#neglet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

still-grounded23 · 1 year

Text

My last dream

(WARNINGS PLEASE READ: this story contains suicide, some readers may find the content disturbing. Read at your own risk)

I turned to the alarm clock, screaming at me. Everything screamed. I wanted to scream too. My cheeks were wet from that night. I’m only 11…I shouldn’t feel like this. Tears marked my face once more. I woke up, yet again, but I'm not sure what it’s for. Life hurts.

Rolling out of bed, I made my way to the closet. My hand reached toward that famous school uniform that everybody was so against. The black shorts, and button up. My clothes sealed my body in the only comfortable warmth I had anymore. To add at least something interesting, I put on my light gray jacket as well. I still had the little pins on it that I liked to collect in my slightly younger days, my happy days. I combed through my hair, grabbed my bags and walked out the door. Since when did mom and dad not want to greet me?

I want to go back to my dreams now. No one ever sees how fake the smile is, and they won’t care either. Pretending for this long is about as much as I can take. They’re all idiots, and they’ll never see me. I want to go back to dreaming, and I don’t care if they disagree. I’ll let everything I know slip into an abyss. No one will care. they never did. Even from the start of this new life my parents chose for me, I knew I was done now. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to leave my friends. I miss them more than anything in the entire world. Oh well, time for school.

I made it to my bus stop with minutes to spare. It was quiet, and empty. The air was frosty in vermont. I miss my home back in Michigan. It was cold in Michigan too, but I knew how to make the best of it back then. I feel like I'll never remember now. The bus pulls up to the stop sign, and I get on. The eyes of the other kids are on me as I try to make my way to my seat as fast as possible. The anxiety of the stares is enough to drive anyone crazy. I sit in an empty seat. No one will sit next to me, I know as a fact. No one ever does. I rest my head against the window for some more sleep. To try to meet my dreams again. The only thing worse than being sad, and anxious, is being a sad and anxious boy. If I show any sign of tears, they laugh, and suddenly, I'm not a man.

After two more stops, I made it to school. When I got off, the large crowd of people from our school hurried and rushed into the school. I was pushed around, like a boat in a storm. I got inside, and my slow treads sped up. So I could get to class. I walked in, and before any kind of “good morning.,” could reach my ears, i heard,

“Owen! Come see me for a moment please.,” A sigh left my lips as I made my way to her table.

“Yes, ma’am?” I asked nervously. She looked at her clipboard of hellish papers. Oh the papers. She looked back at me and motioned for me to take a seat. I settled in the chair as she cleared her throat.

“What happened to these four assignments we had in this class?” she asked in accusation. I had either fallen asleep, or started daydreaming of a better life. I shrugged, and she took her glasses off and set them in front of herself. “ I'm not giving you any more papers. You are failing this class as of now. Do I need to call home?” I shook my head, whilst looking at my shoes.

“No.,``I turned and went to the bathroom. I couldn’t even make it to the bathroom before tears started to flow. I locked myself in a stall silently. I knew I was a failure. Oh, how much I hate myself. I want to go back to dreaming, and find my perfect paradise. I want to say it’d be a good day, but it’s a lie. I bawled, and sobbed. I didn’t want to get caught up, but I didn't want to fail. Only one more disappointment in my mom’s life. I cried until i felt dumb. At least they didn’t have anyone to compare me to anymore. I don't have any friends now.

My crying slowed as I reasoned with myself. It couldn’t have been that bad, right? But I knew I was lying to myself. In the sixth grade and all I know how to do is cry. I finally stopped once I heard the first bell. It was almost time for my next class. There wasn’t a point though. I knew I was to go back to dreaming soon, anyway. I would reach my new world, and leave this sad one behind. I can only suffer for so long until I can't take any more. And what’s the point? No one will care, and they never did!

The whole day consisted of me jumping from bathroom to bathroom to skip class. I think my teacher gave up on me about two weeks after I moved here. This routine has gone on for far too long. Two months to be exact. What was so important about living anyway? We all die someday, so what’s the point? There isn’t a point. At least, not anymore.

The bus ride home was loud, too loud. Too much chatter, and I was jealous, too jealous. I wanted someone to chat with. Just like that, I was sad again. Once I learned to block out the noise, all was peace. I let every thought in my mind leave. My brain was numb, finally. I, Owen Tyler Richardson, was completely numb, and at peace for the ride home. Only about fifteen minutes later did I get off the bus and walk home. I walked inside. Mom and dad were fighting over the move again. My mother got fired right after we moved here for her promotion. Now we were here for almost no reason, and we couldn’t afford to go back now.

I tried asking if I could talk to them about my troubles, but they were always too busy. It was only until mom got fired that I stopped asking. I felt like I was a nuisance to the house, even after all my chores were done. I walked quickly up to my room. I hadn’t eaten at all today, and I'm hungry, but they’re in the kitchen, so I can't. I closed the door and layed on my messy bed. I put my earbuds in, and played some of my old favorite songs while looking to the ceiling. I don’t know how long it went on for, but I was crying, again. Tears streamed down my face and it wouldn’t stop, so I turned to my side, and wept. At this rate I was sure I would run out of tears.

It was a until a while after I was done crying that my parents finally calmed down. My father went out, probably to a local bar or something to cool off. I stayed in my room. I was hungry. I didn't eat after the disperse, though. I sat in my room, curled up behind my bed. Thinking, just thinking. Thinking about everything. I wasn’t even going to my classes anymore, because I just couldn’t handle it. I want it to be over. I miss my friends, but I can never go back. I know that now. All I can do now is keep going. What if my going is becoming really gone, though?

My mother called me into the kitchen. I thought she would have just wanted me to talk to her, and be a friend. When I got in the kitchen, she had her head in her hands. “Your school called today.” my heart dropped. “Why are you skipping class, hmm?” She looked at me with a furious smile. “And you’re missing assignments. What a disappointment child. Useless.” she spat. I looked down at my socks. Suddenly, I felt a fist hammering the back of my head. Again and again, I was wacked until she was content.

Tears were streaming down my face. “I hate you.” I whispered. My fists were balled. It’s time. I knew it was. I would leave this world behind, and find my perfect place. Nothing will change by itself now. I have to change it manually. I could feel my whole body shaking.

“What did you just say to me?” my tall, slender mother, with the nerve to have tears rolling down her soft, pale cheeks. I looked up at her. Tears were dripping from my chin now.

“I hate you!” I shouted, screamed, now. What had our healthy little family become? Where did that happy, hardworking, and handsome father go? He was at the bar, while his beautiful wife abused their once energetic, A+ student into an existential crisis at the young age of 11. If our little town in Michigan knew of this, it would seem as if the whole state would have been crying. The family, once on magazine covers, smiling on fresh, spring grass, curled in each other’s arms, full of love, and happiness, now torn, and mangled with lies, and deception. My mother smiled that pretty little smile, with the tears streaming down her perfect face.

“How could you say that? To your very own mother, too? You don’t love me now? You really are worthless.” I mustered all of my courage, and strength, and pushed her to the floor. I rushed into the bathroom, flinging open the medicine cabinet. Both my mother, and my father had depression and anxiety pills. I didn’t understand it at the time. I didn’t know it was for mental illness. I looked it up one day, out of curiosity. It’s what you take when you're sad and suffering, right? I guess I should take all of it to make it stop forever.

I grabbed the bottles of medicine, and ran out of the house, and into the woods. At that time I remembered. I could recall every little happy memory that I missed. I remembered the names of those who never wronged me. I believe that these people I call my parents now aren’t the same as the sweet, caring couple back in michigan. I miss them. I miss all of them, and the little memories we shared.

I was in the woods now. The icey air made my face cold. I could see my breath. The fact that mama didn’t try to stop me will always haunt me. It doesn’t matter anymore, though. My heart and my hands are cold. How did it come to this? I opened the little bottles, carelessly dumping the little tablets into my mouth. It’s a good thing I was hungry. I filled up on the toxins, and now I'm full.

My stomach started to turn on me. How could my own body even try to disown me? Noone will care. They never did! Now nothing helps the pain, now. I’m feeling angry instead of sad for some reason. I just want to scream, oh, how I HATE myself. I was sobbing in the middle of the woods. I could faintly hear my mother calling for me. She must’ve finally noticed the missing bottles.

I sat on the chilly floor of snow. It was so beautiful, and I hoped my new life would have snow. I held my head in my icy cold hands. My whole body hurts, and I think I'm falling asleep. Maybe I should just lay down. My vision is darker, and darker. I’m ready to meet my last dream.

#suicide awareness #stay safe #sad #this happens way too often #i got flagged at my school for writing this #Neglet #Abuse #fighting #parental issues #My Last Dream

4 notes · View notes

just-an-enby-lemon · 2 months

Text

I have a lot of feelings about a universe where we know for sure Gwen and Elias share more than the surname. A universe were they were related and at least at some point close.

And is mostly because deep down I want someone to care about them. No one cared when Elias changed, when he died, no one noticed he wasn't himself. He had no one to see the differences.

And while I hope it changes no one seems to truly care for Gwen either. No cares how she is, her family only cares if she is suceeding, Alice openly distrusts and dislikes her (look I'm a Dyhard at heart and truly believe Alice cares somewhere in the middle of whatever she actually know and feels and doesn't show but rn there's no proof of it), Colin openly distrusts everyone (barr Alice), Sam is nice but doesn't care neither does Celia, Lena dislikes her but it is at least 70% Gwen's own fault, she also doesn't seem to have friends or any life outside working.

That's to say I want a reality where someone will miss Elias and where Gwen knows that at least at one point someone really cared about her.

#elias bouchard #gwendolyn bouchard #fuck you jonah you destroyed a perfectly normal negleted stoner #tma #tmagp #the magnus archives #the magnus protocol

22 notes · View notes

winryrockbellwannabe · 3 months

Text

watching gilmore girls again to make me feel better about my own life choices. ngl, it's helping, bc at least i know i wouldn't do the same shit rory is doing

#just started season 5 iykyk #i can't believe she's being so stupid. also lane deserves a better friend bc rory is negleting her too much #gilmore girls #aj rambles

17 notes · View notes

prompt-master · 2 years

Text

I can't stop thinking about how raising the turtles must've been like for splinter. He suddenly is a father of four and has LITERALLY nothing. He didn't even understand the biology of his kids cuz they're mutants

I think when Splinter first hd to scavenge uptop he left all the kids thinking it would be safer and it wasn't until he was halfway done that he suddenly realized "babies. Can't be left alone" and then after that when he went to the surface he just shoved four baby turtles into his pockets

#rottmnt #tmnt #splinter #like tbf to splinter snd his laziness snd negletfulness #if i raised 4 mutantkids while having nothing anymore i toowould become hella lazy the SECOND they could startlooking after themselves

272 notes · View notes

furiousgoldfish · 1 year

Text

If you tell people stories about your abuse, and it happens to be something extremely messed up and inhumane, their reactions are either repulsion or sick fascination, like they’ve found something unusual and interesting, something that tinkles their curiosity.

In neither scenario people feel the urge to be extra gentle and careful with you, neither of them thinks how you need the world to soothe you and to enable you to function. Instead it’s the urge to either get away from you because you’re too much to handle, or you’re the subject of someone’s fascination with the weird and inhumane. They will ask you details about it but not feel much compassion for you, they’re only studying you, trying to figure out how you’re still alive and in their heads, summing up whats wrong with you.

To us, the second one feels like attention, and we’re not picky about where we get our attention from; we’re grateful someone is interested, in whatever way that might be. We assume someone wanting to know is someone caring, we’re appreciative of the care and we share the details.

But this person is unlikely to then proceed to be kind. They’re more likely to experiment on us and indulge in the details of our abuse to satisfy their own sick desires. And when they’re done, when they’ve sucked as much pleasure as they could from our trauma, they’ll be happy to patronize us and tell us what we should have done and then drop us if we don’t agree. Making us feel like it’s our fault we lost them, when we never had them in the first place, it was just that the events of our life served a purpose that a documentary would.

Sometimes people like that go and study psychology, in order to get to be fascinated by our struggles. They want the details not to help us, but to help themselves. They’re only interested in studying us from a detached perspective, like we’re subjects in a lab, just to be experimented on. The field doesn’t vet these people out; they’re a threat to us, and nobody is making sure these people don’t have access to us, nobody is protecting us.

We’re human beings. We don’t need to go from one form of dehumanization to another. This doesn’t help. We don’t serve as a feeding ground for other humans. We are not ‘fair game’ for those who are only interested about the twisted workings of the human mind in a traumatic scenario, without being interested in being humane to those who are suffering due to it. We’re human first, struggling second. If we went thru something inhumane, it doesn’t mean it’s now okay to subject us to more such things.

If you notice someone weirdly interested in the details of your trauma, to the point where it’s weird that this person doesn’t feel sickened and affected by the emotional blows from it, be careful of what they want from you. You don’t owe them gratitude for the interest, and you don’t owe them details. You don’t owe it to anyone. It will hurt worse if someone who knows the details, still turns around and dehumanizes you all over again, like everything they know about you just makes this a game that is easy for them to play. You are not be experimented on. You deserve humans who care about what happens to you next.

#aftermath of trauma #predatory therapists #aftermath of neglet #cptsd #traumatic experiences #ptsd #people experimenting with the traumatized like we're lab rats #dehumanizing the abused

127 notes · View notes

biblicallyaccurateangeloncrack · 9 months

Text

day 2 of my luka pulls:

i got E3 sampo and nothing else.

crimes will be committed.

16 notes · View notes

akindplace · 2 years

Text

I deleted my previous posts about this story of how they physiotherapist pushed me to do ankle exercises when I told him I could physically do it and that I shouldn't do it in the first place because I was there for back problems and not ankle problems and that my ankle problems cannot be solved like that because of my joint hypermobility and I ended up with a sprained ankle, in so much pain, and he absolutely ignored me,m. Another patient had to help me because he wouldn't and I was about to faint. Yes, he left me on the floor, crying, and about to faint, not once but twice, and never even spoke to me.

I realized he didn't know what EDS was, though I was told he would know. The administrator of the clinic called me yesterday and I wanted to tell her what happened but she was only doing damage control to 1. Keep me from getting my money back from the rest of the sessions that I wouldn't be doing and 2. Keep me from suing them. She wouldn't let me speak, she would speak over me and eventually began shouting at me and gaslighting me like I was crazy. She told she would pay me back. She didn't. I had to ask her again, and then she finally did.

I fucking puked out of pain. Almost fainted. He completely ignored me, they wouldn't pay me back, and then the administrator shouted at me and tried to gaslight me by acting like I was crazy.

Another physiotherapist put in my file that I had fibromyalgia, which I don't and I told him I didn't, that I have EDS. He decided he was good enough of a doctor (though he is a physiotherapist) to diagnose me with that.

The administrator was flexing that she is a physiotherapist for 30 years, but she could not pronounce Ehlers-Danlos and she did not know what it was either.

They were acting on a basis of fibromyalgia being my diagnosis which 1. It isn't and 2. On the ableist assumption that people with fibromyalgia are faking their pain and that was what I was doing.

I am making a very long story short, but this is what happened.

The only thing I am afraid right now is of harassment.

Anyway, I deleted the post because I was so fucking done with it. But she is not going to gaslight me into thinking it didn't happen.

They also have lawsuits on them already, but not by me, of course. You see, they don't enjoy workers rights and paying people.

She also told me the physiotherapist wasn't returning her calls. How does it feel to be ignored, now? These people deserve each other. I don't even have to be smart to know they will run this business to the ground.

#tw ableism #tw neglect #tw pain #tw vomit #tw medical abuse #tw medical neglet

64 notes · View notes

b-a-n-d-e-r · 7 months

Note

Your cat is named Louie? 🥺🥺 and he has a croaky little miaow? 🥺🥺🥹 and you taught him to be proud of his voice ?? I love this story so much 💘

thank you! he is a Good Boy and I love him very much! He belonged to a neighbor I did not know who died (after a lengthy illness during which they made no attempt to make arrangements for him 🙃); another neighbor who I DID know was trying to home him, point being I got him in a very handshake no real info kind of way and I was told his name was Louie. Amazing, perfect, love it, I decided, no need to change it... all I knew about his history was that he had been adopted from the local shelter, but they wouldn't tell me anything about him because I was not the owner of record. Two years later I managed to sweet talk a worker there into giving me some actual info and I found out his name was LOUIS and always had been!!! I was just a cretin who just assumed it was Louie! But I decided to leave it for... Reasons. No need to make things confusing

#he has come so far in so many ways every time he demands a cuddle I could cry or demands anything tbh rather than just cowering #that's why him being meowy is so awesome like YES BABE ASSERT YOURSELF BE ANNOYING #I WILL still love you and you ARE safe!!#I fucking hate his old person who made him scared and worried about everything and think he couldn't have love #or treats #he doesn't know how to play with toys hardly still because no one ever played with him even when he was only little😫#just yelled at him #he (and the other cat not present in this story for efficiency) both had multiple untreated health issues in his case asthma #like serious difficulty breathing #she had mats of hair that pulled and hurt her and impeded her walking and also serious joint pain issues #cw animal neglet #cw animal abuse

6 notes · View notes

ha-ha-one · 1 year

Text

continuation of this

[cw: angst, referenced past captivity and torture, disordered eating, emotional whump, caretaker whump self-negletful and selfless caretaker, crying, really bad mentality, self-blame (????)]

1. this is not edited, i’m too tired and i’m not going to let this rot in my drafts for longer

2. i had initially planned for this to be comfort but we can’t have that in this house :)))

“Caretaker?”

Whumpee stands on the doorway to Caretaker’s room, holding a bowl with leftover food from days ago.

It had been six months since they were rescued, and they had steadily recovered from the wounds and bruises dealt by their captor. There was still a lot work to be done, especially inside their head, but at least they weren’t stuck on the bed.

Caretaker, however, remained the same.

“What happened, Whumpee?” Caretaker says, leaving the recently washed clothes on their bed and approaching the small figure by the door. “Do you need help with something?”

“I…Have you been e-eating?” Whumpee murmurs.

Caretaker stops, staring at seemingly nothing for a minute, before responding.

“…Yes.”

“You hesitated.”

“N- Don’t worry about it,” They smile and ruffle Whumpee’s hair in a nonchalant manner, “Have you eaten? I can serve you more leftovers if you wa-“

Caretaker’s interrupted by the feeling of hot ceramic on their chest, as Whumpee had pushed the bowl towards them and made them hold it with their hands. They looked at them, and saw that they were frowning, trembling eyes staring daggers at their own.

That is the most emotion they have seen Whumpee feel in what feels like forever.

“Why are you not eating? And you aren’t sleeping either! Why?!” They push Caretaker to their desk, sitting them down with the bowl still in their hands. “Is it because of me? Am I hurting you in any way? Do I have to do something to make you take care of yourself??”

“Wh-Whumpee…no that is not why-”

“Then why are you not doing it?!”

After that, Whumpee immediately covers their mouth. They had raised their voice at Caretaker. They had yelled at them. Whumpee’s eyes fill with tears as they slowly uncover their mouth.

“…I-Im sorry…”

Caretaker puts the bowl on the desk table, and slowly pulls Whumpee into a hug. They stay like that, in complete silence, until Whumpee stops crying. They pull back until they’re both facing each other, trying to think of something to say. Lucky for them, the person in front of them spoke first.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself b-because of me, Caretaker…” They wipe their wet cheeks with the back of their hand, voice trembling as they speak. “You don’t n-need to sacrifice anything f-for me, you know?”

A part of them, yes. A part of them knows that it’s not their fault, that Whumpee still loves them as much as before.

That part is lying.

taglist; @oddsconvert (lmk if you wanna get added)

#whump #whumblr #whump drabble #whump writing #my writing #disordered eating #emotional whump #caretaker whump #referenced captivity #referenced torture #self negletful caretaker #self destructive behaviour #crying #fucked up thoughts #angst #and i think that’s it

22 notes · View notes

ghost-sharks · 11 months

Note

sally also deserves hell for how she’s treated or son

Hmmm, nope I mostly disagree.

Let me state that I don't think what Sally is doing to John is right at all, it's shitty and she's a terrible mom. Yet, I think it boils down to Sally has been a product of her environment since the beginning. From a cold uncaring mother, her acting teacher degrading her in front of her peers, her relationship with Sam, and now with Barry. She is continously in this cycle of abuse, and now she truly gets to be the actress she always wanted to be. I'm sure Sally feels nothing be resentment and emptiness towards her son, as he is a constant reminder of her failure, and that Barry gets to live out his fantasy we've seen throughout the series, while she has nothing and is just empty. Again, I'm not saying how she is treating John is right, it is super shitty as he is just a kid but it makes sense for Sally's character. Furthermore Barry isnt parent of the year either by isolating his son and putting fear into him because all he wants to do is make friends and be a kid. Sure, you could say that Barry and Sally are one in the same because Barry was in the military and his relationship with Fuches is also abusive. The man is listening to bible podcasts and cherry picking episodes to find a sign to justify killing Cousineau.

Even though Sally and Barry are both complicated characters, at the end of the day I think Barry deserves the shit kicked out of him, and Sally and John deserve a better life. There are posts on here that are standing up for Sally's character by defending her selfish attitude in the beginning of the series as everyone has a moment of being selfish versus Barry as he murders people. If you dont like Sally's character that's fine, you don't have to, it's your opinion. I don't think that a character that has gone through what Sally has gone through and has become nothing but a hollow shell of herself versus an actual murderer who thinks he is the hero of his own story deserves the same fate.

#barry #barry hbo #Overall do I think Sally is awful mother yes absolutely 100%#Do i think she deserves the same fate as Barry? No #im just gonna reiterate as i know people are going to misread this and think Im defending Sally's neglect #Is the neglet Sally have towards her son wrong yes absolutely he did nothing wrong at all #Does it make sense for her character to feel this way towards her son...yes #MY BROTHER IS CHRIST IM DUMB AS ROCKS LMAO #IM NOT A MEDIA ANALYSIS #IM NOW GOING TO SUPPORT SALLY EVEN HARDER OUT OF SPITE #God forbid women in media are nuanced and three dimensional and they dont become tradwives as soon as they have a child #and become overcomed with unconditional love for child born out of trauma/abuse/isolation

8 notes · View notes