #child neglect tw #invalidating environments tw #emotional neglect #long post

[lady-divine-writes]

Coldflash “Punish Me” (Rated NC17)

Summary: The things that serve Barry should also serve Len, even if Len isn't his husband's sub. So when Barry comes home and finds Len kneeling in the dark, he's curious to find out why. (2953 words)

Notes: A part two to 'Waiting on his Knees' but also written in concert with this post I made about D/s, BDSM, and communication, specifically as it's portrayed in fanfiction, which can be toxic due to lack of research or ignorance.

Read on AO3.

Barry spends the afternoon clock watching, tallying minutes as they flip by, anticipating them down to the millisecond so he can catch the numbers turn. He doesn’t need a clock to know the time, but it’s habit. It gives him something to do in the moments between everything else. But it also reminds him how damned slowly time moves. So he does his best to ignore it, hoping he can get so wrapped up in work that he forgets about the time, then be pleasantly surprised when he checks it and finds that half the day has gone by.

But no luck.

At most, he wastes six minutes.

But Barry zooms off the second the numbers switch from 7:59 to 8:00. He’s dying to get home, dying to get to his husband, more so tonight than any other night. He made Len a promise that he’s been lousy at keeping. He intends to fix that.

He intends to spend all night fixing it.

But above that, Barry has a feeling. Not a foreboding feeling, per se. Nothing urgent. He’d know if his husband were hurt, if for no other reason than Len would text every single contact he has programmed in his phone who knows Barry to let them know he’s in danger.

Len is a brave, strong, capable man, but he has no qualms calling in reinforcements en masse.

Still, Barry can’t get it out of his head that something is wrong.

It takes him no time at all to make it home, managing to expertly avoid Caitlin and her stack of files that have the potential to bog him down for an hour at least. He pauses at his door and puts an ear to the wood.

Nothing.

He can’t detect any movement.

He becomes anxious as he listens for a clue, as if whatever is going on with Len has found a way to settle inside his chest, latch itself to his ribs and crowd his heart and lungs. But their apartment is silent.

Completely silent.

And with Len, as with children, silence is not a comforting sign.

The hairs on the back of Barry’s neck begin to rise.

He unlocks the door and walks inside.

Darkness greets him.

Cold, too.

Unnatural cold.

And quiet.

But it’s not an easy quiet, like the simple quiet of no one being home. It’s a tension-filled quiet. An anticipating quiet.

A quiet like the world holding its breath, waiting for Barry’s next move.

And he’s not alone.

It takes a moment of quelling his stuttering heart and his eyes adjusting for him to notice his husband there, in the center of the room, shirtless and on his knees. Barry breathes a sigh of relief, but not one Len would notice. He goes about his business, doesn’t stop to stare, even if Leonard Snart on his knees makes Barry hotter than asphalt in August.

When he requests it.

And since Barry hadn’t, he has to process this image correctly. He does so by adopting his Dominant persona. It helps him think logically, react rationally, without emotion applied.

“Hello, Len,” Barry says, putting down his bag and hanging up his coat.

“Master,” Len says, more experimentally than confidently, and Barry knows why. Len isn’t sure how Barry will respond. Because this isn’t their dynamic. Len isn’t Barry’s sub. But they’ve discussed this. The things that serve Barry can, and should, serve Len, too. Something about kneeling in the dark serves Len for the moment.

But Barry wants to know what he’s kneeling over.

“Can I help you with something?”

“I need you,” Len says, voice soft but dangerous - so unlike any sub Barry has ever met, it makes him bite his lower lip to keep from grinning. “I need you to do something for me, Sir.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“Punish me.”

Barry stops fussing. The room becomes colder, darker than before. “Repeat that for me, please?”

“I need you to punish me,” Len repeats through gritted teeth.

“And why do you need this?”

“Because I’m evil,” Len growls.

“How do you figure?”

“I’m a thief. And a killer.”

“You are,” Barry agrees matter-of-factly. There’s no denying that those things are a part of Len’s personality. Part of Len’s past. It would be a slap in the face to his husband’s intelligence and the hard work he’s put into redeeming himself to sweep those under the rug. Confront them at every corner, whenever they pop up, Barry told him the first few months they were together, when flashbacks and urges piled up in his brain and Barry would find him warming his favorite stool at Saints and Sinners, trying to drink his anxiety away. That’s one of the reasons Barry introduced Len to the Dom/sub scene in the first place, in the hopes of keeping him away from the kinds of temptation that might land him in Iron Heights permanently, convicted of things even The Flash couldn’t swing getting him released from. Confront them, accept them, then put them in their place. “You were. But you’ve put those things behind you. And you’ve worked hard at it. So what’s happened in the past few hours to make you change your mind?”

Len raises an arm, holds something out to Barry - a folded-up clipping from a newspaper, it looks like. Barry takes it from him, fighting another smile. Most of the modern world gets their news from the Internet, but his husband still goes down to the corner store every morning for a daily paper.

Well, Barry is going to do everything in his power to ensure that The Central City Citizen never goes under.

Barry unfolds it carefully. The clip has jagged edges. His husband probably tore it from its page instead of using a pair of scissors. Barry marvels at how neatly he accomplished it. The outer portion is an ad for a local furniture store, but on the other side, the part folded in and therefore protected, is the article Len had saved. Barry reads the header out loud.

“Man fatally shot in alley way.”

Barry glances Len’s way when he notices movement at his feet. Len bows his head, hands folded on his knees like he’s praying, but Barry knows better.

He’s thinking.

Thinking hard for a man in this position.

“A man was found stabbed to death in an alley Tuesday evening, and police are investigating the killing as possibly gang-related …” Barry skims the article, searching for pertinent information. “The victim was identified as 33 -year-old Ricardo de Salva.”

Barry looks to his husband for answers. Len doesn’t see the expression on Barry’s face with his eyes cast to the floor, but he doesn’t need to. He can probably feel Barry’s eyes burning through the top of his head.

“He was a good guy,” Len starts softly, “and I don’t say that often about anybody. Family man. Didn’t wanna be a criminal. I strong-armed him into it.” Len’s voice cracks. The sound reminds Barry of an old growth oak weathering a storm, the way it complains as the wind does its best to knock it over, but can only get it to bend. “He needed a couple bucks, just wanted to take care of his wife and kids. He did one job with us. Not our normal payout, but enough to keep a roof over their heads for a few more months. And he was fine with it - ready to roll and never look back. But after that, we kept him on the payroll anyway, had him run petty errands. I gave him a beeper, told him to call whenever I paged him or else.” The catch in Len’s voice returns. He clears it gruffly this time. “We didn’t need him. It was amusing to have him around, acting as our gopher. When it stopped being amusing, I sort of forgot he existed. Always thought he made it out, but …”

Barry nods. He doesn’t ask Len to continue. He doesn’t need to hear any more. He folds the article up and hands it back to his husband, crouching an inch and holding it in his sight line until he reaches up and takes it.

“So you’re looking for penance? Is that what this is about?”

“Yes,” Len admits with a barely audible hiss, as if, of all the things he could ask his husband for, this is the farthest down on the list. “That’s what I want.”

“But I’m not your Dom.”

“No, you’re my husband!” Len snaps. “And you’ve Dominated me before!”

“That’s different! That dynamic is different! When we do that, we’re playing! It’s stress relief! And we have those parameters outlined! We know how far is too far!”

“But you could do it!”

“Yes, I could! But I’m not just going to break out a whip and some cuffs and beat you! There are steps we have to take! Discussions we need to have! Contracts we have to draw up!”

Len huffs under his breath and rises to his feet, the air around him dropping in temperature with every inch till he reaches his full height. “You’re not the only show in town, Red. There are clubs all over Central City, owned by guys who owe me favors. I’m sure there’ll be a Dom at one of them that will give me what I need.”

Barry swallows those words - spoken without any hint of warmth or compassion whatsoever - so hard his throat aches. He doesn’t know what to say. He never imagined it would come to this, not over this of all things! “We’re adults,” he says without condescension, though Len might see things otherwise, “in an adult relationship. If that’s how you feel, you’re within your rights. I won’t … I won’t judge you for that.”

Len bares his teeth in anger. “I don’t want them, Red! I want you!”

“You have me! But what you’re asking …” Barry extends his hands with palms upturned, pleading for his husband to listen to reason “… is not something I’m willing to do right this second! We need to talk about this more. A lot more!” He steps forward, puts his hands on his husband’s biceps and kneads gently. “I’m not saying no. Believe it or not, I understand why you might want to do this. I do. I’ve felt this way myself, that I’ve done so much more harm than good in my life that I deserve to have the shit kicked out of me. But it also seems to me like you’re doing this out of self pity.” Barry presses his forehead against Len’s, needing to be closer, needing more touch, and to look deeper in his husband’s eyes. “If I do this for you, it won’t bring Ricardo back. It won’t help his wife and kids. It won’t do anything but make you feel better, and I honestly don’t think it’ll do that.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Let’s make a plan,” Barry suggests. “Let’s write out a list of things that will actually solve the problem, not cover up how you feel. Because that won’t solve a thing. This pain and anger you feel, this hatred of yourself, will always be there, hiding underneath, waiting for its moment to throw a wrench in your sanity.”

Len sighs, drops slowly back to his knees. Reluctantly, Barry lets go so he can. “The problem is Ricardo’s dead. And if it hadn’t been for me, he might not be.”

“The key word there is might,” Barry points out, holding to it hard. “You can’t make someone else’s mind up for them.”

“You can if you threaten them enough. If you threaten their life or … someone they love. And you have to admit, I have a talent for getting people to agree to pretty much anything.”

“I’ll give you that one,” Barry mutters, squelching the part of himself that occasionally makes him doubt his life choices - particularly his choice in spouses. The part that second-guesses whether or not he did the right thing by trusting Leonard Snart, regardless of how many times he’s proven he can be trusted, that he is a changed man. That he loves Barry Allen more than his own life and would do anything to protect him. “I suggest we start by attending Ricardo’s funeral … talk to his widow … make some kind of amends.”

“She won’t talk to me.” Len sniffs. “I know she won’t. She’ll probably try to have me arrested.”

“Luckily you have a friend or two on the force who’ll vouch for you,” Barry teases. It doesn’t land as he’d intended. “You can write her a note. I’ll take it to her if you think that will make her more comfortable.”

“I do,” Len admits. “Though, to be honest, it seems like the coward’s way out. I should go up to her, let her slug me.”

Barry rolls his eyes. Len does have a point, but he also has a flair for the dramatic.

Len exhales. The breath leaving his body slumps his shoulders, makes him look surrendered. “If I do this … if I go … will you go with me?”

“Oh, honey.” Barry puts a hand on Len’s head. Len leans towards him, rests his forehead against Barry’s thigh and hides his face in the denim of his jeans. Barry runs his nails lightly over Len’s scalp. This is a side of his husband he rarely sees, a side he associates with Len’s memories of his father; the man’s terrible, soul-crushing abuse; of a teenage Len raising his sister - traumas that Len has never gotten adequate help with even though Barry has offered time and time again to help him find it. Barry hopes this will be the positive step in the right direction he’s been waiting for. “Of course, I will.”

***

Knock-knock-knock

“Yeah?” Len grunts in frustration. “What is it?”

Barry opens the bathroom door a sliver and peeks around the edge. He sizes up his husband standing in front of the mirror, navigating the mechanics of a Windsor knot the same way he would any other technical task - with pursed lips and a tightly furrowed brow.

“May I come in?”

“Sure.” Len eyes his husband in the reflection and sighs. “Sorry I’m taking so long. This tie you bought me refuses to cooperate.”

“That’s all right.” Barry slides up behind him, pushing a wealth of off-colored jokes to the side. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

“So you checkin’ up on me?” Len asks uncomfortably, his gaze flicking to his husband’s eyes, then back to his own reflection again. “Makin’ sure I’m not backing out?”

“No. I know you wouldn’t do that. You’re a man of your word. Actually …” Barry chews the inside of his cheek, not so much contemplating, but gauging “… I wanted to give you something.”

Len smirks. “I’m not sure this is the right time for a quickie, Red. I mean, we’re headed to a funeral and all. Might be considered in poor taste.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Here.” He shoves a document into Len’s hands, then turns Len towards him, taking over with the tie so his husband can read. “I drew this up last night. It’s a full Dom/sub contract …” Barry’s voice softens “… with a few addendums. Addendums that are time sensitive. We have to discuss the finer details together, re-visit your soft and hard limits, that sort of thing.” Barry fastens the tie into a Trinity knot, just to show up his husband, then smooths the tail down his chest. “You’re doing what we discussed. You’ve made a plan … a good plan. But if this is what you feel you need, then read through this, sign on the bottom line, and I’ll give it to you.”

Len flips through the pages, eyebrows raised in surprise. Barry probably dashed this out in minutes, but Len wonders how long he’s been thinking about this. It’s incredibly thorough. “You’re willing to do this for me?”

“Yes, Len. I am.” Barry loops his arms around Len’s waist. “I love you. If you need this, then I would like to be what you need … if you’d let me.”

Len grins, draws his husband into his embrace and squeezes him tight. “You’re what I need, in more ways than one.” He buries his nose in his husband’s neck, breathes in deep the spicy scent of his cologne. “But …” He moves back a step but doesn’t leave his husband’s arms. He looks Barry in the eyes, holding him the way he does whenever he’s about to impart something important “… I’ve been doing some thinking and … I want to talk to someone. A---a shrink. Like you suggested. But not someone here. In another city. I don’t want to go to someone who knows me. Knows who I was. Could you help me find someone?”

“Absolutely,” Barry agrees with a smile that refuses to stop. He hugs Len again, with so much enthusiasm, a wave of electricity seeps through Barry’s skin and shocks his husband. Only a little. “I am so proud of you!”

“Thanks,” Len says, mildly embarrassed. Barry can hear the eye roll in his words. “For everything. For being willing to help me.”

“Hey. That’s what superhero husbands are for, right? I guess we won’t need this then …” Barry reaches for the contract but Len pulls it out of Barry’s reach. Barry watches Len roll the stapled pages together tightly, then slide it into his back pocket. A wicked grin quirks his lips as he leans into Barry’s ear and whispers:

“I’m not saying no.”

#coldflash #barry allen #leonard snart #captain cold #the flash

[creativitycache]

ngl asking for people who self-identify as "antis" is already biasing your results because the term originated from fans being defensive over getting called out (eg the types who sincerely think fandom culture is ""puritan""). fair number of people started to use the term ironically and it might be evening out but overall the post calling for responses on the survey still comes off as something written in bad faith?

I wrote a rather long and involved response and then tumblr ate it. Goshdarn.

Fair warning, this is a hyperfixation and I’m coming off of a migraine so this may not be very cogent. Please read this in the over excited tones of someone infodumping about emulsifiers, with no animosity intended.

So, tl;dr and with a lot fewer links, I’m incredibly interested by your perspective that “anti” originated as a derogatory term.

As far as I am aware, the etymological history of the word “anti” being used pejoratively is coming from some very new debates.

I’m also noting that you had no feedback regarding the content of the questions themselves, which I would be interested in hearing as I am genuinely coming from a place without censure.

The term “anti” actually is a self-descriptor that arose in the Livejournal days, where you’d tag something as “Anti ___” for other like minded people to find. (For example, my cursory google search pulled up 10 Anti Amy Lee communities on LJ).

I’m a self-confessed old. I was back in fandom before Livejournal, aaaall the way back in the Angelfire days. Webrings children! We had webrings! And guest books for you to sign!

I’m going to take a swing for the fences here Anon, so if I’m wrong please let me know, but I’m going to guess you became active as a fan in the past 5-8 years based of your use of the term puritan.

There’s actually a HUGELY new debate in fandom spaces! Previously, it was assumed that:

a) All fandom spaces are created and used by adults only.

b) If you were seeing something, it’s because you dug for it.

These assumptions were predicated upon what spaces fandoms grew in. First you had Star Trek TOS fandom, which grew in 1970s housewives kitchens. They were all friends irl, and everyone was an adult, and you actively had to reach out to other adults to talk about things. (By the way- a woman lost custody of her children in the divorce when her ex husband brought up to the judge she kept a Kirk/Spock zine under her bed. The judge ruled this as obvious signs of moral deficiency. That was in the 80s! Everyone is still alive and the parents are younger than my coworkers!)

Time: 1967-1980s. Is Anti a term? No. Who is the term used by? N/A Is fandom space considered Puritanical? No.

Then, when the internet came about, it was almost exclusively used by adults until The Eternal September. 1993 was the year that changed the internet for good, but even years after that the internet was a majority adult space. Most kids and teens didn’t have unlimited access if their parents even had a home computer in the 90s.

This is the rise of Angelfire, which were fansites all connected to each other in “rings”. You had to hunt for content. If you found something you didn’t like, well, you clicked out and went on with your day because you’d never see it again unless you really dug. This was truly the wild west, tagging did not exist and you could go from fluff to vore in the blink of an eye with nothing warning you before hand. All fannish spaces were marked “here be dragons” and attempts were made to at least adopt the “R/NC-17″ ratings on works to some limited success, depending on webmaster.

Time: 1990-1999. Is Anti a term? No. Who is the term used by? N/A Is fandom space considered Puritanical? No.

In 1999 LiveJournal arose like a leviathan, and here is where the term Anti emerges as a self descriptor. Larger communities began to form, and with them, divisions. Now, you could reach so many fans you could reach a critical mass of them for enough of them to dislike a ship. The phrase “Anti” became a self-used tag, as people tagged their works, communities, and blogs with “anti” (NB: this is at far, far smaller rates than today). Anti was first and foremost a tagging tool used and created by the people who were vehemently against something.

You could find content more easily than in the past, but you still had to put some serious elbow grease into it.

In 2007, Livejournal bans users for art "depicting minors in explicit sexual situations”. The Livejournal community explodes in anger- towards Livejournal staff. The account holders/fans view this as corporate puritanical meddling. The outrage continues as it is revealed these bans were part of a pre-sale operation to SUP Services. SUP Services, upon taking over Livejournal in 2008, proceeds to filter the topics “bisexuality, depression, faeries, girls, boys, and fanfiction”.

The Great LiveJournal Migration begins, as fans leave the site in droves.

Time: 1999-2009. Is Anti a term? Yes. Who is the term used by? People self describing, seeking to create communities based off a dislike of something. Is fandom space considered Puritanical? No.

Where do fans go? Well, in the last decade, they migrated to Tumblr and Twitter (sorry Pillowfort- you gave it a good try!)

What’s different about all of these sites? Individuals are able to create and access content streams. These are hugely impactful in how communities are formed! Because now:

a) finding content is easier

b) finding content you dislike by accident is easier

c) content you dislike requires active curation to avoid

d) truly anonymous outreach is possible and easy (for example, you anon! Isn’t it much easier to go on anon to bring up awkward or sensitive topics? I’m happy you did by the way, and that’s why I keep my anons open. It’s an important contextual tool in the online communications world!)

Now the term Anti gets sprightly. Previously, if you didn’t like content, there was nothing you could really do about it. For example, I, at the tender age of way-too-young, opened up a page of my favorite Star Trek Deep Space 9 fansite and pixel by pixel with all the loading speed of a stoned turtle a very anatomically incorrect orgy appeared.

I backed out.

1. Who could I contact? There was no “message me here” button, no way to summon any mods on Angelfire sites.

2. If I did manage to find a contact button, I would have had to admit I went onto a site that wasn’t designed to keep me safe. I knew this was a site for adults, I knew there wasn’t a way to stop it from showing something. There was no such thing as tags. I knew all of this before going in. So the assumption was, it was on me for looking. (Some may have argued it was on my parents for not supervising me- all I can say is thank GOD no one else was in the living room and my mom was around the corner in the kitchen.)

But now? On Tumblr? On Twitter? In a decade in which tagging is so easy and ubiquitous it’s expected?

Now people who describe themselves as antis start to have actual tools and social conventions to utilize.

Which leads to immediate backlash! Content creators are confused and upset- fandom spaces have been the wild west for decades, and there’s still no sherriff in town. So the immediate go-to argument is that these people who are messaging them are “puritans”.

And that’s actually an interesting argument! A huge factor in shaping the internet’s social mores in the latest decades is cleanliness for stockbrokers. Websites can become toxic to investors and to sales if they contain sexual content. Over time, corporations perfected a mechanism for “cleaning” a site for sale.

Please note there is no personal opinion or judgement in this next list, it is simply a description of corporate strategies you can read during the minute meetings of shareholders for Tumblr, Twitter, Paypal, Venmo, Facebook, Myspace, Yahoo Answers, and Livejournal.

1. Remove sex workers. Ban any sex work of any kind, deplatform, keep any money you may have been holding.

2. Remove pedophilia. This is where the jump begins between content depicting real people vs content depicting fictional characters begins.

3. Remove all sexual image content, including artwork of fictional characters.

4. Remove all sexual content, including written works. If needed, loop back to step 2 as a justification, and claim you do not have the moderators to prevent written works depicting children.

I would like to reiterate these are actual gameplans, so much so that they’ve made their way into business textbooks. (Or at least they did for my Modern Marketing & App Design classes back in the early 2010s. Venmo, of course, wasn’t mentioned, but I did read the shareholder’s speeches when they banned sex workers from the platform so I added them in the list above because it seems they’re following the same pattern.)

So you have two groups who are actively seeking to remove NSFW content from the site.

A) Corporate shareholders

B) People are upset they’re seeing NSFW content they didn’t seek out and squicks them

Now, why does this matter for the debates using the term “puritan” as an insult? 

Because the reasons corporate shareholders hate NSFW material is founded in American puritanism. It’s a really interesting conflation of private sector values! And if Wall Street were in another cultural context, it would be a completely different discussion which I find fascinating!

But here’s the rub- that second group? They're not doing this for money. If there are any puritanical drives, it’s personal, not a widespread cohesive ideology driving them. HOWEVER! The section of that group that spent the early 2010s on tumblr did pick up some of the same rhetoric as puritanical talking points (which is an entirely separate discussion involving radfems, 4chan raids, fourth wave feminism, and a huge very nuanced set of influences I would love to talk about at a later time!)

These are largely fans who have “grown up” in the modern sites- no matter how old they actually are, their fandom habits and expectations have been shaped by the algorithms of these modern sites.

Now HERE‘s the fascinating bit that’s new to me! This is the interpretation of the data I’m getting, and so I’m out on a limb but I think this is a valid premise!

The major conflict in fandom at this time is a struggle over personal space online.

Content creators are getting messages telling them to stop, degrading them, following them from platform to platform.

They say “Hey! What gives- we were here first. The cardinal rule of fandom is don’t like, don’t read. Fandom space has always been understood to be adult- it’s been this way for decades! To find our content, you had to come to us! This is our space! This is my space, this is my blog! If you don’t like it, you’re not obligated to look!”

Meanwhile, at the exact same time, antis are saying “Hey! What gives- this content is appearing on my screen! That’s my space!  I didn’t agree to this, I don’t like this! I want it to be as far away from me as possible! I will actively drive it away.”

This is a major cultural shift! This is a huge change and a huge source of friction! And I directly credit it to the concept of “content stream” and algorithms driving similar-content to users despite them not wanting it!

Curating your online space used to be much simpler, because there wasn’t much of it! Now with millions of users spread out over a wide age range, all feeding in to the same 4-5 websites, we are seeing people be cramped in a technically limitless space!

Now people feel that they have to go on the offense to defend themselves against content they don’t like, which is predicated upon not only the algorithms of modern websites but ALSO talking points fed from the top down of what is and what is not acceptable on various platforms.

Time: 2010-2020. Is Anti a term? Yes. Who is the term used by? People self describing,and people using it to describe others. Is fandom space considered Puritanical? Depends!

So I, a fandom ancient, a creaky thing of old HTML codes and broken tags, am watching this transformation and am wildly curious for data.

Also...I uh....I can’t believe this is the short version. My ADHD is how you say “buckwild” tonight.

Anyways...um...if anyone has read to the bottom, give me data?

#Asks&Answers #fandom #anti #fandom discourse #gosh I've been on the internet a long time... #started at the 90s now we hear #I still sometimes think about the dudes who were HELLA salty about the eternal september #they talk about it like it was a war...you bring up Usenet and they go #I was THERE Gandalf

[rhetoricalrogue]

31 Days of Wayhaven, Day 30

Prompt: Night Rating: G Words: 1,804 Characters: Cameron Buchanan, Nicolo Morelli Summary: This is the fic, if it were a show, that would be titled The Boys Talk About Their Feelings.  AKA, Unit Delta (D for Demotion!) field missions are boring as hell. Note: The mention of a certain type of shapeshifting animal is a nod to the Wayhaven Writers Group and a certain Saturday book club reading.

For the @31daysofwayhaven event.

Stakeouts were usually the most boring thing Nicky could think of doing.  Nothing usually happened on them and he hated staying still in one place.  At least this time he was partnered up with his Commanding Agent so the company was good and he didn’t have to sit out in his car freezing his ass off alone.

“You think there’s going to be any movement?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.  Drinking wasn’t the wisest idea he had, seeing that he’ll have to go out and find a tree or nearby bush take a piss behind sometime within the next hour or so, but the coffee was hot and he needed something to keep him awake.  Napping while doing boring surveillance was a surefire way to make sure that something important did happen that he would unfortunately miss.

“Probably not.”  Cam relaxed in the driver’s seat and grabbed a snack sized bag of chips he’d packed.  Stakeouts always made him hungry and it was one of the few times that he liked to indulge in junk food and convenience store ready made meals, especially if Nicky was around.  It was funny, the man had serious Opinions, capital O and everything, when it came to restaurant food, but the two of them could tear up a 7-11 if left alone without adult supervision, namely Penny and Winona.  “Looks like this is another wasted evening.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”  Nicky raised the night vision goggles he had been messing with and pointed towards some people who were walking away from their car.  “I think that’s a drug deal.”

Cam, who had no need for night vision goggles, tracked Nicky’s finger and rolled his eyes.  “Nick, those are kids.  They look like they’re twelve.”

“Then they’re out past curfew.  We should sneak up and scare the hell out of them.”

Cam gave him a disbelieving look before opening his chip bag.  “I’m not going to scare a few kids just because they’re walking home in the dark.”

“Spoilsport.”

“You want to be the next cryptid creepypasta on Reddit or somewhere, be my guest.  This isn’t the sixteen hundreds where you just had to worry about being stabbed if these kids were carrying knives, Nicky.  Kids these days are probably carrying mace and knives and I for one do not wish to spend my evening cold and covered in pepper spray.”

Nicky caught Cam mumbling especially when I could be spending my evening someplace better under his breath.  “So, scaring a few juveniles is out of the picture and we both know that tonight’s another wild evening of sitting in the car watching these two were...were-” he turned to Cam.  “What sort of shapeshifters are they again?”

“Bears.  The husband and wife are on thin ice for apparently attacking a home intruder.  They shifted into bear form while attacking her because they were afraid for their children sleeping upstairs.”

Nicky ran a hand over his face.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.  We’re dealing with the case that some of the agents are dubbing the Goldilocks Affair?”

Cam sighed.  “Look, I didn’t name it.  I feel bad for them, they were just defending their home.”

“Yeah, but they could have beaned her upside the head with a bat, they didn’t have to practically claw her to death.  From what I heard, the Agency had to go in as a group of doctors to memory wipe her and make her believe that she was out jogging in the woods when she slipped and fell down a ravine.”

“How did they make her injuries look like she fell?  I saw the file report, there were definitely bite marks involved.”

“You got me, you know how I feel about the Agency when they start doing shady shit like this.”

Cam nodded, grabbing the binoculars on the dash and looking around the area.  He paused when he saw the husband stare out the window, his hand at the curtain.  “I can’t believe that these people think that we’re here as security, just in case the woman has friends who figure things out and want to retaliate.”  He gave a brief wave back when the man waved at them. 

Nicky dug in the plastic bag full of food and pulled out a waxed package.  Unwrapping it, he took a bite of the handheld fried pie inside, the chocolate filling seeping out from the edges.   “I guess it’s better than them being paranoid and knowing that we’re here to look into them to make sure they don’t start making a habit of eating people in the privacy of their own home.”  Nicky stretched his long legs in front of him and started tapping a wordless tune on the car’s console as he chewed.  “So, you and Penny, huh?”

Cam stiffened.  He was wondering how long it would take for Nicky to bring that up. It had been a few days since Cam had told Nicky of his and Penny’s relationship, and he was surprised that it took their friend this long to start to pry again. “Yes, me and Penny.  I thought we went over this already.”

Nicky grinned and playfully punched him in the arm.  “We went over the fact that you and her were an item, and the fact that you were going to be a prude and not tell me a single sex-related thing, but we never really went over how the two of you went from sighing and mooning over the other when you thought the other wasn’t looking to holding hands and leaving socks on doorknobs.”

He rolled his eyes.  “There’s not much to explain?  I asked her out to dinner and made it clear that I wasn’t asking her out as a friend.  She agreed and we spent the evening talking about how much we wanted our relationship to change.”

“That,” Nicky spat, flopping in his seat and leaning his head back dramatically against the headrest, “has got to be the most boring of how I met my girlfriend stories I’ve ever heard.  Where is the drama?  The emotion?  The sizzling lust that finally gets to ignite after years of longing?”

Cam laughed.  “Sorry to disappoint.”

“This is the worst.  Twenty years, I’ve waited for payoff to all the pining and this is what I get?  Disgusting.”

“Well, we can’t all be you, Nicky.  When are you going to tell me about you and your surprise wife?”  As if by magic, Nicky’s phone lit up with a text notification from Isabela.  

“Speak of the devil,” he murmured, swiping at his phone and giving the picture on his lock screen a fond smile before opening up their chat.  “I told her I’d be working tonight, but she was free to text.  Didn’t think that you would want to hear me whisper sweet nothings into my phone or else I would have said that it would have been okay for her to call me.”

“Thanks,” Cam deadpanned, finishing his chips and digging into the bag for the sandwich he’d bought.  “But Nicolo, are you actually okay with this?  I mean, the woman put a spell on you that won’t let you die, didn’t try to find you and made it impossible for you to find her when she was pregnant with your daughter, and from what you told us, stabbed you to death when you went to meet her.”

Nicky shrugged.  “We all have our flaws.”

“Nicky, she killed you.  You were dead on her kitchen floor.  If that’s not a red flag that this relationship is toxic, I don’t know what is.”

“And I’ve been dead in many other places over the course of my life, that isn’t new.”  Nicky had a faint smile on his face as he finished texting.  “This, Cameron.  This talking with a woman and slowly getting to know her instead of heavily flirting just to get into her bed for a brief fling?  This is new.”

“And what do you think about it?”

“I don’t know yet.  Part of me doesn’t want to put too much hope in this working out because I don’t want to be disappointed if the other shoe drops, but part of me does want this to work out.”  He lifted his phone as it vibrated with her reply.  “I’ve gotten to know my daughter, Cam.  Having a family wasn’t quite the first thing on my mind back when I was still alive.  I thought I had time to play around and be the romantic, but really I was just being a fool.  And I’ve continued to be the fool all these years because it was easier to fall back on that aspect of my life instead of growing up.”

Cam shook his head.  “Come on, Nicky, I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit.  You’ve been a fine asset to this unit and there’s no one else I’d trust to have my back than you.”

“Thanks, you don’t know how much that means to me.”  He looked at him.  “And you know that I trust you and our team with mine. You’re my brother, Cameron, even if I am older than you by a few centuries.”

“Family is important, and I hope that whatever happens with yours works out for you.”  He paused.  “But really, what do you think will happen between you and Isabela?  Will you ask her to come here?  Would you leave the Agency?”

“I don’t know.  You know how Facility life is, Cam.  She’s a witch who’s had her own space for centuries, she’d hate it here.”  Nicky laughed as he took another sip of his coffee.  “Then again, could you see me as a civilian?  I wouldn’t know what to do with myself, especially since I wouldn’t have the same salary to buy all the shiny new gadgets I can get my hands on here, not to mention having disposable income to get bespoke clothing whenever I feel like it.” 

“I’ve seen stranger things, though I’ve got to admit, seeing you in a day job?  That would be the weirdest sight of all.  What would you even do?”

“I could always be a food critic.”

Cam snorted, but hid the sound by opening up a can of soda.  “Well, whatever you decide to do, I’m sure that you would be brilliant at it.”  He eyed him.  “And don’t take this the wrong way, I’m not pushing you out of the unit either.  I would love to have you around forever.”

“An eternity watching werebear houses and making sure that little tea shops run by witches were up to code?”  Nicky drained his coffee cup and reached into the bag for an energy drink Winona would have had a conniption over if she’d been there to see him drink. .  “Count me in.”

#31daysofwayhaven #my writing #Unit Charlie #cameron buchanan #nicolo morelli

[wolftrapped]

                    THE PODCAST — DRINKING BUDDIES.

Drinking Buddies é um projeto independente que busca compreender artistas de maneira intimista sem recorrer ao escândalo e à invasão desrespeitosa, propondo-se à outorgar um espaço para justificativas, diálogos sinceros e correntes. Usualmente regada por bons vinhos — embora existam outras opções para convidados abstêmios — a entrevista consiste em um ritmo de conversa entre velhos conhecidos, sem tempo previamente definido ou obrigatoriedade de resposta. Detalhes de vida pessoal e a tão pública carreira se sobrepõem, criando uma nova perspectiva de indivíduos sob a constante pressão dos holofotes, humanizando-os.

TRANSCRIPT OF THE HIGHLIGHTS: Entrevistada da semana Abbadon de Rosas, inte e três anos, cantora e atriz. (@mosquinhainthewall)

So, not to be that kind of guy, but I feel like to know you personally, we should brush over your personal life. And that includes past relationships.Despite having dated a couple celebrities, I think your most recent and most high-profile partner was that one guy. So... you have dated the butcher. Girl, what the hell was it like?

A: It was like a roller-coaster ride, you get in very excited and you get scared halfway through, you scream a lot, you get your heart racing and you leave that shit shaking and wanting to puke for your own bad decisions and still wanting to do It again. It's fucking nuts, because he's a really charming person and he can really make you fall in love like right off the bat, but the guy is also an asshole who has a lot of issues and there is a point that people just can't take It anymore, the whole sex, drugs and rock n' roll It's too real to be good and It's fucking awful to see. He's good in bed, tho, I have to give him that. When he's not passing out drunk, he's a great boyfriend.

That was... wow. I think this has been the first time you have been so open about this, so I'm kinda honored. I think the glamorization of all those issues associated with success and music in the rock scene is very unnecessary. You can have hits and put out great work without falling into the cliché of the supposed demons that come with it all. I might be on the wrong here, but I don't think you necessarily have to sign a deal with the devil to make it. I can only imagine things got heated in a bad way, because such problems must have taken it's toll on you. And yet, you were together for a surprisingly long time. Not at once, of course, but you had that on and off again relationship. I assume it can be exhausting, emotionally speaking, at least. How did you cope? And why did you stay in on it so long? I mean, it sounds kinda toxic. And as you highlighted it, I assume the drinking was a major problem... how did you deal with it?

A: It's because everything already went to hell, so fuck It. He's going to be pissed off at me anyway, so might as well just say it for once. I'm not going to bash on him for that, there's a lot of fucked up shit going on and that has happened before that makes the whole thing make sense, but like there are other things that just make everyone around him be in a constant state of alert and It's tiring. Yeah, I'm not the easiest person to deal either, but like, even I got limits. Well, that's the thing, like when you love someone as much as I love him you don't want to admit that you can't help and that the whole thing is becoming something that's eating you alive, you don't want to say ‘enough’ because that means giving up, that means putting your feelings above someone else’s needs, but sometimes we have to. It wasn’t toxic and I know It sounds like something someone in a toxic relationship would say, but the thing about Dragan is that everyone thinks that he is the "butcher" for things that he's done to others when in reality the only person he's hurting is himself, he just doesn't see nor understand how that can affect people around him. It's fucked up? Totally, I won't deny it that it got to the point where my parents stepped in and where like 'maybe you should spend some time in Argentina and just step back' but it wasn’t like a toxic or abusive thing where I didn't knew what I was doing. I don't think I dealt with that, because, like, there's no stopping someone with a drinking problem, they won't just put the bottle down and listen, you just have to be there and try to make them see and, well, take care of them after.

So, tiring, you say? Why is it tiring? What is tiring? What happened, if I might inquire. Well, if we really analyze it, no one is actually easy to deal with. We are complex beings with even more complex emotions, so I guess the best we do is just try and navigate feelings and situations in the less crappy way possible. But sometimes, we are driven to the extreme and that makes it very hard to take control of certain situations. I guess what I'm trying to say is that mental health sometimes requires a little bit of what might seem like selfishness, but it's actually not. I mean, you can be empathetic and sympathetic, compassionate even, but people shouldn't expect you to put your needs aside all the time just to think about others. In order to actually be helpful, you must be in a good place about your own feelings, so it doesn't become a vicious cycle of resentment and problematic situations, you know? So I get what you're saying. Besides, if we really weigh things... you're pretty young. Not a kid, of course, but rather young when compared to him. You shouldn't put your health and your youth aside to try and nurse a dysfunctional adult back to good shape while wasting yourself in the process. Love is as much about letting go as it is about being there for someone else. So if you say it wasn't toxic, I believe you. As an outsider, I might not have the full picture, so I can't step in and say you're wrong about how you see the things you went through. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been, to watch someone dear slowly waste away, you know? I guess with alcohol and any other addictions, really, it’s kinda complicated to make the person see how damaging that habit is. I guess they don't see themselves in bad shape. I think at this point, it's only fair to assume you saw the worst of it, as you said you took care of him during his drunken haze. How was it for you? Where did you get the strength to do it?

A: The whole thing, I guess. Because you're constantly thinking if that person is going to do stupid shit because he's high or If he's high because he's about to go into a depressive episode, and the later it’s not really his fault, you can't really blame someone for, like, trying to cope and just kill what's killing them, but for someone who's around and who's emotionally involved in that process, not knowing can be tiring. I don't think really the age It's a factor, I've been in Hollywood for so long that I can tell you that having a relationship with someone I loved, fucked up or not, was the least of the things I did that can be put out as wasting myself. I'm really afraid that I haven’t seen the worst, because If that's true then it's really even more of a risk and it just breaks my heart. I have no Idea, never thought about It. And I'm being totally honest right now when I say I really didn't gave that much of a though on that when It was happening, because It's easier that way.

Yeah, I hear you. You did start on this business at a very young age, and had your share of trouble, with your image and your habits and all that pressure over your shoulders. You coming out on top of that situation and standing in a brighter and more hopeful place is kind of an statement that you can get out of harms way. But having been there, at rock bottom might have given you a different perspective in that whole situation. Tell me... did your experiences made ir more difficult to be involved in it? I mean, I can only imagine you must have felt dragged back into something you were just getting out of. Also, I would like to reinforce that any questions that make you feel uncomfortable, just give me a heads up and we'll move on. This a conversation and in no way I would like to seem intrusive. And on a brighter note... let's be a little intrusive, as well, because I'm simply human and I am curious in an almost voyeuristic way... how were the good times like?

A: Very young. I was a baby And it's not just that, when you're in Hollywood everyone that is around ends up affecting how people see you, like, I was 17 going into rehab for a sex addiction that I didn't have because people around me had a problem and everyone thought that I had a problem too, then. I would like to say that it made it easier, but I think that It definitely was difficult, it brings a certain anxiety every time shit goes down. But I didn't felt dragged, that's actually really a point, people often think that he was, like, a bad influence, like, making me do drugs or other stuff, when he wasn’t, he was very against people taking drugs and getting pissed drunk. A little hypocrite? Of course. Don't worry, I'm fine for now, I think It's the wine. And... it was great. As I said, roller-coaster, when you're on the top It's just the best feeling ever and he was a really sweet person.

I wouldn't say hypocrisy, I kinda get it. I mean, real friends wouldn't offer you drugs, and as a drug addict, it makes sense that he knows how dependent you get on those things and not wanting people he cares about to end up in the same situation. I have a friend who struggled once with addiction and he used to say that very same thing: people who care about you will never want you to go down on the same path as them, because they know how hard addiction gets and no matter how good the rush, it’s just not worth bringing loved ones down. I mean, junkies still harm people they care about, even though in a different way, but I guess in their thought process, it makes perfect sense to make that kind of damage control. Oh, it's good wine, I'm getting kinda tipsy as well. So, that's difficult for me: seeing him as a sweet person. With all the troubles you went through, I have no problems actually imagining you as very nice. And to be honest, I'm delighted to see that you actually are. When it comes to Dragan, however, it's nearly impossible for me to look at him an think 'oh, there goes a nice dude'. I guess it must have something to do with how he is usually pictured in the media but, to be honest, he kinda paints those images himself, with all the reckless behavior, the aggression and the sexual scandals... and his infamous birthday party, of course. I can only assume that must have been another complication, since he is very evasive and closed off to the point of getting violent, whereas you're really open about most things. Did it cause some clash of opinions? How did you manage the public image issues?

A: I get It, I really do, but it's hard not get angry towards It when the person Is getting angry saying that he doesn’t have a problem and then be like 'Yeah, but you can't do this or that because then you will have a problem', It just makes you sigh and go like ’oh, please, just don't’. But he is. He is lovely when he's not having cameras shoved on his face. Well, thank you, It's good to know that I'm not being mean, people tend to say that I look mean. It's just... he tries really hard coming off as not caring and sometimes he can be an asshole, I mean it, the biggest asshole of all, but most of the time he is this great guy that even when you say shit will just help you anyway and try to be kind. And he has the best date ideas and getting away landscapes. A lot. But It is just another thing that we worked around, like I don't mind paparazzis, but he does, so I know that I'm not dragging him to, like, Four Seasons or whatever when I know It's going to cause him anxiety. And It's just common sense I guess.

Well, the people who say you're mean clearly haven't made the smallest effort to actually know you. And don't worry, if I come off as flirty, let me warn you that I am very much gay. So I'm totally not hitting on you now. I guess having a personality and standing up for yourself might come off as mean nowadays, buck fuck people who say that, honestly. I mean... still hard to believe, even with you saying he is nice and all that, I still have a hard time believing he would not try to get me killed for posting this interview, you know? You said it yourself: he'll most likely get angry, and publicly, that doesn't tend to end up well. Getting dark here again, so I'll try to mix things up. Still relationship wise, I have to ask: sex stuff. How was it? Don't judge me, you've seen the butcher and I speak for the people saying I would like to know how was that.

A: Oh, thank you! Well, don't worry, I'm used to coming off as flirty, I know how It's like. I have a friend If you're single, I'm trying to set him up with someone with actual decency. He's not, maybe he'll say something about It If asked and It might get a little heavy, but like It's only because as you said, he is very closed off...And It isn’t your fault, the most likely one to end up with the fault It's me, preach. Oh... I've seen the butcher, alright. You know when people tell you that someone is really good at bed and has a big dick and you don't believe them and then you find out it's actually better and bigger? That's how It was like.

Oh, if you're talking about your co-star, we know you two dislike each other and we'll talk about that in the next section of the interview. If not, thanks anyway, but I have been happily married for a couple years now. God, this is getting racy. I won't even ask anymore because we have to keep things at a bare minimum not safe for work. But well, I guess now the internet would be driven wild: theories that the butcher has a big dick have been confirmed first-hand by his ex-girlfriend. On that note... You've seen the butcher. Not the naked man, the song. Some people say it's about you. Some people speculate many of the songs he wrote are about you, which is an interesting thing to say, since the man can get really poetic. I mean, at least lyrically, he is very versatile, being able to write the most sexual things one minute and switch to the most deep and depressing words the other. I guess what I'm trying to say... can you confirm or deny you're the subject in that piece of music? Because said theory also sparked rumors that you two have been a thing longer than the public eye knows, with some even daring to say he started a physical relationship with you before you were a legal adult, which is controversial, to say the least. I really have no formed opinion on this, since those comments came after a few interpretations of the song, which can be a little absurd, with some claiming is about taking a girl's virginity (said girl would be you, in their version of the facts), some saying it's just about sex with no deeper meaning and some more radical individuals claiming is about a serial killer.

A: No, I'm not talking about Florian, and he doesn’t dislike me, he hates me. Oh, that's cute, my parents are happily married for so long that I'm sometimes ashamed that I don't have a long-lasting relationship. Well, I can assure you that things only get more NSFW, so It's better not to ask... I don't know about that, like, he never told me anything about writiing for me, so I can't really be that much of a helping hand on this matter, but the whole underage thing is not true. I will let recorded for further actions that I did not slept with Dragan while I was underage, you can rest now internet avengers. And I do think It's about sex with no deeper meaning, but I don't know, I didn't wrote it. How that fuck is that about a serial killer? That doesn’t even make sense! That song is clearly about sex. Like the other song that it's about oral sex, there's no deeper thing, that's it. It's about sex.

STAY TUNED FOR MORE!

#( Drinkind Buddies. ) #( Extras. )

[blue-eyedangel21]

I’m sorry..

So I wrote a whole essay yesterday only for tumblr to be really stupid and I lost it. Anyways, I came to write out my feelings and my thoughts before being done with this tumblr.  I've mentioned this tumblr to you before and you didn't care enough to even look at it for yourself. So I'm sure me typing all this is a huge waste of time but its worth losing this amount of time to let out everything I need to, to move on. It's time I put this all in my past. So we tried again recently.  And I fucked it up. Because that's all I've been doing for years now.  I'm really sorry, truly, for how i behaved and lashed out on you. It's not okay how I handled that situation.  But I have told people time and time again that I am NOT doing well mentally or emotionally. And I was not kidding nor exaggerating, as you had to find out the hard way. I did try to calm myself down when I was mad and said how I felt and what I thought at first in the most calm way I knew how then you proceeded to be an asshole and talk to me sideways. So I lost my shit. You had the opportunity to see my ugly"asshole" side.  You say I can't handle yours  when I dealt with it for a year, but you couldn't handle mine after ONE time of lashing out on you. I did NOT ghost you. I told you in the voice clip, that I was done. YOU said you weren't listening to it. So therefore it was your fault that you didn't know i was done. Your fault that you didn't take the time to hear what I had to say and went around saying I ghosted you. In that moment of anger, I was done with you. But of course like always after my anger and feelings have calmed down, I felt like shit and regretted how I behaved and the stupid decisions I make when I'm upset. So in all of that out of control emotion, I lost you. And IT IS MY FAULT. And yes I do regret it. But what is done is done. I admitted to being the problem.  But im not all of what was wrong in that relationship.  You too had issues of your own that you did not hold yourself accountable for. And I dont find it fair that I had no problem admitting I was the issue and holding myself accountable for that and my behavior. However I rarely ever heard you own up to your shit. So I'm not taking all the blame but I can take most of it because some of it was me too and not just you. But I bet you are okay with me taking the blame for all of it. The constant leaving you was not because I wanted to but because of how you made me feel. Yet I felt like I couldn't live with you, I also couldn't live without you. And that was the confusing part. Why i probably kept going back and forth. I never felt this way about anyone . I never felt like I couldn't live with them but I couldn't live without them either. You have disrespected me many times and I bit my tongue and said nothing. My whole life I've been around drama and bullshit and narcissistic abuse.. so I dont know how to be confrontational in a healthy way or how to communicate effectively without feeling like im always the problem or im wrong or my feelings are wrong. And etc. It's hard to explain but a lot of that has to do with what I had to deal with growing up and still somewhat dealing with it as an adult. So im trying to break myself from bad, unhealthy, toxic behaviors and habits. So thats why im still doing and reacting the way i am. I am 25 years old and still dealing with that shit, its not part of my past yet, but it will be. So thats just explaining why I'm like this, not excusing it.  So the times I left were mostly YOUR fault. But you also left at least  2 times too..so it isn't all me. Every time I would for sure leave you alone, youd come running back. Just when I thought I could move on here you were. And sometimes I was the one running back. Like I said i was confused. But im not running back this time. I'm not gonna reach out to you. I dont hate you nor do I love you any less. I still love you with all of my heart and that hasn't changed nor will it ever even if that has changed for you because of how I've hurt you. But for me this is speaking my truth. And thsts the truth. I'm sorry that i threw everything we were trying to build together, in the garbage over an argument and because of my emotions and my mental health being so terrible. If I could go back and change that I would but we are better off going our separate ways. I'm sorrh I had to block you but I had to block Sierra too. I do not appreciate her posts. Feel what she may but what I wrote was honest and wasn't just about you but about others I've hurt along the way. You are not the only one. I don't care that she feels that way or if she doesn't like me anymore. She's not in my shoes nor are you, to understand or try to understand. I already admitted to being the issue so if she didn't like what I posted on my fb she could've just deleted and blocked me. But instead of reacting in a bad way i deleted and blocked her because i dont need negativity when im trying to heal and move on. I dont need her judgmentYou sent19 minutes agoNor do I need yours. You are always gonna see me as the bad guy and that's fine. But im no longer looking at myself that way. I'm seeing a woman who is trying to break herself from toxic ways and toxic behavior but is struggling to do it while also going through a lot of shit. Im flawed just like you..I'm not perfect. Not even close to it. I've been understanding and patient and always trying to see your perspective and its never really been a two ways street with you. You expect that from me but don't expect to give it back. And I'm tired of that. Been tired of that. I put it in alot of effort to make shit work when I was trying to fix things but I got tired, Bee. I didn't take you seriously because every time I tried to i didnt feel like you were taking it seriously enough to change your ways and your lifestyle. I wanted you to work so you had an income to better yourself and your future and also to help tatianna with Julian. As a single mom it is hard to take care of a kid by yourself and I wanted you to try to help her financially at least.  And not only a job but to stop drinking because I don't want you to end up in a coffin at such a young age. And to leave behind your son. How fair is that to Julian?  I love you, bee. I never want anything bad to happen to you even if you don't believe that. You're the only one who doesn't see how much i love you or how bad you have had an emotional toll on me. For some reason you're blinded by all of that. You say i didn't love you but if i hadn't I would've been done with you the very first time we broke up in November . But no I fell hard for you and put a lot of effort and love into us only for us to fall apart. So.. I hope you know i wanted a family with you too. I wanted to wake up next to you and my daughter,  and one day maybe. Not just my daughter. But a child of our own. With big blue eyes and curly hair.. that looked like you. I wanted a lil boy that looked like you with my eyes and hair and your face.  I wanted that more than i could tell you. I never could tell you that because i got embarrassed.  But I wanted that, with you. Not anyone else and now i feel like that I don't want another relationship.  Nor do i want to even bother starting over with someone else and feeling like this again. I don't even care anymore. Im so drained and exhausted. You were the love of my life. I fucked it up and now the bed I made, I have to lay in. So yeah you get the satisfaction of knowing I'm hurting and regretting what I did. But I get the satisfaction of never allowing myself to make this mistake again with another person and to focus on my issues with myself so I don't bring this kind of baggage and problems into my future relationships.  So maybe it's for the better that we move on. Maybe one day you can forgive me  enough to not hate me and maybe if I'm lucky enough to at least call you my friend.  I loved you like I've never loved anyone and it is hard to write without crying but I know that sometimes life is pain and heartbreak and that if we were ever meant to be than maybe somewhere down the road we could rekindle a friendship or more but maybe the timing is off and you were my right person but wrong time. . Maybe you'll come back...maybe you won't but please know you had my heart like no others. I felt that in my soul.  I felt it when I looked at you. When I thought about you. When i talked about you. When I looked in your eyes. When you smiled or laughed. When you were doing whatever and I was just staring at you. With every kiss. Every moment in your arms. When you were sleeping so peacefully.  When you were being you, I felt like i was home and I cant tell you the last time i felt that way. It was when my grandma was alive. So to find someone who was even close to feeling like home is a serious misfortune to lose like this. And losing you and this relationship will be a grieving process for me. I had to lose the one thing that brought me happiness, wholeness and love. So I'm heartbroken it has come to this because of my actions. But I love you Bee. Please take care of yourself.

[birdscreeches]

Are You Telling The Truth? | Aisha R.

In sixth grade, I accidentally stole a fire extinguisher. It was lunch time. I was in school. I found myself loitering on the second floor hallway, right outside the library, where I was headed, when I found myself enraptured. Right ahead of me, there was a panel in the wall. Inside the panel was a fire extinguisher. It was a panel that was usually covered by glass, but on that day, the glass was gone, leaving the fire extinguisher out in the open. At this point in my life, I was incredibly interested in fire extinguishers. I was going through a phase of picking random objects and reading about them extensively, from neon lights to lithium ion batteries to alligator snapping turtles. On that week, it was fire extinguishers, and the one in the panel was too great a temptation to resist.

I walked forward. Nobody was in the hallway. I stood in front of the panel. There were no other footsteps. I reached out, picked up the fire extinguisher, and felt the kind of inexorable glee only an eleven year old could feel upon holding the thing I had been reading about for days. I held the fire extinguisher in my hands, feeling the cold metal against my palms. That moment was one suspended in childlike awe.

The spell was broken when I heard somebody yell my name, “Ms. Rallonza!”

There was nobody in the hallway, but I had neglected to remember that this second floor hallway was directly across from another building filled with classrooms and ongoing classes. In one of those classrooms, an entire class and my old science teacher were watching me. My fight or flight instincts kicked in, and since there was nobody to fight, I ran. With the fire extinguisher still in my hands.

This is a story I tell a lot of people. Sometimes, I include the epilogue where I have to return the fire extinguisher and apologize to my teacher, but at its core, it’s a silly story. It’s the perfect mix of my impulsivity, my tendency to fixate on random objects, and my knack of shutting down reasonable thinking in a crisis. All of these elements crashed into an anecdote ridiculous enough to keep telling but mundane enough to not really matter. Initial embarrassment aside, it was the perfect story. Or it would have been, if the story were actually true.

Most parts of it were true. The setting, the fascination with fire extinguishers, the not-there glass panel, the getting yelled at. That’s around 99%. The only lie was the bit where I picked the fire extinguisher up and ran away with it. In reality, I walked over to the panel, reached for the fire extinguisher, got yelled at, and then ran away. That’s all. From one version to the other, I always thought it barely made a difference. This version certainly was more interesting, and in the grand scheme of things, it was just one wrong detail in an otherwise correct telling of events. It didn’t matter, so I told the story again, and again, and again. I had told it so many times with that wrong detail that I often forget it didn’t really happen, that I myself can sometimes remember the weight of the fire extinguisher in my hands as if it did.

My habit of lying started early, when I was a kid. From then on, I grew up getting called out for those lies. Nanay always told me I was a terrible liar. No matter what it was, from “I didn’t break it” to “I passed my math quiz”, she could always tell, and from there, she’d pull the truth out of me. Honesty is the best policy, echoed my memories of kindergarten, and I assume this was the goal of getting called out for lies, but it didn’t work with me. Instead of not lying, I just told myself to get better at it. Don’t fidget, don’t look away, don’t let your voice waver. Talk like you believe the lie just as much as you want other people to believe it too. I don’t know if I really got better or if Nanay just got tired of telling me off for it, but I never stopped. Not once.

In my defense, I only lied about things that didn’t matter. Never anything big or sincere like apologies or I love yous. I lied about the small things, like if did my homework or if I unintentionally stole a fire extinguisher. A habit that started in childhood followed me up until now. I lie about small things the same way I talk; naturally, unthinkingly, one word after the other, unbidden. A lot of the time, I don’t realize I’m lying because of how easy it is. Things that don’t matter slip off the tongue effortlessly.

So a few months ago, when my guidance counselor asked me if I regularly think about killing myself, I didn’t fidget, I didn’t look away, and I held my voice strong. As far as “no”s go, I thought that one was pretty good.

-

In Leslie Rubinkowski’s essay, “In the Woods,” she writes, “The smaller a lie is the harder I scramble to expose it. Because one tiny lie slides past and then bigger ones follow and then rot sets in and then everything flies apart [...]”

It’s important to note that Rubinkowski is writing from the perspective opposite to my own. From the one being lied to. Her grandfather had always told her odd stories, she became a reporter and valued the truth, she went out of her way to expose fabrications and find out if something really happened. It was this tension between lies and truth that kept her up at night.

On the other side of the coin, there I am. The one telling the lies. From there, I can easily admit that I have no compulsion to call other people out on their lies, in whatever way. Exposing them, confronting them, proving the lies from the truths. None of that appeals to me because I believe that lying, at least lying about small things, is done with some kind of purpose. When people ask “how are you?” I assume it’s not because they really want to know, but because they want the answer of “I’m fine.” Small lies and small answers aren’t really searching for truths, but searching for answers that are appropriate. Answers that are wanted. I lie about the fire extinguisher because when I think about what people want, the truth or the interesting story, I always find myself siding with the latter.

But the sentiment of escalation still holds. Start small, and the bigger ones follow, and then things fall apart. That’s how most stories usually go, but it’s not how this one does. While I believe the escalation is possible, I don’t believe it’s happened to me.

Thinking about killing myself feels small. The thoughts come to me not after moments where I am extremely upset, but instead during moments so mundane they aren’t even worth telling. When I cross the road, I imagine stopping in the middle and getting hit by a car. When it rains, I imagine throwing myself into the nearby river and drowning. When I’m in bed, to fall asleep, I imagine overdosing on paracetamol, my breathing weakening after vomiting for hours, my liver failing from the toxicity, my eyes finally falling shut. It sounds bad when I say it like that, but the fact is that I wake up the next day. The fact is these thoughts, no matter how constant or detailed, stay thoughts.

But, argues some part of my mind, thoughts are powerful. And I can’t deny that. Suicide ideation is defined by an unnatural preoccupation with suicidal thoughts. That in itself states that no matter how normal these thoughts are for me, they aren’t supposed to be. Normal people supposedly don’t think like this. It’s one thing to have a fleeting thought of dying, and another altogether to think about it every other hour, every day, each fantasy so vivid and well worn with how much I go back to them. Repeated thoughts become habits. Habits stay consistent and can shape people. If exercising everyday pointed a person’s trajectory towards better health, I wonder what direction I was going in with my constant thoughts of killing myself. I wonder if this is the difference between a long life and one that ends at twenty years old.

There is a contradiction here: I only lie about small things, but these thoughts are supposedly not small. I lie anyway. I lie to my guidance counselor, I lie to my friends that I’m still seeing that guidance counselor and that I hadn’t stopped three months ago, I lie to everybody I tell “I’m fine” when I’m really thinking about the revolver locked in the cupboard at home.

Perhaps, I rationalized, these thoughts started out big, but after years and years of thinking them, I wore them down into pebbles that could slip through the cracks. The only problem is that if I try to think of beginnings, I get lost. Trying to remember the first time I thought about suicide is like trying to remember the first lie I ever told. There was no clear beginning, just a period of my life that began and failed to end. If big things can become small, or if small things can become big escapes me. All I know for sure is what is true and what isn’t, and what that means to me. If I lie about it, it must be small. I wouldn’t lie about it if it wasn’t.

Rubinkowski writes:

I used to think I was trying to expose the same lies that annoyed me when I was young, but as I’ve gotten older I realize I was lying to myself. There are lies that attempt to hide, and there are those that reveal. These are the ones that haunt me because of what they say about loss and hope. I could count on my grandfather lying to me the same way I could count on him loving me. He lied to me because he loved me, I think.

and:

So maybe what I’m looking for aren’t lies at all. Maybe what I’m looking for---hoping for---is a happier truth.

Looking at my collection of lies, my collection of small things, I try to peel the layers away. I try to see if there’s a happier truth behind my lies. I find a little kid who wanted to hold a fire extinguisher because they’d read all about them, a kid who wanted to be liked by their friends and family, a kid who wanted to be what people wanted. I find an adult walking the edge of being alive and not wanting to be. I find myself grappling with smallness and bigness and what it means.

The truth of it all is this doesn’t make sense, and that scares me. It only seems right that lies are how I make sense of things.

-

Over the course of writing this essay, I became hyper aware of my lies. I lie so easily about small things that I often don’t notice, but now, every time I spoke, the question was at the top of my mind: was I telling the truth?

I recently went to the dentist. The left side of my mouth had been in pain for a month, and I didn’t schedule an appointment earlier because I was lying to myself about how much it hurt. When I was finally there, the dentist had cleaned a tooth out and told me it was broken. She said it might need a root canal if the damage was too bad. She tapped at the tooth and asked “Does it hurt?” No, I said. She tapped at it again. “Are you sure?” Was I? I thought I was. The sharp pain in the tooth disappeared after she cleaned it, but some kind of sensation was still there. Was that pain? Was I hurting? Was I lying? If I was, why?

The answer was simple; I didn’t want to have a root canal. It sounded terrifying. Feeling pain meant the root canal would happen, so if there was pain, I lied about it.

The contradiction again. This wasn’t a small thing, but I lied about it. New questions came into my mind. Questions about cause and effect. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Do I lie about things that don’t matter or do I lie about things because I wish they didn’t?

All the lies I tell are told because I want to be avoiding something. They’re my attempts at deflection and diversion. By telling a lie, I create another dimension, stretching out the distance between where I am and where an inevitable reality is. In my not-truths all it seems I’m doing is speaking things into insignificance, into smallness. And smallness feels safe. Small things aren’t important, and thus small things don’t hurt because I don’t give them the chance to. Truths can’t be controlled like that. Truths don’t care about anything other from the fact that they’re real, and that realness is merciless. Cut at a brick wall, and you’ve just chipped it. Cut at the skin, and I bleed. Telling the truth means admitting that that bleeding matters.

The person who stole the fire extinguisher is the same person who wants to be alive. This is the same person I am not. The same person I give to people because I know it’s that one they really want. Rubinkowski, on the lies her grandfather told her, writes “This is who I am, he seemed to be saying. Never mind that it isn’t true. In his lies, he offered up his best self [...]” If behind a lie, there’s a happier truth, in front of it, is an image of the self. I wonder who I offer in my lies. Not a best self so much as a facsimile I wish I could be. I wish I could hold in my hands something I knew everything about, something that made complete sense to me. I wish I could be somebody who woke up in the morning and didn’t immediately feel disappointed that I hadn’t died in my sleep. Behind my lies is somebody confused, and in front of them is somebody who yearns for another version of myself. They’re a version of myself that is truthful about everything, from the inconsequential to the allegedly a big deal. They’re a version of myself that admits that things matter, that reality is important, that I’ll have to face things eventually.  They’re a version of myself I don’t recognize.

I reach out towards the image, the stranger, but my hands stop short. I hesitate. My hands fumble, and I can’t hold it. I don’t. 

#non fic #cw suicidal thoughts #cw suicide ideation #cw generally for mental health issues

[avpdpunpun]

i disappeared for 3/4ths a year here’s an update?

its been 4 months since my queue ran out and way longer since i wrote an actual post. 8 months about? i think i last posted when i impulse quit a job that was bad for my mental health and just kept getting worse.

sometimes i wonder when ppl who blog about mental illness disappear if they’ve died. there was a big user i used to follow who did, and i still occasionally think about it sometimes, so i figure its nice to post updates sometimes. and being able to look back on posts ive written and reflect on them/what state of mind i was in can be helpful even if it can be embarrassing/dangerous because its so easy to fall back into those thinking habits 

after quitting my job i did basically nothing for 6 months haha. at some point i managed to clean out my room which i had done the bare minimum on for years because of depression, took out more built up trash than i thought was possible to fit into my small space. its disgusting but the only thing i struggle to keep up with now at least is vacuuming and putting clothes away so my space is a lot cleaner and it makes me happier. your living space can really have an effect on your mood bless you marie kondo

after my post about having an anxiety attack taking my test i got my drivers license in march. i saw the same lady again after going somewhere else and i think she just let me pass because she felt bad haha. i never finished drivers ed and i still get anxiety about driving unfamiliar routes but my skills and confidence have improved a lot. i managed to drive 2 hours to a big city to visit a friend! i literally didnt have a choice in getting my license, but its still something i can be proud of. like, when i have to explain it to people, it feels extremely shitty that i didnt get it until i was 20, and only about 5 months ago too but... for someone who struggles as much as me, i have to be proud of it my small accomplishments or i’ll have nothing.

at some point something in my brain just snapped and i literally havent been able to cry? for a long time in those 6 months i felt like i was right on the edge of breaking down mentally but never actually crossing that line and it was honestly one of the weirdest things ive experienced. i almost wanted to have a breakdown again just to get rid of the feeling and reach a catharsis like... i used to be a fucking crybaby almost but i. cant. anymore. but i think ive mostly moved away from this point... still feel kinda weird tho.

i didnt end up signing up to a local school fo gen eds. its still on my mind for the vague future because there’s topics i want to learn about (psychology, natural resources, languages...) and maybe try to pursue for a career but really i just wanted a way to get out of my toxic house, even if it meant going into debt to live in a shitty dorm. 

in the last 30 days though life has been moving extremely quickly for me. i dont think i couldve lived with myself much longer being a useless adult basically living in my basement bedroom of my parents house, especially with my younger siblings getting nearer to adult milestones, plus my savings were starting to run out.

so literally next weekend, i’m moving out! and i make enough money right now that with the rough budget i have established, if its accurate, i’ll have a decent amount of wiggle room and hopefully wont be ruining my mental health just trying to make ends meet.

it took a long time of searching but i managed to find a job that hasnt made me suicidal and has slightly more than the MIT living wage for my area lol. im a janitor now! we’ll see how long it lasts but a lot of the factors from my last two jobs that contributed to my failing mental health are gone. i rarely have to interact with other people, and if i do its my coworkers, of who i tend to only see for minutes per day, or the other people working in the building i clean who at most i have to say hi and have a nice night to lol. i get to listen to music and podcasts for 8 hours and its very routine heavy. i have to clock out after the 8 hours is up so i literally cant be forced into overtime. a lot of people dont respect cleaning jobs like this but honestly who gives a fuck, its something i can handle mentally and support myself with. its still hard adjusting to 40 hours. i know its the standard, but the standard is rly tough for me, but i think i can do it long term.

all of this has been achieved through sheer self hatred and impulse alone, and im very nervous about moving in with 3 other people even if 1 of them ive known for 8 years, and i dont think its even properly hit me yet. literally cant register that i have to fend 100% for myself but also ill be away from my toxic family! i can bring my cat with me, who before this i got to see at MOST once a week!

a dude ive known online for two or more years is moving to my area too for college and he’s so sweet and kind, i feel better talking to him than i have 99% of people in my life and im so lucky to know him. ive been forced to talk about personal things i was kind of dreading (not his fault, just a result of our relationship going to go from online -> irl and things id have to address beforehand) and honestly i didnt even mind it that much when i just got it over with and talked about it to him! vulnerability is literally the thing i struggle with the most in interpersonal relationships and is a huge block for me in every way and in even the most mundane life situations but like... he’s honestly the best and im getting emotional writing this and its weird af because i straight up dont GET emotional about other people. ive absolutely developed a stupid fucking crush on him recently and i THINK hes been receptive to flirting and i cant tell if he flirts back because we already say i love you and are wholesome af but honestly no clue if he’s into (trans) dudes but honestly? even if it doesnt work out im so happy to be friends with him and im so excited to finally meet him!! i really think knowing him has helped me improve myself 

i’ve always thought that if i could literally just achieve the bare minimum in life that things would naturally get better. like i’m still mentally ill and get paranoid about peoples intentions and i think if my boss yelled at me id have an anxiety attack on the spot. im still depressed and hate that i have low energy and that it’s still rly hard doing basic chores. 

but like a huge part of my problem was that i felt like i literally couldn’t TRY to connect with people if i couldn’t face having to tell them bare info about myself, like “oh i cant drive” or “i dont have a job” or that i was living with my parents but not even making PROGRESS on getting out. like how could i make friends or go on dates if i literally couldnt contribute shit or admit these things i was so ashamed of? a lot of my self image was shaped by this because my entire life i havent been mentally well enough to do as well as i should have.

but like. i feel like im finally doing these basic things!! i dont have to hate myself so much anymore! i dont look badly on other mentally ill ppl who are less lucky than i/havent been able to do those things yet/might not ever and are still in the same situation i was 2 months ago but the self hatred is strong pls understand.

i dont know yet if i could afford twice yearly drs visits for meds or anything and probably not therapy. i dont even know what my insurance is yet haha. but i’ll see

i need to figure out at what point in my life im going to be able to never contact a single person in my family ever again, considering i’ll be a 20 min drive away and they will know the precise location of where i live, and if i’ll ever feel safe enough in society to start hrt but :^) you know :^) i can at least present more masculinely in the meantime!

i dont rly know how to conclude this... i’m not trying to brag either im just very nervous and excited about where my life might be going for the first time ever? maybe? in my entire life? i have no clue what to pursue after moving out, but i can figure it out. and just... that there’s hope even if youre as fucked up and mentally ill as i am lmao!

#text #update #mostly tagging this for myself to read later if i ever start blogging frequently again

[koolkvat-blog]

       hello  loves  ,   what’s  up  !   i’m  super  excited  to  be  here  &  to  finally  play  my  precious girl  ,   jade aka kool kat   .   i’m  LOLA  ,   use  she / her prounouns  ,   i am NINETEEN  ,   &   i  am  currently  in  the  gmt + 1 timezone  which  means  yes  ,  my  ass should’ve  been  awake  for  intro  posting  but  i  don’t  know  what  time  management  is  and  ended  up  swamped  w/  work  ,  so  !   everything   you  need  to  know  about  about  miss  kat  is  under  the  cut  ,   &  i’m  rlly  thrilled  to  be  apart  of  such  a  wonderful  rp  with  such  gorgeous  muses  .  corniness over  ––   if  you’re  looking  to  plot  sumn  out  ,   just  hit  that   ♥︎    &   i’ll  make  my  way  on  over  to  ur  dms  ,  or  feel  free  to  add  me  up   on  discord  which  i’ll  give  in im’s  if  anybody’s  interested  !   ♡♡♡         tw  :   family issues  ,  body image issues  &  drug mention  ( not  explicit ) . 

001 . SYNOPSIS  . FULL     NAME  .      jade        kikuchi . NICKNAMES  .      kool kat    . AGE  .      twenty - one . DATE     OF     BIRTH  .      twenty  -  seventh     of     september   ,     1993      /     libra . PLACE     OF     BIRTH  .      harajuku ,   tokyo ,     japan .         GENDER  .       cisgender     female . SEXUALITY  .     (  closeted  )  pansexual  . NATIONALITY  .      japanese  ,  now  american  too  after  successfully  gaining  citizenship  . ETHNICITY  .      asian  . OCCUPATION  .       fashion designer at katz designz      ,     former  fashion  design  and  journalist  student  back  in  her  original  timeline  . PLAYLIST  .      here  !  (  +  )     charismatic , enthusiastic , warm , energetic , adventurous , compassionate , animated . (  -  )     deceptive ,  independent ,  emotional , territorial , ambitious , impulsive , temperamental , insecure , sarcastic .  

002 . AESTHETIC  .      wheatgrass  smoothies , 90′s  anime  with  subtitles  , chanel  no. 5, speeding  on  a  desert  road  with  the  windows  down ,  painting  your  toenails  on  the  dashboard ,  neon  prints ,  cat  lazing  on  a  balcony  in  the  sun , black  lace ,  japanese  horror  films  ,  sour  cocktails  with  sugar  around  the  rim , half - smoked  cigarettes ,  stacks  of  fashion  magazines , long  hair  hastily  dyed  different  colours in  a  motel  bathroom ,  thrift  stores   .

003. INFORMATION  .

tl;dr : a flighty, inattentive adventurer: a follower of whims; personable and sociable but lacks the skills to maintain relationships because she’s entirely (and perhaps too) career focused, checks her horoscope daily and entirely relies on the stars when concerning relationships, epitome of a britney spears / gwen stefani stan back in the 2000′s, still owns a (bedazzled) flip phone, collector of vintage fashion (chanel, elle, juicy couture etc.) a subscriber to the Leonardo Da Vinci sleeping method; catch her at 2 am making soufflés or buying plane tickets to shiwei so she can really experience the culture: will tell you she loves you ten minutes after first introduction because she’s high: kind of unintentionally insensitive to those she doesn’t know and closed off but in like a cool, lovable way. 

•    heads up im running on like 5 hrs sleep so sry when this inevitably derails ! ok sweet let’s get into this . 

•    so as aforementioned this is jade kukichi, aka, kool kat. she was dubbed that by her friends due to her unique fashion style and sense of dress, and it’s stuck. lbr nobody other than her friends can use that term so if you do, she’s just going to stare at u for a quick sec before saying ‘it’s jade’. 

•    born in harajuku, tokyo to a cardiothoracic surgeon of a father and a politician of a mother, jade grew up traveling the world and becoming flighty af, never thinking she was going to make long - term friends and kinda being okay with that. 

•    her family has never stayed in one place for very long, though her aging parents eventually settled into a permanent residence in the us around the time she turned sixteen, not soon enough for jade to break the habit of wandering, but thankfully quick enough for her to meet the bratz girls who were just as adventurous and fun - loving as she. she's spent much of her teen life jumping from place to place wherever her interests are that moment, collecting people along the way, but to find friends was the only thing she was missing. jade has a brilliant mind, but she lacks patience and follow through. she needs guidance or she'll jump from idea to idea, job to job, whim to whim.

•    ngl, jade pretty much hated her home life. her parents were an overbearing presence in her life, her mother wanting jade to be a proper lady who also went into a profession like theirs (entirely serious and stifling when it came to creativity, doctor, politician, lawyer etc.) while jade herself wanted to check out the latest trends and go to the mall w her friends – so she turned all of her focus and energy into getting good grades in everything she wanted to do in the hopes that she could be the most successful fashion designer, then leaving town forever. 

•    like she spent 7 yrs in high school graduating w honours but she barely knew what was happening in 9/10 of her classes and sometimes she just slept through classes and then wing her exams which she miraculously did well at. it was just not a good idea to send jade to a public school at 11 after being in boarding school for the rest of her life and then never really enforce any rules :~\ she has trouble with that kind of thing.. as in making logical choices instead of saying "YEAH lets go watch american psycho and smoke weed!" skipping chemistry to do just that 

•    she loves fun and values doing what makes her happy over most things. it's hard to pin her down and she spends most of her life chasing after ideas that don't really follow any sort of conscious order, bc she’s really got that ‘i’ve got dreams and i’m gonna do everything in my power to achieve them’ personality. 

•    according to bratz canon she’s worked as literally everything ? she’s one of those insufferable people who r just. good everything ig and that’s just how it is on this bitch of an earth. jade’s been a photographer, a song - writer and bass player in a rock band (shout out to bratz rock angelz the best movie w the best soundtrack ever), a student studying fashion design, a fashion columnist, a quickly fired nanny, and many other things in between. 

•    so when she appears in toonsville she’s kind of out of it that she’s not doing something w her skills and sets up her own business which she loves ? being her own boss suits her fine (for now) because she’s got a Real Job and she's actually trying rly hard so she can fulfill her dreams !! like suck it mom nd dad haha !!!

•    jade has a lot of weird feelings TM about her body and her looks and struggles a lot with her self confidence :~( she had a shit time at school with boys saying she was too thin and she compensated by acting like she didn't like anyone at all for a while and now she thinks she isn't good enough for anyone when rly she is a cinnamon bun too good for this world too pure 

•    best friend ever she is so good at being a friend if u text her at 3am to go out or cry on her shoulder shes ready to go at 3:15 even if she was sleeping w lots of snacks and treats and love!!! she is sooo extroverted around those she’s comfortable w, she gains so much energy from being around people and she loves being nice and being around ppl she likes 

•    she becomes the mom of groups pretty easily (hence why she’s the leader of the bratz) bc she bottles up most of her own problems to help ppl with theirs!! which is toxic yea but she puts people first always so !! plz help her poor repressed soul!! rip kool kat.. 

•    still super into the stuff of her time so like.. she loves the x files and bad reality tv shows (i want to be a hilton) and reads gossip magazines on the reg because she enjoys that stuff! also very into girl groups.. ginger spice / posh spice is an eternal mood.  

•    anyway yes sweet adult-child of 21 (she is in denial about that tho like she doesn't want to be childish) who is v nice v kind v loyal v baked a lot of time, v passionate v silly. idk what i'm doin hope u like it < 3

004. WANTED CONNECTIONS . 

friends / best friends / ride or dies . jade genuinely loves people, loves talking to strangers and getting into intense conversations with people she’s only just met, learning other people’s way of life and bettering herself for getting. she is, however, incredibly blunt and has never once minced words to keep from hurting someone’s feelings or to ease them into a situation. she’d much rather have a one-time conversation with a stranger than make long lasting relationships. she has three very close friends –  to the point of co - dependence –  and honestly, she’d rather spend all of her time doing things she loves such as her hobbies, sticking her nose into the latest vogue, or searching for cute collars and treats for her cat mica w them instead of making new friends. she's also FUN and she'd be happy to go on crazy road trips or buy out a movie theater for a day or anything that she thinks will her buds happy. she's traveled all over, so she’s v well read and cultured. she loves people but she hates complication and won't deal with any sort of emotional labor. she wants to live in the moment and expects everyone in her life to do so as well. just be chill, y'all. 

frenemies / enemies /  rivals  . please be her enemy, she needs people to antagonize shdhshd. she grew up pretty much affluent so she’s pretty spoiled even if she doesn’t want to admit it, and that rebellious side of her hasn’t died down yet. despite the fact that she is wealthy and in good community standing, she has a hard time letting go of childish grudges. in general she’s got a lot of suppressed feelings and ready to fight everyone who hurts her friends – like an irritated cat – so, honestly, come at her ? she is sometimes a little fickle and flighty and a unintentionally stuck up when it comes to art / fashion and she has definitely said the wrong thing at the wrong time and pissed the wrong people off, she can’t stand anyone underestimating her or thinking she’s dumb bc she’s interested in fashion. like gtfo !

ex’s , fwb’s , possible love interests .  jade is fairly fluid romantically and is the type of person who hates labels but also just wants to be cherished and called cute pet names lowkey. she loves a lot and gives a lot to her relationships, but typically doesn't want to commit to anything important. she’s gone from one disastrous relationship to another, ending up with a boyfriend who constantly ridiculed her image that was essentially the catalyst for her cutting off romantic ties, quite a recent wound before she found herself on the island actually. worst thing is tht she’s convinced herself that she’s been the problem in these relationships –  that she turns good people bad or that she is too much for people to deal with, she’s not sure what the issue is and she doesn’t really want to know. so…. fuck everything amirite ? anyway, she’s a strong independent woman who don’t need no (wo)man. 

etc . pls give me people jade can give a makeover to, people she shares an apartment w on the island, people who think fashion is girly and vapid.. creatives who love what she’s doing, anything tbh << 3

#cartoons:intro #ngl making jade's playlist was the best part about this

[realitiesinpurple]

Entry #1

It’s ridiculous how uneasy I feel writing here again. I have to convince myself this is just a medium, it has no power over me, and all the negative feelings I used to have won’t come back to the surface just because they’re attached to memories of Tumblr.

Because I used to have a Tumblr, I used to have several actually, and used to be here all the time, everyday. It consumed me.

I grew here, healed wounds, understood the world and met myself for the first time in what felt like centuries. I was still a child, and I grew up with the belief each and every one of us seem to have: I am special.

And the truth is that, yes, we are special. All of us. We’re unique and similar in so many ways. We’ve all been broken and judged. We are valid.

I think, in many ways, Tumblr, or the community at least, made me feel like I belonged. Like I wasn’t as messed up as everyone had me believe. But I crossed a line here as well, which is why I left: I allowed myself to believe I couldn’t be held accountable for my misfortunes.

Because it’s so easy to blame that one friend who betrayed you, or the dad that abandoned you, or the boy who broke your heart. It was really comforting to come here and have others validate my victim-hood and tell me that it was okay to continue to self destruct instead of grow up. It was also really easy to ignore those who told me I did, indeed, need to grow up, because a stranger on the internet agreed with me, so I must be right. But if someone criticized me, I was being oppressed, and they didn’t understand because they had never walked a day in my shoes.

And to be completely fair, I needed that. I needed to hate the world to stop hating myself. Sometimes, I still do, because, again, it’s so easy. You see, seeing the bright side is hard. Getting up every day being grateful that you’re alive is hard. But it does get easier with practice.

Before Tumblr, I was under the belief that I was not worthy of love. That all the bad things in my life were my fault and that I sometimes did not even deserve to be alive. My little sister is the age I was when I used to have these thoughts, and the thought of someone so young feeling this way breaks my heart. I look back at my younger self and I want to promise her everything is going to be okay (spoiler alert: everything turns out fine, and she’s happy!). But I suppose, I wouldn’t be where I am today if I hadn’t been that person to begin with. That sad little girl in too much pain for her little body to handle.

Then Tumblr came along and I was... I was real. I don’t know how to explain it, but meeting all of you, reading your stories, watching your shows, laughing at your jokes... I felt alive. Better yet, I felt worthy of being alive. And it wasn’t instantaneous. It took me a while to get there, and look at myself in the mirror and realize I was beautiful. It took some convincing to realize it’s okay to like girls AND boys?? My mind was blown. 

But you see, I still had a lot of hatred and a lot of pain and a lot of bitterness. And I had to forbid myself from hating myself if I wanted to survive. So instead I hated all the people who had contributed to my pain. And the people who had contributed to other people’s pain! I had so much hate to share with the world, I bullied complete strangers because they had somehow hurt my friend’s feelings, instead of letting my friend fight her own battles.

And when someone was depressed, like I was, instead of encouraging them to fight through it, to get better, I approved of their self destruction. Sleep deprivation and unhealthy habits were just coping mechanisms, right? It’s funny because we’re all depressed here! Haha!

Because admitting they needed help meant I needed to admit... I needed help.

It was so much better to romanticize the toxicity I shared with the world. Forgiveness and love were weakness. Punching your way through life was the right way to go.

And don’t get me wrong, I needed to punch as hard as I could. I had no agency in my life and I needed to feel something, and if it was anger and resentment, so be it. It was better than being numb or depressed.

But then I grew up. I know, shocking. Suddenly I was an adult. I still can’t believe it. I had to leave Tumblr when I realized not only was I surrounding myself with toxic people. I was a toxic person.

No longer was this a place to empower myself. It was a place to excuse my behavior. It was an open door to hate.

And to be completely honest with y’all, hate is exhausting! No wonder I was tired all the time!

And yes, I still have depression, I’m not neurotypical at all lol

But I’m better. I’m not 100% and I’m not earning gold medals for being the greatest human to ever live. But I apologize when I mess up and I try not to mess up. I’ve found “judgy” friends who call me out on my bullshit and I love them so much for taking care of me in such a sassy way instead of telling me the world needs to revolve around me.

I’ve realized love is not something to be disgusted at or to fear and it’s honestly not as scary as I thought it could be.

I realized I can be funny without hurting others in the process. And that sometimes it’s okay to be a little “offensive”, too. (Yes, little sister, you are correct in saying you shouldn’t have bleached your hair and I’m not gonna tiptoe around the subject trying not to hurt your feelings. If you don’t like it, find a way to fix it. And I agree, I don’t like it neither!)

I also learned that after having a really negative experience with one religion, later becoming a stubborn atheist, and slowly starting to become a little more spiritual, it’s really not that silly to believe in something you can’t see if it makes you happy and helps you get through your day.

I learned to tell the difference between needing a mental health day and being lazy. Yes, I still take mental health days! But I also work my ass off on days when I have the potential to have high energy. I force myself to do one dish and end up cleaning the whole house and feel so proud of myself! But I don’t belittle myself when I can’t get out of bed, because I know that if I really can’t get out of bed, I need to stay in bed and recover, so the next day I can get shit done.

Also I flirt now, which is weird/new. Sometimes just for fun, sometimes with a purpose. Sometimes I flirt with myself, which I highly recommend everyone do because it is incredibly empowering!

I pay my bills on time and I treat myself without feeling guilty. Though to be completely honest with you, I was blessed with a job that I love, that pays me more than enough and rewards my hard work and competitiveness, so I’m always making extra when I earn it. But I know when to stop taking those extra shifts to have a family day, or go out, or simply lie in bed and read. Yes, I don’t have it as hard as most of you. But if I look back at 3 years ago, I was begging for Paypal donations just to survive. So I have to say, it does get better.

I live in an apartment I could have never even dreamed of, and it’s still a little empty, but I get excited over the smallest things. Like getting a new dish rack! Or new purple towels!

And against all odds, I’m actually happy going back where it all started. I visit my family and I tell them that I love them, but I don’t let them hurt me anymore.

I say no when I need to. And encourage myself to say yes to trying new things.

I wear colors now, even if they don’t match, and I wear sneakers on high heel days. I follow a skincare routine, even though I was one of those girls who would judge and envy girls with skincare routines. And I’m trying to eat healthier.

I lost weight and I cook now. I sing at the top of my lungs to the great disappointment of my next door neighbor. And I dance in my underwear even though my other neighbors can see me from the building across the balcony (I still haven’t bought curtains). Seriously, no regrets.

So, Victoria, you may ask, now that you’re doing better, why are you back? Nostalgia? Regret? To rub your stupid happiness in our faces?

To be completely honest, I’m here because it’s where I have to be. It was part of my journey all along. And I owe it to my younger self.

Do y’all remember that famous post about that person saying that when everything was okay, they would bake a cherry pie? And then they posted a photo of the cherry pie?

This is my cherry pie, I guess. This is me telling myself and any of you who may feel the way I used to, that it gets better. And I know younger me used to get so tired of hearing it. “Believe in yourself! It gets better! You’ll get there!” And it sounded like the biggest bullshit in the whole world. I had never actually met anyone who got better, to be honest. All the people who were saying it gets better were people who were just as depressed or worse than I was. We were all just trying to convince each other to believe in something none of us believed in.

Well, you know what? I’m glad you guys told me it would get better. I’m glad you pushed and pushed until I believed it. Because it’s the friggin truth. I’m the living proof that it gets better. And the more you believe that you can somehow tell the universe that you are ready to get better, to be better, to feel better, and that the universe will listen, the more it listens. I kid you not.

And I’m not even done getting better. I’m just getting started...

[stopandimagineloveforever]

The reason I’m petrified for both C & D.

RM/EP/BS/MM - that crowd is bad news. Toxic. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following was written by @rougedraconteur (was on a post I’m unable to reblog)

I know I am poison to you folks now, because I refuse to swallow the blue pill that is being sold to us, and just shut up, but this is something I have been following for years, and partly why I hate and will always fight RM.  yes, I have an agenda, but it is not against D or C or their relationship, whatever it might be either now, in the past, or in the future, or their careers and how and with whom they “choose” to work, or for what reasons, although I am allowed to be disappointed, at what seems to have transpired, and express that.  What mature and knowlegeable adults do in pursuit of their careers is their business, IF they do that of their own free will, without blackmail or coercion, but children and youth should be protected, even from their own naive ambitions.  Others in this fandom that have been dumped on lately, unfairly IMO, saw this quite early on, as well, and were very troubled by the association, especially for C, who had seemed to make an effort to break free from the worst effects of this group, having seen and suffered enough.  Co/ry, who had suffered a troubled childhood, and was still struggling with the same demons and being victimized because of it by RM, seemed to support C in this, being present behind the scenes when C was “outed.”  But something, or someone, pulled C back in, perhaps and most likely unwittingly, perhaps thinking they could control the situation they had both been thrown into. Bless his heart, love is hard sometimes, people are sorry they cause suffering to those they love through the mistakes they make.  The heart wants what it wants.

I first noticed C’s melancholy when he was Esquire’s Man of the Year for his birth year, for their huge Anniversary Issue, and he expressed some very dark musings that seemed to reflect something going very wrong.  After that, I soon  saw C, with W, at a fund-raiser for Pus/sy Ri/ot, hosted by both Emmer/rich and Sin/ger.  the rumors were already out about the two and their underage parties, and it troubled me to have C there, openly, with W, smiling and mentioned in their article about the event, with photographs.  This was a children’s book author, with suspected child molesters, willingly being photographed, and C’s team would NEVER let that happen.  So, why did it?  Because C ALLOWED it, for some reason.

D’s latest movie director Em/merich is a close friend of Sin/ger, also, as is RM.  They host and frequent the same “parties” for up and coming young “actors,” often arranged by MM, with the help of all those he hustles. I think this is the way the “gay mafia” does business, after watching this “pattern” for so long.  CH pretty much confirmed it, when he came out, and others in the industry have said it made life even harder for all these closeted actors in “Camp Podwall” or in connection with these power players, instead of better, after that all came out. CH would not shut up, he thought things would change, if people would listen and respond in strong measures.  But it didn’t work out that way.  The whole operation clamped down even tighter on their people, and ramped up their abuse, as punishment for anyone daring to step out of line so openly.  D and CH had a confrontational conversation during that time that CH was so troubled, or so it appeared in one series of photos they shared at a fashion shoot.

The rule of thumb seems to be you pay if you want to play, the older folks in power call all the shots, they shape your career, who you connect with, how and why, what parties you attend, and with whom, what roles you take, and when, or they blackball you out and shut you down.  If you play the game, stay in line, you are “allowed” to progress in the industry, move up the ladder, gain power and control over your own life and protect your loved ones life, but it’s a rough ride.  It’s a control game, all the way, vicious and dangerous.  The folks at the top (Gef/fen, Dil/ler, their close associates, with RM moving up with his latest deal) are just too rich and powerful to be brought down, it seems, although Sin/ger, MM, and some other more well-established actors seem to be in danger of exposure and ruin, one with a new movie coming out this holiday season.  Thes higher ups will protect them until they can’t, then cut them off rather than go down with them. An expose story with a major magazine seems to be in the works, again, but it appears to have been slowed, if not shut down completely.  This could topple some big names, and could have forced some gay bigwigs into “playing nice” with some of their people to keep things quiet.  But fandom and social media, with their spending habits supporting their shows, concerts, movies, artists, was always an unpredictable and uncontrollable curbing agent and pushback against these folks, and somehow, through paid social media bots, they have been able to mostly shut us down, too.  Like the free press, we have been severely compromised, using various tactics, much as they do their actors, in order to control us.

There have been lots of blinds lately, you can believe them or not, but they explain a lot of questionable things I have seen since 2012 with MM, his parties, and his small group gatherings, well-documented with photos, of Glee actors, including Co/ry and Ma/rk, Har/ry and Ch/ord, as well as D, during Glee, around Hollywood and NYC, at London locations, foreign tropical locales, and showing up in Washington, D.C., with his “parties” during the Washington Correspondent’s Dinner.  He and EP are very close.  There are other Camp Pod/wall regulars, such as J.C. Cha/sez, and my warning sirens go off around them, too.   Recent rumors connected D romantically with JC, in his early years in Hollywood, and C with RM.  those were not removed, as any good PR team would do, such as C’s.  I know C has admitted more than once that 2012 was a very difficult time for him. His second book was written that year, and reflects that mood.  

Whenever I see MM, or EP, around either of the two, or RM or Goopchuk, with them, it creeps me out.  The worst was one photo, maybe during Hed/wig?  MM has D in a tight hug, and he is grinning, although I would call it leering, and directly addressing C, using his name in the text, as in, look what I have here.  While lots of folks in the fandom saw it as a confirm, and cute, and those in the other fandom saw it as a rebuke, here’s the real star, D, you are not so great, C, I saw it as a threat to C. Don’t make trouble, don’t make waves, do as you are told, or someone gets hurt.  So, yeah, if you take the red pill, these are all crazy talk, and ridiculous, when we just want to be happy and like things and be fans.  Most folks do not want to go that deep, and it is easier and a lot less scary to just call people like me crazy.  But we once had a part to play that posed a threat to those powers.  Those people have mostly left the fandom, shut their eyes and swallowed the cough syrup, or yes, became fierce C stans, because he seems to be a fighter like us.  I love D, he is amazing and talented beyond belief, but I would walk through fire for C.

I think you might be right that they are using these two and KM, allowing two “out” actors to use their social media narrative to push back against the “forced closeting” rumors, and using them to “clean up” their image, and protect the predators.  But perhaps a mutually beneficial deal HAS been negotiated, by D and C, and KM as well, who knows all the Gl/ee secrets, as all parties know too much, and have some leverage there.  But these are very bad people, criminals, surrounding them, forcing their hand, using them in many cases and involving them in suspect activities, and while I will continue to support these two every way I possibly can, I cannot and will not add  to the cheerleading, praise, financial support, and widespread whitewashing of these awful people and their projects with D, and C if it comes to that,  thus allowing them to continue unabated and unrepentant.  People brutally burned Ma/rk for his dark side, but these guys, because they are powerful and influential, are okay and get not just a pass, but a love fest, from the fans?  Hell to the no.

#Daisy please #I wish C and D would stay the fuck away from these people #none of this is good #That Esquire article is coming out #many people will go down

[5hfanfiction]

Consequences One Shot

Part Two: Marinero

Part Two

Mientras me dabas tu corazón. Yo era un marinero buscando amor. Iba por cada puerto como si nada. Entre más olas, más naufragaba.

Lauren pushed the door opened to her hotel room and saw her best friend sitting on the floor, speaking to someone over the phone. When she saw the distraught look on her friend’s face, she didn’t even tell the person she was hanging up. She just did it.

“You saw her didn’t you,” Normani stated. She didn’t even have to ask, just the glistening eyes, the quivering lips were enough to tell her that she crossed paths with the love of her life.

Lauren couldn’t even respond, she just shook her head and threw herself on the bed crying. Her friend got up and sat next to her without saying anything. She rubbed her back soothingly.

“She doesn’t hate me. Why doesn’t she hate me?!” Lauren asked through her sobs. Sitting up, she looked at Normani. “She still loves me. Why?”

Normani shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes the person who hurts you the most is still the one who is going to love you the most. Even though they shouldn’t love you.”

While Camila had been giving Lauren her heart, she gladly accepted it, but her old habits and her traits were always there. Resurfacing. No matter how much she tried for them not too.

She tried.

Believe me, she tried so hard for Camila, but things didn’t work out like they wanted. The forever they promised each other wasn’t going to happen.

“I loved her too, you know? You know that, right Mani?” Lauren asked her friend looking for someone to say ‘yes, I knew you loved her too. I knew you weren’t that much of an asshole to play with her feelings.’

Normani nodded.

Lauren needed that confirmation.

“Could we have gotten what we wanted if we had just been honest? Why can’t we just be honest? We weren’t meant for each other,” she hit the bed with her fist. “We weren’t meant for each other, but I want her. I still love her, okay? That’s not a lie. I want her with every fibre of my being, but I can’t want her you know? Relationships were never my thing. She has such a pure heart, I can’t hurt her. I can’t cause her anymore pain.”

Her friend sighed and grabbed Lauren’s hand right before she was about to punch the bed frame. “You could’ve gotten what you wanted, maybe. But what you did, it wasn’t right, Laur. You cheated on her. She forgave you, but you guys broke up. Then you caught her kissing your best friend. Y'all got back together. You fought, and you fought. Every. Single. Day,” she punctuated each word. “Does that not constitute for a toxic relationship?”

Lauren sighed. “Soy un idiota, mi papel fue lastimarte,” she ran her hand through messy hair, and shrugged. “But I love her.”

Normani smiled sadly at her friend. “First things first, you’re not an idiot. And secondly, because you love her, that’s why you decided to go your separate ways. Because you love her, you decided to let her go. You both deserve something mentally and emotionally stable.” Lauren shook her head 'no’ and opened her mouth to speak but Normani cut her off. “You know it’s true.”

“I’m not the one to love, Mani and she managed to break through my walls, she managed to make me want something with her. I can’t let that go. It’s been four years, what if things were going to be different?”

This was a question that plagued her mind continuously for a year or two now.

Would things have actually been different if they did try again?

Her friend sighed heavily, these weren’t the kind of talks she was good at. She stood up from the bed and patted her friend on the back.

“I think you already know the answer to that, Laur.” She moved away from the bed, with Lauren following her with her eyes, tossing a phone at her. “Sara kept calling. Talk to your girlfriend.”

***

“I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself,” Camila muttered into Dinah’s shoulder. “You were right. I shouldn’t have even wanted to see her.”

As soon as she walked away from Lauren, Camila found herself standing on Dinah’s doorsteps, with her heart shattered in her hands and her face tear stained. The moment Dinah laid her eyes on her best friend, she knew it was something Lauren related, but what she didn’t know was that the ex lovers were reacquainted not too long ago.

“Hey, hey, hey,” she rubbed Camila’s back soothingly. “Please don’t hate yourself because of her, Mila. She’s not worth it.”

Camila sighed heavily and pulled away from her friend. “Am I dumb?”

Dinah laughed. “Yeah, you are dumb,” she gently stroked her friend’s arm. “But the heart wants what it wants. Even if it’s that stupid green eyed, black hair, pale assed heartbreaker.”

“I honestly don’t know what I expected to happen if I saw her,” Camila wiped at her tears with the sleeve of her jacket. “I don’t know, maybe I thought she would’ve said she still loved me. Maybe, I thought she would’ve wanted to try again…” She paused and looked at the tattoo on her wrist. It was of an infinity sign. They both had gotten raging drunk one night and they stumbled upon a sketchy tattoo artist who did the design for the both of them for free.

Camila hadn’t noticed the tattoo on Lauren. So she assumed she must’ve gotten it removed. And that broke her heart even more.

How can something that’s already broken keep on breaking? That wasn’t physically possible.

The summer where they met, everyone thought it would’ve just been some summer fling, and to be frank, so did Camila, but it was a lot more than just a summer fling.

It was a one life kind of thing.

Soulmates? Maybe.

“Maybe she would’ve said that all she thought about these past four years were me, but things aren’t what you want it to be,” Camila kept tracing the tattoo and tried biting back her tears. “Don’t get into a relationship Dinah, it’s only going to break you.”

Her best friend shook her head and smiled sadly at her friend. “Just because you had one bad relationship, it doesn’t mean every single one after is going to be terrible. Look at Maggie for instance, she’s in love with you, but you won’t give her the chance. You won’t let her break down your walls. The walls that Lauren caused you to build. You won’t let her see your imperfections and learn to love them. Why? Why won’t you allow yourself to be happy?”

Camila’s lips began quivering. Why did Dinah have to be right every single time?

“Because I want to be happy with her. No one else but Lauren.”

Dinah sighed heavily and pulled Camila closer into her. She combed through the young brunette’s hair.

“It’s going to hurt, and hurt, and hurt, but you will survive.”

“I wanted us to last longer than we did,” Camila admitted. “And even though we’ve been broken up for what feels like a century, I learnt that I can’t be with someone who can go about their life without wanting me in theirs.”

Dinah placed a kiss on top of her head and pulled her body closer to hers. “You should never wait for someone to give you attention, for someone to want you the way you want them.” She felt Camila sigh against her chest. “You should never put yourself in a situation where you’re doubting whether their feelings for you were genuine.”

They remained silent for a few moments until Camila cleared her throat and pulled away suddenly.

“I’m okay. I promise I’m okay,” the young Latina said meekly. Dinah stared at her pointedly. “Okaayy. I’m not okay, but I’m feeling a tiny bit better. I promise.”

“You’ll be okay, dramatic bitch.”

Camila giggled. “Thanks. I really needed some words of wisdom.”

Dinah stood and stretched a hand towards her friend. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Camila furrowed her eyebrows. “A strip club? Because I’m down.”

Her best friend choked on air and started laughing hysterically. “Easy there, Karla Estrabao. I just wanted to go for a walk. Maybe grab something to eat. Nothing too wild. You up for it?”

Camila shrugged her shoulders, “As long as you’re paying.”

Dinah rolled her eyes. “I’m not the one whose abuela is giving them 2K a month for doing absolutely nothing besides cry about their ex.”

The psychology student shoved her friend playfully. “Excuse me! I cry about tv shows as well. Not just Lauren. Ooh and songs too. Let’s not forget books.”

“Why am I even friends with you?” Dinah laughed. They linked arms and started on their walk. “Can I ask you something?”

Camila nodded mindlessly. “Sure.”

“What’s going to happen between you and Lauren now?” The psychology student looked at her friend in confusion. “I mean, I think you should talk to her again. Even if it’s for the last time. Maybe when you’re in a better frame of mind and not a mess. Maybe you guys can talk about stuff as adults now. I don’t know,” Dinah shrugged. She had no idea where she was going with this.

Over the years, Lauren wasn’t Dinah’s biggest fan. Though, a few times she had shot the Polynesian a message or two asking about Camila’s wellbeing. The girl didn’t know why she ever responded to her in the first place, maybe a part of her wanted Lauren to know just how much she broke her best friend.

Camila sighed and shrugged. “I…I don’t know. I’ll like to talk to her, more civilly this time. I just don’t think I’m ready as yet.”

Nodding in understanding, “And can I ask one more thing? Then all this relationship drama is over.” Camila sighed heavily again and nodded. “WhatareyougonnadoaboutMaggie?” She asked all in one breath.

And if we were being honest, Dinah always had a huge liking for Maggie. The duo had met through Dinah because they went to the same church together many years ago. They hit it off immediately and somewhere along the line, Camila, Dinah and Maggie ended up in the same party.

“Maggie probably doesn’t want to see me. I’m sure of that,” Camila shrugged and kicked a stone that was in her path. “If I’m being honest, I miss her.”

“So, lets go see her!” Dinah stated excitedly. “I know where she works, come on.”

She started tugging her friend towards her office that wasn’t too far from where the Polynesian lived.

Camila pulled away from the girl. “I know where she works too, Cheech, but she said she needed time. I’m not going to burst through her office and I ended things this morning.”

“Oh right yeah. It feels like it’s been three months since. Right. Fine. We’ll give her time.”

***

*A Few Months Later*

“What’s gotten into you?” A Portuguese accent filled the room, as Lauren got off her girlfriend and fell beside her on the bed.

“Nothing.”

The woman scoffed. “Well obviously, I haven’t gotten into you for a few weeks now.”

Ever since Camila and Lauren met that day in the park, the young attorney’s whole demeanour had changed drastically. She was a mixture between sad and angry all the time. And of course, it took a strain on her relationship with her girlfriend Sara; who was also an attorney.

Lauren sighed and pulled the duvet to cover her frame. “I’m not in the mood, Sara.”

“You used to be always in the mood. So I don’t understand what’s your deal. Did I do something?” She asked but Lauren didn’t respond. “Please tell me,” she pleaded.

How were you to tell your girlfriend that you’re in love with your ex girlfriend?

How were you to tell your girlfriend that you’re not sure if you wanted to be with her anymore?

How were you supposed to be happy when you weren’t with the one you loved more than life itself?

“You didn’t do anything, Sara. It’s just work and the clients. It’s stressful,” Lauren muttered. It was the usual excuse she gave her girlfriend but it never added up. Even though the work was indeed stressful, Lauren had never been like this.

Sara sighed heavily and turned her back towards the green eyed woman. Their relationship used to be perfect, well not perfect because nothing is ever truly perfect, but it was a lot better than now.

“I’m sorry,” Lauren whispered but the other attorney didn’t respond, afraid to reveal that she was crying silent tears. Laying in bed for a few more moments, the green eyed woman threw the duvet off her half naked frame and got dressed.

She didn’t know where she was going, but she just had to get out of that room.

She had to get away from Sara.

She just needed to get away.

Walking through the crowded streets of New York, Lauren found herself in a bar. Alcohol was the one thing that numbed the pain. It was the one thing that allowed her to take her mind off Camila.

When Lauren took a seat at the bar, she didn’t expect to hear that all too familiar voice that she loved so much.

“Camz,” Lauren breathed out. “It’s you.”

Camila was visibly shaken when she heard the voice of her ex girlfriend. When she turned her head and her eyes locked with her favourite pair of green eyes, though she had just consumed some alcohol, her throat became dry, the smile on her face had disappeared completely. “Lauren…” she breathed out.

They kept staring at one another. It felt as though time had stood still. The movements of the other bodies in the club were hazy, the only two persons that mattered were them; Camila and Lauren. No one else.

“Hi,” the young Latina squeaked out. Unsure as to what to say. “Um…”

“Hey,” Lauren responded. “I…uh…what are you doing here?” She asked dumbly.

What she didn’t know was that whenever Camila was stressed here was the place that she always ventured to. The alcohol always seemed to help, even just for a moment.

Camila raised her glass. “Just getting some liquid courage. You? I thought you stopped drinking alcohol?” She questioned.

Lauren shrugged and took a sip of the alcoholic beverage in her hand. “I did. But sometimes…sometimes you just need to feel the alcohol in your system, you know?” Camila nodded. “Are you here alone?”

The psychology student sighed. “I wasn’t but my um…my girlfriend and I got into an argument and she stormed out. What about you?”

If Lauren was being honest, the mention of Camila having a girlfriend kind of broke her heart, but she played it off. If she had a girlfriend, Camila should too. She deserved to be happy. Especially after all the hurt she put her through.

“Yeah I am.”

There was an awkward pause between the two. Both occasionally took a sip from their drinks. A sour and vile taste slipped into both their mouths as they consumed their drinks, stealing away their reality in favour of fantasy. Over the years, they both came to lust after it like no other, the strong tonic becoming their only “cure,” especially Camila’s after everything Lauren had made her endure.

“Do you…”

“Do you…”

They said at the same time and paused, awkwardly laughing. Lauren gestured for Camila to speak first.

“I just wanted to know if you wanted to get out of here? Go for a walk or something?” She asked nervously. The last time the two of them were alone together, it wasn’t exactly a pleasant scene.

Lauren nodded. “Sure. Let me just pay for our drinks,” the other girl was about to protest but Lauren shook her head 'no’. “It’s on me. You can always owe me a drink the next time.” She flagged the bartender and paid for their drinks, then they headed out of the bar.

They embraced the silence as they walked. It caressed Camila’s skin like a cool summer breeze, smoothing her soul, taking away her jagged edges.

Just the sound of their shoes clicking against the pavement, Camila’s heavy breathing; that which can be attributed to the fact that she was deathly scared of having to interact with Lauren again, and the noises of the occasional car that whizzed by.

“So…how have you been?” Lauren asked then mentally facepalmed herself.

She knew Camila wasn’t okay. Well she wasn’t exactly sure if she was okay, especially since their last meeting the girl had been a mess.

Camila exhaled loudly through her mouth. “I’ve been hanging in there. What about you? I didn’t think you were still in New York. Well I heard Dinah say that you were but you know…” she trailed off.

“I’ve been working on a case over here. I can’t disclose anything, but it’ll be over in a few weeks, so I’ll be heading back to Washington soon,” Lauren said as she took a glance at Camila. The brunette simply nodded but if Lauren noticed the sadness in her eyes or the frown on her face, she didn’t say anything. “I’ve been alright, I guess.”

They stopped at a convenient store and they both looked at each other. “Do you remember how we used to get someone to buy us a bottle of wine and sit at the curb and talk endless nonsense?” Camila asked with a slight glimmer in her eyes.

“Yeah,” the young attorney smiled at the memory. “Do you want to relive it for old times sake?”

They entered the old convenient store that they visited a lot over the few months they were together and in each other’s lives. The store didn’t change much. Lauren went to the alcohol section and grabbed a bottle of sangria wine and went to check it out. The cashier didn’t even take a glance at her, too lost in his own world.

“I’m not sure if I want to dirty my clothes,” Lauren mumbled as she looked down at the pavement then back to Camila.

The brunette snorted. “Since when does the Lauren Jauregui care about dirtying her clothes? Did Washington change you that much?” She teased playfully.

Lauren rolled her eyes. “No it didn’t. I just…this is my favourite pair of jeans,” she defended weakly.

Camila shrugged off her jacket and laid it on the pavement for Lauren to sit on. “There you go. Nothing but the best for her majesty.”

Lauren opened the bottle of wine and they passed the bottle back and forth between each other, not saying anything. This time, the silence wasn’t awkward, it was just silent.

It was silent until Camila decided to break it, as she started softly singing an all too familiar song, that Lauren knew too well. “Something about you is when you get angry, you hold me, I saw mercy. And you’re like a shoulder to turn to. If some things burn that’s when we’re hanging on for this life. We held on so tight…”

Lauren stared at Camila’s side profile. She remembered this song all too well. It was the very first song that Camila had dedicated to her; the song that Camila said reminded her so much about her feelings.

If you said you missed me,“ Camila said, "And I said I missed you too, do you think we would work out?”

Lauren halted her actions; the bottle at her lips as she stared at Camila, who wasn’t even looking at her.

“We could relearn each other’s names. I could tell you about my childhood, and you would ask me the weirdest questions trying to figuring out my life.”

Lauren felt her chest tighten. Why was she saying these things?

“And I’m not saying we’ll work,” Camila murmured and locked eyes with her ex lover. “I know we probably won’t work, but the adventure in trying yet again, it’ll be worth it. Wouldn’t it?”

She reached her hand out to gently stroke Lauren’s cheek. The older Cuban sighed happily when she felt Camila’s fingers grazing against her skin.

“But logic doesn’t mean I don’t miss you,” she said. “But right now, I don’t give a damn about logic. Just tell me you miss me, and I’ll come running back into your arms. Tell me you miss me, tell me you’re mine and we can fall all over again.”

Lauren stared at her, she wasn’t sure what to say. She did miss Camila. More than she wanted to admit, but she couldn’t put her through all the hurt, all the drama again. She just couldn’t.

“I missed you, Camz. I really did. I want to be honest with you, I can’t lie and tell you I didn’t, just for you to get over me. I can’t lie and say that I don’t love you or I never did, because I do. I am still in love with you, but you need to know, we won’t work out.”

Camila sighed heavily and took the bottle of wine away from her ex. “I know it won’t work out. We weren’t made for each other. And right now? I guess we need to find ourselves and maybe then, we’ll find our way back to each other.”

“You’re allowed to move on, Camz. You’re allowed to be happy. You’re allowed to fall in love again, and that means letting go of what we once had. You might still love me and I, you. But you can’t, we can’t keep waiting around,” Lauren said as she wiped at the tears that began to spill down her face.

“If we’re meant to be together, it’ll happen….right?” Camila wasn’t sure anymore. “I love you,” Camila whispered out.

“But being in love doesn’t mean we should be together,” Lauren added with a deep sigh. “So maybe…maybe we can love each other from afar.”

Camila had hoped that one day, they’ll find their way back to each other.

But hope is a motherfucker.

“I lost myself hoping that you’ll come back to me,” Camila admitted. “But slowly, I’m finding myself again, and whether you were to comeback or not, I want to be who I used to be. I don’t want to feel sad all the time. I don’t want be standing on the edge anymore. I don’t want to feel what I feel, and think what I think anymore. Never again.”

Camila wished things would work out, but now she was starting to see that it’s not their time. And maybe it was never going to be their time.

“I..I didn’t know you felt like that,” Lauren said.

Camila laughed. “Yeah cause I’ll post snaps of me crying, and me questioning my self worth. Righhhttt.”

“I saw whole cities in your big beautiful brown eyes,” Lauren whispered. “I saw an us. But I…I can’t hurt you again, Camila. I don’t want to.”

The brunette ran a shaky hand through her hair and looked up at the stars. “My abuelita always told me, 'first they’ll make your heart skip a beat, then they’ll make your insides ache until you can’t decipher the difference between love and hate.’ But even if I hate you, Lauren, I’ll love you.”

Camila paused to look at the random cars on the street; they didn’t cease.

“Some days are okay, you know?” Lauren nodded as though she actually knew. “Some days I’m out with friends or chilling with mi familia, and we’re laughing and I’m actually happy.” Camila breathed out heavily. “Then there’s the days I dread where my heart aches. I’m awake at 3am and thoughts of you consume my mind. Or sometimes I’m driving and that stupid James Arthur song that reminded me of you, comes on and I want to kick myself in the ass, because why would I dedicate my favourite song to you?” Camila shook her head. “I know why. Because you were…no you are my favourite person.”

Lauren didn’t know what to say. Could she even say anything to ease Camila’s pain?

“I feel like I didn’t love you enough,” Camila said. “I feel like you deserved so much more of my love, but at the same time, I feel as though I loved you too much. More than you deserved.”

Lauren nodded. “Deep down, you know I ain’t even worth it. It’s not enough, amor, all I do is make you cry,” Camila sighed. “You deserve better than me. I might be what you want, but I’m not what you need.”

The other girl simply shrugged in response.

Lauren removed the bottle of wine from Camila’s grasp, and held her hands in hers. “It’s okay if I’m not your favourite chapter you have written, but I sometimes hope that even when you flip back to the pages I was a part of, I hope you smile. Because I do, you were the most cherished thing in my life, and I messed that up.”

Camila turned away; she couldn’t bare looking at Lauren for too long. “I can’t help the way I feel for you.” She pulled one of her legs up to her chest and looked out into the distance. “This is an incomplete love story, you know? We have an entire book to write about us, but we left before we could even finish writing a chapter.”

“Camz…I…it’s my fault,” Lauren swallowed. She always blamed herself for what happened between the two.

Camila didn’t say anything.

“Can I tell you something?” Lauren nodded with no hesitation. “I tried believe me I tried. I tried so hard to get over you, I did things the old me wouldn’t have done. I slept with people and I regret it so much, because I thought it would’ve numbed the pain of you not being there next to me. I started drinking because I wanted anything to stop it,” she gently patted her chest, “from hurting. But just when I started to feel okay, you showed back up in my life, uninvited, and the feelings came rushing back in. Crashing like waves and I realised, that I could never truly get over you, Lauren Jauregui. You are my once in a lifetime, and it was a pleasure being yours even if it was for that three months many years ago.” Camila smiled sadly. “And even if it’ll only be for those three months, it was still a pleasure being yours.”

“All I want for you is to fall in love with someone who won’t get tired of saving you from your own chaos. Someone who won’t treat you the way I treated you, because you deserve the world. You deserve all the happiness in the world, mi amor,” Lauren wiped the tears that were spilling from Camila’s eyes.

“I should hate you for what you did to me. I wouldn’t wish that pain upon anyone, not even my enemies. You went around living your life as though you didn’t completely destroy mine, and truth is, you’re selfish. All you ever cared about was your feelings, and at the time I didn’t notice it. Even though, I may never truly get the apology I want, I forgive you. Because I owe it to myself to heal, and I can’t keep holding onto this, because it’s driving me crazy. I owe it to myself to move on.”

Lauren opened and shut her mouth, she didn’t know what to say because truth is, Camila was right. She was selfish, because she never did once take Camila’s feelings into consideration. Because if she did, she wouldn’t have hurt her the way she did.

“Truth is, I could spend my whole life getting over you,” Camila said. “I want to let you go, but I can’t. I owe it to myself to move on, yes. However, the feeling that you gave me those three months so many years ago, I’ve never felt that with anyone.”

“Sin orgullo te dejo saber y algún día lo vas a entender. Si te dejo volar, otros brazos, será por tu bien,” Lauren sighed as she turned away from Camila, but she stopped her.

“Te amo, mi amor,” she brought Lauren’s hand to her lips and gently kissed it. “I adore you.”

“I love and adore you too, Camila. You’re the only girl I’ve ever loved. You’re the only one who ever truly mattered,” she pulled her hand away from Camila and ran her index finger over her lips. “Why did I let the the girl of my dreams, become the girl in my dreams?” She exhaled, her lips trembling a bit.

“Falling in love with you was no mistake, falling in love with the idea of our future was,” Camila said. “I hate you, I love you, I hate that I want you.” She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.

“Would it be too much to ask a request from you?” Lauren looked at her with pleading eyes.

“I’ll do anything for you,” Camila paused and shook her head. That was a bit too much. “What is it?”

Lauren exhaled loudly. “I…I’m wondering…can we still be….you know….friends? This doesn’t have to end. I can’t…I can’t imagine going four years without you again. I know we didn’t end this so good, but we had something, to us at least, that was so good. So can we still be friends?”

Camila cracked a genuine smile. “I’ll like nothing more than that, Lauren. Friends?” She stuck her hand out.

“Friends,” Lauren smiled as they both shook hands.

There was a long pause until Camila threw her hands up.

“Woo,” the psychology student exhaled loudly. “It actually feels as though a burden has been lifted if I’m being honest.” Lauren laughed softly. “I’m serious, like the last time we met, it was horrible. I felt as though I lost my last ounce of sanity. Dinah asked me if I wanted to see you again, to talk to you, and I wasn’t sure. I thought it would’ve been horrible. But here we are. It wasn’t that bad.”

Lauren shook her head. “Keywords being 'that bad’.” The other girl smirked. “I can’t say this enough, but I’m extremely sorry for everything that I’ve put you through.”

Camila raised a hand to silence her, “Let’s not go back there please. I’ll probably be occasionally petty during our newfound friendship, but I really don’t want to relive the bad moments of us.”

“I don’t think I know how to be friends with you,” Lauren revealed awkwardly, and rubbed the back of her neck.

Camila shrugged and grabbed the wine and took a swig if it. “Why don’t you tell me about your girlfriend?”

Lauren cocked her head to the side. “Do you really want to know about Sara?”

The other girl smirked and shrugged. “Friends have to pretend right?”

They both laughed.

It felt different being together again, well a good different. It was nice to let go of all the bad feelings; even though there may still be some hurt feelings and sadness, but eventually, step by step, they’ll get over it.

“I missed that,” Camila said.

“Missed what?”

The brunette shook her head and smiled. “Your laugh. I love how the only light that makes me truly happy can come from you.”

Lauren smiled at her words. “Maybe we didn’t work out the way we would’ve wanted it to be, and maybe we won’t ever work out, but you, Camila Cabello, you are truly the most precious human being on this planet. I cannot fathom a life without you. That’s for sure.”

“And I cannot fathom one without you, Lauren Jauregui.”

Lauren took the bottle of sangria wine from Camila and raised it in a toast.

“To our newfound friendship. To new memories. To letting go and to moving on. To us.” Lauren took a mouthful and passed the bottle to her new friend.

Sometimes you let go of people even though you don’t want to.

Do you think there’s a right time for two souls who got it wrong the first time? Because life gets heavy; it becomes unbearable when you least expect it. Sometimes it’s better that way, but do you reunite and act as though nothing happened?

Does the one who loved less at the time have a moment where they love more?

Does the one who gave up at the time, wish they never did and they finally see what they had?

Or is it all about 'one day’ because they weren’t ready then?

Is it a better story to tell in the future?

It’s painfully ironic that we pay no mind to the ones who actually want us; who sees you when no one else sees you, who accepts you and thinks you’re beyond perfect even though you don’t, who still thinks you’re worth it, even though you broke their heart, all because you were chasing someone else.

Maggie knew that even though she got Camila, she was never really going to get her.

“I know your soul belongs to someone else. I can see the ghost of her in your eyes. I can see the 'what ifs’ swirling around in your mind.” That’s what Maggie always told Camila; and she could never deny it because it was true.

Ask yourself this; if you had the chance to start over with someone, would you go back and meet them all over again or would you just walk away? Because walking away means no heartbreak, even though they made you feel again.

“She might help me forget,” Camila admitted. “But loving her is something I just can’t do,” she breathed out. “Because I had you.”

Lauren stood and grabbed Camila’s jacket, draping it over one arm. The brunette followed suit.

“You owe me.”

Lauren cocked her head to the side and stared at Camila in confusion. “I owe you what?”

“A forever. If not in this lifetime, in another. Just don’t let alternate universe you be stupid and mess it up.”

Lauren shook her head with a smile on her face. “It won’t be me if I’m not stupid.”

Camila took the other girl’s hand in hers and intertwined their fingers; even though she hated holding hands.

“Loving you had consequences, and you may be a dumbass, but I love you,” she brought Lauren’s hand to her lips and kissed it. “If she breaks your heart like lovers do, I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

Wattpad: Commander_Camren

#one shot #UPDATE #camren #angst drama #submission #Consequences

[homesteadchronicles]

Ten Songs Tag

Tagged by my fellow muso, @lady-redshield-writes! Thank you so much for the tag, my friend! I am always up for discussing music. Plus, your answers were super insightful, and I found some new music to jam out to!

Any of my fellow musicians, instrumentalists, vocalists, or appreciator of the arts are hereby tagged, if they find themselves so inclined to participate!

RULES: Post ten songs you are currently obsessed with and explain what caused or created this obsession!

1. “New Rules” - Dua Lipa I’ve been obsessed with this song since I first heard it on my family vacation to Walt Disney World this past December and I still listen to it consistently. Dua Lipa’s voice could only be called angelic, with a falsetto rivaling that of Allen Stone - and from a female, such a feat is almost unheard of. It’s rare to find a song on the radio that actually rejects sleeping around with the wrong person and instead solidifying healthier habits, denying toxic lifestyles and emphasizing the importance of oneself instead. Way to go, Dua Lipa!

2. “In Shallow Seas We Sail” - Emery Emery holds a special place in my heart as a band that can encapsulate the angst plaguing young adults. Most artists resonate with middle/high schoolers, but Emery speaks to me more now as an adult than they would have when I was younger. Plus, that voice? Gorgeous. This specific song has so many layers to get lost within. To me, it truly portrays that feeling of drowning in the midst of waves.

3. “Isn’t He (This Jesus)” - Natalie Grant This song really grew on me. I’ve always loved Natalie Grant, but this didn’t click with me at first. My mom sent me a link to this, overly excited to see that she had released new music after the surgery on her throat. Thankfully, she didn’t pull a Julie Andrews and came out all the stronger because of it. At first, I thought the song was decent, but it never hit home with me. Even still, I kept putting it on repeat while I wrote and I soon found myself worshipping in the midst of writing sessions instead. There’s something so...pure about this song. It’s raw, it’s honest, it’s simple. It doesn’t feel the need to be flashy, which I admire.

4. “Skyfall” - Our Last Night (OPB. Adele) I thought I liked Skyfall when it first came out - and then I heard this rendition. HOO BOY, was I in for a surprise! One of my friends, who apparently knows OLN, has been telling me to listen to them forever now and I never did. I turned this on while out on a walk and jammed to their music the rest of the night home. If you like pop-punk covers of already-phenomenal music, you might need to give this a listen...and then to their “Shape of You” cover, too.

5. “Party Tattoos” - Dodie This song goes against everything I normally listen to and I still am unsure why I like it so much. My friend included it in their character playlist and I just kept it on loop for days. It’s this wonderfully peppy, easygoing song with a slightly morbid undertone to its meaning. Maybe the mystery intrigues me so much? If you’re into indie music, give it a listen.

6. “Let the Flames Begin (Live)” - Paramore Paramore formed one part of my musical holy trinity throughout my childhood (along with Fall Out Boy and Panic at the Disco), and even though I no longer connect to their newer music, they still hold a special place in my heart. I’m not normally a fan of live performances, beyond worship songs, but this specific song adds SO much more live than it does in the studio. Williams adds an extended outtro, starting with an epic instrumental solo, and then ending with a bang. That bang? A special song snippet named “Oh Father”. I belt it out every time without question or hesitation. This may or may not be a Kingdom Come character’s theme...for a future book. 

7. “Nighttime Hunger” - Overcoats Believe it or not, @khymnal showed me this song and I cannot get it out of my head. The Overcoats have the most seamless, unified harmonies I may have ever heard. They blend together so effortlessly. Their voices are almost like sirens...the mermaid kind, not the police kind. I think a lot of people can relate to temptation lurking in the longer night comes, and this makes it both eerie and gorgeous instead of disturbing. And let’s be honest - isn’t temptation as enticing as it is unsettling? They captured the feeling perfectly.

8. “Birth of a Wish (Become as Gods)” - NieR: Automata I needed to include an instrumental game song on this list, and what better than what I play on repeat whenever I write a battle sequence for Kingdom Come? This idea that men want to become deities ties in perfectly with the themes of KC, and especially its central characters. The epicness of this music, and the way it makes me want to wield a sword and slay a dragon and save a princess in space all at once, only enhances its amazingness.

9. “Never Enough” - The Greatest Showman If you haven’t seen this movie yet, I don’t know what you’re doing with your life. I cannot tell you how emotional I got as soon as this song came on the first time. I still listen to it all of the time, and am dying to hear my mom sing it (side-note: my mom is a ridiculously talented singer and she will never admit it). The power of the lyrics matches the power in her voice and it combines to form the most dynamic musical number I’ve ever heard in a theatrical film - and the best part? They didn’t even need choreography to enhance it.

10. “Where’s My Love (Alternate Version)” - SYML Did anyone else fall in love with this song during the Figure Skating portion of the Winter Olympics? As soon as I heard this, I downloaded the song. It’s this haunting melody accompanied by a gorgeous piano player and it just works. Listen to it if you feel like you want to cry about a lost lover you probably never actually knew.

Bonus: “Hang It Up (Abacus & Vargas ‘Predator’ Remix)” - The Ting Tings So, I only heard this after I’d already written up this post...but it’s the best. I freaking love this style, the likes of which I have only heard rivaled by the Shiny Toy Guns. My best friend and I listen to it every week while we prepare for our Monster of the Week podcast recording session and it fires us up every time.

#tag #tagged #tag game #song #music #adele #paramore #nier #nier automata #the greatest showman #dua lipa #emery #our last night #overcoats #syml #the ting tings #dodie

[it-goes-both-ways]

Over the last few years I've been posting more and more of my actual views, which I'm not exactly ashamed of but realise they're not so much unpopular opinions as downright rejected ones. I pretty much know why I have them, I'm aware of my biases and make every effort to restrict them to words, not allowing them to affect my relationships or treatment of others, restricting the hyperbole and rants to this blog and my long suffering partner. Unfortunately I seem to attract the worst kind of women in real life, which is not at all helping. Every time I reveal something I worry about being rejected, told I'm a monster, a failure, a disgrace, an embarrassment, but each and every time I've gotten nothing but acceptance. I am greatly honoured by your support thus far, for tolerating my increasingly frustrated outbursts and hope I won't push you away with this, but it's been all consuming for almost my whole life, and part of “cleaning up my room” is putting all that baggage out there to be scrutinised and hopefully understood, sometimes all that is needed is a willing ear, suppression only breeding resentment and isolation.

All the bullshit feminism has caused, from protesting the male pill and shutting down shared parenting efforts to the Duluth model and erasing men who are raped by women or by counting them under "violence against women" stats to boost the female victim numbers. Mary Koss, the progenitor of the 1 in 5/4/3/-69/ π r2 stat claiming that it's "inappropriate" to consider male victims of forceful envelopment by women as they are merely ambivalent about their own desires. Lobbying for laws that regard mutually drunk sexual encounters as automatically rape by men, underage consensually sexually active couples (even if they're months away from age of consent or the girl is older) as child rape on the part of the boy, guilty until proven innocent, accusation is the evidence, kangaroo courts, sentencing discounts on top of the preexisting bias which causes a 63% disparity and difference in treatment to the point where if you take every step of the justice system into account the crime rate is pretty damned even (with women often using proxy violence so they have plausible deniability, and avoid responsibility/physical risk). Treating women as the definitive victims of prostitution no matter which side of the transaction they're on. Banning men from charity fundraising events, transpeople only allowed if they provide evidence that they are biologically female. Having the NHS class women choosing to have genital piercings as being victims of female genital mutilation, while male genital mutilation performed at birth is not so much as frowned upon let alone illegal by any single country on the entire twatting planet. In fact you can buy some baby foreskins if you want to, or rub them on your face, the target market being protected from the very process that brought them their anti-ageing face cream, complaining that it costs more than men's moisturiser.

The innate gynocentrism of humanity has always led to women being their top priority, now even above children, it tries to pander, and acquiesce to their every demand while being told it hates them. The cases like the woman who filmed herself raping her own baby and getting the oh so harsh sentence of community bloody service and house arrest. The "poor, neglected" woman whose husband had become distant from her (wonder why) so she raped her son's friend, whose punishment was being banned from his school, which she considered too harsh as she missed her son's graduation. An audience of hundreds of normal regular women cheering and celebrating a man being drugged by his wife, who then cut off his penis and threw it in the "garbage disposal" permanently destroying it, just for asking for a divorce (can't think why he'd want to leave), despite no further context it was declared "fabulous" to the ecstatic jubilation of the empathetic sex. There's the idea that men commit the vast majority of rapes while calling female teachers "seducing" their students mere trysts, shameful liaisons that do not deserve prison, female prison guards committing the overwhelming majority of rape of male children and youths in juvenile detention (89%), among other women who rape men and boys (my own mother being one of them), this in addition to the rape rate among female prisoners being 3 times that of male ones, not a single damned thing is done about the propagation of the bullshit narrative. Somehow the fact that female rapists tend to target children is irrelevant because male ones target adult women, and "you don't see women going around raping adult men" (even though the stats are still around 50/50 because it's a human problem, unless those women are exhibiting toxic masculinity or something). There's the 10,000 men and boys slaughtered in their schools by Boko Haram while girls were released and allowed to go home, the boys being set on fire, their throats slit, or shot if trying to escape, no one giving the slightest hint of the merest ghost of a toss, until they realised that they weren't getting the attention they craved so they kidnapped girls, causing an international outcry and the media/celebrities changing their motivation from "eradicate western education" to "oppress women and stop them getting an education". There's the refusal by both the left and the right to look beyond the plight of women when it comes to Islam, they not only ignore the laws which oppress men, but declare those men the "real" misogynist patriarchal oppressors and innately sociopathic rapists. There's the refusal to recognise that women are a part of society and have far more influence than anyone wants to admit. There's Muslim men's obligation towards women, the segregation in Saudi where they have many public places from which men are banned unless accompanied by a female family member, where they'll be arrested for accompanying a woman to whom he is not related while the woman is merely sent home, where men face potentially fatal consequences for the same "crimes". Where homeless boys in Pakistan are pretty much guaranteed to be repeatedly raped day after day.

Then in my own life, being 6 or 7 years old, my sister 8 or 9 and told to stay put as our Reliant Robin went up in flames, having to be pulled out by a stranger, a man, because we were more afraid of disobeying than of burning to death, mother not even sparing us a glance as she grieved the loss of her car, later keeping it in the garden like some sort of shrine. Around the same year, at an LRP event (Lorien Trust's The Gathering), being left in the tent alone late at night and going to look for her, finding her on top of an unconscious man, she at least picked up on the fact that I was revelling in her severe hangover the next morning. Sneaking downstairs one night to see the aftermath of one of her "encounters", the man was broken, so started my extreme protectiveness of men and distrust of women, to the point of being called a gender traitor for the first time at around 7 years old by my 60+ year old year 1 teacher (who also wouldn't allow me to use left handed scissors or to write left handed, unwittingly making me ambidextrous. Being left with a violent babysitter who made me sleep under the table, or on the floor beside her bed (despite having 4 bloody beds), who wouldn't let me eat since burning the toast, beat me for asking for a glass of water and wouldn't even allow me to drink out of the tap, she once threw me in a wheely bin and poured dishwater over me, mother was in the garden just a few doors down, yet did nothing. She’d always try and get her boyfriends to beat us but they always just laughed it off (they’d put up with abuse themselves but never lasted long after she started bringing us into it), one in particular was into BDSM and later got mother a job as a dominatrix (she was disappointed by our complete lack of surprise), and even he had to draw the line at demonstrating how sexual intercourse works to his girlfriend’s 6 and 8 year old daughters.

My sister and I as little more than toddlers, mother putting our onesies on backwards so we couldn't take them off, having to go to the loo with them still on. Having the door handles put on upside down so that we couldn't reach up enough to open it to get to the loo so we ended up pissing ourselves. Having a daily diet of four slices of bread and the cheapest of generic vegetable spread as we weren't allowed mother's butter, being starved as punishment or just because she felt like it (having won custody of us only to spite dad), leading to malabsorption and osteoarthritis at the grand old age of twenty bloody six (3 years ago now), once a week we got an actual meal. Being around 8 or 9, visiting my auntie who was in hospital after having a stroke, having already had MS she was left paralysed, just 23 years old, granddad put together a system for her to speak by grouping letters and having her blink once for the stated grouping or letter or twice for basically undo. I gave her my only teddy which I carried everywhere, a stuffed donkey I got from Spain, she kept it. Staying in her house, continuing my habit of accidentally setting fire to the toaster, being left alone most of the night and going to look for mother in the village pub, finding her in one of her drinking competitions, walking in and vagblocking her, much to her frustration and anger. Being treated like a replacement husband, even trying to talk me into having a sex change despite only mild dysphoria, which was later greatly lessened by having an implant which stopped periods, eliminating most of the feeling of wrong (most cases of sex change regret are people who were abused, either treated like shit for their biological sex, treated as if they are opposite sex, or sexual abuse). Hearing about how the only way she'd get any when she was with dad was when he was asleep. Why did he end up dying a slow, agonising death while she gets to carry on regardless? Asking me about who I liked, later discovering exactly why she wanted to know, a man I care about was raped because I didn’t pick up on her ulterior motives. Having mother and her friends try to teach me to manipulate men, get them to pay for me, trying to turn me into a gold digger, only making me hate them even more. Coming of age (16), no longer eligible for child benefit, mother having been visiting friends more and more often until she didn't come back, only finding out that she'd been gradually moving out when we got the eviction order.

I'd been training myself to eventually join the army from the age of 5, once when I was 6 mother had asked me to go to the supermarket to get a bag of potatoes, she usually got a 20kg sack, must have taken me an hour to get it home, a man helping me carry it some of the way. When I finally enlisted I had to stop taking codeine for the malabsorption, it wasn't as much of a problem if I was eating every day (I usually forget as my body had been conditioned by neglect, not even bothering to remind me to eat any more), my hips had always made crunching and cracking sounds when I move, but as my body adjusted to the lack of codiene the pain became unbearable, upon being diagnosed with osteoarthritis I had to give up any hope of ever being a soldier, I've lost my purpose, and have nothing to replace it with, couldn't even work a whole shift when I got a factory job, humiliating, I'd informed the woman of my condition and she'd assured me that it was just a machinist job. It wasn't. It was everything you shouldn't do if you have any sort of hip problems. I'd never felt such agony and I'd fractured my bloody skull (at an LRP event). The woman was such a nasty bitch about it, she went from compassionate and understanding to mocking me for being upset that I was so damned useless now. I offered to forfeit my pay but her colleague, who also had arthritis and could no longer work the floor, was obviously far more genuinely empathetic than the woman, my brief boss was also sympathetic and even paid for a taxi to take me home after I refused an ambulance. The pain didn't subside for days.

I've never had a female friend who hasn't betrayed me, my "best friend" in school found it hilarious to punch me in the back in the middle of class, causing me to yell inadvertently as the air was knocked out of me. In year 8 the other kids stepped up their game and went from throwing stones to a house brick, when I got back to school she asked where the stitches were, just so she could punch me and reopen the wound. I was never allowed to retaliate, it would always be me who would be threatened with expulsion even if I only snapped after years of beatings which everyone knew was happening. Every birthday the other kids would falsely accuse me of something so I'd have to spend break times stood outside the headmaster's office, the equivalent of the stocks. Whether it was asperger's making me so unlikeable or if I genuinely am just a massive thundercunt, I never found out what I did to provoke them. Every time I put my trust in a woman it gets thrown in my face. My neighbour decided she was my best friend for life and would call at all hours of the day and night to get me to pick up her bloody methadone twice a bloody week, go to the chippy at 11 o'bloody clock at night, she's always trying to get me to take the pills she buys off a disabled neighbour. There are three things I refuse to take, hormones, anti-depressants, and sleeping tablets and she's always trying to get me to take them. The last straw was when her husband, who I got on very well with and whom she abused constantly, died, I told her to be careful what she wished for. When I finally called her out on using me she leapt immediately to the "after all I've done for you" bollocks.

Time after bloody time it's the same damned story, even regular everyday normal women will talk about things that would get a man arrested or at least publicly lambasted, that erections equal consent, that MGM is not at all a violation of the right to bodily autonomy, that it's absolutely fine and dandy to hit your male partner only to call the police if he defends himself, that female paedophiles shouldn't be punished because boys always want sex no matter what age they are but girls mature younger, right the way back to "We should have the vote but not have to pay with our lives as men had to in their millions while we shamed men and even underage boys into doing the same". What terrified me as a child was women's ability to completely turn off their empathy, the "woman scorned" is seen as karmic justice, there are people defending even the most brutal crimes:  assault, murder, rape, mutilation, over something as minor as rejection, or an accidental drive by fart, or just the crime of being a man who wanted a divorce. Empathetic sex my absolute arse.

A fellow MRA publicly humiliated Adam on a livestream when we went to the men's day march and conference, we were staying in an air B&B, Adam and Will Styles still riding the high of giving their first speeches, only for the woman to dredge up shit that was no one's bloody business and ruin the whole mood for no bloody reason, she also attacked 6oodfella on one of the hangouts. Another one was giving private information, with a vicious twist, poisoning the community against one of our group, Paul Elam didn't want to get involved and Janice Fiamengo immediately cut ties, treating him like a bloody criminal, what the hell did the woman say to her? I could see the Woolly Bumblebee thing coming a mile off, I worry whenever youtubers I like get girlfriends because they seem to either completely change or disappear, like Spino and Bread and Circuses respectively. I'm suspicious of female MRAs, I don't want to be but often even the sane ones are just tradcons. If it weren't for the Honeybadgers and you lot I'd have no hope at all.

The constant stream of "toxic masculinity", oppression, patriarchy, of women complaining that their air conditioned (which is also bloody sexist somehow), seated jobs at a till are paid less than the men (and women but they're not going to mention that) carrying heavy boxes, driving forklifts, working in a cold warehouse, and risking serious injury or death infinitely more than they ever will. The selfishness, solipsism, and sociopathy is too much. Throughout history women have never cared about men aside from ones they have a bond with, have never appreciated a damned thing men have done yet they demand that men prioritise them. Why should they?

I’ve seen and experienced the worst examples of female nature in action, “toxic femininity” if you will, and the difference in reaction to it, never being believed as a child no matter how many times I begged other family members and even strangers to please let me live with them instead, I’ll sleep in a tent, look I brought it with me. Pathetic, but you’d have thought someone would have cottoned on. I'm not going down the anti-women route as my sister has, given her own treatment of her partners and her own admission, she’s not so much pro male as anti-female, but it’s increasingly difficult not to resent them even if everything has a biological explanation. I still defend women if the facts bear it out, even if I don’t necessarily agree on a personal level, reals over feels, the people I agree with most also being female has definitely helped me not fall over the edge, one of whom feels very much as I do to the point where she doesn’t consider herself to be a woman due to her own observations and experiences. But the longer this goes on, the more laws are changed, media is poisoned, speech is suppressed, how the hell do I stop myself from just giving up entirely? How on earth can I stop myself from becoming an all out misogynist? Because it is women, not just feminists. It’s female nature being allowed to go unchecked, even when the same happens with male nature women are still prioritised. There are exceptions on both sides but it’s not enough to change the overall trend. There’s never been a balance, and because of human nature there never will be, which is where the problem lies. I know there’s no hope, that it’s utterly futile, completely pointless, and it’s driving me more towards extremism. I completely understand why we’ve lost so many MRAs to suicide. But I’m still going, even if the only way to make even the slightest change is to appeal to female self interest I’ll still do it. Everything I’ve been passionate about throughout my life is a pointless endeavour, I can’t stop myself from caring or change my fundamental character, it’s a downward spiral and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do about it.

#Personal #Very personal

[ohdeargodnotyouagain]

So I’ve been fairly certain I was bisexual from a young age. Maybe eleven or twelve, but didn’t really understand it. Thought I was weird. It started to get really more apparent when I was fourteen to sixteen. I had just started high school. I think I told my mom first, who pulled the ‘baby I been knew’. And really didn’t care. Which was nice, but she treated me a little weird for a year or so. I think after she saw that I didn’t change as a person, she calmed down a lot.  I told my dad, who surprisingly, being the bible thumper he was later in life, very accepting. He said, “I don’t quite understand it, but it doesn’t change the way I see you. Or how I love you.” Which, trust me, and if you ever knew the relationship I had with my father, you’d know that was not only out of character... but something I still tear up about today. As it turned out my mother had told him a week or so before I had to prepare him. Weirdly enough, his response, “Huh.”  That wasn’t too out of character at least. Dad’s gone now. And in all honesty, I wish I had more time with the man who seemed like he wanted to know who I was. And not with the one that forgot I existed.  My brother didn’t take it too hot. But he didn’t take a lot of things well back then or even now. I never told my sisters, which I didn’t have a great relationship with either. Then far later when I was nearly an adult, one eldest sister came out to me, asking how my father would take it if she came out. “Well to be honest, he took it really well when I told him about me.”  And she was surprised I had admitted it. I hadn’t told anyone besides my parents. Then I started to tell my internet friends. One of them quickly became my girlfriend... and then: Dashia - I fell so fast, I smashed into the ground. She wasn’t out yet, I was. And she broke my heart a lot, but I couldn’t push her. Then I moved. Now she’s married to a woman and every conversation I feel like she wants to cross a line I won’t. Not until she breaks things off- I’m not gonna be the reason. Not to mention she have entirely different life goals and family plans... I know we’re better as friends. I talk to her now occasionally as strictly a friend, but I had cut her off back then. Rose - I met her online, and she helped me slowly move on from Dashia. I fell fast on the images she spun me. I read and wrote her stories back and forth, we roleplayed- it was magical. But as time went on, I noticed we argued a lot and we barely agreed on most anything besides her showing me I was supposed to be gay. And now that I’m older, I can easily see it was grooming me for doing things. She was manipulative and even came to my house. I did things I was really too young for.  Shayne - One week long field trip and this man was ready to marry me. I have to laugh, because we were so not good for each other. He had so many issues going on, and joined the military. When he came back he wasn’t the same guy. He went from someone who loved me with kindness- that wanted nothing more to take his family places... to someone angry from the core and steeped in his loneliness. I broke it off and I moved out of town to Roses house. I was barely sixteen and he had just turned 18. Rose - The same one as before... but I thought people changed. I was living in a dangerous situation and she offered my mother and I a way out. I was desperate and we left- moved states away and landed at “her” house. Turns out her brother and his husband owned it. She didn’t tell them. After a few month stay, her brothers husband backhanded my mother for doing dishes in the sink instead of the dishwasher. I had us moved out within the hour, and homeless within a week. I hate that it was on her birthday, but I cannot begin to tell you how toxic she was either. She’d drive into oncoming traffic on a whim and then play the breaks and steering wheel are broke. We never dated this second time, but she did drug me into a wedding and she’s technically my ex-wife now. John - Another man from the military I met through a gaming event. We had a lot in common I thought... which was the military. He ended up giving me a ton of money to help me get an apartment while I was homeless... and then asked for things... in return for the money. I spent a lot of time paying him off. I wouldn’t call it a relationship, even though that was my excuse. He often told me he sent his soul to keep me safe from the violence... I felt more haunted than anything. Taylor - A military man who was so suicidal, I felt that if I didn’t stay, he wouldn’t either. Also through the same event I met John, I constantly felt like I was thrown between the two. If I wasn’t with one, I was with the other and it just, made me so sick mentally. I desperately needed to be free. So when I moved, I left everything behind all over again. Faith - If I couldn’t get more and more fucked up. It was so unhealthy and toxic. She lied to me about everything from her name to her age to- everything. And only told the truth further into things than it should have went. I thought she loved me, because the people we wrote loved each other. She cut things off finally because she wanted to be with someone else, and occasionally threatens me with the things we said under false pretenses. I have never answered, and wont.  I’ve dated around sense, it’s been a blip on the radar of those longterm ones. And as you can see there is a continued theme. After a long disappointing super hero background story, I’ve tried to bring myself to a better mindset and health wise. I’m working on both and I have better habits... Started to date again.  And I’m...slowly wondering if I’m going through another phase of tastes now that I’m older.  There was a thrill of dating a guy I suppose, but there wasn’t the pulling, all consuming, desire to be with a woman. I’m slowly realizing that perhaps I only seek relationships with men because its normal... And I’m brought back to the fact that I still live with my mother. And at this point, I’m not getting rid of her until she passes... so I might as well stay single anyway but-  ... I think I’m just a lesbian...  I mean seriously I can’t think of a single man I’d immediately spread for besides like Elliot Spencer from Leverage... Is he my straight  crush? I’m... I’m just...  Am I just going through a weird phase what THE fuck is going on with my brain lately at this point-

#I'm off my meds I think #My deepdive into apparent lesbianism #I'm very confused #tired #and gay #my life

[bukstins]

"Personal Renewal"

John Gardner

Delivered to McKinsey & Company, Phoenix, AZ

November 10, 1990

I'm going to talk about "Self-Renewal." One of your most fundamental tasks is the renewal of the organizations you serve, and that usually includes persuading the top officers to accomplish a certain amount of self-renewal. But to help you think about others is not my primary mission this morning. I want to help you think about yourselves.

I take that mission very seriously, and I've written out what I have to say because I want every sentence to hit its target. I know a good deal about the kind of work you do and know how demanding it is. But I'm not going to talk about the special problems of your kind of career; I'm going to talk about some basic problems of the life cycle that will surely hit you if you're not ready for them.

I once wrote a book called "Self-Renewal" that deals with the decay and renewal of societies, organizations and individuals. I explored the question of why civilizations die and how they sometimes renew themselves, and the puzzle of why some men and women go to seed while others remain vital all of their lives. It's the latter question that I shall deal with at this time. I know that you as an individual are not going to seed. But the person seated on your right may be in fairly serious danger.

Not long ago, I read a splendid article on barnacles. I don't want to give the wrong impression of the focus of my reading interests. Sometimes days go by without my reading about barnacles, much less remembering what I read. But this article had an unforgettable opening paragraph. "The barnacle" the author explained "is confronted with an existential decision about where it's going to live. Once it decides.. . it spends the rest of its life with its head cemented to a rock.." End of quote. For a good many of us, it comes to that.

We've all seen men and women, even ones in fortunate circumstances with responsible positions who seem to run out of steam in mid career.

One must be compassionate in assessing the reasons. Perhaps life just presented them with tougher problems than they could solve. It happens. Perhaps something inflicted a major wound on their confidence or their self-esteem. Perhaps they were pulled down by the hidden resentments and grievances that grow in adult life, sometimes so luxuriantly that, like tangled vines, they immobilize the victim. You've known such people -- feeling secretly defeated, maybe somewhat sour and cynical, or perhaps just vaguely dispirited. Or maybe they just ran so hard for so long that somewhere along the line they forgot what it was they were running for.

I'm not talking about people who fail to get to the top in achievement. We can't all get to the top, and that isn't the point of life anyway. I'm talking about people who -- no matter how busy they seem to be -- have stopped learning or growing. Many of them are just going through the motions. I don't deride that. Life is hard. Just to keep on keeping on is sometimes an act of courage. But I do worry about men and women functioning far below the level of their potential.

We have to face the fact that most men and women out there in the world of work are more stale than they know, more bored than they would care to admit. Boredom is the secret ailment of large-scale organizations. Someone said to me the other day "How can I be so bored when I'm so busy?" And I said "Let me count the ways." Logan Pearsall Smith said that boredom can rise to the level of a mystical experience, and if that's true I know some very busy middle level executives who are among the great mystics of all time.

We can't write off the danger of complacency, growing rigidity, imprisonment by our own comfortable habits and opinions. Look around you. How many people whom you know well -- people even younger than yourselves --are already trapped in fixed attitudes and habits. A famous French writer said "There are people whose clocks stop at a certain point in their lives." I could without any trouble name a half of a dozen national figures resident in Washington, D.C., whom you would recognize, and could tell you roughly the year their clock stopped. I won't do it because I still have to deal with them periodically.

I've watched a lot of mid-career people, and Yogi Berra says you can observe a lot just by watching. I've concluded that most people enjoy learning and growing. And many are dearly troubled by the self-assessments of mid-career.

Such self-assessments are no great problem at your age. You're young and moving up. The drama of your own rise is enough. But when you reach middle age, when your energies aren't what they used to be, then you'll begin to wonder what it all added up to; you'll begin to look for the figure in the carpet of your life. I have some simple advice for you when you begin that process. Don't be too hard on yourself. Look ahead. Someone said that "Life is the art of drawing without an eraser." And above all don't imagine that the story is over. Life has a lot of chapters.

If we are conscious of the danger of going to seed, we can resort to countervailing measures. At almost any age. You don't need to run down like an unwound clock. And if your clock is unwound, you can wind it up again. You can stay alive in every sense of the word until you fail physically. I know some pretty successful people who feel that that just isn't possible for them, that life has trapped them. But they don't really know that. Life takes unexpected turns.

I said in my book, "Self-Renewal," that we build our own prisons and serve as our own jail-keepers. I no longer completely agree with that. I still think we're our own jailkeepers, but I've concluded that our parents and the society at large have a hand in building our prisons. They create roles for us -- and self images -- that hold us captive for a long time. The individual intent on self-renewal will have to deal with ghosts of the past -- the memory of earlier failures, the remnants of childhood dramas and rebellions, accumulated grievances and resentments that have long outlived their cause. Sometimes people cling to the ghosts with something almost approaching pleasure -- but the hampering effect on growth is inescapable. As Jim Whitaker, who climbed Mount Everest, said "You never conquer the mountain, You only conquer yourself."

The more I see of human lives, the more I believe the business of growing up is much longer drawn out than we pretend. If we achieve it in our 30's, even our 40s, we're doing well. To those of you who are parents of teenagers, I can only say "Sorry about that."

There's a myth that learning is for young people. But as the proverb says, "It's what you learn after you know it all that counts." The middle years are great, great learning years. Even the years past the middle years. I took on a new job after my 77th birthday -- and I'm still learning.

Learn all your life. Learn from your failures. Learn from your successes, When you hit a spell of trouble, ask "What is it trying to teach me?" The lessons aren't always happy ones, but they keep coming. It isn't a bad idea to pause occasionally for an inward look. By midlife, most of us are accomplished fugitives from ourselves.

We learn from our jobs, from our friends and families. We learn by accepting the commitments of life, by playing the roles that life hands us (not necessarily the roles we would have chosen). We learn by growing older, by suffering, by loving, by bearing with the things we can't change, by taking risks.

The things you learn in maturity aren't simple things such as acquiring information and skills. You learn not to engage in self-destructive behavior. You leant not to burn up energy in anxiety. You discover how to manage your tensions, if you have any, which you do. You learn that self-pity and resentment are among the most toxic of drugs. You find that the world loves talent, but pays off on character.

You come to understand that most people are neither for you nor against you, they are thinking about themselves. You learn that no matter how hard you try to please, some people in this world are not going to love you, a lesson that is at first troubling and then really quite relaxing.

Those are things that are hard to learn early in life, As a rule you have to have picked up some mileage and some dents in your fenders before you understand. As Norman Douglas said "There are some things you can't learn from others. You have to pass through the fire.'

You come to terms with yourself. You finally grasp what S. N. Behrman meant when he said "At the end of every road you meet yourself." You may not get rid of all of your hang-ups, but you learn to control them to the point that you can function productively and not hurt others.

You learn the arts of mutual dependence, meeting the needs of loved ones and letting yourself need them. You can even be unaffected -- a quality that often takes years to acquire. You can achieve the simplicity that lies beyond sophistication.

You come to understand your impact on others. It's interesting that even in the first year of life you learn the impact that a variety of others have on you, but as late as middle age many people have a very imperfect understanding of the impact they themselves have on others. The hostile person keeps asking 'Why are people so hard to get along with?" In some measure we create our own environment. You may not yet grasp the power of that truth to change your life.

Of course failures are a part of the story too. Everyone fails, Joe Louis said "Everyone has to figure to get beat some time." The question isn't did you fail but did you pick yourself up and move ahead? And there is one other little question: 'Did you collaborate in your own defeat?" A lot of people do. Learn not to.

One of the enemies of sound, lifelong motivation is a rather childish conception we have of the kind of concrete, describable goal toward which all of our efforts drive us. We want to believe that there is a point at which we can feel that we have arrived. We want a scoring system that tells us when we've piled up enough points to count ourselves successful.

So you scramble and sweat and climb to reach what you thought was the goal. When you get to the top you stand up and look around and chances are you feel a little empty. Maybe more than a little empty.

You wonder whether you climbed the wrong mountain.

But life isn't a mountain that has a summit, Nor is it -- as some suppose -- a riddle that has an answer. Nor a game that has a final score.

Life is an endless unfolding, and if we wish it to be, an endless process of self-discovery, an endless and unpredictable dialogue between our own potentialities and the life situations in which we find ourselves. By potentialities I mean not just intellectual gifts but the full range of one's capacities for learning, sensing, wondering, understanding, loving and aspiring.

Perhaps you imagine that by age 35 or 45 or even 33 you have explored those potentialities pretty fully. Don't kid yourself!

The thing you have to understand is that the capacities you actually develop to the full come out as the result of an interplay between you and life's challenges --and the challenges keep changing. Life pulls things out of you.

There's something I know about you that you may or may not know about yourself. You have within you more resources of energy than have ever been tapped, more talent than has ever been exploited, more strength than has ever been tested, more to give than you have ever given.

You know about some of the gifts that you have left undeveloped. Would you believe that you have gifts and possibilities you don't even know about? It's true. We are just beginning to recognize how even those who have had every advantage and opportunity unconsciously put a ceiling on their own growth, underestimate their potentialities or hide from the risk that growth involves.

Now I've discussed renewal at some length, but it isn't possible to talk about renewal without touching on the subject of motivation. Someone defined horse sense as the good judgment horses have that prevents them from betting on people. But we have to bet on people -- and I place my bets more often on high motivation than on any other quality except judgment. There is no perfection of techniques that will substitute for the lift of spirit and heightened performance that comes from strong motivation, The world is moved by highly motivated people, by enthusiasts, by men and women who want something very much or believe very much.

I'm not talking about anything as narrow as ambition. After all, ambition eventually wears out and probably should. But you can keep your zest until the day you die. If I may offer you a simple maxim, "Be interesting," Everyone wants to be interesting -- but the vitalizing thing is to be interested. Keep a sense of curiosity. Discover new things. Care. Risk failure. Reach out.

The nature of one's personal commitments is a powerful element in renewal, so let me say a word on that subject.

I once lived in a house where I could look out a window as I worked at my desk and observe a small herd of cattle browsing in a neighboring field. And I was struck with a thought that must have occurred to the earliest herdsmen tens of thousands of years ago. You never get the impression that a cow is about to have a nervous breakdown. Or is puzzling about the meaning of life.

Humans have never mastered that kind of complacency. We are worriers and puzzlers, and we want meaning in our lives. I'm not speaking idealistically; I'm stating a plainly observable fact about men and women. It's a rare person who can go through life like a homeless alley cat, living from day to day, taking its pleasures where it can and dying unnoticed.

That isn't to say that we haven't all known a few alley cats. But it isn't the norm. It just isn't the way we're built.

As Robert Louis Stevenson said, "Old or young, we're on our last cruise." We want it to mean something.

For many this life is a vale of tears; for no one is it free of pain. But we are so designed that we can cope with it if we can live in some context of meaning. Given that powerful help, we can draw on the deep springs of the human spirit, to see our suffering in the framework of all human suffering, to accept the gifts of life with thanks and endure life's indignities with dignity.

In the stable periods of history, meaning was supplied in the context of a coherent communities and traditionally prescribed patterns of culture. Today you can't count on any such heritage. You have to build meaning into your life, and you build it through your commitments -- whether to your religion, to an ethical order as you conceive it, to your life's work, to loved ones, to your fellow humans. Young people run around searching for identity, but it isn't handed out free any more -- not in this transient, rootless, pluralistic society. Your identity is what you've committed yourself to.

It may just mean doing a better job at whatever you're doing. There are men and women who make the world better just by being the kind of people they are --and that too is a kind of commitment. They have the gift of kindness or courage or loyalty or integrity. It matters very little whether they're behind the wheel of a truck or running a country store or bringing up a family.

I must pause to say a word about my statement "There are men and women who make the world better just by being the kind of people they are." I first wrote the sentence some years ago and it has been widely quoted. One day I was looking through a mail order gift catalogue and it included some small ornamental bronze plaques with brief sayings on them, and one of the sayings was the one I just read to you, with my name as author. Well I was so overcome by the idea of a sentence of mine being cast in bronze that I ordered it, but then couldn't figure out what in the world to do with it. I finally sent it to a friend.

We tend to think of youth and the active middle years as the years of commitment. As you get a little older, you're told you've earned the right to think about yourself. But that's a deadly prescription! People of every age need commitments beyond the self, need the meaning that commitments provide. Self-preoccupation is a prison, as every self-absorbed person finally knows. Commitments to larger purposes can get you out of prison.

Another significant ingredient in motivation is one's attitude toward the future. Optimism is unfashionable today, particularly among intellectuals. Everyone makes fun of it. Someone said "Pessimists got that way by financing optimists." But I am not pessimistic and I advise you not to be. As the fellow said, "I'd be a pessimist but it would never work."

I can tell you that for renewal, a tough-minded optimism is best. The future is not shaped by people who don't really believe in the future. Men and women of vitality have always been prepared to bet their futures, even their lives, on ventures of unknown outcome. If they had all looked before they leaped, we would still be crouched in caves sketching animal pictures on the wall,

But I did say tough-minded optimism. High hopes that are dashed by the first failure are precisely what we don't need. We have to believe in ourselves, but we mustn't suppose that the path will be easy, it's tough. Life is painful, and rain falls on the just, and Mr. Churchill was not being a pessimist when he said "I have nothing to offer, but blood, toil, tears and sweat." He had a great deal more to offer, but as a good leader he was saying it wasn't going to be easy, and he was also saying something that all great leaders say constantly -- that failure is simply a reason to strengthen resolve.

We cannot dream of a Utopia in which all arrangements are ideal and everyone is flawless. Life is tumultuous -- an endless losing and regaining of balance, a continuous struggle, never an assured victory.

Nothing is ever finally safe. Every important battle is fought and re-fought. We need to develop a resilient, indomitable morale that enables us to face those realities and still strive with every ounce of energy to prevail. You may wonder if such a struggle -- endless and of uncertain outcome -- isn't more than humans can bear. But all of history suggests that the human spirit is well fitted to cope with just that kind of world.

Remember I mentioned earlier the myth that learning is for young people. I want to give you some examples, In a piece I wrote for Reader's Digest not long ago, I gave what seemed to me a particularly interesting true example of renewal. The man in question was 53 years old. Most of his adult life had been a losing struggle against debt and misfortune. In military service he received a battlefield injury that denied him the use of his left arm. And he was seized and held in captivity for five years. Later he held two government jobs, succeeding at neither. At 53 he was in prison -- and not for the first time. There in prison, he decided to write a book, driven by Heaven knows what motive -- boredom, the hope of gain, emotional release, creative impulse, who can say? And the book turned out to be one of the greatest ever written, a book that has enthralled the world for ever 350 years. The prisoner was Cervantes; the book: Don Quixote.

Another example was Pope John XXIII, a serious man who found a lot to laugh about. The son of peasant farmers, he once said "In Italy there are three roads to poverty -- drinking, gambling and fanning. My family chose the slowest of the three." When someone asked him how many people worked in the Vatican he said "Oh, about half." He was 76 years old when he was elected Pope. Through a lifetime in the bureaucracy, the spark of spirit and imagination had remained undimmed, and when he reached the top he launched the most vigorous renewal that the Church has known in this century.

Still another example is Winston Churchill. At age 25, as a correspondent in the Boer War he became a prisoner of war and his dramatic escape made him a national hero. Elected to Parliament at 26, he performed brilliantly, held high cabinet posts with distinction and at 37 became First Lord of the Admiralty. Then he was discredited, unjustly, I believe, by the Dardanelles expedition -- the defeat at Gallipoli-- and lost his admiralty post. There followed 24 years of ups and downs. All too often the verdict on him was "Brilliant but erratic...not steady, not dependable." He had only himself to blame. A friend described him as a man who jaywalked through life. He was 66 before his moment of flowering came. Someone said "It's all right to be a late bloomer if you don't miss the flower show." Churchill didn't miss it.

Well, I won't give you any more examples. From those I've given I hope it's clear to you that the door of opportunity doesn't really close as long as you're reasonably healthy. And I don't just mean opportunity for high status, but opportunity to grow and enrich your life in every dimension. You just don't know what's ahead for you. And remember the words on the bronze plaque "Some men and women make the world better just by being the kind of people they are." To be that kind of person would be worth all the years of living and learning.

Many years ago I concluded a speech with a paragraph on the meaning in life. The speech was reprinted over the years, and 15 years later that final paragraph came back to me in a rather dramatic way, really a heartbreaking way.

A man wrote to me from Colorado saying that his 20 year-old daughter had been killed in an auto accident some weeks before and that she was carrying in her billfold a paragraph from a speech of mine. He said he was grateful because the paragraph -- and the fact that she kept it close to her -- told him something he might not otherwise have known about her values and concerns. I can't imagine where or how she came across the paragraph, but here it is:

"Meaning is not something you stumble across, like the answer to a riddle or the prize in a treasure hunt. Meaning is something you build into your life. You build it out of your own past, out of your affections and loyalties, out of the experience of humankind as it is passed on to you, out of your own talent and understanding, out of the things you believe in, out of the things and people you love, out of the values for which you are willing to sacrifice something. The ingredients are there. You are the only one who can put them together into that unique pattern that will be your life. Let it be a life that has dignity and meaning for you. If it does, then the particular balance of success or failure is of less account."