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shanaraki · 3 years

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OCTOBER 2TH, 2021.

DAY ONE.

—— I've decided I'm starting a journal. ——

I have never been that good in keeping track or stuff. I get bored, I abandon what I start so easily. It is hard for me to push myself into doing something I don't have the motivation for.

However, I've decided I'm starting a journal. This journal. I feel better writing it online than in paper. When I'm forced into writing it in slow motion with my own hands, I get desperate sooner or later. My mind rushes and the words speed up while my hand is still struggling with the first lines.

I do have a lot to say. About so many things. There are things I'll never write or speak about. The belong in the silence between God and me, the empty spaces where the human mind can't go, that secret and non existence place.

I'm better now.

This imply that I was bad, of course. It's a cycle. I know the bad things won't stop coming, but I like to think that's no reason to stop working on myself. More than a circle this is... A spiral. I'm trying to make this spiral going up. It's hard. Humans can so easily die. It's so simple, so effortless to give up on myself and let the pull of the Earth take me underground. And yet...

I'm better. Not physically. I haven't been sleeping enough or drinking enough water or eating like I should. It's not my body that it's better, it's my mind. I don't disassociate as much these days. I feel present. I feel like I'm my body and not just in my body. I have more energy. I want to do things like clean my hair often and take care of my skin. I want to do exercise, to eat healthier. I feel calm, in my mind, in my thoughts. I need to keep meditating and doing my breathing exercises. They do help a lot.

There are many things I need to work in. My physical health is one of them, but also I need to practice using my phone less. I need to find other things to calm me. I have my paintings, I could practice with them. Or maybe drawing. And of course, there is my thesis.

I've been avoiding my college duties. Again.

I fear the stress or the semester. There's something that's very frustrating to me, and it is feeling like I'm failing at some task while everyone is already many tasks in front of me. Like,,,, hmm,,,, it's like trying on your shoelaces while you're on a marathon. You need to stop and tie them, but if you do you're gonna lose time and they're going to get even farther away, and you're so stressed over it that you're losing concentration, and the shoelaces, and the competitors, and your stress, and— there it goes. It gets worst and worst until you kinda resignate and think "I just need to finish this marathon, just it. I don't want to compete anymore".

There's also the fear of what I'm going to do after I graduate. Work is the obvious answer, right? I should. I want to work. But there's this idea,,,,, listen, sometimes I don't understand people. I'm smart, but not when it comes to normal things or daily skills. The other day I put a candy on the microwave for a minute and I almost burned the microwave.

I don't know how to do any house choirs. Why? Well, because my family tells me I should do them, but the minute I try and do them, they appear and tell me to go away because I'm doing everything wrong.

How am I supposed to learn if I can't practice? But there's still some sort of trauma reaction in me. I fear doing something that can't be fixed while practicing. That's the reason why I fear driving, because I'm terrified of damaging the car (mostly because I don't want to cost extra money to anyone, and I don't have money to buy and less alone fix a car).

So I should work. To gain some money. But let's not talk more about that because I got nervous just by thinking of it.

Aaand I lost track of what I was saying. I'm sleepy. I was supposed to write how today I was better. I downloaded some cool apps, I want to learn how to play the kalimba, I felt pretty today, comfortable, safe. I shouldn't be writing my problems on an online diary but oh well.

This is exactly how my mind works. Now it is bored of writing this and wants to close the tab. I wants to change the song. Meditate. I get bored of things so fast this days. I'm not able to end a whole task if I don't pressure myself for HOURS. I'm better but there's still a long way to go.

I wish I could go to a psychiatrist and finally see if I have anxiety or adhd or if im just overreacting. When I told my psychologist I thought I had anxiety, she told me she would not give me any labels to use, only treat me. I suppose that is good, but a part of my does wish I could know the labels. I don't like when I don't know what is happening. I don't like when I don't have control over the stuff that surrounds me. I don't like being vulnerable or deadly curious.

I haven't been praying that much later, either. I miss my regular contact with God. It makes me feel very lonely and afraid, and very guilty and ashamed. I know many people hate Christians and for a good reason, because many have hurt the whole world with those ideals. And I know for many the way I feel would be silly. I just........ I can't stop believing in him, feeling this way. I want to help others, not by hurting them, but by just standing in silence in the distant with my silly words and silly presence, so if they ever feel lost, they can always find me and sit, talk with me. I love them all. I love humanity so much. It makes me sad. I see the killers and the politians, I see the worst human beings and I think, "I wish you some clarity, I wish you some joy, I wish you to be so full of good things that there's no more evil feelings, just the ability to feel guilty and change, to become a better person".

I'm tired of seeing people dying. Suffering. My grandpa E (the biological father of my mom) is dying. His lungs are collapsing, slowly but surely. We lost my grandma some two or three years ago. I don't think of her as much as before, but I feel it, her absence. I miss her voice and her hugs. I miss the people we were when she was alive. I miss my grandpa H (the step-father of my mom) happiness, I miss the time where my mom's face was not so gloomy and sad.

I'm tired of hatred and anger. I see it everywhere and many who feel it are just sad and hurt. Like wounded animals, they lash out when they are in pain. And I wish I could cure them. Yes, I guess I have a Saint complex or whatever. I feel bad for speaking about how I wish I could save the world, love every human enough for them to feel better. I feel bad for not being capable of doing more.

And the worst part is that I feel like I'm capable of doing more, but I don't do it because I'm afraid. If I wasn't so shy or anxious, if I wasn't so selfish, I could be out there traveling and saving lives. I look at my ceiling in the dark and think if I'm gonna die paralyzed by fear. Or if I'm going to die fearing dying that way, and asking to much of my body and soul and mind, enough to destroy myself.

I don't want to sound self-centered, damn. I am anxious again. You see, I'm better, but it is hard. It feels like my limbs need to move because it is a physical discomfort. It feels like I need to do something, to shake that feeling.

This is a lot for a first day entry. No one is going to read this, just me. And if there's someone reading it, then... Know you're walking over my heart. Every word is war, every emotion written in the moment. I'm laying in a couch with red led lights in a white room. There are some dark brown furnitures, the room is tiny. There's a giant TV on the floor, there are plants on shelf next to the ceiling. The plants are tiny and fake. There's a big window, closed with curtains. There's another high tiny window, and a mini desk that goes into the wall in a sort of hollowed square that there's in the room. There are two posters on glass frames, they are big, they are by the wall.

It's almost 2AM. I hear some cars passing by. It's neither cold nor hot. There's a constant sound, like the one electric devices make. It's kind loud. I don't know if it's the nature or the electric devices. I'm on an apartment. The town I'm in is in the mountains, but a few minutes from a big city.

I'm calmer now. It's feel a little lonely in this room because I'm on my own. My family is on the apartment, but there's no sound to be heard of them. At least the acoustic in this neighborhood let's you hear even when the person some building away is coughing. Yeah, crazy.

I think I'm going to be now. I'm tired. I want to be more online, write on my other blogs, do some rp, work on my thesis, clean my room, read books, watch TV shows... But even when I'm better, I need to be careful to don't pressure myself to much. Too many stimulus and I'm gonna be avoiding everyone again, until I feel less overestimulated.

No more worries. The day is over. I need to sleep.

Goodnight, mysterious person. And if no one ever reads this, goodnight to the absence of and the empty and the memories.

#Shan's personal diary

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pinkykitten · 4 years

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HiGH

13 reasons why

Scott Reed x female! reader

Warning: getting high, vomiting, cursing, partying

Specifics: comedy, fluff, one-shot, race neutral reader

People: scott reed, jock dude, your friend, red haired cheerleader

Words: 1,854

Requested: By anon 😍😁 I'd love a Scott Reed one with fem reader. Since its getting close to Halloween how about how they got/ get together at a Halloween party?

Authors Note: sorry guys for not posting a lot here ive been studying for exams and just my life is so complicated atm so forgive me i know i should post more its just all the stress ya girl sometimes gets writers block. i appreciate u guys still sticking w me reading my stuff and im glad to be posting something and feel good about it.

The different array of colored lights shone brightly as a hit pop song blasted loud through the speakers. The party everyone at school was looking forward to. Only the best out of the best was present, stuffing their faces with alcohol and booze to wash down the pain and stresses of school and life.

You were content with staying home, wanting to open a bag of chips and really experience Netflix and chill. Solo. Alone. By yourself. A lone wolf. Why in the world were you really here at this party? You were a nobody compared to all these wannabes.

You were fidgety, playing with your fingers to control your anxiety of all these people and the atmosphere. It was so unlike you. Then you remembered. The only reason you were here was because your friend - not really - needed to trade with you the history paper you lent her. She was very persistent to get you to come to her rather than drive her car to your house. You were a very simple girl, you hated teenagers - even though you are one of them - and high school. But why did you dress your best to come to something you cared so little about? You had spent a little more over ten minutes just to pick your shoes! Did this gathering really matter to you?

“Okay y/n you’re gonna go in there and swipe that paper out of her hands and go straight back home. You’re not going to look at the food, not going to be deceived into drinking and you are certainly not going to look at a boy and dance with them because you are better than that,” you spoke aloud to yourself walking up the stairs to the house, getting some cat calls and whistles sent your way. Opening the door you were greeted by a shirtless jock. He dripped with sweat or was that beer? He was dancing as if he was experiencing a seizure.

“Remember what you gotta do, y/n,” that phrase echoed in your head. You crawled past the dancing, then squeezed past the horny animals making out by the bathrooms. “Where the f*ck is she?” Your head whipped back and forth in search for your “friend.” You landed on her doing a chug contest. “Excuse me,” you would say periodically, shoving yourself beside hollering people. You stood beside her and tapped her on the shoulder. She didn’t want to mess with her chugging so she pointed on the table by the drinks. “Thanks.” The table was littered with people f*cking like they were experiencing sex for the first time. Moaning and groaning really wanting nerdy, single people - like yourself - feel very alone and really praying they would get that action tonight. You grabbed your paper having to really pull as there was an a*s cheek of a red haired cheerleader plopped on top of it. You grimaced as you pulled the paper, making note to wash your hands when you have the chance.

“Now time to go home,” your determined self wiped your jacket getting ready to depart but your e/c eyes caught sight of a delicious looking drink. It was aqua blue with chunks of who knows what fruit in there. It was placed proudly on top of the kitchen counter.

“Wipe out!” The jock screamed on the top of his lungs, sounding like an alarm.

You covered your ears, annoyed. A group of teens took their cups and splashed some of the drink inside, enjoying the taste. “Why’s its called wipe out?” You asked the jock. Curious.

The jock raised his brow, taking you in.

“Pitiful,” you thought.

“Its because, babe, there is a secret ingredient in here.” He motioned to you.

Placing your palm on his chest you pushed him away, “I swear if its your jizz, count me out.”

“Its not, unfortunately, but just try it.”

You looked down and bit your lip. You were having a full out debate in your head, going back and forth with yourself. You had to do this paper. The party side took control of you and you snatched a cup from the table and poured yourself some “Wipe out.” You were totally going to regret this later.

A boy stood beside you, filling his cup as well. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, he was a cutie. From the way his f-boy, blond hairstyle stood still with either hairspray or gel or who knows what, to his baby blue eyes. Your eyes traveled to his lips. He saw you staring and presented you with a smirk. A sexy smirk at that. You almost fainted!

“This is bad,” your eyes widened as you felt light headed. You knew you could only keep away for so long.

“Hey, I know you. You are in my bio class. You always sit up front.” No way this boy was Scott Reed. He was the talk of the school, having to be entwined with the drama of Bryce. “I’m-”

“Scott Reed. I know and I’ve seen you in class.”

“And your name is,” he pondered for a moment. “Y/n l/n.”

Oh dear. You were starting to sweat from the realization that you and Scott were on a knowing name base. That was enough to start something. Something you didn’t want to start because you didn’t know if you could finish it.

“Wow didn’t think you were into this party life.”

“I’m not,” you took a large chug of your drink and Scott’s face looked disgusted. “What?”

“You’re not supposed to drink it that fast or all of that, for that matter. Okay you may experience being very...high.”

“High?” Yep it was truly a mistake for you step foot into this party. “There were drugs in that drink?”

“...yeah?”

“Scott!”

“Okay yes there was. I think only a little. Also alcohol, of course. It may not effect you though. Each person is different.”

You were feeling already dizzy. The world spinning but in a good way. As if you were on a ride. You were overwhelmed with the feeling of happiness and you were very, terribly hungry. The overpowering, booming music was low and muffled when it traveled through your ears. You were stoned and you wanted to dance. “DaNcE wHiP mE bAbEy.” You staggered back and forth.

“You sure?” Scott asked, holding onto your arm.

“Of CoUrSsSsSsSsSsSsSsE sCoTtY mCsNoTtY. GrInD wIf mEh.”

“Alright, if you say so.” Scott and you danced in the living room.

With the shake of your hips and the pumping of your fists you felt like you were on cloud 9.

There was a sea of fans, cheering your name. “Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!”

You performed on stage. Basking in the limelight, the attention. You were a star, a performer. You sang and danced on stage with your backup dancers giving it their all. Everyone in the crowd sang along with you, knowing every word. It was perfection.

Then you threw up and blacked out.

The pounding of your head woke you up, your eyes getting adjusted to new lighting. An unfamiliar jacket was on you and you heard the engine of a car. We’re you being kidnapped? You shot up and saw Scott - the boy from earlier - sitting beside you in his car.

“You are not used to drugs,” he chuckled.

“What happened?” You laid back calm. You touched your head thinking that was going to stop the pain.

“You threw up. All over me.”

Eyes widening in horror having the knowledge that you threw up all over the cutest boy in school. That party was cursed. You covered your mouth seeing the stain on his shirt, “I am so sorry Scott. Lets go to Walmart right now, I’ll buy you a new shirt.”

Scott touched your hand to calm you down, “its fine y/n, really. How are you though?”

“Well, lets just say I’m never doing drugs,” you sighed. “I feel really bad for doing that to your shirt. I bet you wish you never met me.”

“I would never wish that. We all make mistakes and to be honest you are the good one out of all of us. Don’t worry about this. You live and learn.” Scott drove to a drug store. “Wait here.”

Waiting for what felt like hours you imagined Scott as your knight in shining armor. You were hating yourself for feeling this way about some boy but you couldn’t help but get butterflies in your stomach when you pictured his eyes, lips, face, and even his smirk in your head. He was like another drug.

Finally, Scott returned to the car and with him was a couple of bags. “I got you some medicine to help with the mess and the feeling like you’re gonna throw up every minute.”

Scott was a lifesaver!

“I got you medicine also for the pounding in your head. I also got you water and this,” he scooped up a stuffed raccoon (ik this is weird but its the first thing i can think of) placing it in your arms.

“Aww this is so cute Scott. Thank you for all of this, really I truly appreciate all you’ve done from driving me to getting me these meds. Its means a lot.”

“No problem y/n. I always wanted to accompany a beautiful lady in distress.”

“Well you picked the right one.” Nausea was the symptoms you were feeling at that moment. It was unknown to you if it was the drugs, alcohol, or Scott.

“What are you going to name the little guy?” Scott pretended to pet the fake raccoon.

You stared at the stuffed animals eyes and knew what the littler vermin would be called. “Veneno. Its means drugs in Latin.”

Scott giggled. His smile making you weak in the knees. “That’s perfect.”

“I know right-” You hurled on the floor beside his car. It was almost like a continuous cycle. You, vomit, him, help. It was compared to a endless waterfall.

“Thats it.” Scott rubbed soothing circles on your aching back. “Let it all out. I’m here for you and not going anywhere.”

Feeling very sick at that moment, you clutched his hand for support. Finishing letting the drugs exit your body, Scott handed you the water bottle. “You know, you’re one of the good ones as well,” you croaked as your throat was burning.

You drank, letting the cold liquid slide past your throat. Your eyes kept opening and closing. Throwing up takes a lot out of your body. You felt you were used as a punching bag and all you wanted to do was get some sleep.

Scott got in his car and started it. You were a fallen leaf, a wilted flower. Your head fell against Scott’s shoulder - like a dropping petal - and there you fell asleep.

“I think its time to take you home,” Scott whispered.

Starting something with Scott meant something to you. Yes, you may have gotten high at a cheap, smelly party but at least you had the pleasure of meeting a young man who cared.

Tag list: @harrington-lover, @angelgl16, @perfectlybeautifulsuit, @hyehoney, @haven-prelude (wont let me tag), @leasly, @totally-alexa21, @creamy-pasta-boi, @multireese, @fanfictionrecommendations-com, @prentisskelley, @malereaderforkpop (wont let me tag), @guardian-of-cookies, @justafangirl-97, @teenageshitposts (wont let me tag), @dippergravity (wont let me tag), @some-booty, @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople, @collectiveyou, @wtfisalltherandoms, @dirbel, @eastcoasthaven, @fangirl-4-life415 (wont let me tag), @melonreblogsstories, @reginalinettis

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